Footy

REMORSE AND LOVE (24)

Love seeketh not itself to please

Nor for itself hath any care

But in another seeks its ease

And makes a Heaven in Hell’s despair.

Mark and Fiona came into the kitchen. Jasper ignored them. He dibbled the tea bag in his mug. At last he couldn’t stand the tension any longer, and turned round to face the others.

They stared at each other.

“O.K. What’s going on?” Fiona was looking at him in a way which made his heart sink. She was tough. That had drawn him to her when he had first met her. The combination of strength and compassion had made him like her immensely. This was the first time she’d used her toughness against him. It frightened him.

Jasper turned back to his tea, and dibbled the tea bag again, his heart thudding, feeling sick.

“Jasper!” Fiona’s tone was angry and frustrated.

“What? What d’you mean ‘what’s going on’?” Jasper was still hoping he didn’t have to reveal the whole sorry tale.

“We’re not dummies, Jas. You bring home someone you’ve never mentioned before, you ask us to take him into our bosom, and you’re obviously really close to him. So?”

Jasper added milk to his tea, and faced them. “He’s my dad’s chauffeur.”

“And you’re that close to him?” This was Mark, disbelief in every syllable.

The implication stung. A chauffeur? A working-class nobody? And Jasper Sutton talks to him? Goaded, Jasper said, “Actually, yes. He was very kind to me when my mother threw me out.”

“Kind?” Mark was hurt and angry. “What kind of ‘kind’?”

Very quietly, his voice close to breaking, Jasper admitted, “We fucked.”

“Fuck!” Mark was yelling. “You bastard!”

“I was... desperate. My mother... ”

“Desperate!” Mark’s scorn was palpable.

“I’m sorry.” Jasper was unable to meet their eyes. He’d failed them. He’d fucked up. He was going to lose everything. He’d thought he’d at last be happy, that’d he’d found a new family, one that would love him and keep him close. A single tear dripped from his bent head onto the table.

“Why didn’t you come home to me for ‘comfort’?” asked Mark, no longer angry, just shocked and sorrowful. The tear had shaken him. He wanted to take Jasper into his arms and hug him. He wanted to make it better. But he was hurt and angry himself.

Almost in a whisper, Jasper replied, “You were at Fiona’s”

“Oh, God!” said Mark. “Oh fuckin’ hell! Jas, I’m so sorry.”

“Sean was kind to me. I was mad with pain, Markie, and I just... I just put my arms round him and kissed him. And... ” He was crying in earnest now.

Mark violently pushed away his chair, so that it fell over and clattered against the wall. He began to pace up and down the kitchen. “And?” He didn’t know whether to be sad or angry or both. Only physical activity would make it better. He opened and closed the kitchen cupboards without seeing what was inside.

“He was hurting, Markie. He loves Will. I had to bring him round here. He needed our help. And it was my fault. Because if I hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have found out he was bi, and... ”

“ ...No, I meant ‘and then what did you do’?”

“He hugged me and wiped away my tears.”

“And?”

“And then he fucked me.”

“And was it good?” Mark’s tone was bitter. He hadn’t meant to say that. He was astonished at the anger and resentment he felt.

Unable to speak, Jasper shook his head. Yet he had to admit to himself, it had been incredibly hot. To be dominated by that macho, tough man, to be rooted senseless, all the time aware of Sean’s underlying kindness and tenderness. That had been... amazing. He loved Mark, and Mark was unmistakably male. But he wasn’t the sort of rough trade that Jasper secretly liked, liked because it chimed with his own low self-esteem and his need to be protected and dominated. He knew that it was the love he had for Mark that would last, if they could survive this. He didn’t love Sean. Sean was – maybe – a friend. But he didn’t want or need him the way he wanted and needed Mark. All the same, the sex with Sean had been good.

Mark sat at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands.

There was a long silence. At last Jasper said, “I’m sorry. I’ll go pack my things.”

“What for?” Fiona’s voice was sharp.

“It’s over, isn’t it? I have to go.” Jasper was trying hard not to cry, but his voice was rough and uneven, barely above a whisper.

