Authors: Avery Cockburn
Colin switched on the device and laid it beside the sink. “I don’t know what to say.”
I love you too
?
I’m pure happy you threw your life away for my sake
?
That color looks brilliant on you
? Two out of those three statements were true.
“You’re probably the only one. I’m sure everyone else has loads to say.” Andrew set half a dozen eggs on the kitchen worktop, then picked up his phone. As it powered up, it played tones Colin recognized as text messages and voice mails, but Andrew’s frown deepened as he thumbed the screen. “Odd, my family hasn’t rung once. I assumed by this hour they’d be breaking down my door.” The intercom buzzed. “Ah, there they are.” He went to the console, pressed the speaker button, and said “Hiya” for the first time ever.
A man’s voice crackled through. “Yeah, I’ve got a telegram for a Mr. Andrew Sunderland?”
Andrew did a double-take. “A telegram? Is this a joke?”
“Why does everyone ask that?” the guy said.
“Because the world’s final remaining telegraph office closed last year in India,” Andrew replied.
“I’m from TelegramsOnline.com. We’re a messaging service. Look, I’ve got a busy schedule the day, so can you just let me up?”
“I’ll come down.”
The two of them dressed quickly. Colin noticed Andrew didn’t relinquish the Yes T-shirt—not that Colin wanted it just now. Then they hurried downstairs to the block of flats’ front entrance.
The burly messenger handed Andrew a brown envelope and said, “Oi, nice shirt.”
“Thanks.” Andrew signed the sheet on the clipboard. “Shitter of a morning, eh?”
“Aye. Cannae believe we only got forty-five percent of the vote. I thought it’d at least be close.” The messenger looked at them with bloodshot eyes. “Greeted my face off when they announced the results. All my mates, too.”
“Same here.” Colin was relieved—though not surprised—to hear he wasn’t the only grown man to cry over the referendum. Not since Uncle James’s death had he wept like that. “Might pop over to George Square later, see if anyone’s gathered.”
“I wouldnae.” The man shook his head and rubbed his black goatee. “Glasgow feels a powder keg the day. Everyone’s either cryin’ or—” He stopped and stared at Andrew. “Mate, you all right?”
Colin looked at his boyfriend and felt his own stomach plummet. Andrew’s face was deathly pale, his eyes fixed on the message in his hands. Colin grabbed the paper, a cream-colored sheet made to look like a telegram, complete with old-style typeface and a round, faded date stamp in the corner.
This is to regretfully inform you of your imminent disownment. The family solicitor will contact you regarding next steps. Enjoy your newfound freedom.
Sincerely,
Charles Sunderland, Marquess of Kirkross
I’
LL
NEVER
SEE
Gretchen again.
Andrew sat on the bottom stair of his block of flats, pressing his face to the cool stone wall to keep from passing out or throwing up. He knew he should be more concerned with his loss of income, his loss of title—even if it was only a courtesy one—and his loss of family.
But all he could think about was his pony. Gretchen would never understand why he’d abandoned her forever. He’d planned to be at her side one day as she left this world, stroking her silky silver mane and her velvety white muzzle.
“Andrew.” Colin was crouched beside him, shaking his shoulder. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
“Can’t walk.”
“Aye, you can. We’ll go up to your flat and you’ll phone your parents and apologize. You’ll sort this.”
“Apologize?” Andrew rolled the foul-tasting word around his mouth. “But I’m not sorry.”
“Not even after this?” Colin held up the faux telegram.
“It was my choice. I knew I was ending my political career.”
“But you didnae mean to lose your family! I’ll not let you sacrifice them on my account.”
Andrew closed his eyes and saw Gretchen’s long black lashes, heard her self-righteous snort in his ear.
“Are you listening to me?” Colin lowered his voice and gave Andrew’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m not worth all this.”
Andrew opened his eyes. “It wasn’t all about you. Cameron’s speech this morning…the Tories have turned their backs on Scotland. They never cared about us. I can’t be part of that anymore. There’s nothing to be a part of.”
“You couldn’t have found a quieter way to be rid of them? One which didn’t drag me into your wee Twitter tantrum?”
Andrew stared at him, his gut roiling. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“You of all people should have known there’d be fallout.” Colin threw his hands up. “It’s fuckin’ raining down on us both, from all sides. Everyone pretty much hates you now.”
