Chapter 8

JAY SENT me several texts over the next couple of days, so I knew he had been released from the hospital, that he hated not being able to put on makeup, and that he couldn’t sleep at night. He told me that every time he rolled over he woke up in pain since it was the left side of his face that was injured and his right hip.

My sleep was extremely broken, too, but not because of pain. I began to experience nightmares where I couldn’t reach Jay in time to help him. I would try to run to him but I wouldn’t be able to move, and when I looked down at myself I was missing both legs. I would wake up, my heart pounding in my chest, terror and fear pumping through my veins. In the darkness I would be confused and panicked to the point I would have to turn the light on and check that my legs were both still there.

Aaron picked me up at dawn on Sunday morning for a spot of fishing out on his boat and I told him all about it. About the fight and the dreams, I mean, not that I thought I was gay and in love with Jay. Aaron cast out his line and settled back on the bench seat of his little dinghy.

“I dunno. Sounds like you are getting flashbacks to your accident. Probably just the ambulance and the adrenaline and everything have brought back memories.” Aaron had been in my life for as long as I could remember. Thick as thieves, Mum would say. He knew everything about me—except for the gay thing.

“I guess.”

We fished in silence for a while before I approached a subject I had never considered before.

“Aaron? Do you think I… changed after the accident?”

“Changed? What do you mean?” Aaron was a big bruiser of a guy, several inches over six feet with bright-red hair and a sunny, open, freckled face. He played both fast and rough Aussie Rules as well as tough and brutal Rugby, shared my penchant for exotic beers, and cheated on every single girlfriend he’d ever had.

“Like… I don’t know. It’s just that before the accident I wanted to join the police force and played football and video games and everything. Then after the accident I couldn’t play sports and it was ages before I could concentrate enough to play Playstation. I was always in so much pain and discomfort that I couldn’t get my hands to coordinate to play with you. It just seems that all that… masculine stuff stopped. I was wondering whether the accident… you know… affected me somehow. Damaged a part of my personality.”

“Are you asking whether I think the accident turned you queer?” Aaron was never one to muck around in life. He called a spade a spade and got on with life. He wouldn’t do well in politics.

“Yes. Well… no. I don’t know. It’s just I feel… less… of a man now. Like I can’t measure up.”

“That’s bullshit. That’s your dad talking. Your dad always measures people in terms of what they do on the outside, not what they are on the inside.”

“Still….”

Aaron sent me a look, shaking his head as if I was being stupid. “Excuse me? Aren’t you out here fishing at the moment? Didn’t you watch John play football yesterday? Don’t you have a cock and balls under those jeans? What part of that is not being a man?”

I looked out over the ocean. It was a great day for fishing—overcast, still, and no rain. I was here with my best friend, who’d known me since I was five. He’d known me through acne and bad teeth and my accident. He’d helped me with my physical therapy and brought me my homework so I could keep up in school. Would he still be my friend if I was gay?

“What if I decide I don’t really like girls?”

Aaron didn’t look surprised or shocked. “Are you saying you wanna try it with a guy?”

I turned the reel of my fishing rod, bringing the line slowly in, even though there was nothing on the hook. “I have tried it with a couple of guys.”

Aaron gripped my arm and swung me around. He didn’t look shocked or disgusted, just surprised and wildly curious. “What? When?”

I shrugged. “A while ago.”

“And?” My friend was agog.

“And what? It was… I dunno. About the same as with a girl.”

Aaron looked skeptical. “To me, being with a girl is the best thing ever. I never want it to stop and I think constantly about where I am going to get it next. Is that what it’s like with a guy?”

I shook my head. “See! I think the accident fucked something up in me. To me being with a guy or girl is about the same. I like it while it’s happening, but I’m not in a rush to repeat the experience again.” I pulled my line in and checked the bait before casting out again. “I’m broken or something.”

Aaron threaded some more bait on his line and hurled his tackle back into the water. “I don’t think the accident fucked you up at all, Liam. To be truthful, even growing up you weren’t into girls with the same intensity I ever was.”

“No?” This was news to me. Jeez! Had I been gay all along and no one ever bothered to point it out to me?

