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Special Friends
The youth club was packed when I entered and they all wanted to know where I'd been hiding myself. If they only knew about the toilets and things then they wouldn't be so interested. I told them some story about what had kept me away and they accepted it, which only seemed to confirm to me that I was a fraud. Mike was nowhere to be seen. I asked about him as casually as I could and heard that he was getting ready for some exams at school and hadn't been in for a while. Not being able to ask much more I went into the coffee bar to see what I could learn from Jimmy Lynn, the man who organised the club. He could tell I was pumping him for information and said he hadn't realised that Mike and I were friends. I tried to brush it off as being not the slightest bit important.
'He's just a mate. So, what's new?'
Jimmy filled me in on what had been going on since I'd last been in and showed me some photographs of a trip the club had been on. I scanned the photographs for one of Mike and there he was. I asked Jimmy to tell me about it. Mike was beaming a smile straight into the camera and was wearing the same blue sweater he'd had on the first time I'd seen him arriving on his bike. Jimmy talked about the trip and then about friendship. He told me how important it was to have a special friend.
'The last time Mike was in he asked about you but I could only tell him that you'd not been in.'
I nearly fell off the bar stool.
'Yea?' was all I could muster.
I wanted to know exactly what he'd said, how he was, what he was wearing, when was he coming in next, everything, anything.
'He's here next Tuesday evening. Playing in the table tennis match.'
That's all I needed to know. I wanted to throw my arms around Jimmy and thank him, but all I could come up with as I pushed myself back onto two legs of the bar stool was, 'Fancy a coke?' Before Jimmy could answer I fell head over heels off the slipping stool and everyone, including me, laughed themselves silly.
Tuesday was light years away. I wished I'd had the sense to take the photograph of Mike. Time dragged and everything I did seemed either to go wrong, or I'd break something, or I'd not hear what people were saying. My mother commented how she was glad that I was taking an interest in things. What things? I washed and ironed the shirt I would wear for the Tuesday. I had my favourite sweater cleaned. I even bought new underwear and socks and pressed the sharpest crease into my trousers. I had my hair cut and styled. I bought my first ever bottle of after-shave despite the fact that shaving was three years off. I cleaned my bedroom from top to bottom and did it again to make sure it was clean. I now had my own room with a single bed and it looked good. I polished my shoes and everyone else's and tidied up the sitting room. In all of this it never crossed my mind that I was creating such a fuss. My mother was delighted at my new found energy.
Then it was Tuesday and I was in pieces. I wasn't able to eat all day and I couldn't get myself together at all. It was well after eight when I finally left the house. At the corner of the street I remembered that I'd left my money on my bed and had to run home and get it. At eight thirty I entered the club and heard the match in progress. When I entered the match room there he was just changing ends. His eyes met mine and he smiled broadly. I gave him an encouraging wink which turned into a blushing smile. This in turn made me blush even more but I don't think he noticed. I prayed he hadn't anyway. I applauded every point he scored but in the end he lost and shook hands with the guy who beat him. He picked up his sweater and things and came directly over to where I was standing. Why in the name of God were my legs feeling like jelly? He put his arm on my shoulder and said,
'Hi!'
It was electric.
'Hi.'
Our eyes met and he told me that he'd played real bad and could have won.
'Next time, you'll kill him.'
'Right. Where have you been keeping yourself?'
'Bit like you, I guess, other things to do.'
'Exams eh?'
'Yes, kind of. Fancy a coke?'
'Thought you'd never ask,' he joked.
I was relieved to get off the subject of where I'd been keeping myself. He half held and half pushed me towards the coffee bar. We sat together and tried to catch up on what had been going on in the club. He told me that Jimmy had told him that I'd be in tonight. I felt myself blush.
'I'm glad you came, he said smiling.
'So am I.'
We then talked passionately about table tennis for quite a long time and he became very animated. At times, while he spoke, I would let my eyes wander over his face. He was singularly beautiful, smooth olive skin and dark shining eyes. I felt his eyes on me when I spoke and wondered what he thought of me. At times his searching eyes made me feel distinctly uncomfortable and I feared he might see too far in and see the bad bits. So powerful was this feeling that I'd shift uncomfortably and change the subject so that he'd have to talk instead. When other kids came round and tried to join in the conversation we excluded them and they got the message and left us alone. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the evening was over. It was ten o'clock and the club was closing.
On the doorstep Jimmy told us about a meeting he wanted to hold to discuss the arrangements which would have to be made when the club closed for alterations. Six weeks closure was indicated. My heart sank. Six weeks without Mike! There was an added problem of where to hold the meeting because the club was booked up all the following week.
'You can hold it in our house,' I ventured.
'Are you sure that'll be alright?'
'Yes, I think so. I'll let you know. I'll phone you.'
