Ollie cleared his throat, and I realised I was well overdue making my reply.
“Hi. Er, nice place you’ve got here.” It wasn’t. The table was still sticky from the last occupants, and the decor looked like something Mrs. F. would approve of: all cutesy knickknacks and dried flowers.
Ollie shrugged. “It’s not bad, but the manager never listens to my ideas for improving things. Still, the coffee’s great. Can I get you one? On the house.”
My heart fell. “I’d love to, but I can’t drink coffee. Doctor’s orders.”
“Bummer.” Ollie sounded genuinely upset on my behalf.
“Yeah. It is.” I brandished the menu. “How about a smoothie? Are they any good?”
A wicked grin lit up Ollie’s face. “I could do you one of my specials, if you like. They’ve got a bit more kick than the regular.”
“Kick?”
“I do an awesome dark chocolate, cherry and cranberry smoothie. Well, it’s kind of a milkshake with all the ice-cream that goes in there, but it tastes divine.”
“I bet.” I’d been watching Ollie’s lips as he spoke, imagining just how heavenly they would taste.
“I’ll put you down for one of those, then.”
Shit. “No. Er, better not. Just plain fruit please.”
“It’s not as fattening as you think. Debs, she’s on Weightwatchers, and she still has one every day. Mind you, she starves herself the rest of the time, or so she says.”
I’d have to explain. Better he knew the truth than thought I was someone with an eating disorder.
“I…I can’t. I’m not well right now. I had kidney failure a couple of years ago, and I’m on dialysis now. It really puts a crimp on my lifestyle. I can’t eat anything much, can’t drink alcohol or coffee; I feel like death warmed up. I’ve got to do everything by the book so I don’t end up killing myself. Sorry.” I croaked the last word out.
“Shit, man. That’s rough.” Ollie rubbed the back of his neck and looked awkward. “Don’t know if I could cope without coffee and chocolate.”
Now he was going to do that whole sympathy thing and go on about how sorry he was and how his second-uncle-once-removed had kidney troubles, or some such pointless anecdote about an old codger that would make me feel ancient. I might have the odd grey hair coming through, but I wasn’t ready to join up with the stair lift brigade just yet.
As it was, his next question threw me.
38
“So, does that mean you’re a cyborg?”
“You what?” I just stared at him, amazed to see the start of that quirky grin at the corners of his mouth.
“You know, like, you’re hooked up to machines in order to stay alive. That makes you a cyborg, technically.”
“Uh, well, I’m not really hooked up to machines.” His face fell for some bizarre reason I couldn’t fathom. I wanted to get the grin back again. “I did that for a while, but I’m on a different form of dialysis now. It’s called Continuous Ambulatory Peritoneal Dialysis.” He looked impressed, so I continued, despite it being the one part of my life I really didn’t want to talk about. “I have to fill my abdomen up with fluid four times a day, then drain it out a few hours later. It’s not all that high-tech or anything. Just a drip stand and a catheter tube going into my belly.”
“You’ve got a tube in your belly? Wow, that’s cool! Can I have a look?”
“No!” I squeaked in alarm.
Ollie pouted momentarily, then looked contrite. “Sorry. Guess I should mind my own business.” He started to back away, and I kicked myself for being a twat.
“No, wait. It’s not that. I’m just a bit… Well, it’s pretty ugly.”
“Yeah? Bet I’ve seen worse. Used to go out with someone who had their navel pierced. Was always getting infected and shit. Looked bloody awful, but I didn’t mind getting up close.” He stuck his chin out defiantly.
I just stared again, trying to work out if the pronoun avoidance meant he’d just outed himself to me. He’d need to be a bit more obvious for me to be sure.
Wearing a rainbow badge with “I’m gay” emblazoned on it would be a help.
“Ollie, a little help, please!”
Ollie jumped at the strident voice coming from the woman behind the counter. “God, I’d better get back. Anything else you wanted?”
I ordered Zoe’s pretend coffee and earned a raised eyebrow, but Ollie refrained from commenting.
“Ooh, have I still got time to order something to eat?” Zoe said as she slid back into her chair. “What would you recommend?”
“The sticky toffee cake is to die for. I mean, seriously scrummy.”
“Sounds great.”
I resolutely refused to watch Ollie as he walked away, aware of Zoe scrutinising me.
“That’s your delivery boy, isn’t it? The one you fancy.”
I blushed, which seemed to be answer enough for her.