“No. You never had nudie posters on your wall or hid Playboy under your bed. You’d talk girls with me when I asked, but you never brought up the subject. You went out with Holly Stevens before your accident, but only because she asked you. When we hit the nightclubs, I was always checking out the flesh, seeing if there would be someone who would take me home for the night. You were more interested in getting drunk, and if the club offered expensive microbrew shit.”

“Flippin’ heck, Aaron. Have you been cataloging all that for a while?” My best friend (who was supposed to help me out with this sort of stuff!) just shrugged in reply. “So you think I’m gay?”

“Are you saying you are gay, Liam?”

I felt like my whole fucking world had been turned upside down. I didn’t know what to do, so I just pulled my line up and rebaited my hook. “I dunno. My dad would kill me.”

“Fuck your dad. What do you want? If you want guys, then fine. I don’t give two shits about who you do it with, as long as you are not checking me out.”

“Gross! Fuck off, dude!”

Aaron laughed, secure in his sexuality and not disturbed at all about mine. “So why are we having this conversation now?”

The big, blue ocean was calming and peaceful, the rocking of the boat serene. I sighed as I looked out over the surface. “I’ve been… attracted to this guy for a while now. But I don’t know why. He is… different.”

“Jay?”

I sighed again. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then. Tell me about him.”

So I did. I told Aaron all about the makeup and the dramas and quirkiness. And Aaron had only one thing to say: “Ask him out, mate. You have nothing to lose.”

 

 

MONDAY MORNING I encountered a big problem. Jay was returning to work so I went to get our coffees (well—one coffee and one mocha) and realized I couldn’t carry them while I was on my crutches. I stared at them sitting on the counter, debating what to do since I needed to get moving or else I was going to miss the train. It took me twice as long as anyone else to walk the distance.

“Can I help?”

I swung around and found a woman standing behind me, smiling widely. She had friendly eyes. I’d never seen her before.

“Can I help? I can see you didn’t realize you needed extra hands.”

“Ahh…. Sheesh. Are you going to the train?” I felt like a total dick. She grinned and began to pile the drinks on top of each other. She had her own coffee, so she carried all three in a stack as we slowly made our way to the platform.

“What did you do to your leg?” she inquired as we moved along.

“I tore the muscles of my thigh. Nothing atrocious.”

She winced. “Ouch. I’ve heard that torn ligaments and muscles can be more painful than a broken bone.”

“I guess it depends on how bad the break is. I shattered my thighbone seven years ago and it’s now held together with plates and screws. I can say that this is better than that.”

She laughed at me as we reached the gates. I held the coffee stack as she dug through her purse for her rail pass. We chatted about the weather and about nothing in particular as the escalator bore us down to platform level. The information board was telling us that the train was still two minutes away, so I sat on the metal bench and relieved her of the coffees.

“Thanks a million for carrying that for me. I wasn’t thinking this morning when I ordered them.”

She laughed, throwing her head back so her blonde hair flew over her shoulders before settling on the bench with me, the coffees on a spare seat between us.

“You must be addicted to coffee to need two!” Her smile was wide, the bright-red lipstick she wore making it seem bolder and bigger than it probably was. I wondered what Jay’s mouth would look like with that color. I’d never seen him with red lipstick, even though he wore red a lot. He was more into that colorless gloss stuff that made his mouth look wet. I noticed the woman was wearing a tight red suit that perfectly matched her mouth. The skirt was short and I wondered how she kept warm. Her legs looked cold, and her feet were probably frozen lumps of ice in those red high heels. At least men got to wear trousers and socks.

“No. Just one for me. The other is for my friend who will hopefully be here any second.” I twisted around and there he was. “Jay! Buddy! You made it! Jeez, your face looks terrible. At least the puffiness has gone. Hey! You got the stitches out. But I have to tell you, dude, that shade of yellow is not you!”

I thought he would laugh, but he wasn’t even smiling, just standing there flicking glances between me and the woman. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and his expression looked really strained, as if he were upset. Suddenly I realized with a sinking feeling that this was probably the first time he had been to the train station since the attack. Fuck! The poor guy is probably scared shitless with bad memories and crap.

