Footy

WILL AND...  (30)

It had turned into a glorious day. The rehab center looked almost friendly and human in the late winter afternoon sunshine. Yet there was a hint of the sorrow which accompanies the setting sun in winter, the slow advent of solitary dusk, the gentle fade of gold and orange into straw and peach, while people hurry home through the chill to cozy fires and indoor lives.

“C’mon,” Sean said, giving her an encouraging smile as he undid his helmet and dismounted from the bike. “We can do it.”

Emma thought, with us, he’ll be the one who’ll hold it all together. It gave her the courage to ask, “Will you share him properly? I’m sorry, but... you see, I need to know now, before we talk to him.”

Sean met her eyes and held them until she looked away. “Yeah,” he said. “I promise—for his sake if no one else’s. Look, I was readin’ an article the other day about women who have two husbands. Two husbands, who share the child care, the washing up.”

“I don’t want two husbands,” Emma said with distaste.

“I’m not suggestin’ that for you. I meant that they made it work. The biggest problem wasn’t the stuff inside the marriage, which is what I’d thought would be where things went wrong. It was the attitude of others. People are hostile. But fuck it, Em, does that matter? It’s about our happiness.”

‘Em’? Emma didn’t know whether to be angry or touched. “Did her husbands have... um... sex with each other?” Emma struggled to make herself speak. She found talking about sex embarrassing, especially in this context. The implications disturbed her.

“Nah!” He gave her a smile which showed her he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. His amusement discomforted her, but oddly, it also reassured her. “The article said the two men did try it, but they found it icky.” He was silent for a moment. “What I meant was that Will would have a husband and a wife like that woman had two husbands. And look, I want to make this work as much as you.” Sean wondered momentarily whether Emma did in fact want to make it work. Maybe she was still so angry and hurt she wanted to poison it for everyone, even if in the end that made it worse for her. “Will’s a good man,” he stated, without the overemphasis that would have suggested he doubted it. “He hurt us, but he loves us, inside. He’s not perfect, no way. But the world is lonely, isn’t it? So we need family. And we’re not making your family – our family – smaller. Or weaker. We’re making it stronger. If we’re grown-up about it.”

She looked doubtful.

“C’mon, let’s sit here.” He walked over to a sunlit bench under a huge gum tree. “Look, what Will showed me was that things you never thought would work, things you never even thought about, can be good. If I hadn’t met him, I might never have found out about meself. Maybe I’d just’ve gotten married. But I did meet him. And I’m glad, because I found that... I wasn’t alone any more. Like, I didn’t know. I didn’t know how alone I was. With Will I wasn’t alone. That’s weird, huh, that I found out somethin’ I just didn’t know? It was... awesome. And Will might never have realized what he needs. ‘Cos he loves me. He never really loved a man before. See, I think he... despises himself. His sex, his relationships with men, were always one-night stands. He... you know... just casual sex. With me, he... I dunno. He felt safe. He feels safe. He doesn’t look down on himself. With me... ”

“D’you think he despises himself when he’s with me? Does he feel safe?” Her voice trembled.

He took her hand, neither of them noticing what he’d done, it seemed entirely unexceptional. “I dunno. But I think he does despise himself, not because of you, but because he feels so bad about betraying you. You’re goin’ to have to help him get over that. He must feel that you aren’t judging him. He needs to get back his self-respect. See, I didn’ know about all this gay shit, and he did, since he was young. And it does somethin’ to you. Knowin’ what people think. Even if you keep it secret. It rots ya inside, Emma. It fucks with your head, with your heart. I don’ give a fuck about gay. Once I knew I loved him. Once I knew how much I loved him. I was always despised. What difference does bein’ a homo make?” She could tell from his lack of emphasis that he believed what he was saying. “That’s my stuff, don’ worry, I’m right with it, now. Livin’ with others lookin’ down on ya. But he isn’t, see? So he needs to know that you love him no matter what.”

“I do!” she cried, her innards wrenched with compassion and sorrow.

“I know,” he said softly. He sat quietly, gently stroking her hand. At last he asked, “But does he?”

She looked at him.

“I didn’ tell him I loved him, you know. It’s... men don’t. I wish I had. And he didn’ tell me. It took this,” and he gestured behind him at the building, “to make us be truthful with each other. He felt he’d lost my love. He... dammit. And I love him so much. I’m never goin’ ta let him feel he’s unloved again. He’s precious to me. He must be precious to you, too. I want him to feel safe with me. Even when we fight, I want him to know he’s loved.”

