Footy

SEAN AND EMMA (29)

It seemed to take forever before Emma came to the door. She examined Sean in silence.

“Can we talk?” His expression was solemn.

She stared at him for many heartbeats. A mixture of emotions could be read in her face—grim anger; interest; resignation. She shrugged and stood aside to let him in.

He went into the familiar hallway, into the room where he’d found Will that day. He looked at the chair where Will had been sitting, and then at Emma. “We can’t... ,” he swallowed, “ ...let him,” he swallowed again, “ ...do that... again.” He found himself choked up. The image of Will comatose in the armchair, vomit and empty pill packets all over the floor came to him.

“How do you propose we stop him?” she replied, her voice even, only her expression giving away her anger and bitterness.

Sean sat down, uninvited, and put his head in his hands. It had all seemed so clear before. He just shook his head, and then, to his horror, found himself crying. “I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m sorry.” He felt foolish and weak.

Emma waited coolly for him to get control of himself. When he looked up at her, for she was still standing, he saw that her expression had softened, but that her mouth was curled in a kind of contempt.

He was suddenly furious. “Don’t you look at me like that! He loves me too. And I love him.”

“Well, he’ll have to choose, won’t he?” Her eyes were hard, and her lips in a thin straight line.

“He can’t. He just can’t.” Sean stared at her, pleading. “Don’t make him, Emma. Please.” He had no shame begging. It was for Will. For Will.

“Yes, he can. He must.” She sat down and clasped her hands together. “He must,” she whispered, all appearance of strength and confidence abandoned.

“Why?” Sean’s tone was reasonable.

“What do you mean, why? Don’t be stupid!” Her eyes flashed and her color rose. She looked ready to cry.

“Why must he choose? Why? I’m not the first.” There was a silence as she digested this painful truth, one she’d not wanted to believe.

“I don’t believe you!” Her vehemence gave away her true feelings.

“He picked me up in a gay pub.” Sean’s intonation was flat. He didn’t want to gloat. It felt unseemly. It felt indecent. Not far away from his own confidence was the horrible propriety of marriage, of the norms of society, the norms that Sean still half believed in.

Emma began to cry quietly. Sean watched her and to his surprise was filled with compassion. Yet he could not give way. He had to be strong and firm, not for himself (so he told himself) but for Will, who wasn’t strong enough right then to do what needed doing. “He loves you, you know.”

She shook her head, her crying redoubling.

“Please don’t,” he murmured, and then, overcome with pity, and afraid of doing anything else to comfort her, gave her his handkerchief. He was sure that if he touched her, she would shrug him off, and then all would be lost. “It’s clean,” he added, when she hesitated. Her mouth quirked up a little. “He loves you. He needs you. You can’t walk away from him.”

“I have no intention of walking away!” She shot back, all steel again, but her cheeks were wet, her make-up smudged.

“If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else.” Sean stood up and went over to the French doors, staring sightlessly into the garden. “If you try and force him to give up his gay side, you’ll break him. Do you want that?” He turned to look directly at her. She stared back at him in a hostile silence. He went back and sat down in the armchair in front of her. “He’s been pickin’ up men since before you were married.” She turned her head away, staring obstinately at the watercolor on the wall, her jaw muscles bunched tightly, her throat moving as she swallowed convulsively.

“It’s all been a lie. He just married me for a front,” she muttered at last.

“No. Wrong. Totally wrong! He’s always loved you.” Sean wanted to be angry with her, but he could see how much she was hurting.

“How do you know?” She turned her anger and resentment and bitterness onto him.

“I spoke to him. For a couple of hours. He’s told me everything. I’ve just come from there. Emma, he’s torn in half. If he... he will try again. And this time he’ll succeed. I don’t want that. Do you?”

He waited for her to look at him. Her eyes met his, and helplessly, mutely, she shook her head.

He stared at her for a long time in silence. At last he spoke, very softly, his eyes fixed on hers. “For his sake.” He waited a little. “It won’t suit either of us. We both want all of him. And we can’t have it.”

“Are you gay?” she asked, looking away, unable to meet his eyes, then immediately wondered why she’d asked such a stupid question.

