June 2015
It had been almost three months since the accident. Anthony had moved back home with his parents, after it was leaked who the other driver was in the accident that killed Justin Roberts, the golden boy of football, and Anthony's flat in Kingston-upon-Thames got bricked. It was just as well, as Anthony still had a spinal contusion, walking with a cane these days - probably for life - and downsizing was more practical with his disability.
Even so, Anthony pushed himself to do what he could. He had taken up gardening again, one of the few ways he could bond with his father. His parents were out on this Sunday afternoon running errands, and Anthony spent the day in the garden, trying to get his mind off things for awhile in the beauty of nature, the satisfaction of feeling the earth with his hands, the life in the plants, watching the changes as they grew. The garden was a tangible reminder that life goes on, and it was usually a comfort to him in distress. But he found himself missing Sören, once again agitated as he waited to hear whether or not they could start afresh or this was it. The garden was a reminder of him, the way they'd made love here like an ancient fertility rite, something that Sören had captured in a painting that Anthony could still see if he closed his eyes.
It was a gorgeous day, the summer solstice, warm while not being as stifling as the past week had been. Anthony had brought out his laptop and small portable speakers that connected to it, a pitcher of lemonade, and some fresh bread his mother had baked, for when he was ready to take a break. The need for that break came sooner rather than later, between Anthony's limited physical endurance with his leg, and the way his mind kept wandering back to making love with Sören in the garden.
He shuffled over to the bench and the items sitting nearby. He carefully opened his laptop and, after checking his e-mail - force of habit, even though his inbox was much slower these days - he opened up a tab for Duolingo.
Anthony had taken linguistics at Cambridge, before his diploma conversion. He spoke fluent French, German, Spanish, and Swedish, and he was passable with Italian. A couple of weeks after his accident, he had been feeling mentally restless enough to decide to try this Duolingo thing he'd kept hearing about, as a way to brush up on languages he'd already studied, and begin in languages he hadn't learned yet. Duolingo was like a game, and it had motivated him to get out of bed every day and do a lesson to keep his streak and keep leveling up, in competition with other users. He was in the Diamond League, and he'd won first place in Diamond League earlier in June, not an easy feat because once you hit Diamond League you were competing with other users who seemed to be on Duolingo every waking moment. Now he was less concerned with the top spot and simply just not getting demoted to a lower league. Currently he was working on Norwegian - his fluency in Swedish made it easier to learn other Scandinavian languages, and he was hoping to visit Norway someday, the way he'd visited Sweden. Anthony once again lamented that Duolingo didn't have Icelandic, something he really wanted to take to impress Sören (and be able to understand him when Sören went off yelling like a drunk Viking), even though Sören was long gone.
Anthony made his way through the lesson, and increasingly wished he hadn't had the great idea of today's Norwegian lesson on his break, because even that reminded him of Sören and intensified that wistful ache. Anthony did not want to give into crying again, tearing a piece of bread with his teeth as if it had personally offended him.
The lesson prompted him to write this in English: Jeg spiser brød og gråter på gulvet.
"I am eating bread and crying on the floor," Anthony said dryly as he typed the correct response. After Duolingo confirmed it was correct, Anthony said, "Thanks, Duo, for teaching me how to have a breakdown in Norwegian. Most useful life skill at the moment."
Anthony usually continued on for a bit after meeting his daily XP goal, but the lesson had gotten a little too real so he was done for the day. He glanced back at the garden - he still had some more work to do. He decided to put on music to work to, and went in the music files on his laptop. He put on Nirvana, something suitably angsty. He'd been a big fan during his turbulent teenage years, and in the weeks and months following his breakup with Sören he found himself returning to the angry soundtrack of his youth. He felt so, so tired and beaten down. The last few months since the accident had felt like years.
I will never bother you
I will never promise to
I will never follow you
I will never bother you
Never speak a word again
I will crawl away for good
I will move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew it would come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never failed to fail
Hey, hey, hey
You know you're right
You know you're right
You know you're right
A deep, velvet-smooth bass voice cut into the music. "Anthony Hewlett-Johnson?"
