The Professionals Circuit Archive - For the Time Being       For the
Time Being

 

by Fanny Adams

  
 *(A story in the Fox and Wolf Universe)*

*Nor speech is close nor fingers numb,
 If love not seldom has received
 An unjust answer, was deceived. 
 I, decent with the seasons, move
 Different or with a different love, 
 Nor question overmuch the nod, 
 The stone smile of the country god
 That never was more reticent, 
 Always afraid to say more than it meant. *
 -W.H.Auden

******

*London Autumn 1962*

"You don't really mind, do you love?"

Ray watched his mother pack her suitcase, and said nothing, making it
clear that he was unhappy.

"Don't sulk." She threw an ecru slip into the bag, the one with the pink
roses embroidered on the hem and a spray of pale lace across the bodice.

He held onto his silence. It was his only weapon. He could almost feel her
faltering.

"Oh, fine!" She slammed the drawer she'd been emptying. "If it's that way
with you, we'll forget the bloody 'oneymoon. We can do without the wedding
as well. Will that make you happy?"

So close to victory, Ray felt guilty. "Just wanted you to take me along."
He toyed with one of her sweaters that lay across his knee, worrying at a
bit of loose wool.

"That'd be some 'oneymoon with a big boy like you along. How old are you
now, love?"

It was like her to forget.

"Besides, Sid doesn't like kids much." She looked like a kid herself, he
realized, with wispy red hair and a light spray of freckles across her
nose. Only at the eyes did her age show in a fine network of lines.

"Where's that leave me if he doesn't like kids?"

She sat beside him. "It'll be different when we're married, honestly." She
patted his knee absently.

He doubted it. Sid had never liked him, nor he Sid. There wouldn't be much
peace in the house once the knot was tied. But there was a note in her
voice that Ray had never heard before; it tasted of desperation and it
frightened him. "Nah, it's all right," he lie . "Go get your man. I'll
wait here like a good little boy." And if we can't make it work, he
thought, then I'm out of here. It was nearly time anyway. He was almost
sixteen after all.

She kissed the side of his head -- a great, sloppy, affectionate kiss --
and took the sweater from him. "This old thing is such a fright, but I'd
better take it just in case. Ray, darling, I do wish you could come," she
said. It might have been true. "I worry about you all alone here." When
she remembered she had a son, she seemed fond of him.

"I just hope Sid's a good lay, is all," he muttered. "Well, it'd be a
waste otherwise, wouldn't it?" His mother tried to look shocked.

"You're not supposed to know about things like that. You're too young."

"Not know about sex? At my age? Christ, I've half the girls on the block
lining up for a bit of 'ow's yer father."

"Ray!"

"Well, one or two at least," he said with a malicious grin. He played idly
with one of the buttons on he coat; rabbit fur and a gift from Sid. It
looked a bit worn, but she loved it. Ray wondered how many other women had
loved it before her.

"Don't go mucking about with sex until you have to."

The voice of experience. Only thirty, she'd been pursued by men from age
twelve. "Ray, let yourself be a little boy a while longer."

It was one of those moments he'd recall later, frozen in his memory. His
mother in her faded apricot kimono, holding a handful of frilly knickers
and begging him not to make the same mistakes she had.

'Too late,' he'd say to the memory. 'Too late for both of us.'

At the time he only laughed. "Hurry up then," he told her, "or Sid'll
marry someone else."

"I've left some money to pay the bills and buy food."

"From my soon-to-be-Da, I suppose?" You had to hand it to the bloke, he
was free with the cash. Maybe this arrangement would be for the best. If
he could keep out of Sid's way, his mum would live well, and he'd profit
from it too.

"We'll be back beginning of November," she promised. "Ray, do eat
properly, and keep this place clean. I don't want to come back to a sink
full of dishes and a fortnight's garbage lying all over the floor. And
fasten me, will you? There's a good boy." Her dress was white, with a
sprinkling of tiny blue flowers. She looked beautiful. She looked like a
sixteen year old girl going to a dance.

"'ave a good wedding, love, and a great honeymoon." He rolled his eyes
lasciviously and she laughed. He liked to make her laugh.

"I'm so happy," she whispered, and kissed him again.

He carried her bag out to the car and toosed it into the boot. Flash car,
he thought. Maybe Sid'd let him drive it sometime. She hugged him and
kissed him twice more, then climbed in beside Sid, eager as a young girl.

Ray nodded to the silent man behind the wheel. "Hullo, Sid." Under his
breath he added, "you greasy ponce."

They drove off and Ray was alone. Wasn't the first time she'd gone off
with a man, but Sid was the first one who'd offered to marry her. Even
Ray's Da hadn't done that much.

He tidied the place a bit. Despite her orders to keep up on the cleaning,
his mother wasn't one for housekeeping. Cigarette burns on the table,
rings on the wood from damp glasses. He frowned. They could use some new
furniture. And the drapes were bleached almost white from years of
sunlight; they'd have to be replaced. In a purley practical sense, it was
hard not to make plans for their life with Sid, hard not to accept that
his presence in their lives might be a good thing. Ray was nothing if not
pragmatic, and he smiled to himself as he thought of moving into a
bungalow in a better part of town.

He washed the dishes and went down to the local fish and chips shop for
tea.

They were frying cod that night and Sally, the counter girl, made sure he
had as much as he wanted. He leaned against the wall and talked to her
while she worked.

"Mum's getting married."

"Romantic. She going to 'ave a proper 'oneymoon?"

"Be gone a month."

Sal looked suitably impressed.

"House is empty," he offered.

"That a fact?" She dropped another basket of chips into the hot oil.

"Thought you might want to stop by for a drink after work."
Man-of-the-world, Ray Doyle.

"A drink? Maybe."

'Oh, God,' he thought, 'she's going to go all coy.' "Make a nice change
from doing it standing up in back," he told her. One or two of the waiting
customers began to chuckle and she scowled at him. "I'm off. See you
later?"