“Jeez, Jas, if that’s all our marriage will have to survive, we’re good, fantastic.” Fiona’s irritation was obscurely comforting.

Mark looked up quickly at her. Marriage? As far as he was concerned what they had was for life, but he wasn’t sure she’d felt the same way. He’d been too superstitious to ask her. And then he understood that his marriage – or whatever the right word for their relationship was – wasn’t just to Fiona, but to Jasper. He loved Jasper with every particle of his being. He needed both of them in his life.

He wasn’t convinced he was ready to forgive Jasper. Yet Jasper had forgiven him. Fiona had forgiven him. Was his need to have both a man and a woman in his life any different to Jasper’s much more immediate need for comfort when he’d been thrown out of home? A disturbing thought came into his mind. Had Jasper done it to punish him because he’d been with Fiona?

He remembered how it had gone when he’d told Jasper about Fiona.

“Jas, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What?” Jasper’s face had expressed his alarm.

“I’ve been seeing a woman.”

Mark had never hidden his sexuality from Jasper, but now it was no longer hypothetical. He could see the hurt on Jasper’s face.

“Don’t worry, love, I love you, and always will. But I need a woman.”

“I know.”

But Jasper hadn’t said, “I understand.” And now, as he recalled that scene, Mark appreciated how much he’d relied on Jasper not making a fuss, not being hurt.

Did he have any right to be angry? He remembered when Adam had cut through the knots of their tangled bonds, making it right between them all. But this was after Jasper’s affair with Sean. No, ‘affair’ wasn’t the right word. Jasper had been unfaithful just the once. Suddenly he desperately wanted to know whether there’d been anyone else.

“Was he the only one, Jas?”

Abruptly, Jasper was white with rage. “Yes, fuck you, Markie! What do you think I am?”

“I just meant... ”

“ ...Like I would!”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Fiona’s tone cut right through their bickering. “Men!” Her scorn was withering. “Always thinking with your small heads instead of your big ones! And they say women have hormonal problems!”

The two men turned identically pole-axed expressions on each other. Fiona couldn’t help it. She laughed. The men turned back to her, the tension lines smoothed from their faces, grinning a little, shame-faced, momentarily united in their maleness.

“Let’s start from the basics. Jas, do you love Markie? And don’t lie to me. Remember, first, I’m a woman. We’re clairvoyant. And second, I’m a counsellor.”

“Fee, you can be such a pain sometimes.” Jasper was irritable. “Of course I love Markie. What d’you think?”

“Just checking the facts. Trying to engage your brains. You know, that underutilized grey fluff between your ears.”

“Yeah, yeah, and your point is?”

Fiona ignored him. “Mark, do you love Jas?”

“Nah,” said Mark, grinning a little, “I hate the bastard.”

Jasper sipped his tea, not sure whether to respond, or what he should say. Mark reached out his hand, and grasped one of Jasper’s arms.

Jasper turned to look at him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mark. I just... It wasn’t, like, a casual pickup. He was there when I came out of the house. I... He’s so kind inside. He looks hard and tough and... But he... I can’t explain it. Shit. I feel so stupid.”

He stared at the Japanese print calendar on the wall. A stylized view of Mt Fuji. Azaleas. A woman in a kimono. Silhouetted pines.

“What do you really feel for him, Jasper?” Mark’s voice was very quiet. Jasper could feel both their intent gazes.

Jasper dug deep inside himself. He needed to get this right. It was his only chance. “Gratitude.” Yeah, that was it. “I needed someone. But I shouldn’t have taken it any further. At some level I knew what I was doing. Thinking with my small head. I’m so sorry, Mark. Please... please don’t make me leave. I love you. Please.” He turned to Fiona, his green eyes beseeching. “I love you too, Fee. You’re my family. Both of you. I dunno what I’d do without you.”

“Why did you bring Sean here, Jas?” Fiona was inspecting his face, her eyes intent, watchful.

“He was in pain.” Jasper played with his mug, running his finger round and round the top. “I... I wanted to be a better person. He needed someone to comfort him. I remember what it was like, finding out. How lonely it was. And he’s lost his lover. And he’s so macho and tough. Guys like that hurt more.”