Anthony startled and dropped his hoe. He looked up and saw an older man - tall, about six-five, silver hair and neatly kept beard, dark eyes with thick salt-and-pepper brows, olive-skinned, lean but powerfully built, handsome in a stern, intense way, wearing all black on a summer day.
Anthony steadied himself on his cane and took a few paces. "You are..."
"I'm Nicholas Decaux." Nicholas offered his hand. "I need to speak with you."
"About..."
"Sören."
Anthony reflexively took a step back and almost fell over. He tried to keep his expression and tone neutral, as if he were in the courtroom. "Is he all right?" And then, the surge of panic was chased by paranoia. "How do you know Sören? How do you know about... my connection to him? Why are you here?" He glanced around the garden. "How did you get here?"
"As you know, there is a small set of stone steps on the side of your house, leading from the driveway straight out here. I heard the music and thought that was where you'd be, so I ascended those steps."
"No. I mean, how did you get here. How did you know to find me here?"
"I have your business card - when Sören encountered your mother back in March, he threw away the card she gave him but I kept it. Recently I felt it necessary to contact you and was informed by your colleagues that you are on a leave of absence from Garden Court Chambers. I am old friends with your mother and I inquired, and..."
Thanks, Mum. Anthony's jaw set, then the panic returned. "Is. Sören. All. Right."
"Yes, he's fine." Nicholas cleared his throat. "As for why I am here... Sören and I have been together for awhile, and I felt it necessary to have a few words with you."
"I see. This is... unexpected." Anthony felt completely caught off guard, and he had a feeling that was rather the point. You're the one on the witness stand now. "I have some lemonade, would you like some? Or would you prefer to go inside and have tea?"
"Lemonade would be appreciated, thank you."
Anthony turned off the music and Nicholas took a seat on a bench adjacent to where Anthony had been sitting on his break, the benches making an L-shape in the corner of the garden. "You have a lovely garden," Nicholas said, looking around. "I can see why you'd be out here rather than inside on a day like today."
Anthony nodded. "And the work is never done, really."
"But you enjoy it." Nicholas met his eyes. "I have a rooftop garden. It is one of the simple joys in my life."
So they had that much in common, a love of Sören, a love of gardening. Anthony passed Nicholas his lemonade. "You didn't come out here to talk to me about gardening."
"No, I did not," Nicholas said, and took a sip of his lemonade, glancing at Anthony over the glass.
Anthony once again felt on edge. He felt a momentary flare of resentment, anger with himself for losing Sören in the first place, and now having to prove himself to someone who seemed to already find him guilty. And Anthony couldn't blame Nicholas for that - he'd fucked up. Just the same, he found himself feeling like Nicholas was some sort of competitor, envious of the life he'd built with Sören, the time he'd had with Sören, while he'd been alone and miserable these last few months. And the anger in him seemed to intensify with Nicholas being so attractive. Nicholas reminded him very much of Mikael, the second man he'd fallen in love with, during a trip to Sweden in his early twenties. There had been about the same degree of age difference as there was between Nicholas and Sören, Nicholas bore a resemblance to Mikael, a silver fox. The thought of Sören and Nicholas making love together was a delicious mental image and he hated feeling a twinge of desire like that. He tried to keep the anger off his face. "I know why you're here," Anthony said, keeping his tone calm. He had a feeling Nicholas was going to threaten him.
"I don't think you do, but we'll start with the obvious. As you know, Anthony, you caused Sören a tremendous amount of pain and anguish. While I hope that my love has been a balm for his heart, he is still scarred from what happened... from what you did. I am protective of him, he has had a difficult life even without what you did - indeed, what you did, after he's already had so much hardship in his life, seems to sting even worse -"
Anthony felt a stab of guilt. Already, he felt the tears coming on, but he didn't want to fall apart in front of Nicholas.
"- and he still loves you," Nicholas said, and sighed.
Anthony felt himself recoil as if someone had struck him. "He. He..."