She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

It was growing cold. In the flats the lights glowed pale gold, and,
unaccountably, it made him feel lonely. There was no one to go home to. He
stopped to buy cigarettes and chatted with the woman behind the counter.

"Saw your mum go off with her new bloke," she informed him. "On 'oliday?"

"Honeymoon."

"Go on, they never...did they?"

"Mmmm. Tied the knot today. I was the best man." It was almost true,
anyway.

"You tell her I wish her all the best, when she gets back, that is."

"Yeh, thanks."

He changed the sheets on his mother's bed, and dusted a bit. Then he sat
down to watch the telly until Sal arrived, and promptly fell asleep.

When the bell ran it startled him. The flat was cold. He was groggy. He
stumbled to the door and let Sally in.

"You asleep?"

"Nah." He rubbed his eyes. "A bit."

"Cor, but it's cold in 'ere. Don't you 'ave any heat?" She curled up on
the couch, tucking her feet under her. "Bit of brandy might go down
nicely."

He turned up the heat a bit and brought back a bottle of vodka he'd found
in the pantry. "This is all there is," he told her as he poured two
generous glasses.

"No orange?"

"Nothing. Cupboard is bare. Thought I'd shop tomorrow." He touched his
glass to hers.

"Cheers," she said and licked her lips.

With a bit of vodka in her, Sal was a real little cracker in bed. This was
higher education, Ray decided. The sort that counted in the real world.
Sometime after four he gave up entirely and went to sleep.

The next morning he woke to a plate of eggs, bacon, tomato and fried
bread. He had a headache. "Where did you get this food?"

"Been out already, haven't I?" She dropped a pillow onto his lap and set
the plate on it. "Go on, eat it."

"Wonderful," he said around a mouthful of bread. "Just like Darby and
Joan."

"I have to go now. I've laundry to do. I'll stop by before work and fix
some supper. Just leave the dishes in the sink and I'll do them." Then she
was gone in a whirlwind of energy and Ray set the plate on the floor
beside the bed. This was not what he'd expected. It was almost obscene
that Sal had so much energy when Ray was still shagged out.

He lay there for an hour, not really sleepy, but unwilling to get up. Sal
would come charging back to do the dishes and cook for him...He should
have been grateful, shoudl have like the idea, but instead, he felt
intruded on. He didn't want Sal in and out of here at all hours. It was
nice that she wanted to spend the night; it was what he'd hoped for. And
this domesticity didn't sit well. He'd invited her in for a bit of fun
after work; he didn't want a wife, or a nanny.

Finally he got up and did the dishes himself. In the kitchen there was a
note blu-tacked to the wall. "There's chicken in the fridge for your
dinner." He tore it down and went out.

When he returned, there was another note. "Casserole in the oven. See you
tonight, Love, Sallie." (Was _that_ how she spelled it?) She'd dotted the
'i's with little hearts.

Since there was nothing left to do around the house, he sat on the couch
and stared at the television, chain-smoking and trying not to think of Sal
or Sid. They depressed him. They had no place in the scheme of things: why
did they keep trying to make one? He and his mum would be all right on
their own.

He was still sitting there, numb, nearly hypnotized, when Sal arrived. She
breezed in as if she owned the place, hanging her coat in the closet and
carrying his empty glass out to the kitchen in one smooth maneuver.
"Didn't you eat?"

Ray said nothing.

"I said, didn't you eat?" she demanded. She was standing in the door way
holding the cold casserole. It was pretty bloody obvious that he hadn't
eaten.

"Wasn't hungry."

"You might have saved me the trouble," she snapped.

"You might have asked first; save yerself the trouble."

She went back into the kitchen, and he could hear her fussing about with
the stove. "Are you still not hungry?"

"Still."

"Fine, then I'll eat it myself."

"You do that."

More kitchen noises. His mother never made noises like that; bashing about
all the time.

"Oh, Ray!" She sounded more grieved by the minute. "You didn't touch the
chicken either."

This time she marched out and shoved the bird under his nose. "It's such a
beautiful bird, too," she complained.

"Give it a rest, Sal. I wasn't hungry."

She felt his forehead. "You coming down with something?"

"Look, piss off, will you? I don't want the bloody food!"

"Language, Ray."

"Jesus."

She dropped the chicken into his lap. "Fine. Have it your own way. I'm
off." She removed her coat from the closet and pulled it on. "Be seeing
you."

This last brought Ray out of his funk. "You're going?"

"You heard me."

"I thought you were staying the night."

There was a moment of uneasy silence.

"I know you did," she said to him. "I did too."

"So?"

"You figure it out." She left without another word.

What was there to figure? She was angry so there'd be no sex tonight. He'd
have to make it up to her. Buy her something. Take her out somewhere.
"Shit..."

He managed to avoid her for the better part of the week. He had a notion
that she'd be happier to see him if she thought he wasn't coming 'round
any longer.

Here too, she surprised him. His reception at the chips shop was cool; the
portion smaller than normal. "Look, you still cheesed-off?" he demanded.

"You do know how to flatter a girl," she said with unusual acerbity.

"You know what I mean. You still angry about that bloody chicken?"

"I can't believe it. I never thought you were so dim." She wrapped several
portions of hake and a mound of chips, and handed it to an old woman who
said: "you can do better than 'im, love." and stalked off.

"Stupid old cow," Ray grumbled.

"She's right. I can do better than you. You're a stupid kid, Ray. You
don't know how to treat a girl, and I'm not going to be the one to teach
you. If you think this was about chicken..." She sighed.

"Well, the casserole, then. I'm sorry."

"Not good enough."

"Buy you supper," he wheedled, sure this was what she was holding out for.

"Ray Doyle, I'm going to hit you with this fry-basket. Now get out of
here. Scarper!"

She meant business. There was murder in her eyes. Ray slipped out of the
shop as quickly as dignity allowed, and stood outside for a few minutes
wondering what had just happened. Then he stuffed his hands into his
pockets and walked home through the darkening streets.

