Jack’s journal
13th March
Turin to Venice
I turned to face him. ‘You want to sit down?’ I asked and he nodded. We swung our legs over the wall and dangled them above the steep slope on the other side. If you looked straight ahead you could imagine you were suspended in space and that the world was turning very slowly beneath your feet. That’s what I like about the dawn. During the day the clouds pass you overhead but during the dawn hours you can feel the world turning under the morning star and you know that it’s you who are moving.
‘During the night,’ I began, ‘you talked about someone called Brendan. It was like you were telling me a story. I recorded all of it.’
‘What did I say?’ he repeated and I thought I caught him glancing at me sheepishly before staring back out into the sunrise. I took out the Dictaphone I had bought yesterday and sat it between us.
‘This is only part of it,’ I told him. ‘I wiped most of this off earlier after copying it down.’ (I had had very little sleep!) ‘I did not want to leave evidence. Once I’ve played you what there is and read you the rest,’ I showed him the paper I had written it on, ‘I will destroy this too. You’ll understand in a minute my reasons.’
I turned on the machine. There were some muffled sounds, the noise of me moving the recorder closer to his mouth. Each rustle of a sheet sounded as fierce as hurricane as I found a place to rest the device. There were some background sounds. Me breathing and a distant white noise which I could imagine were particles of dust moving fast in the atmosphere. After his initial murmurings his voice became clear and he told a story as if he were reading it from a book, only certain words were missed out.
‘Us… swimming in the pool. Brendan… Friends. Is building…for animals. Banging sounds…stakes with hammer. Before bringing me here. To the pool. Is undressing… I watch. Kiss me. Walk back…the cliffs. Do it again. It is never to happen again. He will set vampires on me. Make fun of him… saying… he tells me…true. Back to… barn… he gives in.’
There was a loud clunk and no more voice on the tape. ‘I wanted you to hear that so that you would know I am not making this up,’ I explained. ‘But I have wiped the rest.’ I picked up the sheet of paper I had torn from my journal on which was written the rest of his sleep-talk.
‘Was that really me?’ he asked quietly. I nodded. ‘I sound so far away, so distant.’
‘It’s not the best machine in the world.’
‘It’s not my voice – it’s like someone else was speaking.’
‘It is you Mikey. Listen to this. Your tense changed then and it’s even more like you’re telling a story except there were some words missing. Not important words but things like “was”, “in”, “the” and so on. Words I could easily fill in for you and that’s what I’ve done, so it makes more sense. I’ve underlined the ones I added so you can see the original transcript if you like.’
He shrugged and moved closer to me to read along as I read.
‘Inside the barn it was hot. Dust. Dust in my throat and my mouth was dry. I had stopped running and was panting for breath. I talked about our secret and said that now initiated I could own the ring that would keep the vampires away. So if we kissed again I would be safe. As long as only I knew the secret.
‘His skin was hard. All over. In the water it had been slippery. In the barn it was solid. And his arms stopped me from breathing this time when he held me. This time it hurt and his hand tasted of sweat as it covered my mouth. He told me it was the sword of the vampires and I would become Careworn when it was over. It hurt. He hurt me and when he had finished he kissed me.’
Mike was staring at me by then, his face white and his bottom lip firmly caught by his top. I paused. ‘You want me to go on?’ I asked and he nodded slowly. Checking that we were still alone I read on.
‘Walking, into the sunlight. His back is to me. He doesn’t give me the ring. I ask for it. He laughs. Grow up and shut up. And then the ghosts come but I can’t see them. They flap around his head and I can smell them. I am begging for the ring and grabbing his hand. Now I am pulling the ring from his finger. They are there. They are real. The ghosts are here. They are attacking him but he can’t see it. I must help. And then the ghosts all go. And I must wait.’
That was it. ‘Do you remember any of that?’ I asked him but he shook his head. ‘Do you know what it could be about?’ he shook his head again. ‘Do you know anyone called Brendan?
‘Jack,’ he put a hand on my arm. ‘Tear it up will you?’
I was intrigued and disturbed by the clarity of the sleep talking and there was something in the story outside of vampires and ghosts which sounded real. Maybe this was just his subconscious working though what he’s been writing. I could check by looking in his notebook but that would betray our trust. I resolved to come back to the subject later and tried to lighten my mood by asking what he wanted to do for the day.
‘Apart from drive to Venice?’ he asked with a cheeky grin. ‘I’m nearly old enough now.’
‘You are not driving anywhere. We have no car.’
‘Hire one for me.’
‘Can’t. We’re going by train.’
‘I’ve decided something. I got something to tell you,’ he said and it changed the subject.