Emma was still looking at him. He waited for her to speak. At last, unable to meet his eyes, she said, scraping her shoes on the gravel underneath the bench, “I’m shy.” She felt as feeble saying this as Sean had felt when he had wept earlier.

He gave her hand a squeeze, and then realizing he was holding it, let go. “It’s important. Tell him. I can see you love him. But he feels kinda forlorn.” Sean didn’t stop to think that his vocabulary had been enriched with new words from his reading, but Emma found herself reassessing him. His bogan accent, the motor bike, the tough no-nonsense exterior had made her underrate him. Everything he said, everything he revealed about his character made her respect him more. She could still feel her anger at both Sean and Will, her horrible sense of abandonment and loss. But she could also feel something else, after these terrible weeks of sorrow and fear and repressed anger: hope, a building confidence that it might work, that what Sean offered her was something she could live with.

Sean was looking at her.

“What?” she asked irritably.

“You’re nicer than I thought.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” she flashed.

“You were a right bitch in the hospital.”

“Well,” she began indignantly, “if it had been your husband... ”

He grinned. He stuck his tongue out at her. His eyes were dancing.

“Beast,” she said. “I was... ”

“I know.” His grin was mocking, kind, forgiving.

She was silent for a moment as she thought. “So you were prepared to share him even though you thought me a bitch?”

“Yeah. ’Course. For Will. For Will, I will do a fuckin’ whole lot.” His expression had sobered. “I love him, Emma.” He looked away, and looked back, meeting her eyes full on. “I’m countin’ on you to love him as much. It’s goin’ to be hard. He’s not right yet. But with our love, with us to help him pick the pieces up, he has a chance.” His grey-blue eyes stared into her blue ones, and some fundamental message passed between them. “C’mon,” he said, softly.

Will was sitting in the sun with his eyes closed. In unspoken agreement, Sean and Emma stopped for a moment and watched him. They turned to look at each other. Sean gave Emma a small wry smile. Together they walked across the courtyard.

Will heard the sound of their footsteps, and opened his eyes. He stared at them in silence, his eyes watchful. Emma flicked a glance at Sean.

“Here we are, buddy.” Sean’s voice was warm as melted butter, but Emma could see how tightly his hands were clenched behind his back.

Will’s only answer was to tilt his head back and to one side.

“Hello, darling,” said Emma, and despite herself, her voice trembled.

Still Will didn’t speak.

Sean sat down next to Will. “Dude, we’ve got something to say. Together. First, we love you.” He looked meaningfully at Emma.

“I love you, Will.” And to her intense dismay, she started to cry. She fished for Sean’s hanky, tucked into her handbag. “I love you. Oh Will, I love you so much.” She blew her nose vigorously and wiped her eyes.

Will stared at her. He didn’t move. At a level in his soul he blamed her for his unhappiness. That this was unfair and irrational only made him more resentful.

It was Sean who got up and hugged her. He turned to look at Will. “Enough!” he growled, guessing what was going through Will’s mind.

Will was swamped with a wave of intense desire and love. The contrast between the anger and the tenderness made him aware of just how much he relied on Sean being strong. Paralyzed, still he didn’t speak.

“Will! For fuck’s sake!” Sean was furious. All the hurt he’d felt, all the anger he’d been unable to express welled up. “Listen up, buddy. You hurt us, both of us. Yeah. Ya fuckin’ nearly broke me fuckin’ heart, ya tool. And ya hurt Emma too. And yet here we are, you fuckin’ nong, here we are to friggin’ tell ya that we’re goin’ to share ya. For yar own fuckin’ sake, ya arsehole! Because we effin’ still fuckin’ love ya. Jesus tap-dancin’ Christ!”

“So you’re ganging up on me?” Will finally spoke. His voice was taut with emotion. The joke fell flat.

But Sean was so relieved Will had finally spoken that his anger vanished in a flash. “Too right, mate! We fuckin’ are! When it’s for your own good, we’re goin’ to gang up, right?” Sean turned to Emma, his eyebrows raised. His tone was fierce. But he could not help smiling.

“Absolutely!” Emma was dizzy with relief.