I bounded to my feet, ignoring the pain from my thigh to put my arm around his shoulders. “Jay! It’s okay. Jeez, you should’ve taken your car in today or something. You don’t need to be here. Is it the attack? Are you freaking out? Remember what I said? Nothing bad will happen if I’m here. Now sit in my seat and I’ll get your mocha for you.” I pushed him into my place and limped over to the coffees, pulling the lid off to make sure it was his frothy mocha and not my flat white.

“Here. Drink this. I got it just the way you like it.” He finally reacted, and grasped the cup as the train pulled in. I hated being a cripple and all the crap that went along with it, like the fact that I couldn’t just stand and walk onto the train. I fumbled with my gear, got my backpack on and my crutches under my arm. I passed Jay my drink as he stood in anticipation. The doors opened and I headed for the nearest seat—the disabled ones with lots of leg room so I could put my crutches on the ground. Jay sat next to me and I realized he still hadn’t said a word.

“Jay? What’s up? Talk to me.” I was starting to get really worried and placed my hand on his knee. Jay not talking was like snow in Perth during winter. People claimed it happened, but I’d never seen it before. “Jay?”

At last he turned to me. “Who was that?”

“Huh? Who?” I looked around but could only see four other people on the train. Nothing out of place. There was the fat woman who looked pregnant and the older thin man who I always thought sat as if there were a ruler taped to his back.

“The woman!”

“What woman?”

“The lady in red!”

“Chris de Burgh?” I was completely lost.

“Her name is Chris?”

“No. The singer’s name is Chris. Chris de Burgh. ‘The Lady in Red.’ The song?”

“What?”

We looked at each other in confusion for a moment before I sighed. “Start again. What did you want to know?”

Jay looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel. “Who was the woman you were talking to before the train arrived? The woman in the red suit?”

Clarity dawned on me, but I was still lost in the wake of the wave. “Her? I don’t know. She helped me from the café when I suddenly realized I couldn’t carry the two coffees and use my crutches at the same time. Did you know her? I didn’t ask her name.”

Jay’s head tilted one way and then the next, scrutinizing me. I felt uncomfortable, like I was the bug and he was the scientist—the mad scientist with the magnifying glass, ready to zap me with a beam of sunlight.

“You don’t know her name?”

“No. Sorry. She should be on the train somewhere if you want to look for her. I’d offer but my crutches make me pretty useless.”

“She was beautiful.”

That stumped me. Here I was thinking he was gay and he was checking out pretty girls. “Was she?”

“What did you think of her legs?”

I frowned at him. “Yeah, poor girl. I was thinking she looked damn cold and isn’t it great we are guys and can wear trousers and socks.”

“That’s it? What else did you think about her?”

Was this a test? Was he testing my powers of observation? Gay guys were supposed to see these things on women, weren’t they? Weren’t they supposed to notice haircuts and weight loss? Oh, God—maybe he was testing my gayness? Did I want to pass or fail? I searched around for something to say and hit upon makeup. Yes! Makeup! Jay loved makeup and he would see I was great if I noticed makeup, too!

“I noticed her red lipstick. It was bright.”

“Bright.” Jay’s voice had gone flat as if I had just failed a crucial test. Shit! What else could I say to make him appreciate me?

“Yes. I noticed that you never wear red lipstick like that, even when you are wearing red clothes. Why not? I see you in lipstick sometimes. But never red. Do you have red? I thought you would have red. You wear a lot of red.”

Jay just blinked at me. “Let me get this straight. You were talking to a gorgeous blonde woman in a tight red skirt and heels, with a chest that has Playboy ringing her once a month for an interview, who was smiling and flirting with you like crazy and all you noticed was that she looked cold and her lipstick was bright?”

Oh. Whoops. We were talking about breasts. Straight men usually notice breasts, don’t they? Shit! “Ahh….”

With his head tilted to the side he speared me with his next question. “Liam, are you straight?”

Shit! “Ahh….” Confession time, Liam! You can do it! How the hell are you ever going to ask the guy out if you can’t even admit to liking guys? “Ahh… not exactly.”

Jay looked shocked. “Not exactly? You mean you are gay?”