'Terrific. But there's no need to phone. The club is open tomorrow night. I'll see you then.'
With all agreed I hung around for a while and talked some more with Mike and then reluctantly made my way home.
'See you tomorrow,' he called as he got up steam on his bike.
'Yes, see you,' I yelled back.
When I got home I went straight to my mother and asked her if we could have the meeting in the sitting room.
'When?'
'I'm not sure, soon though.'
'How many?'
'Not many.'
'How many?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Find out.'
'You don't mind though?'
'Find out how many first.'
I went straight to the telephone in the hallway and telephoned Jimmy at his home. He gave me all the information I needed. I hung on and called my mother, she called my father and it was okay'd. I don't think I'd ever been happier. I agreed to clean the sitting room on the night and set a fire in the grate. My mother suggested that she make some sandwiches and things and bring them in during our meeting. This would be the first time I'd brought friends home. In bed that night I panicked as I realised I'd not asked Mike for his telephone number. I replayed the whole evening over and over. I could recall every word, every gesture.
The following night in the club, as he put up a notice advertising the meeting, Jimmy thanked me and told me to thank my parents. Mike was the first to put his name on the list. I was second. As we looked at the notice together Mike said to me that our names looked good together. I agreed and gave him a playful thump on the arm. He returned it and dashed off saying, 'Come on, let's have a game of table tennis.' During the game I asked him if he was on the telephone at home and he told me that he was. We exchanged numbers.
The following day he phoned. I was delighted as I'd been too scared to call him. We chatted about this and that, then about the meeting. He said it might be a bit of a problem for him because it was likely to go on till late and he had to be home by half past ten.
'You could stay over.'
There was a silence which I thought would never end.
'That would be great. Are you sure it's okay?'
'Yes, hang on, I'll ask.'
'Okay, look, I'll ask my folks too.'
I checked with my mother and she readily agreed. The only question she asked about Mike was, 'Is he a Catholic?'
'Mother, it's a Catholic youth club.'
'Then that's okay then.'
'Mike? Yes, it's fine.'
'Yes, same here. Eh, that's great.'
When I put the phone down I dashed into the kitchen, threw my arms around my mother and told her that I thought she was the best mother in the whole damn world. I kissed her and she laughed and kissed me back.
'You're not so bad yourself.'
We infected each other with joy as we both set to prepare for the meeting and Mike staying over. Despite the seven bedrooms my mother suggested that Mike share my room. There was no objection from me. We shared the cleaning but my mother clearly made every effort and did far more than she needed to. I thanked her for making such an effort and told her that I loved her very much.
'Well, you've got friends staying, it's only right that I make them welcome.'
The day of the meeting came and not only had she put a vase of flowers in the sitting room but also one in my bedroom. I had to force back the tears when I saw it. It was such a beautiful thing to have done, don't you think?
Mike's father dropped him off and he was the first to arrive. I showed him my room and he said it was smashing.
'You can share with me or you can have my brother's room. He's in the navy.'
He threw his bag on the bed and simply said, 'This is fine.'
The meeting was a great success and my mother was a hit with everyone. She'd made a great effort and supplied us with a first-class spread. Mike thought she was fantastic and I was thrilled. He helped clear up afterwards and told me that our house was like a first-class hotel. This caused me to relook at it. It was kind of well done and I felt a twinge of guilt for not having really noticed before. Somehow, up until the moment Mike had said that, I'd carried a picture of the house inside my head which more accurately fitted the old house. I really hadn't taken in the changes. It was weird. I looked around and saw a huge, beautifully furnished house. My mother liked Mike a lot, especially when she discovered he had Irish blood.
I closed the bedroom door behind us and put the bedside light on. I'd always disliked central ceiling lights. Our voice tones changed to match the soft lighting and we began to undress. We matched each other item for item. With shirts off I was struck by his olive-skinned torso. Like my own it was smooth but his was as olive-coloured as his face. I usually slept raw these days but decided to keep my underpants on. That's when he told me that he thought I had a great body. I told him that so did he and we both laughed. With that he leapt into bed and asked, 'Which side's mine?'
'Take your pick.'
He opted for the side furthest from the door and dived under the covers. I put the light out and got in. We cuddled in to each other and said not a word. I felt at home with him. Words were not needed. However, just before I fell asleep I whispered to him, 'Mike?'
'Yes?'
'I really like you.'
He moved closer so that our noses were almost touching and through the moonlight I could see his eyes.
'I like you too Rich. I've never had a friend like you.'
I was starting to get erect and he was too.
'I think we should turn over and get some sleep,' I suggested laughing.
'I think you're right,' he said.
We turned over and slept with as much of our backs touching as possible. When I woke the following morning he'd turned over and was cuddled right into me. I stayed there, awake and at home with my new friend.
