I feel myself awaken and turn to look at the grandfather clock. Four o’clock. Why have I awoken so early? I have only been asleep for around half an hour and with how tired I was feeling when Tom and I left the club I was convinced I would sleep for a week or perhaps longer, perhaps I was never to awaken again, yet, here I am at four in the morning, awake!
I turn to reach out for Tom’s naked presence, only to find an empty bed beside me. I sit up slowly and listen for him; perhaps he needed a drink, the bathroom or something else, I do not know, but I know that I want him back in my bed where he belongs.
Suddenly I begin to worry that Dover may have seen me remove Joseph’s hand last night. Had he called while I lay dead to all that existed around me? Had Tom left me to die all alone? I now wish that I had never been so benevolent, as there is no excuse for my momentary lapse of sanity.
I feel a strange kind of fear develop deep within me and with that fear comes the sound of laughter, Tom’s laughter, then the familiar laughter of another echoes from the next room.
I slowly struggle to my feet, my legs feeling as though they will collapse under the weight of my body. I am so tired and my body feels drained of all life, drained of all strength. I walk to the doorway, pausing there for a moment while listening for their laughter, but there is only silence. Perhaps my decaying mind is playing tricks on me, perhaps this is a dream. But it cannot possibly be a dream as my dreams are never so vivid. Rather, they are deranged and fragmented.
The laughter rings out from the next room once more, echoing down the hallway, first Tom’s and then the familiar, yet unfamiliar laughter. Tom is definitely in the next room and he is not alone. How can he do this to me? How can he possibly take it upon himself to bring a stranger into my home without so much as asking my permission? Just bring someone inside and take them into one of the bedrooms, filling my home with laughter and all the while I am asleep. Well, he could not have made such a grave mistake. I am not asleep and his little night expedition, whatever it may be, will be destroyed.
Light beams out into the hallway as I open the door to the spare bedroom and I stand in the doorway, frozen, staring at the sight before me. Tom is lying on the bed with another man on top of him. They are in the process of making love in my home, under my roof, as I am supposedly sleeping. I cannot move, cannot even speak. It is as though my entire being has died at the sight. How could he? How could he possibly do this to me?
At that moment, with that thought running through my mind, Tom stares directly into my eyes and smiles. “Davad, why don’t you come and join me and Joseph?” he says through his smile and Joseph turns to face me.
I feel my heart explode and I can no longer breathe. This cannot be happening, it is not possible. Tom and Joseph, is not allowed. Never! No, it can never occur!
“Davad! Davad!” I hear Tom’s voice calling for me and I open my eyes.
Tom is leaning over me with a look of great concern on his face. “Davad, you scared the shit out of me!”
“What! Why?” I ask him as I try to catch my breath.
“Why! You weren’t breathing. You just stopped breathing. I thought you were dead,” Tom tells me with tears in his eyes
I wrap my arms around his waist pulling him closer to me. “I just had a very strange dream.”
“A dream! What do you mean a dream? You weren’t breathing!”
“It is okay Tom. I am okay.”
Tom lays his head down on my chest and kisses me gently.
“Please don’t scare me like that again.”
“I promise I will never do it again!”
“What were you dreaming about anyway?” he asks, looking up into my eyes.
“I will tell you in the morning.”
Joseph sits opposite Andy and Dover at a table in an almost deserted cafe’.
“Why such an early breakfast?” Joseph asks as he looks over the menu.
“Something very important came UP last night,” Dover informs him, emphasising the word, up.
Joseph frowns at him. “What’s up then?”
“Why don’t you tell me Jose, after all, you should know.”
“I have no idea what you are insinuating, so why don’t you let me in on the big secret.”
“You know exactly what the BIG secret is Joseph,” Dover tells him, emphasising the word big this time.
Joseph looks at Andy, even more confused than before. “Do you have a clue what he’s on about?”
“Yep.” Andy tells him with a grin.
“Listen,” Joseph begins, staring Dover in the eyes. “It’s early and I haven’t had that much sleep, so why don’t you just tell me what the hell I’m supposed to know.”
Dover laughs, almost to himself as he exchanges glances with Andy. “I want to know about Moss.”
“Moss! What about Moss?” Joseph asks, still confused.
“Don’t play dumb now Mr Elder. You had your hand deep in the cookie jar last night, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joseph insists.
“Oh, you don’t?”
“No I don’t,” Joseph repeats.
“Maybe I should sit next to you and refresh your memory. I’m sure if I undid your jeans and put my hand in there, you’d remember,” Dover smiles.
“Oh! You saw that?” Joseph asks nervously.
“Yes, I saw. So, was there anything UP last night?” Dover asks raising his eyebrows.
Tom lies in the spa thinking about how peaceful the night had been, yet, how strange. Natalie watches him from the doorway.
“It must have been some night,” she finally says, causing Tom to jump slightly.
“Oh, Hello,” Tom smiles as he focuses on her.
“How long have you been home?”
“I got home a while ago, but I didn’t want to wake you. That’s why I’m in here.”
“You could have woke me,” Natalie tells him as she walks over to the spa.
“I know I could have but I just wanted some time to myself.”
“Can I join you?” Natalie asks as she slips her robe from her shoulders.
Tom examines Natalie’s naked body and smiles. “Of course you can.”
Natalie steps into the spa and sits between his legs.
“Do you want me to massage your back?” Tom asks, beginning to do so, before she can answer.
“He’s fine. Well he’s not really fine. He scared the shit out of me last night. I totally freaked.”
“Why? What happened?” Natalie asks concerned.
“He wasn’t breathing and I thought he was dead.”
“He stopped breathing?” Natalie faces Tom. “Is he all right? I mean…”
“He’s okay now.”
“Why did he stop breathing?” Natalie asks as she runs her fingers through Tom’s wet hair.
“He said he was having a dream. But there’s more to it than that.”
“More to it! Like what?”
“I’m not really sure. I have to talk to him later.”
“Why didn’t you talk to him this morning?”
“We were going to talk, but we kind of decided that Davad should go see Marshall first and we’d talk later.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?”
“To see Marshall?”
“Yes, don’t you think you should have gone with him?”
“No! I really didn’t want to. I’d like to avoid the Angel Centre, if I can,” Tom admits then kisses Natalie on the lips. “Besides, Davad doesn’t need me to hold his hand. He’s quite capable of doing things on his own.”
“I know, but you’re so concerned about him. Maybe you should have gone with him.”
“Maybe! I’ll go next time, okay!” Tom promises, with a half smile on his face.