I cast a quick look around the train to see who was listening to our conversation. You never knew who was around these days—your high school principal, your mum’s best friend, John’s footy coach. I must’ve had some sort of frightened look on my face or something because Jay’s eyes went wide and he suddenly whispered, “Oh. My. Gawd! You’re in the closet!”

“Ahh….”

“You are!” He acted like he’d never met a person who was hiding their sexuality before. It was if I were some sort of freak of nature. His mouth dropped open and his hands came up to his face in some sort of “I am so shocked” pantomime.

This was not exactly the best place to be having this sort of conversation. I hissed angrily at him. “I’m not in the closet! I don’t even know if I am gay or not. I’m just… exploring my options.” Yes. “Exploring my options” sounded like a good thing to be. Isn’t that what people said when they were going job hunting? Well, I was going… sex hunting.

Jay didn’t look convinced but he at least got the message that we shouldn’t be broadcasting our conversation. He lowered his voice to an intimate whisper. “How can you not know if you’re gay or not?”

Well that was the big twenty-million-dollar question, wasn’t it? “Not everyone is like you, Jay. You sound like you have had it easy in life. You’ve never doubted yourself, you have a loving, supportive family, and you are free to be different. I don’t have that. I am trying to wade through some deep bullshit at the moment. Things are not as clear-cut for me. And why should I go through the hassle and the pain of telling everyone I am gay if I am not really? I just want to be sure of myself and make sure it’s worth it.”

It pleased me that Jay didn’t just wave it off like it was an easy decision. As if I were trying to decide whether to go to the beach or not today? Or should I buy the salt-reduced tomato sauce or stick with the better-tasting salt-laden variety? He sat back, deep in thought, as the train took us closer to our destination. He sipped his mocha and I appreciated the space. I had just cracked the door another inch by admitting my feelings to Jay and he was giving me room to breathe and digest without panicking.

We had just pulled out of the Canning Bridge Station when a sudden thought occurred to him and he became reanimated. “Oh my Gawd! I almost forgot! Mum reminded me last night but it was too late to ring you or send you a message because it was after eight o’clock at night and I didn’t know what time you go to bed. Because I sometimes go to bed before eight o’clock. Getting up before four in the morning is a real killer and I really need my beauty sleep. And I know you must need your sleep, too. Not that you aren’t beautiful enough or anything. Oh my Gawd! Does that offend you? Am I allowed to say you are beautiful? Because I hate to be sexist and only say women are beautiful and men are handsome. That’s so mean, isn’t it? Because I’ve known a lot of handsome women who I wouldn’t call beautiful. And there are men who—”

“Jay!”

“Huh?”

“Off track or something, are you?”

“What?”

I happily smiled at him. He was atrociously bad at going off on tangents. I was glad the attack hadn’t changed any of that. “You started off by saying your mum reminded you….” I prompted.

“Oh my Gawd! Just slap me! My mum wants to know when you can come over for dinner? She was thinking Sunday lunch? Because dinner would just be too hard when you have to work the next morning and I know that Saturday night and Friday night are ‘date nights’ and I wouldn’t want you to have to miss out because my family wants to meet you and say thank you and everything. And I told them you wouldn’t want to, and then Mum said that maybe you would. And Jackie said that you….”

I couldn’t slap him, so I did the next best thing. I brought both hands up and encircled his head—one hand across his mouth so it cut off the noises coming from his lips, and one hand around the back to hold his head still.

“Jay! Stop, man! Let a person respond. Jeez! Are you stopped?” I grinned at him and he nodded his head within the hold of my hands. “Right. I’m sorry but I can’t come to Sunday lunch because I have plans with my family. But Saturday night would be fine. I don’t have a date, and if you tell me your address and what time, I’ll be there.”

 

 

JAY ENDED up coming to pick me up. I had assumed correctly that Jay’s house would be within walking distance of the bus, since he caught one each morning, but when Jay told me that I could turn up any time after five o’clock and that I should just park on the grass, I had to confess I didn’t have a car and—in a blow to my manly image—I didn’t have a license.

“Is it because of your leg?” he’d asked me, just curiously, not with any mockery in his voice.