In the bathroom we laughed and touched a lot. He told me that he wished he was as broad as me and I told him that I wished I had his olive skin. By the time this mutual admiration society got down for breakfast, the others had eaten and my mother had laid the table for the two of us. She closed the dining-room door after serving and left us to each other. We talked and talked and talked. I questioned him about his favourite colour, the people he liked, the kind of school he went to, what his brother was like, how long he'd had his bike - in fact everything I could think of. His questions were much as mine and we would have been sat there still had my mother not insisted that she clear up.
We became firm friends. We stayed in each other's homes on alternate weekends and when we didn't see each other in the club we'd telephone. We each arranged our lives around the other. Invitations from other kids at the club to go to parties always included our two names. I felt complete. He was more than I could have hoped for. More, indeed, than I had hoped for. The only time I felt in danger of losing him was when he spoke about girls. They never entered my mind and I was becoming to accept that perhaps I really was homosexual. We would sometimes double date a couple of girls but we never had sex with them or anything and when we slept together we always reaffirmed our bond. This bond we called friendship and that's precisely what it was. But more than that, for me it had become love and here he was taking more and more of an interest in girls. It was natural for him, I guess. Just as natural though was that sex between us was always a possibility but which I non-verbally opted not to actualise. It was best that way, I figured. I mean, sex was part of the bad side of me and my love and friendship with Mike was beautifully pure. Time and closeness with him was enough.
We'd arranged to meet in town to do some shopping on the Saturday morning and then he was to spend the weekend at my home. I met his bus and off we went. His love of music took us to Frank Hessey's music store. Mike just wanted to look and price a few items which was fine by me. All the music I needed I carried in my head. Mike became completely absorbed in the shop and that's when I saw the man take the trumpet from the stand and slip it under his coat, in broad daylight and in a crowded shop. I sent an elbow into Mike's ribs and told what I'd seen. The man saw us looking and made for the door. I met Mike's eyes which had become quite excited and we legged after the man in unison. As we gained on the man he dropped the trumpet and carried on running. The thief in me told Mike to let him go and we stopped and picked up the stolen trumpet. When Mike handed it back to the shop assistant I could see that he didn't believe Mike and I was furious. The same old shit. Tell the truth and no one believes you. Later, in a coffee shop, I told Mike about the man in the entry and how no one believed me, not even my own parents. He comforted me and I regretted telling him for I'd brought two worlds together that had no part in each other. We concluded that adults really didn't have much idea what it was like to be young and took a bus back to my home.
Getting off the bus at Bedford Road we windowshopped our way along the road. It was the men's clothing stores which held our attention more than any others and we pointed out the things we liked. He really was quite conservative the things he picked. But that was okay because he was Mike. That's when the car horn sounded, and turning around my heart sank and my legs became like jelly. I recognised both the car and the driver only too well. It was Shoebox. You know, the posh man with the shoebox full of nude photographs. He was waving. Shit! I turned away. The horn sounded again. He was calling me over. Oh dear sweet Jesus make him go away, I prayed. Mike was curious. He mustn't know about this. He mustn't know.
'Hang on a minute Mike. I'll be right back,' I said leaving Mike standing as I crossed the road towards Shoebox.
Shoebox must have thought that I was pleased to see him the way I ran to him.
'Hi,' I said, out of breath.
'My, how you've grown. For a moment I didn't recognise you.'
I wished that he hadn't.
'Your boyfriend?' he nodded towards Mike who was looking over.
'No way! He's just a mate.' I tried to sound as casual as I could.
'Does he... play?'
'No he doesn't!' I said coldly.
'Pity. Beautiful boy.'
'No way!'
'Pity. How are you anyway?'
'I'm okay. Got to go though.'
'When am I going to see you again?'
'Tomorrow,' I lied.
Holy shit! Mike was crossing the road towards the car.
'What time?'
'Half past two, here. Okay?' I said moving away.
'Yes, half past two. I've some new photographs to show you which I know you'll appreciate.'
Mike was now standing at my shoulder. Did he hear?
'Okay, see you then,' I said trying to walk away.
He spoke directly to Mike.
'Hello, I was just saying...'
Oh dear God, make him shut up!
'...what a lovely day it is. You must be...'
'Mike.'
Jesus Christ! They were shaking hands. The same hands that, well you know. My hurry to get away was obviously confusing Mike for he looked to me for some kind of explanation.
'At the same school?' Shoebox asked.
'No,' said Mike. 'The same youth club though.'
'We're going to be late, Mike. For tea! My mother's going out and...'
'The same club, which one would that be?'
Mike told him. He went on to tell him how good it was and of his love of table tennis. He told him what nights of the week it was on and everything. I had frozen to the spot. What next?