Nicholas looked down, folded his hands in his lap as if in prayer, then looked up at the sky, and back at Anthony. "When Sören and I began our relationship we had a discussion about your infidelity and agreed the best way to proceed was to have... a non-monogamous relationship, but with an understanding we would be honest about other partners. While Sören is not necessarily going to let you back in, I know that he also can't quite let go of you - he is still hurting, still missing you, and I want him to be happy - and after I heard about your accident from your mother, it seems to me you may have had enough of a life change to re-evaluate the issues that caused problems there. So I am here to let you know that if you wish to try to reconcile with him, I am potentially open to that but, I need you to tell me in your own words what you did wrong and why, and I need some assurance from you that you will neither disrupt the life I've built with him nor break his heart again." Nicholas gave Anthony a dirty look. "Once was bad enough, twice is... not acceptable. Understand that if I say yes, and I have not decided yet, you will receive exactly one more chance with him, and if you hurt him again, that's it."
"I know." Anthony let go of the poker face for just a moment to say, "I don't want to break Sören's heart any more than you want me to break Sören's heart. Living with the weight of what I did, how I hurt him, how it's continued to affect him, has been very difficult. I can't bear the thought of him getting hurt again, so I will try my best -"
"Do or not do, Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. There is no try."
Anthony exhaled sharply.
Nicholas took another sip of his lemonade and then he went on, "There is, as far as I'm concerned, no 'try' involved with infidelity, or associating with people who are insulting and disrespecting one's partner. It should not be that difficult to abstain from -"
"Yes, I worded that incorrectly," Anthony said. "What I meant in the context of 'try' was not so much that as it was the little things. Disagreements, the ups and downs that every relationship has... that our own relationship had towards the end. If you are expressing such a hardline stance against me hurting Sören, which I cannot blame you for, I was simply letting you know that I will try to not even upset him with the smaller conflicts -"
Nicholas put up a hand, indicating he should stop. "Fair."
Anthony took a long sip of his lemonade. He was starting to feel ill, and he knew it wasn't from the heat. And he knew Nicholas wasn't finished with him yet. He had a feeling of what was coming next.
Nicholas gave a slight eyebrow raise. "As I said, I would like to know, in your own words, what happened. Your explanation for why you did what you did. And in your own words, why you feel things have changed since then and why you feel you deserve a second chance with him."
Anthony took a moment to collect his thoughts - scrambling, trying not to break down into a blubbering, incoherent mess in front of the man who held his fate in his hands. He didn't want to appear weak, too fragile to handle a relationship.
When Anthony was ready, he spoke. "Our relationship ended in October 2013. Starting in August, Sören began working a hundred hours a week, after one of the neurosurgeons at the National suddenly died, and he was one of the few available to take on more hours. We were already starting to experience difficulties because of the friends I had at the time, where Sören felt like he wasn't really welcome or accepted, and I was naive enough to believe he was just a bit thin-skinned and overly self-conscious of his background and my putative friends really were trying. The rift that was starting intensified when Sören had fewer free hours and got resentful of me spending time with them, or inviting him to accompany me. And there were other things. I am not very domestic, and my lack of cooking skill became an issue when Sören was working so many hours and didn't have time to be the one to handle feeding both of us anymore. Sören was chronically exhausted, and short-tempered when exhausted. He got grouchier over things like hand-washing, than he normally did. Just little things adding up and up and up. And there wasn't the option of makeup sex to defuse tension. He didn't have time, and he was too worn out when there was time - I took him to Brighton one weekend that September and he ended up sleeping all weekend, which he hadn't planned on, he just crashed, poor thing." Anthony felt tears in his eyes again at the memory, and how he'd tried to not take it personally and felt like he was a selfish prick for feeling at least a little rejected, but mostly he'd felt bad for Sören, strong proof of just how bad things were for Sören with his schedule.
"It sounds like you're blaming Sören for what happened," Nicholas said, anger flashing in his dark eyes.