It was a touchy subject for me and I had borne the brunt of my father’s scorn over the issue for many years. “Not really. It’s just more of bad memories of the accident. I was sixteen when the accident happened, then most of my mates got their licenses when they were seventeen. I was nearly nineteen before I tried, but I ended up panicking behind the wheel. So I left it. After a while I just got used to taking the bus or having friends and family drive me around. Now I really don’t see the point. Why spend fifteen grand a year on insurance, petrol, maintenance, and a car loan, for something I would use twice a week at the most? Instead I put it on my mortgage.”

So at five o’clock on Saturday afternoon, just before the sun set in the winter sky, I stood freezing my nuts waiting for Jay on the paving. I had fussed over what to wear, but in the end decided that if Jay’s family couldn’t accept my jeans and woolen jumper, then it was their own bad luck. I left the hair fixing and makeup to Jay.

The sky was turning a lovely shade of pink when Jay motored up the road, looking for an empty parking spot to pull into. It could only have been Jay’s car—no one else on earth could or would drive something as bad as that. He saw me and turned sharply into the space in front, waving gaily through the windscreen. I stepped back, unsure if I even wanted to get near that vehicle, but he leaned over and pushed the door open.

“Liam! Hi! Get in. Am I late?”

I shook my head and checked out his sunny-yellow car, complete with rust on every single panel and sprinkled with a fine layer of dirt. “I dunno, dude. I think if I get in this car I’ll exit wearing glitter and makeup and calling everyone I meet ‘darling.’ This has to be the gayest car I have ever seen!”

“Oh, hush! You’ll hurt Daisy’s feelings.”

“Daisy?” Oh, God! He’d even named the piece of junk!

He gave me a fake, put-upon face. “I’ll have you know that Daisy is a masterpiece of engineering. She is a classic Mini Cooper and worth a lot of money.”

I shook my head at his naiveté and checked out her rear. “Dude, I think they’re worth a lot of money when they aren’t full of rust and dents and aren’t held together with masking tape. Although, while I have to admit the pink fluffy dice hanging from the rearview mirror and the plastic flower hanging from the aerial does help drive the price up, I’m not sure if the rainbow flag in the window will do much for her.”

“Oh, piss off and get in, you wanker! There’s only one piece of tape on her bumper, and it’s duct tape, not masking tape. Just like MacGyver uses. I love my car and when I make a million dollars I’m going to do her up just right. But for now I’m a poor man.”

I chuckled and squeezed into the passenger seat. The inside of the car was neat and tidy, but rusty and broken. I had at last thrown away the crutches and I was glad because I would’ve probably had to stick them out the window to be able to fit in the cramped interior. Jay waited while I fastened my seatbelt, and we zoomed off.

Being closer to the ground than most other cars, it seemed as if we were flying through the streets, but I watched closely as Jay drove—an obsession since the accident until I knew the driver—and he was extremely competent. He shifted smoothly and kept well within the speed limit. His attention didn’t wander from the road and he didn’t pull out in front of cars like some people had a habit of doing. Of course, since it was Jay, his mouth never stopped moving while he was doing all this and his free hand frequently waved around, elucidating his point, but I never felt unsafe.

The house he pulled up at was pretty typical for the area—brick and tile, single story, decent-sized block, average garden. Jay had told me he lived with his mother, and his two older sisters lived nearby. Inside, Carol greeted me with a warm hug and told me we were having lasagna and salad for dinner. I assured her I loved lasagna and she flitted off to get me a beer while Jay introduced me to his sister, Jackie.

Jackie was… surprising. There was a family resemblance but she was nothing like Jay. It was as if someone forgot to tell her that you are supposed to grow past the age of nine. She was tiny—she barely came up to my chest. She had the same slender frame as Jay and his mother and that just made her seem even smaller. She was perfectly in proportion, just… pint-size. And I should’ve guessed her personality immediately. To make up for her size she had twice the amount of temperament and everything about her said, “Don’t mess with me if you want to keep your nuts.” From the tips of her chunky combat boots to the black spikes in her hair she screamed, “Watch out!”