A scoff rasped Andrew’s throat.
Of course.
For years he’d been done everything he could to make the world love him, and the moment he was true to himself, they’d all turned on him. Which meant they’d never really known or loved him to begin with.
Except Colin. Right?
“Do you hate me too?” He reached out to grasp Colin’s arm. “Was it that bad?”
“Bad? Andrew, it was the most ballsy thing I’ve ever seen. But it wasn’t worth losing your family. You’ve got to make amends with them.” He pushed the telegraph into Andrew’s hand, then stood and moved away. “Tell them we broke up.”
“That’s ridiculous. They’ll find out the truth in no time.”
Colin stared out the front entrance, his hunched figure silhouetted against the glass. “Not if it
is
the truth.”
“Not if what is—” Andrew’s heart lurched. “No. We’re not splitting up to appease my parents. I love you.”
Colin remained still and silent. The air between them felt thick as swamp water.
Andrew cleared his throat. “You don’t have to say it—”
“I don’t love you.”
One by one, Andrew’s internal organs crumpled like tissue paper. The tears that had perched on the edges of his eyes since he’d received his father’s message now tumbled down his cheeks.
“Why…after all this time…” he choked out, “do you choose
now
, about
this
, to lie to me?”
“I’m not lying.” Colin shook his head back and forth, back and forth, still facing away. “I don’t love you. We’ve had our laughs, but I was only with you for sex and—and—and your money. Free food and fucking, that’s all it—”
“You are the most crap liar I’ve ever heard!”
“I’m not! I’m a brilliant liar, that’s why you never knew. I’m just now telling the truth.”
“Prove it.” Andrew got to his feet. “Walk out that door in front of you. And this time, never come back.”
Colin didn’t hesitate. He shoved open the door and went through it. Turning to the right on the pavement, he vanished from sight.
For a moment, Andrew stood rooted to the spot.
Oh God, what have I done?
Dropping his father’s message, he dashed out the door, nearly smashing his nose against the glass. When he pivoted to chase after Colin, he collided with a solid object, which tumbled beneath him onto the pavement.
“Fuck!” Colin rolled over, wiping the dust off his palms. “That’d get you a red card on the pitch, mate.”
“Sorry. I thought you’d be halfway down the street by now, the way you were moving.”
“I couldnae.” Colin put his face in his hands. “I’m too weak to leave, even for your own good.
You
have to be the strong one.”
“Aye, right,” Andrew said in his best Colin MacDuff impersonation. He untangled their legs and sat beside him.
Colin fingered a brand-new hole in the knee of his jeans. “So…why’d you vote Yes?”
Andrew took a deep breath, knowing this would be the first of many times he’d need to explain. “I’m not a starry-eyed dreamer. I don’t think independence will solve all of Scotland’s problems.”
“Neither do I.”
“Let me finish.” Andrew pulled his knees to his chest. “In fact, I think independence will create many problems we can’t yet imagine. But at least we’ll have the power to solve them. Right now we’ve loads of troubles we can’t solve because Westminster controls the purse strings. It’s time for this country to grow up and forge its own path, however rocky it may be.”
“Hm. That’s a belter of a speech.” Colin nudged his shoulder against Andrew’s. “But are we still talking about Scotland?” When Andrew glared at him, Colin said, “Sorry. Not trying to psychoanalyze. It’s just odd, someone like you voting against your own interests.”
Andrew gave the most imperious snort he could manage. “Please. Voting in one’s interest is so vulgar. What do I care if I’ll be five hundred quid richer or poorer every year? As you once said, that’s pocket change to me.”
Colin stared at him. “So basically, you voted Yes for the same reason you do everything—because you’re better than the rest of us.”
Andrew fought to keep a straight face as he tilted his chin and shrugged. “Mm.”
“You are so…wonderfully horrible.”
Andrew smiled, his cheeks stiff with the salt of dried tears. “And you’re horribly wonderful.”
Colin kissed him softly, then pressed his forehead to Andrew’s and sighed. “Why do we keep making a state of things?”
“Probably because we’re trying to impress each other.” He looked up and down his empty lane, which seemed even quieter than usual. It felt like a shroud had been dropped over the city. “Shall we get breakfast somewhere? I can’t bear the thought of sitting home waiting for my father’s lawyer to pop in.”