"No." And then Anthony felt that iron control break. He'd desperately been trying to keep calm, cool, professional, like this was the courtroom. But here he was, crying now as he'd made witnesses cry, feeling his jaw tremble as the first hot tears slid down his cheeks, eyes stinging with salt. "I take responsibility for what I did. For my failure. Believe me, every day since it ended in October 2013, I've had regrets about what I did... wishing I could undo it."
Anthony took a deep breath and tried to straighten his posture. He rubbed his face, trying to get it together, but the tears kept coming as he went on; he heard his voice cracking as he explained what happened, on his end of things. "I got sexually frustrated. Sören and I went from a very active sex life - surely you must have found out by now that he's insatiable - to the well running dry. And between the stress of our life together under pressure, and the stress of my job, I needed relief. I tried to just... use my hand. But it wasn't working. I needed to... feel... someone, on the other side. It was increasing my own tension, and I felt like that was making things worse on my end. And I tried to justify it to myself, that I was doing this for both of us, getting my needs met in a way that wouldn't put pressure on Sören or make him feel guilty when he was already dealing with so much. Just once, just a random person. Just sex, no strings attached, just defusing the tension to try to de-escalate things a little. And the day that I went home early from work for that one encounter, Sören came back early from his own job and found me in bed with the guy." Anthony broke down again as he remembered the hurt look in Sören's eyes, the magnificent rage as he exploded... and the shame. The feeling of utter defeat. "I was wrong," Anthony choked out through his tears. "I shouldn't have done what I'd done. I should have talked to him first, but I'd thought, at the time, telling him would just make it worse, and..." Anthony buried his face in his hands, doubling over with the force of his tears, feeling like his heart was being ripped open all over again. "I fucked up. I destroyed the trust of the man I love, when I know how hard it was for him to trust in the first place, after everything that's happened to him, and you don't know how sorry I am."
Anthony looked up, ashamed for crying, feeling like this made him look unstable, like it was going to make Nicholas decide he was too much of a wreck. Nicholas sat watching, not reacting, but there seemed to be the touch of sadness in Nicholas's dark eyes even as he kept his expression neutral.
"I take full responsibility for what happened," Anthony said, looking him in the eye, meaning every word. "I should have told him how bad it was for me, and we could have maybe worked on it. And yes, it wasn't just that I didn't want to burden him, I didn't want to stress him out even more, but I also felt deeply, deeply ashamed of how needy I was. It was pride, with me not wanting to beg to get my needs met. And that pride went before a very, very big fall. As you can see..." Anthony snuffled. "My pride took a rather large blow a few months ago." He gestured to his cane. "I have learnt I have to ask for help when I need it. I have learnt I can't keep a stiff upper lip all the time, and pretend I'm OK and can handle something when I really can't. It's something that's becoming a habit. But even beyond that, I know I owe it to be honest with Sören about things. I've learnt from my mistake. I have paid dearly for it, losing him was like having a piece of my soul ripped out." Losing Sören hadn't just left a void in his life, but it felt like the entire world had gone wrong without Sören there, like his entire universe had spun off-center. It was not a wound that time had healed, time and distance had only made it worse.
And speaking those words made him feel vulnerable, exposed, raw. Anthony could only cry for a moment, as much as he did not want to, felt he was hurting his case by doing so. But it hurt so much.
"I tried to move on," Anthony continued when he could make words again. "I got out there and I sowed my oats again for a few months, like it was a repeat of my twenties. But every single time, I pretended it was Sören when I closed my eyes. And it felt more and more like a cheap imitation of the real thing. Back on New Year's Eve, before the accident, I had a random hookup with someone on Grindr." He couldn't believe he was confessing this now, and to Nicholas of all people. "I did a bump of cocaine to get through it, something I haven't touched since I was at uni, something that I don't intend on doing again, it was a reminder I don't like it very much." He made a face as he remembered, and how cheap and dirty he'd felt, the lowest moment of his life before the accident, where the long, grueling rehabilitation had taken him to new lows of humiliation. "I thought of Sören, I ended up saying his name and getting thrown out. And that was when I knew I couldn't keep doing this. There hasn't been anyone since then. I deleted my Grindr account the first week of January."