She folded her arms across her chest and looked me up and down. Her voice was abrasive and she spat out her words like kitchen knives. “So you’re Liam, huh?”

No one has ever accused me of being a coward. And besides, if she yelled at me too much, I could just pick her up and push her through the cat door. “William Gregory Turner at your service, ma’am. Your service and Jay’s service. If you have a need, I will have the trusty steed and come racing.”

She didn’t crack a smile—just glared in my direction. “I understand you can’t race anywhere. Your leg doesn’t work, or something?”

I put my hand dramatically to my chest and sighed, “Alas and alack. My fair maiden, you are correct. But I can walk. So if you could just hold the dragon still until I can limp over, I will slay him for you.”

“You’re full of shit, do you know that?”

I rolled my eyes, heaving a sigh again. “I know. It has been mentioned on many occasions to me. But what can I say? You are what you eat.”

The sound of crickets chirping could be heard in the silence. Carol and Jay looked at me in horror, as if I had done something wrong. Didn’t anyone ever stand up to this mini-terror?

She frowned at me and her voice was flat when she replied, “William? I thought your name was Liam?”

“I’m named after my father. He is William or Will, so my parents call me by the second part of the name, Liam.”

“If your parents wanted to call you Liam, why did they name you William? Why not just Liam?”

“I don’t know. I have my mother on speed dial if you would like to call and ask her.”

Those crickets sounded really loud in the silence as Jay and Carol held their breath. Jackie and I stared at each other, she assessing me, me daring her to say whatever she wanted. She tried one more time to yank my chain.

“Why don’t you have a driver’s license?”

I could see she was just trying to rile me up. So I dished back to her. “Probably the same reason why you never grew any taller than four foot nine. I was too scared.”

Even the crickets held their breath this time.

Finally the side of her mouth jerked up. She flicked her eyes to Jay, and she gave me her stamp of approval. “I like him. You can keep him around.” She stomped out of the room on her four-inch rubber soles and Jay spun in my direction. His eyes were as wide as his mouth.

“You… you…. Oh my Gawd! She actually likes you! Is the sky green? Has the grass turned purple? Am I going to vote for Labor at the next election? I can’t believe it!”

I smiled at his reaction. “Really? You don’t vote Labor?”

He slapped me lightly on the chest as he walked past. “Daahling. Remember the poor hairless bunnies? How could I vote anything but Greens? Now follow me. I have a wonderful present for you in my room.”

He led me down the passageway to his room where he immediately opened a drawer and began rummaging. His room was startling. I knew that Jay’s personality was over-the-top, but his room was ten times more. It was painted stark white, fitted out with white furniture, and then decorated like someone had come in and thrown splashes of brightly colored paint everywhere. The posters and pictures that decorated the wall were eclectic and vivid—from Van Gogh’s Starry Night to a celebrity shot of Kiss in full makeup. A white wicker chair in the corner was stuffed with cushions in magenta, neon blue, and royal purple. Scarves and jackets were draped over the edge of wardrobe doors, thrown over furniture or just left on the floor where they fell, and a large pin-up board was filled with photos of Jay and a whole bunch of people I assumed were his friends. There were hooks drilled into the walls where bags hung, a giant stuffed panda was sitting next to the door, and a didgeridoo was propped up in the corner.

I looked around and counted two wardrobes and two sets of drawers as well as an old-fashioned vanity table with light bulbs edging the mirror like a backstage dressing room. But something was missing. I turned around, trying to work out what it was. Jay had found his lost item and was holding out a gray tube. I ignored him and swept my gaze around the room.

“Uhh… no bed? Where do you sleep?”

He chuckled. “Oh, this is just my dressing room. I have another room for sleeping and all my other stuff.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Other stuff? Dressing room?”

He placed his arm on my shoulder. “Daahling. This room is just for my clothes. I have an entire bathroom full of makeup and beauty products as well as a room for my bed, computer, books, and music. Do I really look like a minimalist decorator to you?”

My mind boggled at the thought of how much gear Jay had accumulated in his short life and I took the gray tube off him without thinking. I focused on it. “Moisturizer?”

