“Perfect night,” I sighed, and I fetched us fresh beers from the fridge. I had just sat back down opposite Declan when Fran and Roger reappeared. The lack of firewood in their hands proved that their excursion was little more than a ruse. Declan selfconsciously adjusted the front of his shirt slightly, and I grinned to myself as I imagined him stripping out of it later.
“No firewood?” I asked innocently.
“We’ve run out,” Fran said smoothly. “I should have realised. But I think it’s time for lasagne!”
Roger took his seat at the foot of the table again while Fran busied herself with the oven.
“Fran does the best lasagne,” I told Declan.
“Not as good as my mum’s,” Fran said self-deprecatingly, placing the gourmet extravaganza in question on the table before us as artwork.
“I don’t know,” I said, “they’re pretty much on par.”
“Yeah,” Roger said, taking a swig of his beer. “Maybe you’ll try it one day, Declan.”
Everyone froze uncomfortably for a second or so.
Declan broke it by smiling and saying quietly, “I hope so. But for now, I can’t imagine anything tasting better than this.”
Fran rested her hand upon his arm briefly, and as she walked away she shot a glare at Roger that only I noticed. Roger was too busy peeling the label off his beer bottle, a
148 | SEAN KENNEDY
nervous habit that he had never seemed to grow out of. It also made me feel slightly wary that something wasn’t quite right with him.
We started serving ourselves, and a huge bowl of garlic bread was passed around. Fran and I had decided the no-garlic rule only existed for the first two weeks of a relationship, so now I was home free and I made sure I loaded up my plate with the offending foodstuff.
“Oh, this is
good
,” Declan said appreciatively after only the first bite.
“I told you,” I said while Fran looked pleased with herself.
“So, what are your intentions with Simon?” Roger asked out of the blue. The question obviously took Declan by surprise, as he started coughing.
“Roger!” Fran exclaimed.
I stared my best friend down, trying to decipher
his
intentions. But his face might as well have been carved from stone, and as such, was unreadable.
“I assure you,” Declan said smoothly, or just as smoothly as he could when a mouthful of food has gone down the wrong way, “that my intentions with Simon are completely honourable.” He was trying to be casual and a little bit fun, but judging by Roger’s sudden change in body language it wasn’t going to go down well. Like that mouthful of food.
“Uh huh,” Roger said. “But you’re not
out
, right?”
Declan shook his head and laid down his fork, drawing his own battle line. “Only to a few people. But publicly out? You’d already know that if I was.”
Roger nodded. “Well, Simon
is
.”
“I know.”
“Roger,” I said calmly, although my voice scraped like unsheathed steel.
“No,” Declan said gently. “He wants to ask some questions. Let him get them out.”
Fran didn’t look as amiable. She looked as if she was going to slash her husband’s throat with the spatula. A dull one, crusted with melted cheese.
“So what does that mean?” Roger continued.
“What does what mean?” I asked dangerously.
“Well, it seems like Simon is sacrificing a hell of a lot,” Roger said, still speaking to Declan rather than to all of us. “What about you?”
“I know he is,” Declan agreed.
“Do you really?” Roger asked. He had now finished his beer and was pouring himself a glass of wine. Strangely enough, he started politely pouring everybody else a glass as well.
“I know it’s hard for him—” Declan began.
I interrupted him, mad as hell and upset that he was being made to justify himself.
“It’s a decision
I
made. I’m not going into this blindly, Roger.”
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“And it’s not something my own friends haven’t pointed out to me,” Declan said. Now I turned on him. “What?”
“Abe and Lisa said—”
“I thought they liked me?”
“They do!”
“But they talked to you about this—”
“Of course they did! What, Roger and Fran have never said anything about this?”
I fell silent, as he was right, and felt the gentle pressure of Fran’s hand upon my shoulder. Strange that she should be the one trying to comfort me in this emotional shitstorm—shouldn’t it be Declan?
“See?” Declan asked.
“What you’re asking him to do is squeeze back into the closet with you,” Roger said. “And he shouldn’t have to, not when it took him so much to come out himself. He shouldn’t have to go back.”
“Rog, shut up,” I warned him.
“I’m your friend, so I get to say this!” he shot back. “We want to see you happy!
And this situation is only going to get harder and harder! I mean, how long can you go on like this?”
“We’re taking it as it comes,” I said, sounding unconvincing to everyone in the room.
“Declan?” Roger asked, obviously trying to see if he could get more out of him.
“How long can it go on like this? You going to give a big speech on your retirement day? Or just let it leak out gradually after that? You’re only twenty-seven. You could still play professionally for at least another six or seven years. Does Simon get to wait around for that long, hiding in the shadows, pretending he doesn’t exist to the outside world?”
This was all starting to sound a bit melodramatic for my taste, but Declan was staring down at his plate.
“No,” he said softly, “maybe not.”
“But that’s my fucking decision,” I said. “And I think it’s worth it.”
Declan looked up at me and smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes.
“This was meant to be a nice dinner,” Fran murmured.
“Yeah, thanks, Roger,” I said bitterly. “You’ve really made a good impression.”
“Hey,” Declan said. “He’s trying to be a good friend.”
“Don’t defend him!”
“Someone has to. He’s going to be copping it from Fran when we leave.”
Fran said nothing, but her mutinous eyes declared Roger was living on borrowed time.
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“What about the Brownlow?” Roger asked.