“I dunno. Before... before Will, there had only been one other dude. And that wasn’t much – just the once.” He stopped for a few moments, thinking that though it had just been a single instance, it had all the same changed him for ever. “I’d always had women – girlfriends – before. But Will... I love him so much. Emma, I’d give him up if I thought it would make him happier.” He stopped. She wasn’t listening so much to the words he was using, but instead responding to the tone, the love he so clearly felt for her husband. She wanted to maintain her anger, but she was too worn out by everything that had happened. She was about to respond when Sean continued. “But see, I’ve already tried that. When I found out about you – after you phoned him in Sydney – I left him. I was so hurt, so angry. And in his despair, he did what he did.” He stopped again, then turned and looked at her directly, his expression dark, his eyes compelling. “Emma, he’ll do it again. He’s not strong. You are, I think. And I am. But he’s weak.”

“And you say you love him!” She blew her nose angrily. He was so solid, so brave. Even with her anger at him and her husband, she felt a reluctant admiration.

He smiled wryly. “I do. So much.” He looked away, and softly repeated, “So much.” He met her eyes and his grin took on a cynical edge. “Enough to know the truth. But what does the truth matter? I love him. That’s enough for me. I’ll always protect him. I’m used to bein’ on me own, to lookin’ after meself and me brothers. Things weren’t good at home.” He got up and walked to the French doors, gazing unseeing at the bright joyful daffodils against the shed, the sparaxis buds on their stiff stalks, freesias in bud too, ready to fill the garden with their sickly sweet aroma, the smell of spring. “Well, moi history doesn’t matter. But,” and turned round to face her, his expression fierce, “I will look after Will. He needs me. I’m not goin’ to just walk away.” ‘Needs’ came out as ‘naids’. Emma didn’t even notice.

“What about me?” She looked ready to cry again. His heart was torn by the desperate sorrow in her eyes.

“He naids you too. He loves you, Emma. He naids you. Really.” It was hard to say this. Yet it was true. He wanted to be fair. But – more important, much more important – was that he knew Will truly did need her. He needed a woman in his life. When Will had told him this, it had stung. But he loved Will. He knew this now, as an absolute certainty, after all that had happened, after all that he’d been through. Will was Home. “The question is – do you love him? That’s the question.”

He waited. He had to ask. Some part of him hoped she didn’t love him. But he knew she did, of course she did. That was what he was relying on to make his plan work. But if she didn’t love him, he’d take Will for himself. He’d make sure he never lost him. And should Will feel the need for a woman in his life, Sean would make sure their love survived, whatever happened. He wasn’t aware just how much determination and resolution showed in his face.

Emma was. She sniffed and wiped her nose with his hanky. “Yes, I love him.” She gave a tremulous smile. “Damn the bastard, I still love him.”

Sean gave a smile of relief that made his face light up, sunshine after the storm, and Emma saw all at once what had attracted Will. She felt a stab of jealousy and then a wash of grief.

His face sobered immediately as he saw hers change. “It won’t be easy for us, you and me. For any of us. It might not work. But Emma, we love him and we need him. And he needs us. Both of us. We have to make it work. We have to. If we fail, then... ”

“How will it work? I don’t understand how we’ll do it! Where will he live? Will he live here? Or with you? It won’t work!” And she buried her face in her hands.

“I know some people who are tryin’ somethin’ like it, who’re makin’ it work for them. Can we go and see them? Please? For Will’s sake?”

There was a long pause, while they inspected each other, neither willing to trust too easily.

“OK. For Will.” She suddenly realized that she was still furious with Will for trying to kill himself. She felt a twinge of shame that she should have this reaction.

“Yeah.” Sean was watching her closely. “He hurt me too, you know. I thought he was unmarried. I didn’t know he had you. I was so angry.” He looked away from her to the wall. “I never wanted to see him again. And then, these people we’re goin’ to, they persuaded me to talk to him, and I went round and found him. I.... What if I hadn’t gone then! What if I’d been an hour later! He’d’ve been fuckin’ dead.” He stopped for a minute, and his anguish silenced anything flippant or dismissive she might have said. He gave her a crooked smile. “Yeah. He’s never been unfaithful to you with a woman, you know that.” She didn’t speak. “And after he met me, he didn’t have any other men.” He rubbed his face hard with his hands. “Fuck. I dunno. I love him so much.” He shot a quick glance at her. “You love him too. I dunno how it’ll work.” He felt a ridiculous intimacy with her, suddenly, as if they’d known each other for years. “C’mon. They don’t live far away. Do you want to follow me? Or do you want to ride on the back of the bike? Parkin’s easier with a bike.”

“Maybe... the bike.” Emma felt breathless. Her world had turned upside down when she’d come home and found Sean’s note about Will. She had blamed Sean, at first, convinced he’d been the seducer. But as each day went by, and it became obvious how much Will loved Sean, and how withdrawn and depressed he was, she’d set that aside. Who had been the seducer came to seem irrelevant. She’d become focused instead on how to draw Will out from his depression, to get him to speak to her, to reassure herself that it would one day all be right again. Part of her doubted that it would ever be right again, but she clung fiercely to her hope.