“Cute but way too young for you,” was her eventual verdict.
“And probably straight too.”
Zoe snorted. “Yeah right. Because straight guys are always describing cake as ‘scrummy’. He’s well into you, it’s bloody obvious. Your gaydar’s completely screwed, you know that?”
“I don’t think anyone ever bothered to issue me with one.” I wasn’t about to argue with her. Not about the gaydar, anyway.
Ollie was polite but a little more distant when he brought the drinks.
Whether that was down to Zoe’s presence or that of the large woman with the stern demeanour now manning the counter, I couldn’t tell.
I wanted to go and say goodbye when we left, but he was in the middle of making a coffee and the café was too busy. I settled for waving when he looked up and was treated to a grin that jolted through me like I’d just downed a triple espresso.
40
The next morning found me in new chinos and a black cashmere polo-neck that even I had to admit wasn’t too shabby. I hadn’t been too sure about the gilet to begin with—it turned out to be nothing more than a glorified bodywarmer— but as the bulk of it effectively covered any hint of the tube, I was a convert.
I was nervous about Ollie seeing me in the new clothes, though. I’d been so worked up about it, I’d had no appetite that morning and had skipped breakfast.
It was no wonder I was feeling a bit odd. Like the world was slipping sideways.
I’d have to go and have a snack as soon as he’d left—get my blood-sugar level up.
When the doorbell rang, I still had that nervous flutter in my belly, although this time there was a frisson of something else. Was it hope? Confidence?
Whatever it was, it felt weird.
“Hey, like the outfit. Are you off out somewhere?”
Shit. Had I overdone it? Zoe had assured me chinos were fine for casual wear. “No, just trying out some of the new threads I bought yesterday.”
I looked up from my trousers and plastered a smile on my face, which lasted until Ollie held up my parcel. There was a big tear at one end. It looked like it had been hacked open with a breadknife.
“Sorry about this. It got a bit…damaged in transit. The DVD fell out.”
I grabbed it from him, peered into the cardboard packet and groaned.
The
Visitor
, a gay porn sci-fi epic starring Logan McCree. It would have to be that one, wouldn’t it? I could feel my whole body break out in a sweat.
I couldn’t meet Ollie’s gaze, so I kept my eyes lowered. That was when I noticed the packing knife hanging off his belt. It was one of those safety ones with the little hooked blade for cutting through tape. The ones that are bloody useless at getting through cardboard neatly.
“Have you been opening my stuff?” Rage tore through me. My hands started to shake. “That’s private!”
He just shrugged and gave me a cheeky grin. “Yeah, well, I had to find out what you’re into, since you give so little away. You seen it yet? It’s a great film— got a proper plot and everything. My ex had it, so I’ve seen it loads of times.
Logan McCree’s so fucking hot. Get a load of those tats.” He leered, and jealousy washed over me.
Just perfect—he was definitely gay, but now I had to compete with guys like Logan tattooed-dick McCree for his attention. I didn’t stop to ask myself when I’d decided I was actually in with a chance, because my blood was roaring in my ears, and things were starting to look funny. Must be the red mist coming down, making things split apart and refuse to glue back together. I now had two purple-haired delivery boys standing on my doorstep.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s that sound?” I wasn’t sure which of the two Ollies to look at, so I focused somewhere in the middle. “It’s like a waterfall.”
“Are you all right?” the Ollies asked, their voice distant like they were standing at the other end of a tunnel.
The cheek of it! “Of course I’m all right! Never better.” I tried to close the door, but it slipped away from me, and I slid down to the floor. The DVD
tumbled out of my hand. I wondered if I’d be able to watch it by running my fingers over the disc.
“Ben? Ben, what’s wrong?” There was a loud voice that sounded like it was coming from inside my skull. “Ben? I think you need some help. Maybe a doctor.
Shit!”
42
Ollie knelt down beside me, his face up really close. There was only one of him now. I leant forward to kiss him. Slippery boy, dodging me. Huh! Thought he was meant to be gay.
“What are you doing, Ben? I’m not gonna snog you now. You’re ill.”
“I’m always fucking ill,” I told him, but the words sounded slurred and melty. “You should kiss me better.” I pursed up my lips and closed my eyes.
“What do you need? You’d better tell me, or I’m phoning for an ambulance.”
My brain didn’t seem to want to work, so I pointed at the chain around my neck. Ollie frowned but then pulled the Medic alert pendant out from under my gilet. I heard footsteps disappearing down my hall, and the next thing I was aware of was a sickly drink pouring into my mouth and down my chin.