Life is an utter farce. It is totally ludicrous. How can I be a pillar of health one day and then decay to nothingness the next? It so bemuses me, all of this, the cancer that malignantly destroys my mind, the way that I am besotted with Tom and the desires that creep inside me, causing me to act out foolish fantasies for someone whom will quite possibly lead to my lecherous demise.
Some say that the dreams we dream at night are representations from our past or future, they are not always clear, however, they hide hidden truths within them, truths that must be analysed and when they are analysed, they can reveal all the secrets and the fascinations that lay dormant within our souls.
I once believed that my soul was as pure as a silhouette or perhaps even as pure as the angels that watch over us at night. Now I believe that my soul has taken on a different kind of existence and it is not pure, perhaps it is not even my own. It could not possibly be mine, instead it belongs to another, whose name it holds and yet, it will not speak.
I feel a kind of ambivalence, an uneasiness that surrounds me, clutching me within its powerful grasp, squeezing the very essence out of me; the essence of my life, my soul and I ponder endlessly over this dream interpretation. Is it my own insecurities about my feelings for Tom and Joseph? Could it be telling me or perhaps warning me of something? The whole thing seems pointless. It is perhaps just a dream and nothing more, perhaps my fears that Tom will be informed of my lechery brought about that dream as a way to pull me back into line or perhaps I am just as vulnerable as all others. Davad Moss, vulnerable. Fancy that!
I look into the full-length mirror on the bathroom wall and I realise I have been staring right into myself. Not at the reflection before me, but deep inside that soul, deep into his mind and his heart. He is a very attractive man and his brown eyes glare back at me, not with contempt, rather with a kind of benevolence. He truly is a kind soul, yet, his heart cries out for sanctuary. His features are reminiscent of a saviour, soft tanned skin, which still holds the freshness of a new born child, half hidden away under his short brown beard and accentuated by his soft red lips. The image in the mirror is one of myself, however, it is a self that I am unable to comprehend. The Davad Moss in the mirror is an iconoclast, a man worth praising, who will undoubtedly free everyone in the world from sorrow, but the man who looks into the eyes of this icon is not so admirable, his image is a deception and his face may hold all the purities of the iconoclast, yet, his heart is a poison so toxic that it may very well infect anyone who manages to touch it.
“Before I say anything, you have to promise that you will not become angry. You need to hear me out,” I insist as I place a glass of vodka on the coffee table in front of Tom, then sit beside him on my sofa.
“Sure Davad, I promise.”
“I will hold you to that,” I tell him with a smile.
“What’s this all about?” He asks.
“The dream last night.”
“Oh! The dream!”
“Yes. There is a lot more to it than just a dream,” I admit as I reach over the coffee table to pick up Tom’s glass of vodka. “You might need this.” I hand him the glass.
“I don’t think I’m going to like what I hear,” Tom says before having a drink.
“I think I should start with the dream.”
“There’s more than just the dream?”
“Do you want me to tell you or not?” I ask a little annoyed at his interruption.
“Sorry Davad, I’ll shut up.”
“That dream I had last night was one in which you were making love to Joseph, upstairs in the room next to mine, while I was sleeping.” I stand and walk to the bar, to pour myself a glass of water.
“I was making love to Joseph! Is that why you stopped breathing?” Tom asks amused.
“Kind of…Like I said, there is a lot more to it.”
“I’m listening.” Tom swallows more vodka.
“Last night at The Gallery…” I begin to tell Tom with my back to him, “I let Joseph put his hands inside my pants.” I say as I turn to face him.
“You did what!” Tom explodes, almost spurting vodka.
“You promised you would not get angry Tom,” I remind him.
“All right! All right! Why?” Tom asks, trying to calm himself down.
“Why? I find Joseph attractive, but not as attractive as you. That does not really matter! I just wanted to know if I could be excited by anyone else,” I admit then walk back across the room and sit on the coffee table.
“You let him touch you! I don’t get it Davad. Don’t I please you?”
“Of course you do! I do not really know why I needed to know. Perhaps I am just afraid that I will die without knowing what may have been.”
“Don’t say that Davad. You’re not going to die!” He tells me solemnly as he takes hold of both my hands. “I won’t let you!”
“I know! I should not have bothered to find out anyway.”
“Joseph did nothing for me. I did not feel a thing. It was a mistake and I wish I had never let it happen.”
“It’s okay, Davad. Actually I’m glad you told me, at least you’re being honest and that’s good. Let’s just forget about it.”
“Are you sure that you are all right with it?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Tom promises and kisses me softly on the lips. “I love you, Davad.”
Life is so typical! Just when you think that all is pointless, it goes ahead and deals you a compassionate hand. Can that mean that all is not lost? Perhaps Tom may be right, perhaps he may very well be my saviour. Can I allow myself to believe that? Allow myself to be seduced into such an attractive illusion!
Illusions cannot be all that impudent; after all, they are the only things that can possibly fill the void in our hearts. They signal the intensity we feel when we fall in love; yet, they can also be quite restrained. They can conjure up false images from our dreams, dreams that are truly nightmares that deceive us in our most vulnerable hours.
Tom takes a seat at the corner table beside Joseph and places his vodka bottle on the table, then smiles at Dover.
“Where’s Moss?” Dover asks, grinning at Joseph.
“He’s meeting me here later,” Tom tells him as he picks up the vodka bottle.
“Oh good! I need to talk to you before he gets here.”
“Joseph, why don’t you tell him?” Dover says with a sarcastic grin.
Joseph looks nervously at Tom, and then stares down at the table.
“Oh, is this about Joseph putting his hands down Davad’s pants?” Tom asks, staring Dover in the eyes.
The grin that Dover is wearing drops from his lips. “You know?” he asks, shocked.
“Davad told me, so of course I know. We don’t keep secrets from one another. Anyway, he told me it wasn’t worth it because Joseph did absolutely nothing for him,” Tom tells Dover then swallows a mouthful of vodka, while staring at Joseph.
“Now that’s cruel,” Monty butts in.
“Cruel, but true.”
“Look Tom, I’m really sorry,” Joseph begins to apologise.
Tom faces him and runs his hand down Joseph’s right cheek. “It’s okay Joseph. Nothing happened. Davad told me, so it’s okay, don’t stress.”
“If you’re sure,” Joseph agrees.
“I’m sure, but you should have seen your face before, you shit your pants. Didn’t you?” Tom laughs.
“I just thought…”
“You thought that I would do something nasty to you,” Tom says, finishing Joseph’s sentence for him.