“Have you got a jacket? The air’s a bit chilly.” As he helped her put on the helmet, he felt the incongruity of their intimacy. Their eyes met through the visors of the helmets. Hers were a lovely blue, with tiny flecks of turquoise and cobalt. She had endearing freckles on her nose. For the first time he realized that she was beautiful and his thoughts were sidetracked by a sudden desire for her. That he found her attractive jarred him. He hadn’t thought he’d ever be interested in a woman again. Yet at the same time, it was curiously reassuring that the old instincts were still there. He wondered whether, if it all worked out with them and Will, he would find himself a woman. He hadn’t thought that far ahead before. Then he considered how hard the three of them would have to work just to make their connections a success, never mind adding anyone else into the mixture, and mentally shrugged. Time enough to worry when it happened. “OK?” he asked.

She was abruptly touched by his concern. She could see how tough he was, the hard edge that protected his heart from the world, and she could see that he was kind underneath, and it made her realize that he would look after Will. But that made her think about how things had changed, and how it would all be worse now. As she climbed onto the back of the bike, she was filled with sorrow. There was anger at Sean too, and she had to struggle to be sensible. This was for Will. All the same, she didn’t know whether she was capable of forgiving Will, forgiving them both, nor whether the resentment would remain, poisoning everything between them. She put her arms round Sean’s muscular torso, and felt the sturdy strength of his body through his leather jacket. In spite of her smoldering anger at Sean, she took comfort from this.

Sean didn’t know whether anyone would be at the others’ house. He just trusted to luck. He had been afraid that Emma wouldn’t have even entertained the suggestion that they share Will, and when she tentatively agreed, he felt he had to move before she changed her mind, before she’d had time to think about it. If she had refused to even listen, he would have taken Will from her, and made Will his alone. But he knew that also might not work in the long run. Will was bisexual. And anyway, whatever he thought, Will loved Emma. She was necessary to his happiness. All Sean’s instincts warred with this conclusion. “Fight!” screamed a part of him, the part that had had to make its own way through a hostile world. “Fight!” said the boy who’d carved out a safe place for himself and his brothers by threatening his father with a knife. “Fight!” said the lover, knowing how much his own happiness depended on the other man. The tension between what he wanted in his heart to do, but couldn’t, was making him antsy and irritable. He wished for a resolution to his conflict, to his need.

Jasper answered the door. “Sean!” He was smiling. He nodded at Emma, waiting for Sean to explain who she was.

“Jas.” Sean was warmed by the liking in the other man’s face. Unable to stop himself, he smiled back at Jasper. They examined each other for a moment, remembering the sex between them, and the emotional encounter on the day Will tried to kill himself, both ready to make allowances for the other, ready to forgive, to go further along the road that leads to friendship. “Emma, this is my friend Jasper. Jas, this is Emma, Will’s wife. Can we talk to you?”

Jasper opened the door wider and gestured for them to come in. He was touched by Sean’s description of him as a friend. He gave Sean a sudden smile. He no longer wanted to avoid him, because he had stopped being embarrassed by what had happened, by all the contradictory emotions that Sean aroused in him.

He offered them tea, and both accepted. While he was making it, Emma and Sean didn’t speak, but once, when Sean caught her eye, he made a small smile, as if to say, what a mess. Emma wondered whether anything they did could make it right. She doubted it. But she was desperate. She would listen.

When Jasper had brought the mugs of tea, they sat for a moment, each waiting for the other to begin.

“Jas, can I ask you something personal?”

Jasper glanced at him, before nodding. If it was discomforting, he could live with that. He remembered his resolve to try to be a better person. He owed Sean something. He liked Sean, and he wanted to be his friend, not just a former trick, or the son of Sean’s employer.

“How do you make it work? The ‘you and Fiona and Mark thing’? If you don’t wanna answer, yeah, that’s good, but you see, we – Emma and me – want to work somethin’ out with Will. We’re afraid he might do it again.” His expression was pleading, his tough face softened by his need and his love for Will, and Jasper was filled with a disconcerting blend of desire, affection, and compassion.

