“I’m not entirely sure he’s going to…” The door buzzer blared through the loft space, making me jump.
Margot smiled. “This is probably him.”
My stomach did this weird, flip-flop motion. It always dipped or fluttered, sometimes just at the mention of his name or his folded glasses on the coffee table in the flat, telling me he was around, close and real. This flip-flop was bigger. Tremendous and bold. I stood just to feel like I was in control of it, my hand holding it tight to give me a sense of grounding.
It had been a week. A full week without seeing him. We’d gone that long before. He had a reckless stage where his level head had become not so level and he decided to go travelling with a backpack, no real plans, and a twenty-pound note in his pocket. He went to Ibiza and partied for two weeks, returning sunburnt and trying to pass off his holiday as a life changing experience.
But that two-week gap hadn’t started with us wrestling tongues.
“Hey,” he said, bursting into the space and waving to me. “Look who I found on the way.”
Reid and his partner, James, followed behind him, both greeting Margot with a hug when she refused the formality of a handshake. I’d met James a couple of times, wanting to meet him after Reid had suggested they film the scene together. We’d talked about his diagnosis of HIV, how he believed it was passed on by a previous partner who had since passed away from an AIDS-related illness. He didn’t contact James directly to suggest he have a test and he had messy feelings about that, wishing that his ex-partner had considered his health, rather than be consumed by his feelings of guilt. James was in good health, explaining that medication will prolong his life and joking that he’ll probably die through other means such as a safety rope failing when chasing his passion for rock climbing, or a quad bike falling on him in a freak accident.
James and Reid understood my passion for this project during a late-night heart-to-heart at Turnip the Beet. Over wine and cake, James spoke about his HIV diagnosis and I talked about Elliott. We all agreed that the dialogue would include a conversation about health and trying to take the stigma out of taking a test, which should be part of self-care and sexual health as much as a smear test or routine gynaecological appointment. James was more than happy to say on camera that he had HIV and that Reid was aware before they started the scene. We all felt this was another positive message, that sex could be enjoyed as safely as possible.
“How are you?” James asked, kissing me twice as Reid followed.
“Nervous.” I smiled as I noticed Will and Margot having a conversation behind them. Will pulled her in for a hug but quickly moved away, taking off his jacket and busying himself with his phone.
“The set looks great,” Reid said. “Neutral, no gimmicks. Perfect.”
“Just the messages we want to convey,” I replied. “That’s the most important thing.”
“Can we start getting ready?” James asked. He was a very attractive older man. Reid was in his early twenties and James had just celebrated his fortieth birthday. He rocked the silver fox look; both his hair and beard were heavily flecked. His bright eyes and wide smile were easy to find irresistible.
“Yes, just through there. You’ll find everything you need.”
“Skye, can I just show you the monitors?” Wes said, Margot’s camera guy. He took me over to a video screen, there were a few dotted around and when he turned it on, they all came alive. “When I point the camera and we start filming, the monitors will show you what I’m seeing in the view finder. It’s great for you to focus on when you’re directing. It allows you to see the film as the audience would.” He pulled up a chair and directed me to sit down. As Wes picked up the camera, I could immediately see the bed on the monitor. “There you go. You can see what we’re picking up on there.”
“That’s perfect,” I said, “thanks.”
I enjoyed the lull for a moment. Everyone was busy, some checking equipment, others getting a drink and settling down on chairs, sofas or sitting on the floor with their legs crossed. Margot had a couple of assistants who were asking her about future projects. I left them to it and started collecting myself, taking my notepad and phone out of my bag and placing it on the table beside me.
The scale of what I was about to do could have overwhelmed me, but Margot had cured that. Her presence added to my confidence and another feeling I couldn’t explain but could only identify as a drive within me, fuelled by my grief, or the love for my brother that was my cushion even when times were rough. I’d lost Elliott, but I’d never lose my love for him.
“How are you feeling?” A whoosh of someone sat down beside me, on the floor and at my feet. I immediately felt the tightening in my core, stomach and…other places. I allowed myself to glance at his face, the lines of his jaw, the dimples, crinkles and lines I knew like my own. I took a deep breath and smiled, couldn’t help it.
“Good,” I replied, meeting his eyes. “This feels good.”
He didn’t reply. Dropped his head instead. So unsure of what to say next and I understood that, I so did. I’d thought about this moment since he’d left me, breathless and wanting against the wall. Wanting more. Wanting everything I’d thought about since we met, even though it terrified me. I wondered what my opening line would be, Hey, you. Hi. How have you been? all seemed so small for the moment we’d shared. Because we hadn’t just shared it. We devoured it.
“It’s nice of Margot to be here,” he said, and I didn’t like her name on his lips. Crazy, I know. Maybe that was what years of unrequested love did to you?
“Hmm, mmm.”
He adjusted his glasses whenever he was nervous. I waited. He adjusted. “I just wanted to let you know that the other night, Margot and I, we didn’t…”
“Yeah, she said,” I replied, shutting the conversation down. I nibbled on the end of my pen and felt that familiar push and pull that defined our relationship. The weight of feeling turned on yet frightened, loved but scared. “Is that all, William, because I’ve got shit to do.”
He looked shocked for a pinch of time but covered it well, pulling in his mouth and nodding. “Yeah…because I too…have shit to do. Probably not as much shit as you but still plenty of shit. Mounds of it, in fact.”
“You’re funny.”
“This is how it’s going to be?” he asked, a lopsided smile appearing. “You’ve roped me in to filming a porn film for you and this is how you treat me?”
“Thank you,” I said softly, draping my arm around his shoulder. “For being here and–” Take a deep breath. Face it head on. Get it over with. “–for…what you were prepared to do. We probably wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“It meant a lot,” I said. “After everything that happened that night.”
“Yeah. About that,” he said, his leg moving closer, his head to my knee. I almost threaded my fingers through his hair. “I think we should talk, maybe not now but–”
“Not now.”
“Later, then,” he replied, his face dropping. “There’s a lot I think we need to say.”