“Well Tom, he may have enjoyed that,” Andy grins.
“You know Andy, no then again, you wouldn’t know, would you?” Tom tells him sarcastically, before draping an arm around Joseph’s shoulders. “Friends?”
Joseph nods his head and lights a cigarette.
In some cultures the signs of weakness bring dishonour onto your people and bring about certain death. The weak are dispensable because they are considered useless, and many things like fear, anxiety, or even love can bring about bouts of incapacitating weakness. My weakness is not so simple, as it comes from a nervous system that is under attack. My body seems to be destroying itself from the inside out. Perhaps Marshall Reed will be able to cure it and perhaps not.
As my car speeds through the city streets I know that I am not untouchable and I am not immune to death. I could quite probably end it right now; end all the suffering and all the pain. All that is required is a sharp veer to the side, straight into the oncoming traffic and surely all would be over within seconds.
It would be so easy to end things that way, however, only a few blocks away Tom will be sitting down with a bottle of vodka waiting for me to arrive. I cannot possibly disappoint him like that. The loss of a loved one is the worst kind of pain and torment that any man can encounter; it is a pain far greater than my own. To put Tom through that kind of torment would be an insincerity that I could never condone.
As always, time has caught up with me and there is no more time to consider ending it. No more time for anything, but Tom. Time has slipped by and my car has entered into The Dungeon nightclubs underground car park. A CD has been playing throughout my entire drive, yet it has played to ears too busy listening to my diseased mind to even register the music that surrounds them. ‘Banners’ voice has been incomprehensible to me, until it suddenly registers and throws all those thoughts of death out of my mind, and ‘The Doors’ takes over.
“It’s taken so long to come to this point, to build a solution to end this war.”
It certainly has been a long time coming. Right now, as my car pulls to a halt in its usual parking spot, I stare at the gold plaque on the wall and read the words, Davad Moss, and I know that there is only one solution to my problems. Up until now it has been like fighting an endless battle, but now I know that I must accept the fate that lies before me.
“And there ain’t no nothing that we can do, we just can’t seem to break on through. Nobody knows what, there’s no idea, we need a solution and there ain’t one here.”
I have wasted so much time searching for a way out, searching for a solution that does not exist. Perhaps it only exists in my mind, perhaps in that part of my mind that has already decayed away, taking the solution with it, losing it forever.
“Holidays come same day every year, birthdays (Oh No) they’re paved with fear. One step out of line, just one little step and everybody shed’s a tear. . Oh Yeah, occasions paved with fear.”
That whole twelve months wasted away in France could have been spent with Tom. All those missed holidays and more importantly, his birthday. How could I have missed that, all because I was out on a hopeless mission? Perhaps it was a lesson that I had to learn, a lesson that has enlightened me on my importance within this life and how it is not I who needs to be cured, rather, it is Tom.
“Winter’s so cold, can light up a fire (Oh, light it up now light up desire). Then the summer days with the sweat and the heat bring on natural desires, make your heart beat.”
The answer has been staring me in the face, looking straight into my eyes at night and when he awakens to the dawn, Tom is my solution. All he desires, from me and of me, should be enough to push away all those dark moments. Our natural desires for one another possess the kind of power that no treatment can ever come close to. It is as though I draw strength from him, the kind of strength that I am no longer capable of, on my own.
“Sometimes it just might seem (Don’t be fooled, it’s only a dream). Seems like we’ve won this war (Seems like it), until all reality knocks on the door (Don’t open that door).”
Could I be making a rash decision about Tom’s importance in my life? Could this be just another one of my minds cruel deceptions? The answers seem so clear and so vivid and it is as though I have been blind to all this before. Although, now as I stare blankly at my own name on the wall, everything is right there in front of me, perhaps all this is too easy, perhaps it is my mind playing tricks, perhaps I did veer into oncoming traffic or perhaps this is not even real and I, Davad Moss, am dead. Fancy that!
“There are always wars (Wars to fight). They are always hidden (Hidden away behind the doors). Let’s take a break; let’s not fight any more. All we need to do (All we need to do) is to lock the doors (Then we, yeah we will break on through).”
As I switch the CD off I know that the cancer has opened up parts of my mind that have been dormant for many years, they are the things that control my thoughts and they are quite possibly also the cause my descent. I have no control over my mind, no control at all. I must follow the path that it puts before me and I can never veer from that path. I cannot change it unless I can close the door on it; close it away into the darkness, back into that place from which it escaped, to never return again. It is only when that door is closed that I will find the solution that I seek.
Ben Dover answers his mobile phone after the second ring. ‘Yes?’ He says into the receiver and as he carries out his phone conversation, Tom watches him and drinks vodka. Dover smiles as he places his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Your man’s on his way down,” he tells Tom.
“Oh really? They now call you when Davad enters the building?”
“Sometimes, but not always,” Dover lies. “Are you going to let him sit next to Joseph?”
Tom frowns. “When hell freezers over,” Tom tells him then shoots Joseph a wary smile.
“Thanks a lot Tom, it’s nice to know you trust me.” Joseph takes a drag of his cigarette.
“Hey Jose, I said we’re friends, I never said I trust you with my man, understand! Davad is mine, not yours! Not any one else’s, he’s all mine!”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Joseph places his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “It was a mistake Tom. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I wonder if Davad made such a promise!” Monty says, sarcastically.
“Shut up, Monty!” Tom and Joseph snap, simultaneously.
Yet another fall, but this time I am thankful it is only the downward motion of the elevator, as I descend to The Gallery. Riding in the elevator to Dover’s world is such a peculiar thing, it is almost as if you are trapped, held hostage by him and sometimes you almost believe that it could be your last descent.
As the doors open, I feel the young brats whom haunt the foyer, waiting for Mr or Mrs Right undress me with their blood shot eyes, taking off my jacket, my shirt, and finally, my pants. They are probably wondering where my jeans and leather jacket are and I could quite easily tell them that the old Davad Moss has gone away, replaced by the exquisitely attired and even more handsome Davad Moss.
“I’ll show you yours, if you show me mine!” Monty blurts out the punch line to his joke.
“I don’t get it,” Andy frowns.
“That’s not what Dover tells us,” Tom laughs.
As I sit down at the table surrounded by their jokes and laughter I realise for the first time that I have never really taken notice of the very reality that surrounds me. In all my years as an occupant of this corner table, I have not so much as revelled in my surroundings, but now, in my days of incurable anguish I look upon The Gallery through innocent eyes, with a childlike freshness.