“I dunno. Fiona is kind of special.” He looked down at his tea. “We... we try hard to share. But it’s Fiona, I think. She holds us together. She could’ve... she could’ve fucked it up. She could’ve made Mark’s life difficult until she got him all to herself. But she didn’t. At first she didn’t like me much.” His sharp gaze went from one to the other of them, and his unspoken comment was clear. “Not that I blame her.” He sighed. “But now... well, we get along pretty well.”

“How does it work?” Emma’s question was quietly phrased, but Jasper could see how she vibrated with tension. “I mean, where do you all live?”

“We all live here. But we all have our own rooms.”

“Do you feel left out?”

“No, not now. At first... yeah. Sometimes I was angry and jealous. When Mark first started seeing Fiona, it hurt. But I knew he loved me, and Adam made us see that our love for each other was what mattered, not the expectations of others. Or our own. Now... it’s good. Actually,” and he smiled suddenly, “it’s fucking fantastic. I have two people who are incredibly close to me, involved with me.”

“How do you and... ” Emma struggled to remember, “ ...um, Fiona. How do you get on?”

“We get on fine. I’ve really grown to love her. She’s special. I have Mark and I have her, and it’s so good. I was lonely before. I know lots of people out there,” and he waved at the window dismissively, “they’ll disapprove of us, and how we do things. But we both loved Markie. And now we both have him. And she’s my friend too, now.” He stopped for a while. “I so nearly fucked it up when I... with you, Sean.” He looked at Sean, and sighed again. “I was with Markie. He’s my guy. And then... you and I... and I was so afraid they’d both break it off with me when they found out. I couldn’t have borne that, not having them in my life. But Fee said a funny thing. She said that if that was the worst our marriage would face then we were fine.” He inspected them for a moment, his eyes going from one to the other. “What she was saying was that if you love someone enough and they love you, you’ll forgive a lot.” Neither of the other two spoke. “Look,” he said, trying to force them both to meet his eyes, “I’ve done some stupid selfish things in my life, including you and me,” he nodded towards Sean. “Though I mean more the way I treated Adam. I did wrong, and Fiona was furious with me for it.” He was speaking to Emma, now.

“Who’s Adam?” Emma was struggling to keep the links between all these people in context.

“Fee’s brother. He’s gay. He’s Tom Siedentrop’s lover. They live here with us.”

Emma nodded, but she still wasn’t too sure who was who.

“Anyway, I knew he loved me, but I treated him like shit because I was so ashamed of my feelings for men. I really hurt him because I was too cowardly to be true to what I was. We have to accept who we are. I love Mark. And you know, I love Fee too. I don’t ever want to have to choose between them. They are too important to me. If I was forced to choose, half of me would be torn out. And it’s the same for Mark.” He stopped and looked from one to the other.

Emma turned and looked at Sean.

“It won’t be easy.” Sean took her hand. His hand was warm, and strong. His gaze was compelling. “But if we, both of us—all three of us—try to make it work, then maybe it will work. Maybe. Anyway, we have to at least try. The alternatives are worse.”

“I dunno.” Emma was torn.

“The question is—do you love Will?” Jasper’s expression was insistent, firm.

She looked from Sean to Jasper, and gave a sudden grim smile. “Yes. Always, I think. Always. But is that enough?”

“Is Will a good man? Is he a friend? Is he honest? Does he love you?”

“I thought he was honest. And all the time... ” She wiped her eyes.

“Will you be able to trust him if he promises to be faithful to you alone?” Jasper’s eyes were kind. They belied the toughness of the questioning.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

“So what chance does your marriage have—even if he doesn’t try again?” He waited a moment. “You didn’t answer before. Is he a good man?”

She nodded a whispered yes, and blew her nose.

“Is he your friend?”

“Yes.” She was silent for many heartbeats. “Fuck. That’s what hurts the most. I thought he loved me, he cared for me. It hurts.”

“He does, Emm. That’s why he’s being torn apart. He does love you.” Sean’s gaze was direct, the look of someone determined to see this through, to fight for himself and his own.

“Then why?” Her cry was heartfelt.

Jasper stood up and went over to her. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. “We don’t want to be the way we are, you know. We don’t want to hurt the people in our lives. Mark told me in advance, but he didn’t tell Fee. And he really hurt her. He hurt me, too, even though he’d told me he was bi. You know, I went round to Fiona’s to tell her she could have him.” He stared at the wall remembering. He gave himself a little shake. “She refused my offer. But we didn’t know how to go on from there. And Adam and Tom suggested all this,” and he gestured at the house round them, “and we, well, we just made it work.”

“But will it last?” Emma had stopped sniffing, and almost had a look of hope in her face.