“Bullshit, Jas. Everybody hurts. Life hurts.” Fiona was brisk and matter-of-fact. She might care, but she had no patience with muddle and clichés. Yet she was touched by Jasper’s concern for Sean.

“And?” Mark was watching Jasper’s face with equal intensity.

Jasper looked at him for a moment before he understood. “I didn’t want to have to ‘comfort’ him the way he ‘comforted’ me. It was safer. I didn’t want to be unfaithful.”

“You’re still attracted to him, aren’t you?” Mark’s quiet, reasonable tone was far more disturbing than anger and shouting would have been.

Jasper just stared at his tea, no more than a centimeter or two at the bottom of the mug.

“You are!” Now Mark was angry.

“Markie, stop it. He’s a man. Of course he’s attracted to others. You are!”

“Yeah, but I don’t sleep with them!”

“Do you love him or not?” Impatient, exasperated.

“Yes. That’s why it hurts.” Mark was looking directly at Fiona. Jasper was ignored as the other two argued.

“We hurt the people we love. We don’t mean to, but we do. You hurt me, Mark. You hurt Jas. We’re still here with you. We still love you.” There was a pause. The clock ticked loudly. Through the half-open kitchen window came the sound of laughter and voices from a neighboring garden. “Choose, Mark. You love Jas. He loves you. He made a mistake. Choose.”

The silence dragged. Jasper’s stare was fixed on the calendar. Later, he couldn’t remember what the drawing depicted.

“Fair enough. Jas, c’mere.” Mark felt something break inside himself. A tenderness and sorrow and overwhelming love filled him. It might never be better than this, he thought.

Jasper stood up. He walked around the endless space of the kitchen table. He stood in front of Mark, who was still in the kitchen chair. Mark stood up, abruptly. He pulled Jasper into a hug. They stood, pressed against each other for an eternity.

At last Jasper let go, and turned to Fiona. He put his arms round her and after a moment, pressed his lips against hers. At one level, their kiss was no more than the embrace of two friends. On another, the attraction that had built between them made their skin tingle and their hearts pound. When in the end Jasper pulled away, it was no longer easy to meet each others’ eyes. “Thank you, Fee,” he said, quietly.

He meant it, she knew. “If you ever do it again, Jasper Sutton, I’ll tear your arm off and beat you to death with the wet end.”

Jasper pressed his head into her shoulder. She wore Arpège, a scent he had been used to associate with an old aunty, his father’s older sister. It smelled wonderful on Fiona. “Fair enough,” he said. “But I won’t, if I have Mark and you. I promise.” He had begun to get hard. He was acutely discomfited, surprised by the intensity of his desire. As with Sean, it was the compelling combination of strength and gentleness that turned him on.

Fiona kissed the top of his head, noticing for the first time that there were a few strands of grey threaded into the wheaten and buttercup richness. She could feel his aroused cock pressed against her. Tenderness and melancholy stole into her heart. Happiness – life itself – was so transient. Why let it be spoilt by the dictates of conventional morality? She lifted his head up, and kissed him again, more purposefully this time. When she stopped, she could see, over Jasper’s shoulder, Mark watching them. His expression was unreadable.

“Come here, lunk,” she said, her eyes warm and inviting.

He stepped nearer, put his arms round them both. In the quiet of a winter’s Saturday afternoon, they held each other close, expressing with their bodies the love they felt for each other, a reality which words couldn’t adequately convey.

“Come on, lunks.” And Fiona took their hands and led them up to her bedroom. It was time. As she climbed the stairs, Jasper and Mark behind her, she wondered briefly what her mother would think of what she was about to do, and then shrugged. She was happy. She was loved. And she’d known for a while now that these were her men, her husbands, to use an old-fashioned word. Hers. And each other’s. And it felt entirely, absolutely, right and perfect. Like coming home at last.

<<Chapter 23

© 2009 Nigel Puerasch. All rights reserved.
Romantic m2m novels and short stories