Nicholas got quiet, and Anthony knew he was considering his response. Anthony felt like he'd probably said too much - he had a feeling Nicholas was probably judging him for the New Year's Eve confession. But he also knew, even as embarrassed as he was at the choices he'd made both before and after the breakup, that he didn't just owe Sören radical honesty but if this was going to work, he had to be radically honest with Sören's partners as well. And even with Nicholas's stern exterior, and the fear of judgment, there was something about him that seemed to prompt purging like this. Anthony looked into Nicholas's eyes again and saw something like compassion, instead of anger. Or at least that was hoping that was what it was.
Then whatever softness there had been hardened once more. "What about your friends?" Nicholas asked. "Sören told me how deeply your friends hurt him, and how it contributed to -"
"Yes." Another twinge of shame. Anthony took a deep breath. "I was bullied as a kid. Part of why my left leg is fucked up is because the accident re-aggravated an old injury, I broke my femur when I was twelve, because I was ganged up on and couldn't outrun them, so I climbed a tree, and fell out. I didn't have friends to defend me... I didn't have friends growing up. I finally made friends, when I was at uni, and I had learnt to get certain things under control, like I had a stutter, and I, ah... I used to fidget and rock myself when I get nervous. I still sometimes do, if nobody's watching, but..." He felt like an idiot again. "I had to train myself to maintain eye contact. Anyway. The crowd I ran with for awhile... they were the first friends I had. The first people who seemed to genuinely like me, thought I was cool, I was a little older than they were and I'd spent some time in Europe and that impressed them. Suddenly being the star student was a badge of honor rather than a brand of nerdy shame. I was so needy for friends that I looked the other way at questionable stuff, and I really wanted to believe they meant well with Sören. But then after my accident..." Anthony swallowed hard. "A couple of them made fun of me about, well..." He gestured to his cane. "And the others didn't bother to return my calls. I finally saw it for myself, what Sören had been trying to tell me, and I feel like an utter bloody moron that I didn't listen to him, I didn't want to think badly of the first set of people who'd wanted to be my friends. So if you're worried about my association with them getting in the way, you don't have to be. And if you're worried about me choosing questionable associations in the future..." Anthony shook his head and gave a bitter laugh. "Once bitten, twice shy, they say. I'm a bit wary of making friends now. I'd rather keep to myself than waste time on people who aren't worth it."
Nicholas gave a small nod, and then he was quiet again, finishing off his lemonade. Anthony gestured to the pitcher. "Want a refill?"
"Yes, please."
Anthony poured them each a refill and they continued to sit in silence. Anthony's heart was beating faster, and seemed to sink with every beat, worrying that now he'd also come off as some sort of anti-social, maladjusted person, and the way Nicholas's brows knit together as he drank, obviously deep in thought, didn't help the anxiety. Shit. Shit. Shit...
After a long, awkward, painful silence that seemed to drag on forever, Nicholas finally said, "Of course, this has to be Sören's decision whether or not he'll take you back, but I am willing to -"
"Thank you." Anthony breathed a sigh of relief, feeling almost as if he could faint.
"Don't make me regret it, Anthony Hewlett-Johnson." Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "Or you will rue the day you were born." Nicholas reached into his pocket, pulled out a leather wallet, and from the wallet he produced a folded-up sheet of paper. He handed it to Anthony who unfolded it and saw a string of numbers in careful, old-fashioned, elegant handwriting. A few seconds later Anthony realized he was looking at dates and times. "That's Sören's schedule at the National, as you know he isn't likely to return your calls or e-mails, but this is the sort of conversation best had in person anyway - so his break periods are on the schedule. He typically goes to the cafe. He likes the chocolate espresso with whipped cream."
Anthony's head spun and his hands shook as he looked at the schedule. He didn't drive anymore, after the accident, and he was self-conscious about taking public transportation, but he could take a cab and...