The first of the month came and went. Ray paid the rent, but let the other
bills go. It wasn't the first time his mother had forgotten him, and he
wanted to be sure he had enought money to eat. He hadn't seen Sallie since
the night he'd tried to win her back to his bed, and the whole incident
had left a bitter taste. Women didn't look quite as appealing to him as
they had before his mother left. He avoided them entirely, spending his
days watching television or walking around London. There were a lot of
places he'd never been before -- British Museum, art galleries -- and he
took pleasure in just walking through the more expensive parts of town,
looking at the houses and wondering what it would be like to live in one
of them.

By the second week in November he was worried. It wasn't like his mother
to stay away so long without even a word. He made up his mind to call the
police if she hadn't contacted him by mid-month.

On the tenth, the doorbell rang, and Ray thought for a moment it might be
her, back at last and ready to move -- lock, stock and teenage son -- into
a new house in some nice neighborhood. He'd spent a lot of time thinking
about how it would be if they just had a chance at a better life. Sid
could do that for them, at least.

It was the police.

"Is this the residence of..." The first copper consulted his notebook. "A
Miss Vivian Doyle?"

Ray felt queays suddenly, as if something inside him had gone terribly
wrong. "Yes."

"You a relation?"

He nodded.

"There's been an accident. Will you come with us, Sir?"

"Is she dead?" he asked, knowing the answer in his heart.

"Will you come with us?" The officer repeated.

"Let me get a jacket." He shut the door and moved like a sleepwalker
around the house. He took all the money there was, including the pitifully
small nest egg his mother had hidden in her closet. He grabbed a sweater
and his jacket and left the flat with the two policement. He had a feeling
he'd never be coming back to this place.

They took him to a hospital where he was turned over to a man in a white
coat. "Are you related to the deceased?"

So she was dead. "Vivian Doyle you mean? Yes. Her brother." The lie came
easily to him. It seemed almost more true than the truth.

The man took him into a little room with a table. There was something
lying on the table, covered with a white sheet. The man pulled the sheet
back so Ray could see her face.

"That's her," he said. "What happened?"

"She appears to have taken some pills; pills and alcohol. Most
unfortunate."

Is that what you said when people died? Most unfortunate? "Where's her
husband?"

"Husband?"

"The man she's married to...Christ!"

"She was alone in the hotel room."

So. Sid had had the honeymoon and decided to skip the wedding. Ray wanted
to kill him.

"Most unfortunate," the man said again.

Ray stood beside the table and stared down at his mother's face, thinking
how strangely peaceful she seemed. He'd thought death would be less kind
somehow. But perhaps his mother had charmed Mr. Death the way she charmed
every other man she met. He noticed that she looked different, and he
couldn't put his finger on it. Then he realized that what he was seeing
was something that seemed to be a copy of his mother, a bad copy.
Something was missing. He frowned and stared harder. He'd seen her asleep
before, and the difference between that and this was like day and night.
What was it that had changed her so without leaving a trace?

"I realize that this is probably the last thing you want to discuss, but
we have to know how you wish to dispose of the body. Is there someone else
we should contact?"

"No. Just me. I don't have any money..." Why did you do this to me? he
asked her, silently.

"I see. I think it might be best if you spoke to one of our people. She
can help you make arrangements for your sister." The man patted Ray's
shoulder in a gesture that was meant to be comforting. "Look here, are you
old enought to be on your own?"

"I'm eighteen."

He wanted to believe it. "Good, good. I'll send someone to speak with
you."

It was hard to be alone with her. Ray touched her face, straightened a
stray lock of hair. "Bloody hell, was he worth it?" he demanded, thinking
back to how happy she'd looke last time he saw her. Then it occurred to
him that this was like a suit of clothes with nobody inside. His mother's
body just lay there, looking as if she'd just shed it for a moment. It
retained the look of her, but the essential personality was long gone.

There was a knock at the door and a kind looking middle-aged woman
entered. "Mr. Doyle? I'm Phyllis Andrews. My condolences."

"I can't 'ardly believe it. Look, would you mind if I went off to the lav?
I'd like to be alone for a bit; 'ave a little weep."

"Would you rather I left you alone here?"

"Nah. I'll be two ticks. Take care of her, will you Missus? 's hard to be
in here with her just now."

She nodded gravely and patted his shoulder. Clearly there was no
manifestation of grief for which she was not prepared. And if Ray had
intended to stay at all, he would have been grateful that it was she he
would have to deal with and not the 'most unfortunate' man. As it was, he
was out the front door in less than a minute. He had no clear destination;
he only knew that he had to get away before they realized who he was and
how old he was. He wouldn't let them put a leash on or farm him out to
some old god-botherer who neede a free servant. He was his own man now.
"Don't be angry with me, Mum," he begged her memory.

That first night he spent in one of the all-night cafs frequented by lorry
drivers. He drank a lot of tea and tried not to think about his mother
lying alone in that hospital, or about what they'd do with her body when
they found out that there was no money and no family.

In the morning he walked across town. He spent the day in the British
Museum; a strangely comforting place. In a hall devoted to Jurassic
fossils he found an empty bench and sat down. It was warm and quiet. The
late afternoon sun was slanting down onto the bench in such a delicious
way...and Ray fell asleep.

He woke with a start. There was someone watching him. He sat up and his
shoulder gave him a twinge. "Crikey!"

"You've spoiled it." The man was tall, heavily built, and bearded. His
dark hair was rumpled and he was holding a ratty-looking sketchbook,
though he looked more like a boxer or wrestler than an artist. "Portrait
of a sleeping cherub."

"Sod off," was the only reply Ray was up to.

"Tsk. You're a sight less angelic when you're awake."

"Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare at people?"

"Not when you're an artist. And how often is one treated to the sight of a
fallen angel sound asleep next to the remains of a stegosaurus?"

"You're barmy."

"Why thank you." The man closed his sketch book and sat down beside Ray.
"You a runaway?"

"Nah. Just tired."

"Mmm. It's almost closing time. Perhaps you should be on your way home.
Need a ride?"

Ray shook his head. "I live around here."

"I somehow doubt that," the man murmured. "Have it your way." He stood up
and Ray realized that he was passing up a good chance at cadging a bit of
money.