“Naw, I need to head back to the Drum and see my family.”
“Oh.” Andrew glanced up at his flat, dreading the hours alone.
Colin stood slowly, then reached down a hand. “Want to come with me?”
= = =
Colin watched from his kitchen as Andrew held court on the sofa, regaling Emma and Gran with tales and pictures of celebrity antics.
“Thought she was gonnae pass out,” Colin said to his father, “when he told her he knew all the One Direction lads.”
“You’ve earned a few hundred ‘Cool Points’ today.” Dad cracked a pair of eggs for the omelets he was making for tea. “And all you had to do was bring home a lord.”
“Soon to be
ex
-lord.” Colin counted out bread slices to toast, examining each for mold. He wondered how Andrew would handle plain white bread in place of his fancy flaxseed sprouted-grain stuff. “He’s given up everything for me, and I’ve done fuck all in return. What have I even got to sacrifice? Nothing.”
“But you would if you could—and he knows it, no doubt.” Dad looked over his shoulder into the living room. “Will his family take his flat?”
“It’s in his name, so I guess he’ll keep it as long as he pays the mortgage. It must be huge on a posh place like that.”
“He can get a student grant for living costs, like you did.”
Colin scoffed. “I’m sure he’ll love begging for government aid. But aye, I’ll show him how to apply.”
“Oh my God, your castle!” Emma shrieked.
Colin moved behind the sofa as Andrew displayed a photo of Dunleven and pointed to a row of second-floor windows. “This was my room here.”
“Did you have a nanny?” Gran asked.
“My sister and brother did, but I was raised by Mum and Dad.”
“That explains a lot,” Colin said, meaning it as a compliment.
Andrew gave him a wavering smile, then returned his attention to the gallery on his phone. “And this is Gretchen.” He tapped a photo of a white pony.
“Aww, so cute!” Emma laid her head against Andrew’s shoulder, showing him more affection than she’d shown her brothers in years. “Do you miss her?”
“Very much,” Andrew said softly. Colin stroked his boyfriend’s hair, wishing he could storm into Dunleven and horse-nap Gretchen.
“It’s pure rubbish they’ve disowned you,” Emma said. “Did you tweet about it yet?”
“No, and he willnae,” Colin said. “If he makes it public, his family’s a lot less likely to change their minds.”
“You should at least edit your Twitter bio,” Emma told Andrew.
“You’re a social-media consultant now?” Colin asked his sister as he squeezed Andrew’s shoulder. “Mate, we’ve got a few minutes before tea. I want to show you something in my room.” Emma made a catcalling noise. “Not that.”
“Well, if it’s not that,” Andrew said, “I’ll just stay here, then.”
Emma cackled, and even Gran gave a blushing giggle.
Colin went down the hall to his room, and Andrew soon followed.
“Oh my God, it’s Tom.” Andrew examined Colin’s Tom Daley wall calendar, which this month showed the English diver fully clothed but hot as ever. “I assume you’ve seen December?” He flipped to the last page, a black and white shot of Daley in nothing but a pair of briefs, right arm angled over his head, displaying the Olympic rings tattoo on his biceps.
“Katie gave me that after I hurt my knee.”
“You mean after
she
hurt your knee. Ooh, a bunk bed.” Andrew swung down onto Colin’s mattress with his usual grace. “Why have you got one of these when you don’t share a room?”
“It came with the flat. Most of the furniture did.”
“Oh. Well, it reminds me of boarding school.” Andrew ran his fingertips over the top bunk’s springs above his head. “I always claimed the bottom bunk without asking. I was such a prick.”
Colin considered making a “power bottom” joke, but he’d brought Andrew here to speak reason to him. “Leave your Twitter account alone—no tweets, no changing bios—until things are settled with your family.”
“I’m not afraid of them anymore. I’m my own man now, completely.”
“Then
be
a man. Be an adult. Gonnae no provoke them further.”
“‘Provoke’? They’re humans, not grizzly bears.”
Colin dragged his hands over his own face. How could he live with himself if his boyfriend lost his family over this? And it wouldn’t be just family—probably most of Andrew’s mates and colleagues would turn on him as well. Soon he’d come to hate Colin.
“Andrew, you’ve no idea what they’re thinking and doing behind the scenes just now.”