My eyes wander across to the bar, which occupies the corner to my left. The bar is a picture of semi darkness, dull neon lights situated behind the counter serving as the only source of light. Two bar men, dressed all in black are busily serving patrons whom have their backs to the rest of the room. The t-shirts that they wear are as distinctive as the nightclub itself and The Dungeon logo is as eye catching as the bar men, bright red block letters, that cannot be missed, not even from the furthest end of the room, and underneath those block letters, in cursive pink, The Gallery.
I turn my attention to the other side of the room as my acquaintances continue to tell jokes. Along the wall, from which the doors to the foyer are situated are four tables, with four seats at each. Men I will possibly never meet occupy these seats and they are all engaged in conversations that I cannot comprehend over the music, which stems from a tinted glass enclosure at the top end of the room. Inside sits a man who is not visible to the room, he is hidden away behind the glass, in his own little sanctuary and will not emerge until closing. I have met this man before. His name, I believe is Michael, and he is the kind of man who prefers to live in solitude, using the music he plays for the patrons as his voice. He is a very attractive man, young, intelligent, and very capable of attracting the attention of any one of the dwellers in the room, perhaps even including Tom.
To the left of the music enclosure is the entrance to the walkway, which is a corridor in the shape of a half circle, hidden away behind the wall on which our corner table sits. The walkway is considered a land of sanctuary on its own, as beyond the wall there exists four cubicles. I suppose most would call them rooms, however, the correct term is cubicle, perhaps that is only the correct term in the circles which I am accustomed to, although, I believe that is the best description of them.
The cubicles have lockable doors that are entirely made of glass, of course there are blinds that can be pulled to enclose the room, but they are only pulled when the cubicle is occupied. There is a purpose for these cubicles, and that purpose is only one thing. Sex! This is the place for secrecy, the place where prominent individuals are guaranteed discretion.
Our corner table was once never in existence, in fact, we would never be found anywhere, except for cubicle one, or perhaps the bar. However, visits to the bar would only occur occasionally, as cubicle one has the added benefit of a fridge that is almost always be fully stocked. We also had the convenience of our own lavatories, so that we would never really have to leave the cubicle, and perhaps that was Dover’s intention.
Our group eventually found its way to the corner table, after a kind of crisis situation, which was of my doing, in my days of drunkenness, my hedonistic days. It was a very short period of my life, which I prefer to keep out of my mind, sometimes I even like to convince myself that it never occurred, that I, Davad Moss, never indulged in the sinful act of alcoholism.
Now, with our departure to the corner table, cubicle one stands empty, a kind of ghost in the darkness, a reminder of our debauchery, and a reminder which Dover possibly wishes would return whenever he enters his office directly across from cubicle one.
Back from beyond the wall, lays the rest of The Gallery. The five tables situated behind our own table, all with four seats, the dance floor where sweaty men parade around, half fornicating between the flashes of neon light, and then our own table, with six seats. Dover, Andy and Monty on one side, with their backs to the partition that blocks our view of the men’s room, and Tom, Joseph and myself on the other side.
Finally, my attention is brought to the walls and the reason this level became referred to as The Gallery. Contrary to perverted beliefs that the room is named so, because men are on exhibit, The Gallery’s name came from the fact that the walls are covered with celebrity photos, posters and awards, each of which are presented in such a way, as in a true gallery, and all belonging to Dover. His trophies, so to speak, and of all those that he has acquired, there does not exist any remnant of myself. He is not so bestowed, and as my eyes set upon him I know that he will never acquire such a remnant.
“I need more vodka,” Tom tells me as he stands.
I watch as he walks towards the bar. Once he reaches it, he makes his way behind the counter to serve an attractive young man.
“Well, he’s not coming back for awhile.” Andy says, looking directly at me.
I look Andy up and down. What is he attempting to imply? Whatever it is, his sarcasm has escaped me.
Dover taps Andy on the shoulder.
“I’ll be back soon,” he tells him and walks away from the table.
“Guess he knows where the action is.” Andy smiles, as he watches Dover walk to the bar.
“Do you wish to say something to me? If so then perhaps you should just come out and say it, and cut the sarcastic act, as it does nothing to compliment your insolence.”
Andy stares at me dumbfounded. “What?”
“Forget it! Just forget it, Andy. You just do not know, do you?”
“I guess not.” Andy agrees and looks across the table to Joseph, hoping for a little support.
Joseph shrugs his shoulders, then turns to face me. “Are you okay, Davad?” he asks, as he begins sliding into Tom’s seat.
“That seat is not yours,” I glare at him.
Joseph moves back to his own seat, and I turn my attention back to the bar, where Tom and Dover are busy in conversation.
The conversation at the table, I know has turned to the topic of Davad Moss’s attitude, but I do not bother to listen to any of it. If they wish to waste their time on such trivial nonsense, then so be it. I, on the other hand, am not about to waste one fraction of a second on anything so trivial.
Perhaps my attitude has grown a little obnoxious tonight, but I do not care, as I am not having a very good day, far from it, my days are seemingly growing shorter as each passes, and my attitude grows even shorter than the days. It is not that I am intentionally trying to destroy whatever friendship I have with these acquaintances of mine, that is the last thing I want to do right now. I just can no longer tolerate their childishness. At one point in their lives they will need to mature, and I want that point to be now, as it is at this point in time when I need mature friends, with mature attitudes, not a playgroup.
It seems absolutely ludicrous that these men could ever act so childish. An outsider would never expect the charade. You would take one look at the group and think, for sure, these men are mature, conservative men. All except Joseph perhaps, with his rock star look, but nevertheless, you would never expect them to be so...so superficial.
Andy, for instance, you look at the man before you and you see a man of forty eight, dark brown shoulder length hair, neatly groomed, and sometimes pulled back into a pony tail, revealing his chubby little face, with rosy cheeks. Andy is always in a grey suit. That is his Gallery look, very professional, and yet, away from The Gallery or The Dungeon, he is forever in a tracksuit. The suit is a major deception; it deceives people into believing that Andy truly is a professional.
Monty is also forever wearing a suit. His suit is always black, accompanied by a white shirt. Monty is never caught without a suit on, not even if you visit him at his home. He is a strange soul, and I truly believe that he even sleeps in a black suit. Perhaps he is preparing for his own demise.
Then there is Joseph. Well what can anyone say about Joseph. Joseph is Joseph and that is all there is to say.
“Andy’s going to pay for that tonight! Anyway Tom, what’s up with Davad, is he okay?” Dover asks as he sits on a stool at the bar.