“Dammit, now I’ve gotten two wives! Nag, nag, nag!” And Will began to cry, horrible gagging sobs that wrenched their hearts. Between gulps, he gasped, “I love you so much. Em, Seanie, oh God I do love you.” He struggled to speak. “And you’re right, Seanie, I did hurt you both. I did.” He buried his face in his hands. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was a selfish, stupid cunt.” These words were spoken so softly, and were so muffled by his hands as he wept that they were almost inaudible.

“Will, darling... ” “Oh stop, dude... ” Sean and Emma spoke simultaneously. They looked at each other, and then Sean said to Will, “Will love, stop. We’ve both forgiven you. What we want to do is tell you we love you. Both of us. And we’re goin’ ta share ya.”

Will lifted his tear-stained face from his hands, looking first at Sean and then meeting Emma’s eyes. He waited for her to speak, his question almost taking form in the air between them.

Emma sat down, leaving Sean standing. “I love you Will. I don’t know how it’ll work, or what exactly we’ll do, but Sean and I are going to... both love you. To... make love to you. Both of us.” She found it hard to talk about it. She looked at Sean, but saw no help there. He was listening as intently as Will. She had to get this right. “It’s not because I don’t love you, darling. It’s because I do. I want you to be happy.”

She took his hand, and he felt its damp sweatiness. She was scared, and a burst of affection filled him. He squeezed her hand. “I love you, Em, my darling. I love you so much. I never wanted to hurt you. That doesn’t help, does it, because I did. I... you know, I’d go to a pub and pick up a man, and after, I would promise myself never to do it again. And I always did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. She bent down, and lifting his hand to her mouth, she kissed it. She held it there without moving. At last, not meeting his eyes, she mumbled, “Doesn’t matter, Wilbo. I understand.” She didn’t, not really, but here face to face with him, she understood what mattered—his pain, the agony at the center of his being. And she knew that she and Sean could fix it, if they wanted to. Even when she’d agreed to all this, she’d still had doubts. It all seemed unreal. She hadn’t believed that Will’s needs were anything more than the impossible demands of a spoilt man-child. She knew better now. The raw ache in his voice told her that he was sincere, that he hurt far more than she’d understood. It had all been a little intellectual, a little unreal before. Now she felt it viscerally, with her heart and body and being. Now it was as true and real as her own pain.

Will pulled her into a tight embrace, and she responded, burying her head in his shoulder. “Oh, Em!” he whispered. “Oh, Em!” He looked down at her fair hair, and felt a piercing tenderness and happiness, a need to crush her in his embrace, to protect her from the thorns of life. The paradox that she was the stronger didn’t bother him. It didn’t matter. “I never stopped loving you,” he murmured. “Never.”

She lifted up her face to look into his. “I’ve always loved you, Wilbo. Always, my love. Now more than ever.”

He didn’t answer, just pulled her into a tighter embrace. And then he looked across her head at Sean. “C’mere,” he grunted. He let go of Emma, and hugged Sean. Not caring who was watching, he kissed Sean softly on his lips. “Love ya, Seanie.”

“Me, too, big boy. Me too.” Sean could barely speak past the lump in his throat.

In silence, the three of them sat in the thinning sunlight, Emma on one side of Will, hand-in-hand with him, and Sean on the other with his arm round Will’s waist.

Later, as they were leaving, Sean turned to Emma and murmured, “Wilbo?” his eyebrows raised.

Emma smiled. “Will Beaumont. Wilbo. What do you call him?”

“Will.” He halted briefly on the pathway. Then he said, “I didn’t know his surname until the end.”

Emma found that sad.

“What’s your surname,” she asked, seeking to dispel the mood that had settled on her.

“MacDonald.” Sean grinned at her, and bowed, sweeping his helmet low like a cavalier’s feathered hat, and in a fake Scotch accent said “Sean Macdoanald at yer sairveece, ma’am.”

A sudden stab of happiness pierced Emma. “Idiot!” But her look was full of light, her smile genuine.

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Home,” stated Sean softly. There seemed to be multiple layers of meaning to the word, literal and metaphorical, which echoed through her mind all the way back to Carlton.

Later that night, as she lay in bed reading Jane Austen, it came to her that she and Will might after all have children, and the thought completed and perfected the day. She fell asleep smiling at the decal on the window. She dreamed of a little baby boy asleep in a cot. Somehow the fact that he looked a lot like Sean didn’t bother her at all. She slept deeply, at peace for the first time in weeks.

<<Chapter 29

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