"If there's anything else you want to ask me," Anthony said, "any other concerns you have, I can give you my cell number and -"
"That shan't be necessary," Nicholas said, with a small shake of his head. He rose and gave a curt nod. "Have a good rest of the day." And then he was off.
Anthony brought the cups and lemonade inside and then he sank onto the couch, his heartbeat slowing now that the threat had passed. And with the relief came the flood. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.
Anthony was curled up on the couch in the fetal position when Elaine got back, not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. Elaine raised an eyebrow, but then ducked out to the kitchen to start dinner.
Roger finally woke up from his nap and came downstairs, and put on the telly. Anthony attempted to read while Roger was engrossed in his program, but Anthony kept getting distracted, thinking of Nicholas saying yes, and how he was going to talk to Sören. He thought about doing it now - Sören had a break coming up at eight PM tonight - but something in him told him to wait.
Dinner was uneventful - Anthony worried that Elaine was going to bring up the visit with Nicholas, but she did not. Elaine simply asked about his time gardening, and the Norwegian course, and then Elaine and Roger talked about their errands earlier and things happening at different stores, and the British news and world news.
After dinner Anthony excused himself to his room, mentally preparing himself for the impending visit, rehearsing what he would say as if this was a court case, and a short while later there was a knock on his door. Anthony sighed. "Come in," he said.
Elaine stepped in, now in burgundy silk pajamas and a light black bathrobe, glancing around as if he were hiding someone in his room before she stepped in. She pulled up a chair and Anthony sat on the edge of his bed.
"Hi," Anthony said, feeling supremely awkward.
"Hi." Elaine folded her hands on her lap, a posture Anthony recognized himself taking when he was about to interview a client. "You were dozing on the couch, when we got in. You never do that unless something is wrong. Is something wrong?"
"I had a visitor." Anthony gave his mother a look. "I assume you already know who it was. A certain Nicholas Decaux."
Elaine nodded. "He explained why he wanted to see you. I'm sorry -"
"You're not, and I would like you to stop meddling in my affairs. I'm thirty-five." He felt like an overgrown child reminding everyone he was "four and a half right now". "But... we talked. And..." He took out the schedule and showed his mother. "He encouraged me to go see him in person, on one of his breaks."
Elaine got up and hugged him tight. Anthony felt her tremble and he knew then that she was crying, and when he looked up he saw her break down in sobs. That set off Anthony crying too, even though he was exhausted from crying earlier - the breakup with Sören hadn't just been difficult for Anthony, but for Elaine as well, who loved Sören like he was her own. "Oh, Mum."
"I'm sorry," Elaine said. She reached for tissues on Anthony's desk. "I've really missed that boy."
"Well, if all goes well, you might... you might see him once in awhile. He's still working at the National, he's still working a lot of hours, but -" It felt surreal, that there might be hope, a light at the end of the tunnel.
"I'm sure you can arrange something to bring him around." Then Elaine chuckled. "At least I don't have to worry about him eating properly if he's living with Nicholas. He loves to cook. It was not common in those days, to see a teenage boy who liked cooking so much, but he did."
Anthony felt another prickle of jealousy, remembering how his lack of domesticity had been a sticking point at the end, how guilty he'd felt about it. It was another twist of the knife. Cooking. What else?
Elaine handed Anthony a wad of tissues. Anthony wiped at his tears. "I can't believe any of this is happening," Anthony said. "I've missed him so much -"
"Why are you telling that to me? Tomorrow, go see him."
"Mother."
Elaine gave him a mock stern look. "Do it or you're grounded, Cornelius Anthony."
Anthony laughed and shook his head.
"Besides, I need to go tell your father. He'll be thrilled. Well..." Elaine made a face. "Maybe not with the polyamory, that's something we'd... need to break to him slowly. But..."
"Oh god, Mum, do you have to tell Dad about Sören now? Can't it wait?"
"We've been waiting almost two years." With that, Elaine rushed off, but she paused a few steps from the doorway, yelled, "GO SEE HIM TOMORROW," and then she hurried off.
Anthony facepalmed, then flopped back, laughing and crying.
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