When the world started to make sense again, a wave of breathtaking shame crashed over me. Not only had I neglected myself enough to have an attack— which hadn’t happened for ages—but I’d thrown myself at Ollie. I leant back against the wall and tried to regain my cool. It seemed to have deserted me, and I couldn’t blame it.
“You okay now?” he asked me.
I nodded. I still didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid.
“Shit, Ben, you had me worried there. Do you need me to call someone for you?”
“No, it’s fine. Just had a hypo. Nothing to worry about. Zoe will be here soon. She’ll sort me out.”
“Zoe? That’s your sister, right?”
“Yeah. She calls in every day on her way into work.”
He nodded, but he still didn’t look happy. I missed his smile.
“Thanks,” I said. “You did exactly the right thing. Sorry I acted like a total wanker. I don’t know what I’m doing when I have an attack.”
There was that curve of his lips I loved so much. “I thought you were drunk at first,” Ollie said.
“No chance.” I smiled back. “No alcohol, no coffee, no cigarettes, no sugar, no sex—”
“No sex? What, your doctor told you that?”
I avoided his eyes. “Not really up to going out and pulling, these days,” I mumbled.
“But you are allowed to have sex, right?”
Ollie sounded really concerned. I looked up into his espresso-brown eyes and tried to smile as I nodded.
“Well, that’s a—”
“Ben! Oh, my God, are you all right?”
Whatever Ollie had been about to say was interrupted by Zoe’s arrival.
“I’m fine,” I told her, but she wasn’t having it.
“You always say that when you’re having a hypo.” She turned to Ollie.
“What’s happened? Did you find him like this?”
Ollie took over and explained about his trip to the fridge to find my Lucozade stash, much to my relief as I really didn’t feel like being on the receiving end of one of Zoe’s “look after yourself” lectures.
It took the two of them to help me to my feet and then get me ensconced on the sofa with my feet up on the coffee table. I noticed Ollie discreetly slip the 44
DVD back into the package and place it on my telly. I should have told him not to bother—Zoe would probably want to borrow the damn thing.
Before he left, Ollie turned to me, looking strangely ill at ease and jiggling on his feet.
“Listen, I’d love to come round this evening and check up on you, but I’ve got a shift at the café, and I can’t really let them down.”
Yeah, right. Now he’d seen me properly ill, he couldn’t wait to get away. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I snapped.
“That’s not what I meant.” Bright spots appeared on Ollie’s cheeks. “Christ, you’re hard work sometimes.”
“Well, there’s no need to put yourself out. I’m just a customer, after all.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out, but I wasn’t going to take them back. He’d seen enough of my weakness for one day.
He shook his head at me, muttering as he left the room. I heard the front door slam.
Zoe came through holding two cups of tea and one of my carefully rationed juice bottles.
“Where’s he gone?” she asked. “Benji, did you go and say something stupid?”
I tried to hide my face in the cushions. “Thought you didn’t like him.”
Zoe huffed. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s just a bit young for you. At least he can keep his head in a crisis, though. Would have thought you’d be glad to have him stay for tea.”
“He had to get back to work,” I mumbled.
She gave me a long look but obviously decided it wasn’t worth pursuing that line of questioning when I was due a lecture about looking after myself. I strapped myself in for the ride. Zoe was right, and I knew it.
I had a terrible night. Zoe’s words kept echoing round my head, and I cringed with shame every time I recalled how I’d spoken to Ollie. Poor guy must be totally confused about me and my mixed messages. Wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to be friends anymore. I still couldn’t swallow Zoe’s assertion that he was “well into me”, but I certainly didn’t want to lose the first real friend I’d made in the last couple of years. I wasn’t counting the ones I’d made online, as I’d told them so much bullshit, they had no idea who I really was.
I needed to make amends in some way. I’d have to invite him round, make him coffee or something. He loved coffee, didn’t he? And at least I’d get the vicarious pleasure of smelling the stuff even if I couldn’t drink any myself. I had a bag of coffee beans in the freezer still, kept just in case Zoe ever needed a pick-me-up on her way into work. My mind made up, I managed a few hours sleep, and although I felt like hell when I eventually woke up, I did manage to pull on some new clothes, eat a bowl of muesli and get my first dialysate bag infused. I was rubbing my eyes in front of my monitor when the doorbell made me jump out of my skin.