“What do you mean?” Tom asks, leaning on the counter.
“You know…is he okay? I mean is he coping?”
“Yes, he’s okay. He just needs to slow things down a little.”
“Oh! I thought I noticed a slight change in his attitude tonight.” Dover sips bourbon from his glass.
“He’s a little bit depressed.” Tom admits, looking towards the table, “but he’ll be fine.”
Dover turns his attention to the table. “Are you sure? He looks kind of distant tonight.”
“Well, Davad’s always a little distant; it’s just the way he is. What’s with the twenty questions anyway?” Tom asks looking Dover in the eyes.
“I’m just concerned, you know, I want to help out if you need me.”
“Thanks, but we’re fine. If I need help, I’ll let you know, okay?” Tom tells him as he picks up his vodka bottle.
My head is beginning to ache, perhaps from the meaningless banter that surrounds me, or perhaps the ache is caused by something far greater. I do not know which one is responsible; all I do know is that I am on the verge of black out. If I do not cool my aching forehead the light will most definitely fade.
I pick my glass of water up and slowly drink it down to the final drop. As I drink I look at my acquaintances, they are still busy in conversation, half whispering and I cannot hear their words, but occasionally they allow my name to slip out, a little louder than the rest of their words, and then they continue on without even a sidewards glance in my direction.
I cannot take this any longer. My headache is growing stronger by the second, and now my forehead burns like fire. I stand up, remaining still for a moment, as dizziness hits me. Then I begin walking around the table and partitioned wall, staring through partly blurred eyes at the door to the men’s room. Strangely enough, I feel drunk. Entirely intoxicated.
“What’s his fucking problem?” Andy asks Joseph, rather abruptly.
“Hey, hang on a minute, what makes you think I would know?” Joseph protests as he fumbles to get a cigarette out of his packet.
Andy snatches the cigarette packet from Joseph’s hands, takes one out, lights it then hands the packet and lit cigarette back.
“Well, you’re the one who almost had it off with him.” Andy finally blurts out.
“Hey! I didn’t nearly have it off with him. Let’s get this straight, I only put my hands down Davad’s pants, that’s all!” Joseph corrects him before drawing long and hard on his cigarette.
“Okay, then why the hell is he so pissed off and taking it out on us?”
“Yeah, Joseph, it’s all your fault.” Monty mocks.
“Shut up Monty.” Joseph glares at him, and then looks at Andy. “I don’t know Andy. I think there’s something else going on. Don’t you think so?”
“I suppose so, but what?”
“Well, I think that they know,” Joseph says, pointing to the bar.
Andy glances at the bar, where Tom and Dover are still caught together in their own private conversation.
“They won’t tell you anything.” Monty mumbles almost to himself.
I almost drown myself with the amount of water I throw on my face as I stand before the basin in the men’s room. My head is still burning, aching like I have just walked headlong into a bus and I feel as though my legs will give way under the weight of my heavy frame, but I cannot allow that, I cannot allow myself the indignity of passing out in the men’s room. Passing out anywhere would be so undignified. I place both my hands, palms down on the basin and stare into the mirror.
I can see the man before me, Davad Moss. It is definitely Davad Moss, yet, for some reason he looks different, his face is kind of distorted, as if the mirror were from a fun park. It is as though my own reflection is blurred, incomprehensible to myself, as though my features have changed since the last time I gazed at them. They are now strange, unknown to me. They do not appear to be of my own body, and yet, they are.
A flushing lavatory takes my attention away from my own reflection in the mirror and to the figure that emerges from the middle cubicle.
“Hello Davad, it’s nice to see you again.” The strange, but slightly familiar voice greets me.
I stare into the mirror, as the strange man approaches the basin beside me. My eyes strain to make out the facial features of this man, yet, the more I strain the more my eyes refuse to do their duty. I cannot make out any features of this man, who now stands beside me at the basin.
“Do I know you?” I finally ask, turning to face him.
It is uncanny, I stand inches from this person, yet I cannot so much as make out his facial features, not at all.
“I hope so! We met recently. I danced with your friend Joseph remember? I’m Sam,” he tells me in a boyishly sweet voice.
“Oh! I remember. You have to forgive me, Sam, I have had a little too much to drink,” I lie, smiling at him.
“Really? I didn’t think that you drank at all,” he remarks, as he washes his hands.
“I do, sometimes,” I tell him, a little annoyed at his over confidence.
He continues to wash his hands in silence, then turns the faucet off and leans against the marble bench. “Do you like me? I mean, would you take a guy like me home?” He asks, rather shyly.
“What?” I ask, shocked. Is this guy serious? Is he trying to pick me up, again! The nerve of some people, it makes me wonder if there is some new designer drug floating around The Dungeon these days, some kind of brave pill.
“I don’t mean to be so forward, but I figure you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t like to beat around things. You seem like a guy who knows what he wants, and gets everything that he desires, so I’ll just be straight with you. I would really like it if you took me home and fucked me.”
My jaw drops. This has to be a first in my lifetime as no other strange man has ever been so bold. Who does this guy believe he is?
“Listen Davad,” he continues, “I don’t want anything, you know, a relationship or anything, I’d just like one night with the best looking guy I have ever seen,” he tells me as he places his hand on the front of my pants.
Within a second of his hand touching me, I have it in my grasp, squeezing it as hard as I can, until I hear a bone snap.
“Shit! You broke…”
“Shut up! Who do you think you are? You think you know me? You truly believe that I, Davad Moss, would ever consider having sex with a disease such as you? You’re lucky it is just your hand, boy! I could do much worse to you than that, I could do you a hell of a lot more damage,” I explode at him then let go of his hand. “Get out of here, before I do something I will regret!”
“Davad’s the most wonderful guy in the world; he’s so gentle and would do anything for anyone. I guess it’s hard to picture him ever changing, but this tumours not going to change the way he is, sure it’s going to upset him, but that’s why I’m here. I’m going to take care of him.” Tom tells Dover, as he places his vodka bottle on the bar.
“I know you’re going to look after him Tom, but what if he does change? I mean what if he becomes someone totally different? It’s possible, you know.”
“Yes, I know he could change, but I really don’t care. No matter what, Davad will always be, Davad. He will always be the beautiful man I know, and he’s going to get better anyway,” Tom insists.
“I don’t want to sound unsympathetic Tom, but he may get worse, and he may even…”
“Don’t even say it. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I lay awake at night and wonder what the hell I will do when that day comes? I just can’t think about that! I won’t allow myself to believe that Davad is going to die, I can’t believe that!” Tom admits before swallowing a mouthful of vodka.