"Wait. I lied."

"I know you did."

"I am a runaway. Can't go back there. Da...he's been drinking a lot
lately, and he takes it out on me."

"Is that a fact?" the man asked with a solemn expression that belied the
twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeh, and then Mum isn't much help bein' gone with her boyfriend most of
the time." He was warming to the exercise. "And Da's
y'know...handicapped-like."

"Handicapped?"

Ray was proud of that embellishment. "Oh yeh."

"How, handicapped."

"How? Umm...Only 'as one arm. Lost t'other in the war. Yeh, that's right.
So you see, 'e can't 'elp the drinking." To hell with logic.

"How very sad. So he wallops you with the arm he has left?" 

"Yeh, that's right. Lost an eye as well."

"In the war?"

"Lorry accident. Few years ago."

"That's quite a story. The invention alone deserves a reward." He took out
a fiver and handed it to Ray. "You are an appalling little liar."

"Give me a fiver, didn't ya?"

"Cheeky. What's your name?"

"Ray. What's yours?"

"Eddie. You need a place to stay, Ray?"

"You 'ave a suggestion?"

"You could come home with me."

"Nah, your old lady'd be fussed."

"I live alone."

It was a surprise. Ray hadn't figured him to like boys. "I'm not that
sort," he said with a touch of frost, as he thought of the blokes at the
cinema who tried it on with him in the lav.

The man blinked, then grinned; his teeth a white slash in the black bush
of his beard. "You think I'm lusting after your scrawny body, do you?
There's one born every minute."

Ray sniffed, vaguely offended. "What am I supposed to think, then?"

"Look up the word 'samaritan' in the dictionary. I assume you can read?"

"Piss off," Ray grumbled.

"Have it your way. Don't get locked in with the dinosaurs." He sauntered
off, leaving Ray alone on the bench. It was very dark in the hall. He
stared at the fiver, then stuffed it in his pocket. He'd have to improve
on the story if he was going to survive on the street.

Ray learned a lot about surviving in the fortnight that followed. More,
perhaps, than he ever wanted to know. He learned that he could frequently
sleep undisturbed during the day, particularly if he had enough money for
the bus or cinema. But at night it paid to be awake and moving. He
developed a more plausible story about why he needed money, and it usually
brought him a few bob and a sympathetic look. Once, a middle-aged woman
bought him a meal and a ticket to Liverpool which he cashed in as soon as
she was out of sight. He slept at a B that night.

He thought about Eddie a lot in that fortnight. Mostly he regretted not
having gone with the man. No matter what he wanted of Ray, it couldn't
have been worse than sleeping in a train station or being propositioned by
strangers in a public lav.

And then fate gave him a second chance. Ray had bluffed his way into a
gallery opening, and was inhaling the hors d'oeuvres as he inspected the
show. After his fifth trip to the buffet tables, the gallery manager
approached and asked to see his invitation.

"Give it to the bloke at the door, didn't I?" Ray snapped.

"I don't think so. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

Ray was wondering if he should admit defeat or make a scene, when a
familiar voice cut through the conversation. "Ray, for god's sake, I told
you to eat before you came. Hullo, Max. Is Ray making a pest of himself at
the buffet table?"

"He's a friend of yours?" The manager was clearly horrified.

Eddie nodded. "He's modeled for me. Nice kid. Hollow legs."

"I like that," Ray muttered, picking up the cue. "I keep telling you I'm a
growing boy." The manager was looking at him in a new way; a way that made
Ray uncomfortable.

"In that case...Of course he's welcome if he's a friend of your." The
emphasis on 'friend' turned it into a euphemism. Ray bared his teeth and
the man retreated.

"I was right about you, wasn't I?" Ray asked Eddie as he filled his plate
with tiny eggrolls and something made of bits of liver and bacon and
something that looked like raw potato, but tasted a bit better.

"You look tired but otherwise unscathed. I guess I was wrong to worry
about you."

"You worried about me?" He added a handful of cheese puffs to the mound of
food.

"I didn't lose sleep, if that's what you mean, but I did think about you
all alone at the mercy of a city like London." He steered Ray down a
corridor and into a room hung with watercolors. "I hate the thought of
anyone being alone and homeless with the holidays coming on."

"Yeh. Me too. These yours?" he asked as he gave the paintings a cursory
examination.

"What, these? I'm not that good."

"You bin watchin' me. Knew I was 'ere, didn't ya?" He sighed. "Should 'ave
taken you up on it." He noticed a strange look on Eddie's face. "You 'ave
another bloke at home, now?"

"You're relentless, aren't you? How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Liar."

"What difference does it make?"

"If I was interested in bedding you, it might make a big difference." He
picked a cheese puff off Ray's plate and took a bite out of it.

"Hey!"

"I'll buy you supper."

"Really? What do I have to do for it?"

"What a determined boy you are. Would you mind terribly if I turned out
not to be depraved?"

"Queer, you mean? I saw the way that poncy bastard was looking at us. He
thinks you've 'ad me already, doesn't he? And he knows you better than I
do. Anyway, I pay my own way in this world when I can. It's business or
nothing."

Eddie gaped, then he chuckled with pure delight. "That tells me, doesn't
it? I suppose by tomorrow it'll be all over the art world that I arrived
at this opening with my newest child-catamite in tow. Might as well enjoy
myself. Why don't we go have some supper. You look charmingly emaciated."

Eddie took him to a Japanese restaurant where Ray's lack of familiarity
with both the cuisine and the culture made him feel awkward. He allowed
Eddie to order for him. "Only no raw fish," he warned.

Eddie ordered in Japanese, then turned to Ray. "You know, there is
something I'd like in return for this meal."

Here it comes, Ray thought. "Yeh? What?"

"I'd like to hear the unembellished story of why you're living on the
street."

"Why?"

"Think of it as a courtesy."

Ray shrugged. "My mum died. I don't have no other family. Didn't want the
state to put me in a home." It was about as unembellished as it could be
and it made Ray feel unaccountably sad. It wasn't nearly as bad as some of
the stories he'd made up, but it was his story.

