~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Gavin awoke cramped and uncomfortable on one of the pews in front of the lectern. He jumped up, wondering where he was, then it all came back. He smiled. Where was Paul? He looked around, and was slightly nonplussed when he found the church empty. Not only was Paul not here… but there was no sign of him having been here. Gavin groaned when he realised the pounding in his head was not going to lessen, and when he walked out of the church into strong sunlight, he almost ducked back into the comfortable semi-darkness.
Fishing out the packet of cigarettes he had bought the night before, he lit one and inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke curling in his lungs. Nicotine was a dangerous lover, but like a lover, addictive and pleasurable. Feeling better, Gavin began walking, reliving the night before in his mind, and wondering why Paul had left without waking him. The last he remembered they had been snuggled together on the floor, sharing the warmth of their bodies. How had he ended up on one of the pews?
Shrugging, he let his feet remember the way once more, and found himself following a familiar route. Paul’s parents would know where he could be found now, because he wouldn’t have just this and nothing else. It had been something new, and now Gavin only wanted more.
He stopped abruptly when he reached the house, staring in surprise. Where their house had been, there was now nothing. Just an overgrown piece of land and a peeling sign from the council that said ‘No Trespassing.’ He looked up and down the street in confusion, and wondered what to do next. He wasn’t leaving here without seeing him again. An old man was walking his dog down the street. Perhaps it was the same old man who wished him ‘good evening’ the night before. Gavin came to a decision, and approached him.
“Excuse me,” he said in a hangover-roughened voice, wincing. He sounded like a drunk. The man looked up just as he was trying to finger comb his hair into some kind of order, suddenly realising that he must look a little the worse for wear. “Can you tell me what happened here?” He gestured to the place where Paul’s house had stood vaguely. “An old friend used to live here,” he continued by way of explanation, as if it might jog the man’s memory.
“Well, he would be an old friend if he used to live there,” the man said slowly, and looked at the patch of land. “There hasn’t been a house standing there for around ten years,” he said, and looked back at Gavin. He removed the flat cap and scratched his head while the dog sniffed interestedly at Gavin’s shoes. “Are you sure you have the right place?” Gavin nodded speechlessly, his mouth having gone dry, and yet he had no idea why. Perhaps it was something in the man’s tone. He waited for the explanation.
“Well,” the old man heaved in a breath. “From what I remember there was a fire one night, and that house burnt to the ground. Never touched its neighbours, just that one house. It had the fire fighters completely stumped. They never found out how it was started.”
“They didn’t?” Gavin asked, wanting to ask something completely different, like where the hell was Paul now? He began to feel impatient, and yet he allowed the man to take his time. He would get to the truth eventually.
“No, although they thought it might be deliberate, what with it being confined to that one house. Thing is, no one knew why anyone would have done it. There were no survivors. Three bodies they pulled out, and not an enemy among them from what I heard.” Gavin felt his heart beating faster suddenly, and he had to light another cigarette. No survivors. He shook his head in denial.
“But there was a man — I mean a boy — living there… what happened to him?” He didn’t understand this at all. Paul hadn’t any brothers or sisters. He had been an only child. Another thing they’d had in common. He looked at the old man. His eyes were wrinkled and heavy, almost incapable of expression, yet he saw pity in them.
“I’m sorry, lad,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “There were no survivors. This boy you’re on about… Paul, wasn’t it?” Gavin nodded lifelessly, remembering last night, and not understanding even now what it meant. “Aren’t you Brian’s lad?” the man asked suddenly, and Gavin nodded again. “Oh, I’m right sorry about your father. Right sorry. It’s been some time though. I’m surprised your Dad never told you. Used to be thick as thieves, didn’t you?”
Gavin nodded again dumbly. He was certain he knew the man from somewhere now, but he didn’t have it in him to pursue it. He needed some time to think about this. It didn’t make any sense. “Thanks,” he muttered, and then turned quickly and walked away. When he reached his car he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He sat for a while, massaging his neck. It was then that he felt it, and he remembered how it had felt when Paul bit his neck.
Almost angrily, he turned off the engine and left the car again to walk swiftly up the steep hill to the church. He didn’t hang around, but just climbed the fence and walked straight in. Now he saw things he hadn’t noticed the night before. And more importantly, things he hadn’t noticed earlier this morning. There was the usual rubbish on the floor. Not only foil and needles, but also beer cans and bottles. The place was a complete mess. He stalked around, and noticed that there were no candles. Had his mind been playing tricks on him? He imagined himself in his drunken state, stumbling around in the dark, seeing things that weren’t there.
No. It had happened. He fingered his neck again. He couldn’t have bit himself there. He also couldn’t mistake the feeling of the sex. It was still there now. He might have been without sex for a while, Christian having lost his appeal, but one didn’t imagine things like that. Slowly, he went into a small room off the main body of the church, and found a stub of a candle in the drawer where they had been kept. He carried it out to the altar and lit it reverently; shocked at the depth of feeling he had for what had happened. He wasn’t scared by it at all. He was a little regretful, a little saddened. But not scared.
“Thank you for waiting,” he whispered quietly as he lit the candle with his lighter, and maybe there was an answering breath of wind in the church suddenly, making the flame flicker briefly before it came to life, burning strong and bright in the dust and silence. He left the candle burning, and then left the church, casting a defiant glance at the woman who stared at him when he was leaving. He wouldn’t be back. But a part of him would always be here. He had missed something perfect. But he had known it for a night. Maybe it was enough to live with. He should call Christian when he got back. What they had must be worth saving.
finish