“Okay, I’ll leave it alone then, I just wanted to make sure you were aware that it may happen.”
“I do know!” Tom snaps, as he walks away from the bar.
Dover follows Tom back to the table.
“Where’s Davad?” Tom asks as he sits in my empty seat.
“He’s in the bathroom,” Andy answers with a grin, then laughs.
“What’s so funny?” Tom asks.
Joseph slides across into Tom’s seat and rests his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I think there’s something up with Davad.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Tom asks, concerned.
Joseph pauses and has a drink from Tom’s vodka bottle.
“What is it?” Tom demands impatiently.
“Okay, you know that guy who I danced with, Sam.”
“Well, he came out of the bathroom and said that Davad broke his hand.”
“What?” Tom blurts out as he stands.
It is as though the whole world is changing in front of my eyes, all its fine lines seem to be fading away, smearing off into one another, until everything blends into one and I can no longer understand what I see. I do know what is occurring, as this is not the way I had envisioned it to happen. It is very strange, because the blurring of my vision has brought with it an aggravation that I have never possessed and that aggravation has already broken the spirit of one man. What will it do to this one? What will it demand of Davad Moss? Will it be relentless?
I wonder if this is another one of my nightmares, another one that has managed to force its way into my waking hours. Am I passed out on the floor, trapped in this nightmare? Have I brought that kind of indignity upon myself? I hope not! Imaging the embarrassment of waking with staring eyes hovering above you. Imaging me waking in such a way. That would be the end of me, the end of Davad Moss’s image. Fancy that!
The bathroom door swings open and a figure enters.
“Davad! Davad are you okay?” Tom’s voice asks, as he approaches.
I straighten myself up and lean against the cold basin. “I am fine Tom,” I smile.
“Are you sure?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Joseph said you broke some guys’ hand.”
“I did, but what of it?”
“Why did you do that?”
“He touched me, all right, so I broke the bastards hand,” I snap nastily.
Tom takes a step back from me. “You’re not okay. What’s up Davad?”
I run my hand across my forehead and feel the heat that still burns there. “You are right Tom, I am not okay but I do not know what it is. My eyes are not functioning, my vision is blurred, I have an aching forehead and it’s burning up so bad that I cannot think straight,” I admit and lower my head.
Tom takes a step forward and wraps his arm around my waist again. “It’s all right Davad, I’m going to take you home and put you to bed, okay?”
I nod my head as he leads me to the door.
Tom and I lay naked on my bed.
“Do you want to sleep Davad?” he asks as he runs his hand lightly across my chest.
“No, I just want to look at you.”
“Are your eyes okay now?”
“They are fine, clear as glass! It must have been the lights at the club. I am fine now, or maybe you cured me with the great sex.”
“Maybe!” Tom grins. “I’m going to sleep, unless you want me to stay awake.”
“No, sleep Tom, I just want to look at you,” I tell him and wrap my arms around his naked body.
He is asleep within moments of my touch and I lay there, tracing every inch of his body, wondering how such a magnificent creature could have been created. There he lay, naked, with his toned masculine presence set alight by the one thing that sets Tom apart from any other man. His incredible beauty.
Darkness has set in once more. The darkness of the night with all its demons dwelling on its fringes, waiting for my soul to be passed on to them, passed on for all eternity.
A silhouette stands before me, the silhouette of the martyr. My eyes try to focus on the face of this monster, but they cannot. They can do nothing to assist in my cause. They only work against it, destroying reality and turning it into something of this nightmare, something that will dwell in the darkness forever more.
A strange bell chimes in the distance, sounding centuries away, and yet, I know it is not. It is near, very near, and my unconscious state is slipping away with the sound of that bell. Slipping away into oblivion. Taking the martyr away with it, as my conscious mind registers the sound of my ringing telephone.
I search the bedside table, knocking the phone onto the floor and the ringing ceases. As I sit there, trying to wake myself into total consciousness, I realise that the world is in darkness. I am fully awake; yet, the dark world of my nightmares has refused to leave me. My eyes are wide open, though they cannot see a thing.
My heart begins to pound, as the reality of my situation dawns on me. I cannot see. My eyes have become completely defunct. Davad Moss is blind. Fancy that!
It is panic that takes hold of me then, as I know that things will never be the same. I will not be able to continue on with my life, as I normally do. I will become dependent on those around me, dependent on Tom.
“Tom! Tom! Tom!” I begin to call, as I reach out for him. I feel his soft warm skin as I clutch hold of him and draw my body close to his.
“Davad, what is it?” Tom asks, in a rather sleepy voice. He is probably still half asleep, I cannot tell for sure, but that is how he sounds.
“I cannot see. Tom…I cannot see!”
“What?” Tom asks, as though he has not heard me.
I bury my face deep into his chest and feel tears fall from my eyes as I press my body as close to him as nature will allow. “I am blind. I cannot see!” I repeat, allowing more tears to fall.
Tom lifts my head, and then sits still for a few minutes, allowing the world to fall into a realm of complete silence. No sound touches my ears, no picture, no sound and no idea what Tom is doing, perhaps he is staring into my eyes, and perhaps he is not. Whatever he is doing, he will certainly have realised that my eyes do not respond to his own.
“I hate God!” Tom mumbles, finally breaking the terrifying silence.
“What?” I ask, not catching his mumbled comment.
“Nothing! Let’s get you dressed Davad and we’ll go see Marshall.”
Sitting in the passenger seat of Tom’s Porsche, I feel uncertainty creep through my entire being, possessing me entirely. I feel uncertain of all that surrounds me and Tom’s driving brings a kind of uneasiness upon me. I have never felt fear when in Tom’s control, yet, as he drives through the streets that we have driven through so many times before, I am struck down with fear.
The sounds of the vehicles on the road around us are excruciatingly loud and the people who walk along these streets seem to enter into me, their voices pierce my eardrums, then drift away to become tangled up in the mass of incomprehensible noise.
My body is shaking with fear and I pray that Tom will get me to the Angel Centre alive. I do not pray to God, as God, I do not believe can help me, if he is real, that is, and if, if at all he does exist, I am far beyond his own power. The source of my demise does not belong to he, and he cannot possibly diminish that source. He is not capable; he does not possess that much power. No soul can possibly possess that amount of power, especially not he.
The leather chair in Marshall Reed’s office feels strange. I have never taken notice of it before, but now, as I sit in that chair, it feels very strange indeed. I try to picture the chair, to picture it in my mind but it is no use, the picture does not exist there, my mind does not remember.