'Oh, I mustn't keep you boys. You'll be late for tea. Richard, I'd hate to embarrass you at your club... You did say two thirty didn't you?'
I cursed him inwardly. He had me by the balls.
'Yes, that's right,' I said politely.
'I'll be waiting.' He whistled as he drove off.
Mike thought he was a really nice person and told me that I'd behaved rudely and could have been more polite. We nearly had our first fight. But lies saved the day. I explained to Mike that Shoebox was the man who organised the altar boys for our school and was a bit of a pain always making sure we turned up on time.
'Besides, my mind was on that thief and the trumpet and things, and the way the shop assistant didn't believe you, you know.'
Mike forgave me instantly and I felt like shit. Later, I told Mike that I had a real bad headache and would need to go to bed alone. Once again, he understood and once again I felt like shit. But, you see, I had to get rid of him for his own good. I mean, I had to show up for Shoebox the next day or else he'd wait outside the club or even worse, he'd go in. Mike went home and phoned me when he arrived to ask how I was. For Christ's sake!
I met Shoebox, we went through the usual ritual and I came away with my envelope. It was then that he told me he was a teacher.
I didn't go to the club during the following week because I knew Mike would ask me how I was and I'd be forced to lie again. On the Thursday I telephoned him and tried to explain that I'd been a bit under the weather.
'Rich, I called before and your mum said you were at your auntie's last Sunday.'
'Yes, for a while, that's all.'
He knew I wasn't being honest with him.
'Rich, are you alright. I mean, is anything wrong?'
'Nothing. No, nothing, why?'
'Nothing?'
'Mike, I'm alright. What is this?'
'Do you want me to come down?'
Oh God, the tears were falling all over the damn phone and I didn't know what the hell to say or do.
'Rich?'
I took a deep breath.
'Yes?'
'Shall I come down to yours?'
'Not tonight Mike.'
'Rich, I know something is wrong. I know you. So why don't you tell me? Come on.'
'Mike, please don't ask me...' I cried. 'Please don't ask me. Promise me you won't ask.'
'Eh, come on. Calm down. It's okay. I won't ask. Okay. Okay?'
'Thanks.'
'I'll see you next week then? But if you want, you can call me, yes?'
'Okay.'
When we hung up I stood by the phone unable to move. I was crying great heaving sobs. I couldn't tell him. I had to protect him from my truth. My mother must have heard the sobs for she rushed into the hall asking, 'What in the name of God is wrong? Is Mike alright?'
'He's fine. He's coming to stay next week.'
'Fine, but is he alright?'
'Of course he's alright.'
'Then in God's name what's wrong with you?'
She held me close in her arms for a minute or two then dried my tears with her apron.
'Are you in some kind of trouble?' she wanted to know.
'No. No trouble. You needn't worry. I'm okay.'
I pushed past her and went up to my room and fell fast asleep on my bed. I woke in the middle of the night, cold. I decided to have a hot bath.
After a long soak in the tub I returned to my bedroom draped in a bath towel. I caught sight of myself in the dressing-table mirror and went over to it. What I was looking for was unclear. Just me I guess really. What I saw was duality. There in the one image was both the loyal friend and the boy who had sex with men for money. I looked long and hard to see what it was that men could see in me. I saw a scared kid. I looked, too, to see what it was that Mike saw in me and I saw a phoney.
I spoke out loud. That is, one part of me spoke to the other. Crazy, right?
'I like Mike.'
'You're a queer!'
'I just like him!'
'Fucking dirty queer!'
'I don't understand anything.'
'I go with men for money and I really like it.'
'It's just the sex I like. I don't like them.'
'I'd love to have sex with Mike!'
'No I wouldn't. Not Mike!'
'I'm crazy!'
'No. Not really. Just fucked up in the head. It's not the same thing.'
'I'm queer. Can't deny that!'
'Yes, but with Mike it's beyond that. Beyond sex. Beyond everything.'
'Love? Piss off! That's just another word for queer!'
'It's love. It's pure.'
'Bullshit!'
'It's true. It's weird but it's true.'
'I know different, right! I know what I think about, right?'
'That's different.'
'I go with men for money!'
'I don't want to.'
'I do it!'
'I don't enjoy it.'
'My body does though!'
'It's not the same.'
'That's just crazy talk.'
'Mike is love not sex.'
'Sex is love.'
'It's not. Sex is men and money.'
'My body likes it.'
'I am my body.'
'I like it.'
'Sex pollutes love!'
'Keep them apart then.'
'Yes, yes, apart.'
I moved slowly away from the mirror and climbed into bed fearing for my sanity yet feeling that I should talk to myself much more in the future. Crazy as it was, it kind of helped me. I wished that there was someone I could go to to try and explain all the confusion. But there was no one, just a crazy image in a mirror.
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