"I'm sorry. How old are you, really?"

"I'll be sixteen next month. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"You're never! Really? I would 'ave said about thirty. The beard makes you
look older, I think. So I don't have to be all respectful-like."

"Who says?"

Ray rewarded him with his cheekiest grin. "Me."

He rather liked the meal Eddie'd chosen for him, and even tried some of
what Eddie had ordered for himself. "You speak the lingo, eat the food.
Bet you've been there."

"Right. Lived near Tokyo for five years."

"Why? I mean did you work there or what?"

"My parents did. They're journalists. I nearly became a Buddhist monk; a
bonze."

"You never."

"Did. I was only a kid."

"Oh, this was recently?"

"Eat."

Ray was beginning to like him quite a lot. Bed might not be so bad with
Eddie; not like those blokes in the bog.

The restaurant wasn't far from Eddie's house; and it was a proper house
too, not a flat or a bed-sit. Ray was impressed. "You must 'ave a bit."

"A bit," Eddie agreed.

They were met at the door by an army of cats, and a small dog of obscure
ancestry. "This is my family. At least, the only family I have here in
London." He greeted each of them, listened to their conversation, and led
the whole group out to the kitchen to feed them. "They like to tell me
about their day. It's not their fault I understand so little."

"Then how do you know they're telling you about their day and not yowling
'cause they're hungry?"

"It's what I'd do. Besides, it sounds different from a simple 'Time to
feed me.' You'll learn."

"Had a cat once," Ray recalled. "She ran away." He watched as Eddie put
down bowls of food, and refilled the water dishes. "So," he said. "I guess
it's that time."

"What time?"

"For bed."

Eddie shook his head. "All right, come on." He led Ray upstairs and into a
small bedroom. "This is yours. Sleep well." He turned to go, but Ray
caught his arm.

"I thought..."

"I know. Goodnight."

He was too tired to pursue it. The bed looked inviting. He stripped and
climbed between the sheets, and was asleep as soon as his head touched the
pillows.

When he woke the next morning, the sun was flooding the room with light
and warmth. He lay in bed relishing the feeling and inspecting this room
which Eddie had given him (conditionally, he supposed, but that wasn't
important just then.) The walls were white, and on the one opposite the
bed there was a watercolor of deep blue irises. There was a wardrobe, a
night table, desk and chair. The bed was lacquered iron, and the rag rug
was pale green like the iris leaves in the painting. The room made Ray
feel peaceful.

Finally he got up and explored. There was a bath next to the door. He
showered and washed his hair and thought about what had happened the night
before; or rather, what hadn't happened. He was surprised, but he wasn't
sure if he was pleased or not. And he wasn't sure why.

He found a robe in the wardrobe, so he wore it downstairs.

"Can I wash these?" he asked, displaying his dirty clothes. "They reek."

"I was hoping you would. There's a machine downstairs. Fancy some
breakfast?"

"Yes, please."

While Eddie cooked, Ray had time to explore the house. The walls were
lines with photographs and drawings. "You do all these?" he asked as he
made his way down the hallway that doubled as a gallery.

"Many of them. My family has more than its share of artistic pretensions."

Beside a photo of a picnic - all very British with champagne and
strawberries - was a drawing of a woman standing naked in front of a fire.
There were snakes wound around her forearms. She was very beautiful. There
were dozens of people Ray didn't know, but he managed to find one of Eddie
looking very serious and very young. He was wearing saffron robes and
standing beside a young Japanese man with a shaved head and a huge grin.
"This is you, isn't it?"

Eddie came into the hallway and peered at the photo. "Mmm. I was sixteen.
That's Toshi and me in my almost-monk stage." He shook his head. "Was I
ever that thin or that serious?" Then he laughed. "That's what living on
one bowl of rice a day will do to you. Toshi, on the other hand, had a
wonderful sense of humor."

"You been all over the world?"

"Not quite. I've never been to New York," he said with the air of someone
who had just discovered something strange and a little bewildering. "I
wonder why. Well, I'm not an old man yet, am I? There's still time. Sit
down and eat your breakfast."

"Were you and Toshi lovers?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity, mostly."

"You know what that did to the cat."

"You telling me to mind my own business?" Ray asked as he tool half the
eggs and all the toast. He was painfully hungry.

"Not at all, but circumspection is a valuable trait for a cat, don't you
think? Do you know what circumspection means?"

"I'm not a fool," Ray snapped, making a mental note to look the word up at
first opportunity. "And I did know what samaritan meant."

Eddie poured himself some coffee. "I can make some water for tea if you'd
rather."

"Coffee's fine. So, about last night..."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Relentless."

"Yeah, but I meant what I said about business or nothing."

"I do remember. You made a stirring speech. Several people applauded. I
never seriously intended to bring you home to share my bed."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, you're too young. Oh, god, you're looking offended. Look,
I didn't say I hadn't considered the idea; I just said I wasn't going to
do it. It's a fine point but an important one."

"You queer or not?"

"Can he be human?" Eddie asked no one in particular.

"Do you sleep with other blokes or not?"

"Occasionally."

"Then you're queer."

Suddenly there was an uncomfortable quality about Eddie's smile. "Tell me,
Oh Wise One, in your mania for labels, have you one to describe a man who
sleeps with both men and women?"

Ray narrowed his eyes. "No such thing," he pronounced. "You're queer or
you're not." He wanted to add 'so there', but decided against it, being
not entirely sure he'd scored his points.

Eddie considered this. "You'd be a great hit at conservative dinner
parties. Eat your eggs."

Ray sighed. "I don't suppose I should bother trying to understand
everything you say?"

"By no means. Do pick and choose."

Ray admitted defeat, at least a temporary one, and concentrated on his
breakfast. He was so hungry he went through half a dozen eggs and as many
rashers of bacon before he was satisfied.

"Protein starved," was Eddie's assessment. "What have you been living on?"