“Tom! I didn’t expect to see you here.” I hear Marshall’s voice announce, as he enters the office.
“I had to come, to drive Davad.” Tom informs him.
“Why? What’s the problem Davad?” Marshall asks, as I hear him take a seat behind his desk.
“I cannot see, Marshall. I woke up this morning and I am blind!” I tell him, as I sink into the strange leather chair.
“It happened while you were asleep!” Marshall sounds a little too surprised.
“He was having problems last night, when we were at The Dungeon,” Tom tells him and places his hand on my arm.
“I see.” Marshall remarks, as he stands. “I’ll just take a look at your eyes Davad.”
“Go for it Marshall, but let me know when you are going to shine the light in my eyes,” I insist.
“Why?” Marshall asks, amused.
“Well, I would not want you to blind me,” I grin.
Tom hits me lightly on the arm. “That’s not funny Davad!”
“I suppose it is not, but then, is anything really funny?” I ask, as Marshall presses his fingers onto my eyelids, opening them wide.
“Why is this happening?” Tom asks, changing the subject.
“It’s to be expected Tom. The cancer is spreading rapidly and nothing is going to stop it. I told Davad that his sight would be the next target, but I did not expect it to be so soon.” Marshall explains, as he finishes his examination.
“Are you saying that you know what will happen to Davad next?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying! It was just obvious that the cancer would attack Davad’s sight. We don’t know what it will attack next.”
“Excuse me, but I am still in the room, can you talk to me as well, please!” I ask a little annoyed.
“Sorry Davad, I need to take some blood from you, okay?” Marshall tells me as he walks to somewhere on the other side of the room.
“Sure,” I agree and lean back in the chair.
“What’s the blood test for?” Tom asks interested.
“Just routine,” Marshall tells him as he comes back and rolls up my sleeve.
“You know, this blindness is not so bad,” I announce suddenly.
“What! What do you mean?” Tom asks, shocked at my statement.
“Well, I do not have to see the needle now, you know I cannot stand needles,” I laugh.
“You want to examine his head while you’re at it Marshall, I think there is something wrong with him today.”
“That is a good one Tom. I did not mean to upset you, I am just trying to deal with this,” I apologise, as Marshall finishes taking blood from my arm.
“Okay, before I take this down to the lab, I need to do one last thing.” Marshall says, as he jabs another needle in my arm.
“Thanks for the warning,” I snap, as the cold drug rushes through my veins.
“All right, I’m going to take this blood down to the lab. You can take him home now Tom,” Marshall announces, as he leaves the room.
Tom takes hold of my arm as I stand. “Do you feel all right?” he asks.
“I feel fine.”
“Hi Nat, what have you been up to?” Tom asks, as he gives her a kiss on the forehead and sinks down on the sofa beside her.
“Oh not much, just been catching up on some reading”
“Not really! Have you got something on your mind?” Natalie asks, wrapping her arms around Tom’s shoulders.
Tom looks Natalie in the eyes then smiles. “I don’t want to burden you with Davad’s problems.”
“It’s okay Tom, I care about Davad and I would love to help.”
Tom lies down on the sofa resting his head in her lap. “He woke up this morning and panicked, because he couldn’t see.”
“He couldn’t see!”
“That’s what I said. Davad is blind! I took him to see Marshall, and Marshall said he knew it would happen. He took some blood and then gave him his usual injection of Fludarabine .”
“Fludarabine! What’s that?”
“I don’t know, it’s something he needs I guess. I don’t even know why I remember its name, I just happened to read it on the bottle and it stuck in my head. Anyway, I have to go back to Davad’s, he’s on his own and I can’t leave him there for long. He’s sleeping at the moment and I promised I’d be there when he wakes up.”
“Well, I’ll come with you then. He’s probably going to need quite a bit of help, now that he’s blind. I’ll give you a hand today Tom.”
“Thanks Natalie.” Tom kisses Natalie on the lips. “I love you so much.”
I feel like such an invalid, so helpless and so useless. It is as though the value of sight is never acknowledged, until it is gone. Without sight, you must learn the simplest things over again. It is as though childhood has returned. I am a child and Tom will be my teacher, which is such a profound delusion. So torrid are my delusions that I cannot even believe that they come from this diseased mind of mine. They are so far from that putrid place inside me, so insightful that they could not possibly come from within that place.
My sight is not the only thing that has failed me today. I find that ever so often, my memory fails and it is as though my mind is on the verge of shutdown. Even the most beautiful of memories betray me and the most important ones no longer exist. They drift away with each day that passes and my mind is becoming light, expelling everything that stands in the way of the dark place as it grows, and increases in power.
Silence settles in my lounge room as Tom fixes a drink for himself and Natalie. Natalie is so eager to assist me, helping me down the stairs, placing a pillow behind my back before I sit down on the sofa. In a way it is nice to have someone such as Natalie fuss over me, yet, it is also humiliating. I can quite easily find my own way around my home, but I go along with her fussing regardless, allowing myself to be unnecessarily pampered.
“Tom,” I finally say, as I hear him take a seat on the coffee table in front of me, “there is something I need to talk to you about.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“I have noticed that over the last few weeks, I have been forgetting things.”
“Forgetting things?” Natalie asks.
“Yes, small things, but it seems as though it is becoming more constant. I have a feeling that it will get worse.”
“What are you saying, Davad?” Tom asks.
“I think I may be losing my memory.”
“Shit! I can’t believe this, it’s like every second something terrible happens to you,” Tom sighs.
“It does seem that way, but I do not want you to worry. I will be fine. I just need you to do something for me, before it is too late.”
“You know I’ll do anything,” Tom says, placeing his hands on my knees.
“I want you to go to my safe and get my will out,” I tell him, gently squeezing his hands.
“Your will! Why do you want that?” Natalie asks.
“I want you to get my will and read it to me.”
“I don’t understand, Davad. Why?” Tom asks confused.
“I just want to be sure that everything is the way I want it, and if I want to make any changes, I need to do it now,” I tell him. “Will you get it Tom, please?”
“Sure,” Tom agrees and stands, “where’s the safe?”
“In the oven,” I tell him.
“The oven?” Natalie asks.
“Yes, it is hot property you know,” I joke, then continue. “The wall oven is a fake.”
“What’s the number, Davad?” Tom asks, a little uneasily.
“No number!” I tell him, as I reach into my pants pocket, and take out my wallet. “There is a black card in there with the initials AC on it, you need to use that,” I tell Tom, as he takes the wallet from me.