“Will any relationship – marriage, friendship, love – last? Who knows? You just have to work at it. How often do you fall in love, with someone good, someone who is a friend? It’s rare, isn’t it? So when you find it, you must – you must – fight to make it work.” He stood up, and moved back to his seat. But he remained standing, looking down at both of them. “Some people—even those who aren’t opposed to the whole idea—will say that it’s too hard. But it isn’t too hard. It is hard though, just not too hard. You have to work harder at it, because it’s tough enough if there are just two of you. But in a way, though, some things are easier. When two of you quarrel, the other one stops the long silences. And also, because you know it’s more difficult, just because the world is against it, because it’s not the norm, you try harder to make it work. So in the end the ties are deeper, better. At least I think so.”

“Who do you sleep with?”

Jasper wasn’t sure whether she meant fuck or sleep. “Well, it depends how the mood takes us.” He smiled, remembering something. “Once we were all cooking dinner, and Markie was teasing us, touching both of us, feeling me and Fee up, and laughing. He was in such a good mood... ”

“You touch each other in front of the other one?”

“Yeah.” Jasper smiled at her disbelief. “Friends tease in front of other friends. We are more than friends. We want everything to be open between us. Anyway, I could see Mark was getting aroused.” He smiled affectionately. “So I went ‘Go get a room, you perves,’ and off they skipped. I finished cooking, and when they came downstairs dinner was ready. And at bedtime Markie came to me, and we made love, and he spent the night.” He didn’t add that the next night, he and Fiona had made love, while Mark slept peacefully in his bedroom, well aware of what was happening two doors down. He suspected that that would just be too weird to Emma. “We do stuff together. And in a way, it makes it easier. It’s not like so many husbands and wives. Jeez, my mother and father do everything together and I know he hates ballet. But we can go out as twosomes or threesomes. And it’s cool.”

Emma felt that she ought to reject all this on moral grounds. But she had been to hell and back. That tends to make conventionality seem unimportant. If it worked, well... Her strong unexamined opinions and beliefs had all been called into question over the last few weeks—that men were gay or straight with no grey area in between; that you could always tell who was gay; that she had a good marriage; that fidelity mattered more than anything. At that moment she thought of what her mother, with her classic Gallic pragmatism, would have thought. She remembered a conversation they’d once had about mistresses. Emma had been astonished when her mother had said that in France, the wife usually knew, and accepted (however unhappily) the situation. But it wasn’t done to talk about it, and the husband made quite sure the wife was never forced to acknowledge what was happening. Emma’s mixture of Australian and Continental mores made it easier to recognize that though unusual, the proposed arrangement was far from impossible. She looked over at Sean. He was looking at her, and his face was filled with hope and goodwill. He was so damn nice. It was a reluctant acknowledgement. She wanted to maintain her anger. But she’d never met anyone like him, the rough brilliance, the tough affection. “All right. I dunno if it’ll work. But what the... ...I’ll try.”

“We’ll try,” said Sean. “Let’s go and tell Will.”

“Now?” She had sudden doubts. What if? Maybe?

“Yeah.” His sly smile showed he understood all her hesitations and worries. “C’mon. Will is waitin'.” And then, without meaning to, he pulled her into a hug. She was so small in his arms. It made him feel that she needed protection too, just like Will did. For a moment she resisted, and then she put her arms round him. “C’mon,” he said again, softly into her ear. She felt safe. She knew that she could trust him. For the first time in weeks, the weight of all her cares and guilt and anger and grief fell from her back.

Sean turned to Jasper, and pulled him into a tight hug. Then he pushed him away a little, without letting go, looking directly into the other man’s eyes. “Thank you, Jas. You’re a fuckin’ prince, mate. I’ll never forget this, dude.”

Jasper’s green eyes sparkled with affection. Maybe with tears too. “For you, mate. Always. Good luck, Seanie.” Jasper had never called him that. Sean pulled him into the hug again, unable to speak. Jasper was still talking. He gasped out past Sean’s tightly squeezing arms, “Hey, both of you, come to lunch this Sunday. Emma, you c’n meet Fee and Markie and Tom and Ads.”

Emma looked dubious.

Sean let go of him so he could speak. “C’mon. You don’t want to be alone on Sunday, thinking about Will. And if you can, bring him too. He’ll feel at home with us. He’ll feel accepted and good. He’ll be with people who understand. It’ll help him.”

“W-e-l-l... ”

“Right, that’s settled. See you Sunday. Good on you both. And, hey, it can be done. It can.”

<<Chapter 28

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