"Tea and candy bars, mostly. Oh, don't make faces. I know it wasn't
healthy, but it was cheap." It was strange how at-home he felt in Eddie's
company, as though they'd known each other for years. In some ways, Eddie
was more comfortable than Ray's mother had been. It didn't occur to Ray to
wonder why that was; not just then anyway.

"Why don't you do the washing up?"

"Sure." Ray was pleased. At least there was one thing he could do for
Eddie, and do well.

"And when you're finished, I'll show you how to work the washer. If you
really want to earn your keep around here, I have dozens of things which
need doing. You don't have to peddle your arse to stay alive."

"It's a nice arse, though, innit?"

"There's a word for people like you, Raymond." His smile was gentle. Ray
wanted to hug him; very nearly did.

Between the chores Eddie gave him, and his exploration of the house, Ray
barely noticed the passage of time. About dusk he wandered into Eddie's
office and curled up on the couch. "What're you writing?"

"Article on my last trip to Kabul."

"Where?"

"Afghanistan. Ever been there?" Eddie asked with a a straight face.

"Oh yeh. last week it was. Lovely this time of year, innit?" They grinned
at each other. "Have any 'oliday snaps?"

"Tons. I'll bore you with them someday."

"You travel a lot?" If Eddie was the sort to pack up at a moment's notice,
Ray might find himself without a home again before long.

"I used to. Then I inherited this house."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"This house was built by my great-grandfather and passed to his elder
daughter - my mother's aunt - on his death. Aunt Charlotte didn't hold
with all this travelling - she maintained that a lady should come out,
have the grand tour, then devote her life to marriage and family. She
refused to leave the house to my mother. She felt that mother would sell
it to finance a jaunt to Fiji or something. I expect she was right," he
admitted. "So she left it to me, more or less in trust. I'm a caretaker. I
can come and go as I please, so long as I keep the house up."

"That why you take in stray people?" Ray asked.

"Partly, I expect. With someone I trust here, I can go away for a
fortnight and not have to worry about the house or the animals."

"And who will you leave it to?"

Eddie shrugged. "Haven't thought about it very much. My brother has a
daughter. Perhaps she'll be interested. I'll leave it outside the family
if I find someone who loves it the way aunt Charlotte did."

Ray looked around the room. Like most of the other rooms in the house, the
walls were loaded with photos and artwork. "What's this one?" he asked,
pointing to an old photo of a cathedral. It was a view down a long
corridor of high, vaulted arches, down to a stained-glass window which
flooded the end of the corridor with sunlight. Even in black and white it
took Ray's breath away. "This one of yours?"

"I didn't take it, if that's what you mean. It's Westminster Abbey"

"You mean the one right 'ere?" he asked. Not possible. There was nothing
like this in London Ray knew.

"Your actual London landmark, yes. You've never been there?"

"Never 'ad the time." Sometimes Eddie made him feel stupid despite his
kindness.

"We'll have to go. And anywhere else you've never been. Within reason," he
amended quickly.

"You 'ungry?"

Eddie thought about it. "I think I am. Can you cook, or shall I?"

"Ahhmmmm.... I make a terrific slap-up spaghetti, but that's about it
unless you want bangers."

"I'll cook.

"So, did your mum take that snap, or what?" Ray asked on the way to the
kitchen.

"What? The Abbey? No. It's a photot by a man named Evans. He's a favorite
of my father's."

'Your dad still alive?"

"Yes. Yours?"

"Dunno. Never met 'im." Ray set the table, taking a long time over
placement of the flatware. "This right?"

"Fine."

"Just checking. Your mum still alive as well?"

"Haven't heard otherwise. They're still drifting around Africa."

"Crikey, like gypsies!"

Eddie sliced some ham and cheese and set out jars of pickles, mustard,
olives and plates of lettuce and tomato. Ray made the tea and toasted the
bread. "You didn't cook," he observed, after they'd eaten.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You didn't cook. I did all the cooking there was to do."

"The curse of a literal mind. Tell me about yourself," he suggested as he
put the food back in the refrigerator.

He began to talk about things that seemed mundane, unimportant, but as he
went on he found that he was telling Eddie things he'd never told anyone
else. The words came faster and faster until they were spilling out in a
torrent of emotion that might have frightened Ray if he'd even been aware
of it. As it was, it happened too quickly for him to comprehend. And then,
he told Eddie about his mother's death.

In the month since it had happened, he'd barely allowed himself to think
of it. He never thought of her lying in the hospital, draped in a sheet,
never thought of how she'd looked the day she'd left home for the last
time. And he'd never shed a tear for her. But suddenly, with the words
came the grief, and Ray began to cry, not only for her, but for himself.
He was alone, he was angry and he was afraid.

Eddie sat down on the floor and held him.

"Why did she do it?" he kept asking. "Why did she leave me alone?" In his
heart, he was afraid she'd left him for the same reason all those men had
left her - not good enough. "I hate her!" he sobbed.

"Feels like it, I expect." Eddie wiped his face with a damp towel.

"I would have taken care of her. She didn't need those bastards."

"Maybe she needed something a son couldn't give." Eddie's voice was
gentle, sympathetic. He understood.

"Do you think she loved me?"

"Very much. But love isn't always the way we think it ought to be. Love
doesn't keep bad things from happening, Ray. Just makes them easier to
bear."

"You mean she might 'ave thought I didn't love her?" he asked, horrified.

"Not at all. Don't hurt yourself any more. Let it be over."

Ray put his arms around Eddie's neck and buried his face in the shaggy
dark hair. It had been a long time since he'd been able to be a child.

Finally, the little black cat Eddie called 'Furball' stepped on to Ray's
leg and miaowed at them, as if to say 'are you quite done?' and Ray began
to laugh.

"They're wonderful for restoring your perspective, aren't they?"

"I don't always understand what you say," Ray admitted, scrubbing at his
face with the towel. "Didn't know about cir-circumwhatsis either."

Eddie explained and told Ray he shouldn't ever hesitate to ask questions.
"It's how we learn, after all. I suppose I shouldn't broach the subject of
school?"