‘Again?’ I feared it was something bad. Something to do with illness, Brendan and ghosts.
‘Come back to the cabin, it’s cold out here.’
We walked back in silence through the pungent yew trees and chandelier cobwebs which spanned the toppled statues and tombstones. My mind turned over the story but Mike gave no outward sign of what was to come as he walked beside me. A sad sounding bell marked the hour at a distance through the mist.
We reached our chalet and he walked straight in. I closed the door and followed him. He kicked off his shoes and went to the bedroom. I hung up my coat and, by the time I came to find him, he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
We stared at each other. He beckoned me over with a jerk of his head and a blink. I obeyed and stood before him. He took both my hands and pulled me gently down beside him. I waited. He searched for the words. He let go my hands.
‘Something’s happening to me Jack, I’m changing,’ he said and his face was set in thought.
‘Changing?’ I prompted and felt my heart skip beats as it speeded up.
‘You are changing me.’
‘How?’
‘You are making me think.’
What was he trying to say? What was he getting around to? I prompted him again and he went on:
‘It’s this gay thing. I’m not sure but…’
He left the sentence hanging in the air along with my hopes. Should I have moved closer to him? Would that have helped him or frightened him? Who knows, I stayed where I was staring into his deep eyes and seeing my refection in each one. Did he see the same Jack as I did?
‘Uncertain about what Mike?’ I had to ask after a time. He just stared back. Could he see himself in my eyes in the same way I could see him? Two of him looking at two of me.
‘Uncertain about me,’ he said. He had still not blinked and his eyes were misting over. ‘About you, about how we are together.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Nor me Jack,’ he swallowed, pulled his gaze away from me, picked at a fingernail and then looked back up from under his dark brow. ‘I’d like to take it slowly,’ he said and that seemed to be the end of the matter until I interrupted the silence.
‘Take what slowly?’
‘Us.’
‘Us?’
‘Jack don’t make this difficult. I’m not used to this,’ there was a pleading tone to his voice and he drew a huge sigh, turning away from me and then immediately back. ‘I like you a hell of a lot Jack…’
The blood froze in my veins. It’s a cliché I know but it’s a bloody good description of what it feels like. I knew something else would follow. There was a massive conditional hanging in the air between us.
‘But….’ I closed my eyes against the dread and hope.
‘But I’ve only ever kissed one man before.’
It wasn’t the “but” I had been expecting. What had I been waiting for? “But I’m not going to sleep with you.”? “But I do not fancy you.”? “But I’m not gay.”? I didn’t know what to say so I only raised my eyebrows.
‘I think…’ he began. I willed him on. ‘I think that I am…..’
Say it Mikey.
‘That I am….’
Say it Mikey.
‘Falling for you.’
The world ground to a halt like a film faltering in a projector. I could see the black edges of life’s movie reel slow down around me and hear the flapping of the celluloid as it came to a stop. I waited. Neither of us said anything. I inclined my head towards him. He leaned closer to me. I could feel his breath on my face.
Flashback: Mikey lying in that bed, turning through dark dreams as I kept him sedated. The sheets pulled up around his chest then dragged down by his legs. His grip on them, trying not to reveal himself, how he felt, his vulnerability, his body. His smooth chest, thin arms, soft fingers. His large eyes, his tears. Holding him. Hearing his dreams. Knowing his troubles.
And now there he was inches from me. And I was begging him to kiss me again like he had done on the mountain, of his own free will. Only this time for longer.
It lasted for only a second. He kissed me lightly on the lips and immediately sat back. I was stunned. Simple. I didn’t know what to do next. He was in charge if this. In charge of me. Sleep talking and ghosts forgotten.
He saw my confusion and it seemed to amuse him. He smiled. Pulled a face, and shrugged.
‘Poco a poco Jack.’
‘What?’
‘Poco a poco. It’s Italian. We’re in Italy.’
‘I didn’t know you spoke Italian,’ now I was really thrown.
‘I don’t,’ he said, still smiling. ‘But I know that from music lessons. Little by little.’
‘Oh.’
‘So,’ he slapped his hands onto his knees and stood up abruptly. ‘Shall we pack and go? It’s a long way to Venice.’
And it’s taken him a long time to shower, pack and be ready. But he is ready now, standing outside in the spring sunshine waiting for me. He’s been tapping on the window for the last few minutes and I’ve been waving at him – he knows I’m finishing this entry. We’re both writers now and we know what it’s like. He’s paid up the bill, returned the keys. All we need to do is get down to the station and find a train.
It’s like today is a new start.
And maybe tonight.....
|