It seemed like the stupidest thing he could have brought up at this point of time, and Fran and I stared at each other in confusion. When I looked at Declan, however, I could see he knew what Roger was getting at.
“It’s coming up in a few weeks,” Roger prodded him.
Declan nodded.
“Do you have a date?”
Declan sighed and folded his arms defensively against his chest. “Yes. I do.”
I should have expected it. Because I knew I would never be going to it. Yet hearing that affirmation hurt, especially because we hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss it between ourselves. For him to explain it all and let me in on his plans.
“Who?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“My sister’s friend, Jess. The same girl I took the year I won.”
“Does she know you’re gay?” I asked.
Declan nodded. “We have an understanding. She’s a friend. She likes to help out every now and again when I need a date for a function.”
“Wow, that closet’s getting a little full,” Roger murmured.
“Shut the fuck up!” Fran hissed at him. “You’ve said enough!”
My chest felt tight from trying not to explode. I didn’t know whether I just wanted to yell at everyone or go off somewhere and either scream or cry until this tightness went away. I wondered if this was what it felt like to have a heart attack; I was surprised I was still breathing normally. I managed to somehow get to my feet and stammer out,
“Yeah, look, I think I’m going to go.”
“Simon,” Fran said desperately.
Roger stood up to follow me, and I glared at him. “Don’t.”
All it took was that one word to stop him in his tracks. I gave Fran a quick kiss. “Thanks.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said.
The last thing I wanted to do was speak to anybody, but I nodded. I didn’t want her to think I was going to ignore her again like last time.
Last time
. This was all becoming a bit too frequent and repetitive for my liking.
As I stumbled out into the hallway, I heard Declan make his apologies to Fran. He even said goodbye to Roger, although it was a terse one. I was fumbling with my car keys, trying to open the door when he came up behind me.
“Hey,” he said tenderly.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“What for?”
“Just, Abe and Lisa—”
TIGERS AND DEVILS | 151
“This has nothing to do with Abe and Lisa—”
“But they were so nice to me, and my friends attack you—”
“Fran was perfectly lovely. Roger… well… he was trying to defend
you
. I can’t be pissed with him for that, although I can be pissed off in a lot of other ways.”
“Stop sounding like you’re on his side—”
He took my keys off me and unlocked the door himself. “I’m on
your
side,” he said, passing the keys back.
“Well, I’m on yours, so I can be pissed off for you.”
“Good thing we’re on each other’s sides, then,” he mused. “Because it’ll be hell if we start in on each other too.”
Damn, he looked pretty in the moonlight. Okay, technically, it was the fluorescent glow from a streetlight. But he still looked pretty.
“We have to be,” I told him.
“Can I still come over?”
I wanted to kiss him, out on the street, under the light, but I knew I couldn’t. “Like you had to ask.”
“After that in there, I thought it was best.”
“See you back home.”
I felt his hand briefly on my hip, but it was gone just as quick. I got into my car and looked up to see Fran standing on the front porch. She gave a small wave, and I gave her one back. Then I savagely threw the car into reverse and got the hell out of Dodge. Declan wasn’t far behind me; I was only getting out of my car when he pulled into my driveway.
“I’m calling for pizza,” I told him. “Strangely enough, I’m starving.”
He grinned. “Me too. It must be because of that huge lack of food we got to eat.”
Maggie was surly when I got in the door. I fed her, ordered pizza, and let Declan fetch me a beer. We didn’t speak that much, it wasn’t until the pizza arrived and we were finally getting food into our bellies that we started to talk.
“This is in no way as good as Fran’s lasagne,” I told him.
“I have to agree. But it’s warm, and I’m hungry, so pass me another slice.”
My phone rang, and I could tell from caller ID it was either Fran or Roger. I let the answering machine get it and turned it down so I wouldn’t have to listen.
“You’re going to have to talk to him sometime.”
“Not tonight. Probably not for a while.”
“Just don’t freeze Fran out. She doesn’t deserve to get caught in the middle.”
“I won’t,” I replied. “But she’ll be in the middle anyway.” I put my plate down, suddenly not hungry anymore.
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“Hey,” Declan said simply, and he put his plate down as well. He pulled me over to him, and I sank against him. His arms came around me, and as much as every inner demon within me screamed to resist, I let myself go limp and closed my eyes, taking comfort in his warmth and feeling soothed. I felt my anger fade away in those moments that I lay there, while the soft steady thump of his heart close to my ear calmed me out of my natural skittishness. Was this what love was like? The mere thought of the word made me want to yak like a cat with a hairball, but even though I could now put a word to it I still couldn’t say it. I didn’t know what I thought I would lose, but everything around us seemed (or felt) precarious, and I didn’t want to tip the balance any further when we seemed to have found a moment of calm in the eye of the storm.
THE real talk, of course, happened under the cover of darkness in the bedroom.
“She’s pretty,” I said.
I could sense Declan wanting to say “who?” and pretending he didn’t know straight away what I was referring to, but he just sighed and said, “Yes.”
“She looks good on you,” I pressed further.
He gave a short laugh. “Jess isn’t a suit.”
“I remember her vaguely from all the photos of you in the papers when you won the Brownlow.”
“I guess anyone couldn’t help but miss it.”
“Why does she do it?”
“Because she’s my friend.”
“There isn’t anything more than that?”
He hesitated before replying. “I wonder how Roger knew.”
I sat up, finally, sensing we wouldn’t be sleeping for a while. “Knew what?”
“He made that comment… about how crowded the closet was.”