"I'm not keen on it," Ray admitted. "Didn't go much, and anyway, I'd have
left it in a few months."

"You stay here and I'll educate you," Eddie threatened. "What did you like
to do?"

"Draw things." He felt shy admitting this to someone he thought of as an
artist. "Cars mostly, and aeroplanes. They said I was talented, but I
don't know. I drew a picture once of one of my teachers. It wasn't meant
to be nice, but she thought it was faaaabulous!" He grinned up at Eddie.
"The silly cow took it to the headmaster who said 'ooh, what a talented
lad' and all that, and they hung it in the library with a lot of other
stuff. It was dead ugly, really, like that bloke with the picture in his
attic."

"Dorian Grey?"

"That's the one. I read that once."

"Like it?"

"Yeh. It was pretty good. I do like to read."

"There's plenty to read here."

Ray felt so much better that this time he gave into the impulse to hug
Eddie. Then he kissed his cheek. "Thanks," he said.

"You're quite welcome." Eddie patted his hip.

Ray kissed him again. Eddie smelt good. He was clean and he had nice skin.
Ray kissed him a third time.

"What was that in aid of?" Eddie asked. His voice sounded the tiniest bit
strained.

"Just wanted to." Ray moved Eddie's head so that their lips touched. "You
smell wonderful. What's it called?"

"Eau de Eddie. My leg's falling asleep," he remarked.

Ray kissed Eddie on the mouth. He'd never done that with a man before. It
was nice. "Aren't you going to kiss me back?" he inquired.

"I don't think so. Ray..."

Another kiss, and this time Ray darted his tongue out to tease Eddie's
lower lip. Eddie shuddered, his lips parted and Ray slid his tongue
between them. He could feel Eddie's arms tighten around him. It was
amazing to Ray; they were both enjoying this kiss.

Suddenly Eddie pulled away. "Ray, that's enough!"

"Not 'ardly," Ray told him. He pressed his mouth against the older man's
and kissed him as thoroughly as one could kiss someone who wasn't
cooperating any longer. In the middle of it, Eddie pushed him onto the
floor.

"I said it was enough, Ray, and I meant it." He got to his feet. "I told
you that wasn't why I brought you here." He hauled Ray to his feet and
pointed him at the table. "Bring me those dishes and I'll wash them."

But Ray stood in the center of the kitchen and stared at Eddie, and
wondered what to do next. Eddie had admitted that he liked boys. He'd
given the man his best kiss. It should have worked. "I don't understand,"
he said at last. "You told me to tell you - I don't understand."

For a moment he was afraid that Eddie was very angry. The silence was
heavy between them, and Eddie's face was stormy.

"Ray, there is nothing I'd like more. You're too goddamned young. They
could put me in prison for what almost just happened."

"I'd never tell anyone," Ray promised. He was desperate for human contact
that night. For this contact.

"It's not right."

"If we both want it..."

"Doesn't make it right. Please try to understand," Eddie begged. "I
can't." He left Ray standing in the kitchen.

While Ray was wiping the dishes, Eddie came in and stood in the doorway.
"I think you should leave here tomorrow. I have a friend who will be happy
to give you work and a place to live. It's better this way."

It was like a knife-wound. It hurt so desperately that Ray couldn't even
cry. He just kept on wiping the dishes and putting them in the cabinet. He
was too young for all these endings.

He was still wiping dishes when Eddie came back to the kitchen. "You all
right?" he asked gently. "You've been out here for an hour.

Time didn't seem to mean much. "I'm a little numb," he admitted. He put
the last dish into the cabinet and hung up the towel.

"I didn't expect it to be so hard on you."

"I'll be lonely without you, I think." He bit his lip. "What a stupid
world. I'm tired, Eddie. You mind if I go to bed now?"

Eddie stepped aside and let him pass. He said nothing, and Ray was
uninclined to pursue what he felt was a closed issue.

He went up to his room and lay down on the bed. No more reaching out, his
mind said. Human contact was too risky.

Then he thought of Sal, and the way he'd treated her, and the tears began
to roll out of his eyes and down onto the pillow. This was his payment.

Eddie knocked at the door. "Ray?"

"Wot?" His voice was shaky. He cursed himself for that.

"You all right?"

"Yeh. Fine."

The door opened. "Your light was still on...Are you crying?"

"No! Yes. I was thinking about this girl I knew." He scrubbed at his face
with the back of his hand. "I wasn't very nice to her. Doesn't pay, does
it?"

"What?"

"Gettin' mixed up with people. If you don't hurt them, they hurt you. All
those books mum used to read about true love...look where it got her. I
don't want none of it in my life." He felt hard, angry. "You're gonna tell
me I don't mean it, aren't you? Just like mum used to. Go ahead."

"No," Eddie said, in a voice so soft Ray could barely hear him. "I believe
you mean it. I wish you didn't. You're awfully young to make up your mind
about love. You're still mixing it up with other things."

"Sex, you mean. I know the difference," he insisted.

"Comfort. You wanted to be close to someone tonight. You don't have to
sell yourself for that."

"You weren't buying anyway. Why'd you come up here?" he demanded, warming
to the thought of a decent fight. It was somthing familiar, at least.

"Because I was wrong. I shouldn't have pushed you away. I should have been
able to show you the difference. I let my own needs get in the way," he
confessed, "and I'm sorry. You can come sleep with me tonight if you want
to. Just sleep," he added quickly. "No charge."

Ray was speechless.

"If you need it," Eddie said, and walked down the hall to his own bedroom.

Ray listened to him prepare for bed, heard the drawers open and close,
water running, the click of the lightswitch and creak of the old brass
bed. In the silence that followed, he found that he'd stopped breathing.

He got up and walked down the hall. Without a word, he crawled into the
bed beside Eddie, and threw an arm over the broad chest. "Thanks," he
whispered.

A crack of thunder woke him early. The room was still dark, but in the
shadows Ray could see cats sitting on the floor, and the dresser, paws
tucked neathly beneath them. The dog was asleep at the foot of the bed.
Eddie was asleep too, blithely unaware of either the storm or the
menagerie. That he was aware of Ray's movement, even in sleep, was
apparent by the way he shifted slightly as Ray did. He was a man who was
used to sharing a bed.