Jay plucked it out of my hands, and before I could protest, he had popped the lid, squeezed some white cream out, and was smoothing it across my cheeks. I stood still, enjoying the closeness of Jay’s body and the feel of his fingers across my skin. “This is great stuff. And I bought the man-cream for you because I know you would go all funny over a tube for women. But it’s just the same. Now you just need to put it on your face and your neck twice a day and your skin will practically glow! It’s suitable for your skin after you have shaved… mmm… your freshly shaved skin here is giving me shivers and all sorts of ideas I shouldn’t really be having about you. So just make sure you put it on in an upward direction like this. And when you have seen how great your skin will be, I will introduce you to the next one. Toner! I’m sure you will love it. And if you have some time one day maybe I can do a facial mask on you and maybe a bit of plucking….”

I pulled away out of his reach. “Jay, stop! Seriously? You think I’m going to let you pluck anything on me?”

“Just a few hairs. It doesn’t hurt much at all. I won’t do a full wax or anything.”

I shuddered. “I appreciate it, dude. But it’s not me, if you know what I mean?” Jay pouted and I couldn’t resist his cute puppy-dog eyes. “Okay! I’ll think about it. Just give me the damn cream to use for now and I’ll get back to you on the other stuff.”

The slamming of a door and raised voices cut short our conversation and Jay grinned like an idiot. “The rest of the family is here. Come and meet them.”

In a flurry of “hellos” and introductions I met Jay’s oldest sister, Jacey, and her husband, Trevor, along with their daughters, Tabitha and Erin.

Miss Sour-Puss Jackie watched with an expression of world-weariness, so I shot her a smirk. “Really? Your mother called you kids Jacey, Jackie, and Jamie and you give me crap for the William-Liam scenario?”

She was saved from answering when a querulous voice, raised over the cacophony, asked, “Now where is this heroic savior I have heard so much about?”

Jay raced over and engulfed a tiny, wizened old lady leaning heavily on a wooden walking stick. “Grandma!” I watched her wrinkled smile crack the large grooves in her face as she embraced her grandson. I could see the obvious affection she held for Jay. Even Jackie unwound enough to greet her grandmother and give her a kiss.

Jay guided her forward and formally introduced me. “Grandma, this is Liam Turner who saved my unworthy butt from goons the other night. Liam, I am proud to introduce you to my grandmother, Lacey Berris.”

I held out my hand and it was gripped by a surprisingly firm arthritic hand. “Good to meet you, boy. You can just call me Grandma like the rest of them. Now help me over to that chair and sit beside me so I can interrogate you.” She cackled and I had to laugh as I helped her sit. She waved the rest of the family away and we sat in relative privacy as she turned her sharp eyes on me.

“Why did you do it, boy?”

“Uhh… do what?”

“Run in there and save my grandson’s butt?”

I was confused. “Should I have just left him to be beaten up?”

“Jamie tells me there were dozens of others who did. Why did you involve yourself?”

I clasped my hands together and stared at the floor. “To be truthful, I didn’t mean to. I mean, it wasn’t a conscious decision. I just recognized Jay and next thing I knew I was over there pushing those idiots away from Jay. They were hurting him and I just reacted instinctively.”

Grandma sat contemplating me for a moment. Those faded but sharp eyes missed nothing. “You don’t look like a fool.”

“Uhh… thanks?”

“Do you like my grandson?”

“Sure. He’s great. Completely wacky and suffers from a bad case of verbal diarrhea—his description, not mine—but he’s a good sort. No malice or anger in him.”

She nodded and took my hand in hers, turning it over and running her gnarled fingers over my palm. “You don’t seem like one of those useless twinks that Jamie has brought home in the past.”

Well, shit. What the hell can I say to that? “No, ma’am.”

“What do you do for a living, boy?”

“I studied Accounting. I need to go and do my training, but for now I’m working in the Finance Department of BHP.”

“Do you live with your parents?”

“No, ma’am. I bought an apartment in the new development over near the train station.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I’m the fourth of five boys.”

“Hmm.” She nodded and smoothed her hand over my palm again. “So what are you planning to do with your life? Do you want kids?”