I listen to Tom’s footsteps, as he slowly walks across the slate floor, to the kitchen.
“Just skip the legal stuff and read what I have left,” I tell Tom, as he begins to read through my will.
“Okay,” Tom agrees then pauses as he flicks through the pages, to my beneficiaries. “To Natalie and Tom,” he begins to read, then pauses again.
“What is wrong?” I ask and place my hand onto Natalie’s leg.
“Are you sure you want me to read this?”
“I am. I need you to do this, Tom,” I tell him. “Go ahead.”
“To Natalie and Tom Blade, I leave the sum of two hundred and fifty billion dollars. To Ben Dover, I leave my house and one hundred and twenty billion dollars to finance future projects. To Joseph Elder, I leave my Lamborghini. To Andy Grimes and Monty Stephens, I leave a one million dollar tab, at the bar in The Gallery. To the Angel Research Centre, I leave one hundred and thirty billion dollars to be in the trust of one Dr Marshall Reed. Finally, all remaining assets are to be overtaken by my co-operative in France.” Tom stops reading.
“I never realised you were so rich, Davad,” Natalie whispers.
“Natalie!” Tom snaps, annoyed.
“That is okay, Tom. Nobody really knows how rich I am. That is because I am not hung up on the money, it is just paper to me,” I explain. “You can put that back in the safe now, Tom. There is nothing I need to change.”
Tom takes one last look at the will as he stands in front of the open safe shaking his head in disbelief at my wealth. A paper sitting in the open safe catches his eye when he notices the words, FUNERAL.
Tom picks up the paper and stares at it blankly. He is holding another very important document in his beautiful hands, my funeral arrangements.
“Open coffin. Viewing, unless mutilated or decapitated.” Tom reads these details aloud, his body quivering all over at the thought of any such tragedy and he stares with bewilderment for a few moments longer, then places the document and the will back into the safe and shuts the door.
“You know what Davad made me do last week?” Tom says, as he sits on Dover’s sofa.
“No! I have no idea, but I’m sure I could imagine something,” Dover smiles as he walks back from his bar and hands Tom a glass of vodka.
“I’m being serious. You have such a dirty mind.”
“I know. All right, I’ll be serious.” Dover promises.
“He made me read his will,” Tom announces, then has a mouthful of vodka.
Dover sits on the sofa beside Tom. “He made you do what?” He asks, shocked.
“He thinks he’s losing his memory, so he wanted to make sure that there was nothing he wanted to change in his will. So I read it to him.”
“Really! He’s losing his memory. What’s he leaving me?” Dover asks unsympathetically.
“You arsehole!” Tom snaps, throwing his remaining vodka in Dover’s face.
“Fuck!” Dover screams, as he stands.
“That all you care about, Davad’s money?”
Dover wipes his hand across his face, to prevent the vodka from stinging his eyes. “Of course not Tom, I didn’t mean it like that. I care about Davad and I am deeply sorry if I sounded like an ass,” he apologises. “Will you sit back down?”
Tom sits back on the sofa and Dover sits on the coffee table.
“Sorry about the vodka, I’m just pissed off.”
“I guess it wouldn’t be pleasant to read your lovers will.”
“Hey, that’s not why I’m pissed off.”
“It’s not?” Dover asks, confused.
“No, not at all, I’m pissed off because he’s leaving Joseph the Lamborghini!”
“He’s leaving Joseph the Lamborghini?”
“Yes, and that’s just not on. That Lamborghini is mine!”
“I see. Well did you tell Davad that?”
“Of course not! They’re his last wishes and I can’t tell him not to leave it to Joseph. I guess I’m really pissed off because of what happened between them.”
“I suppose you would be.”
“Anyway, I guess I’ll just have to live with it. I really came over to tell you that if you want me anytime, you’ll have to call me at Davad’s.”
“I’m moving in, to help him out,” Tom smiles.
I am alone, yet again, wallowing in my everlasting darkness. The world seems to be a terrifying place, filled with the strangest of sounds, which spring out from all directions, entering my mind, circling my soul and then disappearing into thin air. It is as though I have been trapped in an eternal nightmare, one from which I will never wake. The nightmares that had once only entered my waking hours on odd occasions now attack me as they please and I am unable to fight them away. There is nothing left to focus on, but the darkness itself, and as the nightmares exist there, they will haunt me relentlessly.
Ding-Dong! I feel my entire body shake, as the doorbell chimes and fear of the unknown sweeps over me. Who could possibly call on me now?
Ding-Dong! As the door chimes a second time I stand and walk along the back of the sofa, feeling my way along the smooth velvet surface. Finally I let go, leaving myself vulnerable to the abyss that surrounds me. I have never been so unsure in my entire life, and my footsteps sound on the slate, with ear-piercing intensity. I have walked confidently around my home, over the past few weeks, yet, with the chime of my doorbell, all my confidence has fled.
A strange sensation runs through my body as I reach out for the door. I am not sure whether I am there or not, I just know that my body is becoming weak and I need to lie down. Perhaps the fear that has overcome me is the cause for my weakness or perhaps I am only imagining it as my hand makes contact with the door.
“Hello, Davad.” Joseph’s sweet voice greets me.
“Joseph, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to visit you.”
“That is sweet of you, come in,” I insist, as I open the door wider.
Joseph enters into my house, and I clutch his arm. “You need to give me a hand getting back to the sofa,” I tell him, a little embarrassed.
“Okay. Where’s Tom?” Joseph asks, as he leads me to the sofa.
“He is spending a couple of hours with Natalie because she has been missing him.”
“That’s right. Tom is staying here, isn’t he?” Joseph asks, as we both sit on the sofa.
“Yes he is. Do you want a drink or anything?” I ask him, as I place my feet up on the coffee table.
“No, I’m fine. I can’t stay very long anyway.”
“Why? I thought you might stay for a while.”
“I would love to, Davad, but I just dropped in to see how you are, because I haven’t seen you for so long. But, unfortunately, I have to catch a plane to England.”
“You are going to England? What is going on there?”
“Oh, Blood n Fire is there, trying to get things together, you know, spend a week or so together as a band, and get themselves back into it.”
“Well I hope they succeed. It would be good to hear something new from them.”
“I know. I’m hoping things work out.”
“Anyway, Joseph, I want to apologise for what happened between us, for what I said,” I tell him, changing the subject.
“That’s okay, Davad, I know that it did mean something to you. You were just protecting your relationship, I understand that.”
“I am so glad that you do, because I value your friendship, especially now.”