‘Hiya!’ he saluted.
‘I believe you haven’t met John. He’s a dick, don’t listen to a word he says,’ I said.
‘Hey. Mean. Pleasure to meet you,’ he said while tending his tattooed hand to Duncan.
‘Do not put your claws on him,’ I whispered into John’s ear.
‘Okay, okay, Jesus,’ he said. ‘Duncan, what brings you here?’
‘The promise I’d go blackout drunk. Hopefully before midnight.’
‘I think we did a one o’clock last year, Leo, didn’t we?’ John asked.
‘We fell asleep for an hour and then came back for the rest of the vodka. Dumb idea.’
‘Yeah, it was,’ John said. ‘Hey, what did you buy? Did you get ice cream?’
‘Nah. All that was left were a few bottles of booze and frozen peas,’ I responded. ‘We really ought to do this earlier next year.’
‘Christ, you’re hoping to be in this same depressing situation next year?’ Abigail asked.
‘You’re damn fucking right,’ said John while raising a glass.
Then the doorbell rang.
‘Are you waiting for anyone else?’ Duncan asked.
‘No, it’s Squall and his handler, I assume,’ said John. He was sitting on the sofa drinking bourbon, like a villain in a mafia film.
I went to open the main door. He was standing there, in his tall-ass 6’4’-ness.
‘Hey,’ I said unenthusiastically.
Squall immediately jumped on me. I gave him head scratches.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Jake said.
I nodded.
‘Do you have company?’ he asked. ‘I wouldn’t really want you to be alone on Christmas.’
‘I do. Don’t worry.’
‘Okay. What do you have planned?’
‘You’re not asking to join, are you?’ I asked, slightly confused.
‘No, of course not,’ he said while rubbing his arms from the cold wind that was howling throughout the day.
He was wearing a new coat, with a faux-shearling collar, all black. His beard was freshly trimmed. He looked tired.
‘I got you a little something,’ he said, while handing me a wrapped up packet.
‘You really didn’t have to.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Is everything alright?’ said Duncan, while kneeling and giving Squall a cuddle. ‘Oh, my goodness. You’re gorgeous!’
Jake looked at him, confused. He was frowning, almost as if he was trying to grasp who the guy was.
Duncan stood back up and offered his hand to shake Jake’s.
‘Hi, I’m Duncan, how are you?’
‘This is Jake,’ I anticipated, but purposefully didn’t share any more details about him.
‘Of course,’ Duncan said, while putting his hand on my shoulder.
Sweet.
‘Alright, I better go now. Bye little Squally,’ he said, while giving him a pet. ‘I’ll see you in a few days.’
‘Have a nice Christmas, Jake,’ I said, while closing the door.
Duncan took Squall out of the harness, so he could go around the house freely.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, absolutely. Let’s have some dinner, shall we?’ I said, making air quotes.
We had a glorious feast of a few slightly spent root vegetables and a Linda McCartney roast, all showered in plenty of alcohol. We were all merry, taking jabs at each other, but that Christmas felt so special because I realised I wasn’t alone. Even if things weren’t going my way, and I was feeling as if I was losing my mind and myself, those people would always bring me back to a nice safe space.
My mother loved Christmas; she would try her absolute best to make it as special as she could with her limited funds. I appreciated my new Christmas tradition with my friends, but my heart would always ache whenever I’d stop to think about my mother and how much I missed her. I wondered what she’d think of me, of the kind of person I had become. She would be incredibly disappointed, just like my friends, if they really knew.
I was washing the dishes with John, while Abigail and Duncan were sitting on the sofa, going to town on yet another bottle of wine.
‘I can barely stand up, mate,’ John said, while drying a plate. ‘Have I become a lightweight?’
‘I am shocked. With all the travelling you do for work, I’d expect you to have a drip of fancy bubbly going straight to your veins,’ I said, while pulling my shirt sleeves higher.
‘It’s not really as fun as it sounds. I am basically alone in a hotel room one hundred days a year, if not more.’
‘But you still love your job. You have an amazing career.’
I was surrounded by friends who were knee-deep into creative industries, and I was just the poor friend who would tag along and stress over every little expense to barely keep up with their lifestyle. I felt like such a fraud. Even when I had money, I felt like I was stealing it, like I was conning the gay community to exploit its weakest, most emotionally insecure men for something that I wasn’t even sure was worth it.
‘Can I tell you something?’ I asked, with a serious tone.
‘Yeah, of course, you can tell me anything,’ said John, while sitting on the counter next to the kitchen sink.
‘You know, I have been using the app you suggested a few months ago.’
‘Yeah, I had no doubt you lied to me when I asked you about it.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
I stood quiet for a second. I watched the running water hit the thousand plates we had used throughout dinner.
‘How’s it been?’ he asked.
‘Sometimes it’s been fun.’
‘Did you have to do anything you didn’t feel comfortable doing?’
‘It’s always a bit uncomfortable.’
‘Then why don’t you stop? I mean, I know you do enjoy sex, but if you needed another source of income—’
‘I have no other talents,’ I interrupted.
‘Oh, fuck off.’
‘I swear.’
‘Look,’ he said while getting off the counter. ‘There are plenty of things you can do. I think sometimes your negative thinking really gets in your way. It’s like you have taken the worst qualities of a writer, without actually writing anything.’
‘The tortured, drunken arsehole?’
‘Exactly.’ He put his hands on my shoulders. ‘You know what you want to do. You just think it’s impossible because not many succeed. But guess what?’
‘What?’
‘Every time you go inside a book shop, those objects you see stacked or standing vertically one next to the other? Those have been written by real people.’
‘I just don’t know if anyone would want to read my crap.’
‘I am dying to read your crap.’ He smiled. His whole chiselled face shined when he smiled. His light blue eyes and his freckles made him so handsome. ‘Quit the bullshit. And quit having sex with gross men. You’re better than that.’
‘Thanks,’ I said while closing the tap. ‘We really never talk like this.’
‘It’s the bourbon. It makes me wise. Now get the fuck away and call Abigail over. We’ll take the dishes from here, so you can chat with the guy you’ve been staring at all evening.’