I choked on air. Kids? “I haven’t really thought about it. I guess so. But what kid would want a cripple for a father? I can’t run and jump around a football field. A kid needs a father who can do things like that.”

The wrinkled skin where Grandma’s eyebrows used to be rose up, heading toward her shock of white hair. “What kid wants a cripple for a father? I bet you a kid that has no father would. I bet you a kid whose biological father beats her and drinks himself into a stupor would. There are many children out there in foster care that need adoption, my boy. Being a so-called cripple like you or a gay fairy like Jay is nothing to them. They just want someone to love them.”

Carol called us for dinner then, and we all gathered around the table, squeezed in to enjoy our meal. It was delicious, and conversation kept to a minimum for three minutes. Then Erin, who was only three, dumped her plate on the floor and it broke the trance the family was obviously under. Within two ticks of the clock it was clear to me that those three minutes at the beginning of the meal was the family putting on their best manners.

A royal hullabaloo ensued as everyone began to talk at once, simultaneously carrying on two separate conversations each.

“Oh, Jacey. I wish you could teach your daughter better manners.”

“Shut up, Jackie. After you have had your YOLO moment and find out you are pregnant to six different guys at the same time, you’ll find out how hard it is.”

“YOLO? What’s that?”

“Pregnant? Who’s pregnant?”

“Mummy! Tabitha poked me!”

“You Only Live Once. YOLO.”

“How can I get pregnant to six guys at once?”

“This is a great meal, Carol. Much better than last time.”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll invent a way.”

“I’m not pregnant. I use birth control, unlike some people.”

“Mummy! Erin spilt my drink!”

“Yes, I used that proper cheese this time.”

“Tabitha! Don’t poke your sister.”

“Yeah, Jackie. You are so going to get pregnant.”

“I’ll get a cloth.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Mummy!”

“I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about birth control.”

“YOLO? How stupid.”

“Did I tell you what happened to Mae?”

“She’s not pregnant, is she?”

It was like being in some sort of alien world. I watched the conversation bounce around me with fascination. I was from a large family, but this was ridiculous. No wonder Jay was crazy. I felt a tap on my arm and turned to Trevor seated beside me.

“It’s like watching a car crash, isn’t it? You just can’t look away.” His voice was low enough to not carry. I realized he had been sitting there eating his meal while the world around him exploded. Jackie was on her feet, trying to get her point across, Jay was swinging his fork wildly around, and Grandma was stomping her walking stick on the ground for emphasis. No one paid Trevor or me the tiniest bit of attention.

“Are they… always like this?”

He scooped another mouthful of lasagna and nodded sadly. “I’m so glad you are here, though. Tell me, do you watch AFL?”

Jacey screeched as Jackie insulted her, Grandma pointed a bent finger at Tabitha, and Carol gestured as she told an improbable story about a friend who had just fallen pregnant at fifty. I did my best to tune them out as Trevor and I discussed coaching styles and injuries to our favorite players.

The mayhem continued through dessert, with the Jackie/Jacey/Jamie combination barely pausing for breath. Things were a bit quieter as the dishes were done and the two-conversations-at-once brigade was confined to the kitchen while Grandma napped in a big comfy chair. Trevor and I were given babysitting duties in the lounge room and were thankfully exempt from cleaning up.

Finally Erin crawled onto her father’s lap and began to nod off, too, so Trevor called his family together, gathered up Grandma, and departed. Jacey’s parting comment was something about Jackie needing to be checked for syphilis, which blew Jackie’s temper sky-high and she stormed away in her car. I was feeling like a couple of shots of scotch would be welcome, when Jay turned to me.

“Oops. Sorry. I should’ve warned you, huh?”

My ears were ringing from the sudden lack of noise. “Ahh… yeah. Umm.”

He squeezed my arm. “Just give me a sec to grab my keys and I’ll get you out of here. Mum! I’m taking Liam home, now. Mum?”

I thanked Carol for dinner and was invited to come back anytime. I am not sure how I managed to not say, “Hell, no!” but Carol didn’t take offence at my nonanswer mumble. I guess I’m exaggerating a bit. The meal was nice and everyone was very nice, but I wasn’t prepared for the noise. I guess next time I would be.

Next time?