Ray couldn't remember when he'd felt this comfortable or secure. It was as
if Eddie, simply by the force of his personality, could make the world go
away.

He must have fallen asleep again. When he woke, Eddie was gone. "Eddie!"
Ray was panicked. "Eddie!"

"Here. I'm here. What's wrong? Bad dream?"

"You were gone," was all Ray could tell him because it was all he knew. He
felt foolish, childish.

Eddie sat on the edge of the bed. "You all right?"

"I don't know. When you weren't here I thought you'd gone away, I guess.
I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He ruffled Ray's curls. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Honestly?"

"Cross my heart, Raymondo. Well, just to the loo."

Ray grinned. "What time is it?"

"Early." Eddie turned out the light in the bath and climbed back into bed.
Furball leaped on his leg and bit the covers.

"She's such a little savage. Come and have a cuddle. You look as thought
you could use one."

Ray was grateful for the gesture. Humantouch was something he'd not had
much of in his life. "May I ask you a question?"

"So long as I don't have to answer if it's too embarassing."

"Do I still have to leave?"

"No. Wouldn't serve." He sighed. "And here I was hoping for a nice quiet
life."

"Not with me," Ray observed, his good humor restored.

"It can be a little disconcerting...you know the word?"

"I understand what you mean. Would you do me a favor?"

"Depends."

"Ray bit his lip, not knowing how to broach the subject. "Would you tell
me about it? I mean, what it's like with another bloke?"

Eddie seemed nonplussed. "I'm not sure...you mean as opposed to with
women?" He tilted his head and gave Ray a hard look. "Do you want details,
is that it?"

Ray was glad the room was still dark so Eddie wouldn't see him blush.
"I've been trying to work out what you must do," he admitted, "but I can
only imagine so much."

"Raymondo, I am not up to that just now. Why don't you try going back to
sleep?" He rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, and Ray was left
to ponder the mysteries of homosexuality by himself.

He thought about doing with Eddie all the things (save one) he'd done with
Sal, or rather, that Sal had done to him; and once he got past the initial
strangeness of two male bodies together, he found the fantasies more
arousing than the ones he'd had of Sal recently. It was sort of exciting,
really, in a wicked sort of way. He thought about how it felt to kiss
Eddie, since he had already done that much. Then he thought about Eddie
sucking his cock. And then, he thought about him sucking Eddie's cock, and
his mind went blank. He couldn't imagine it at all.

He lay there in a quandry for nearly half an hour. The bedroom was lighter
now, and he could see quite well. Eddie was sound asleep; sleeping hard.
He'd never notice...

Oh so carefully, Ray lifted the duvet and peered into the darkness
beneath. 'Damn,' he breathed as he realized that he couldn't see anything
under the cover. Very gently, he peeled the duvet back until it was at
Eddie's knees. He sat up and stared at the dark cock resting on Eddie's
thigh. It was as long as his own, but thicker. He looked at his own then
back at Eddie's. Alike but not. Curious. He'd done his share of comparing
at school when the opportunity had presented itself, but he'd discovered
women, and they him, at such an early age, that he'd never had time for
the boys-only experimentation that went on. He'd never actually seen a
grown man naked before.

He studied the heavy muscles and smooth skin. He wondered if his own body
was going to be as smooth. Eddie had a neat thatch of dark hair at the
groin that tapered up to his navel and disappeared. All that smooth skin
had its allure. He almost touched it, but decided not at the last moment.
Didn't want to wake Eddie.

Eddie had arms that looked as if they could crush the life out of you, and
legs like stone pillars. Ray found that he was fascinated by Eddie's
thighs; fascinated by their musculature and the strength it implied. This
time he did touch him and while Eddie didn't wake, his cock twitched
slightly. Fascinated, he tried brushing his fingertips upwards from thigh
to belly, and this time the response was more marked. So it felt good to
Eddie. He smiled to himself, and wondered how much he could do before
Eddie woke up.

With each caress attempted and undetected, Ray grew bolder. He found he
could stroke the length of Eddie's now-erect cock with the tip of his
finger, without waking him. He was entranced by the response of his own
body, and pressed his erection against a hard-muscled thigh. And when he
looked up, he found Eddie staring at him. Eddie's face was unreadable; he
might have been angry, might have been glad. It was impossible for Ray to
know. He turned Eddie's face towards himself and kissed the older man.

Without a word of reproach or of welcome, Eddie responded to the kiss, by
gathering Ray into his arms and transforming a tentative contact into
unambiguous desire. His hands, more practiced than Ray's, taught the boy
nuances of human touch that Ray had never even guessed at. It was like
being a virgin again, Ray realized with a start of surprise. And this
time, as he had the first time, he responded with enthusiasm, now touched
with wonder. He had never suspected that a body so like his own - so
unlike the bodies he had always fancied - could arouse him so powerfully.
Nor had he ever allowed himself to imagine that his sexual technique was
less than perfect. Again, he found himself mistaken.

And because it was achieved in silence, words seemed out of place
afterwards; so they lay together in the rumpled sheets and wondered what
had just happened between them.

Eddie was the first to speak. "So much for good intentions," he murmured.

"Are you angry?"

"No. Disappointed in myself, though."

It made Ray unaccountably sad. "Don't. It was nice." Such an inadequate
word.

"It was that. I don't know what to do about it, though."

A tiny seed of fear began to grow in Ray, and it made him pettish. "Well,
for god's sake let's not talk it to death." He wriggled away from Eddie
and went to the lav. "If he says I have to go now," he thought as he
sponged off the stickiness of sweat and sex, "I'll pitch a fit." He went
back to the bedroom ready for a fight, but got none from Eddie.

"Want to go out for breakfast?" he asked Ray who was quick to accept.

At first he thought they were celebrating. Eddie took him to a posh place
that served crepes and fancy egg dishes with French names, and they had
coffee that tasted of cinnamon, and glasses of champagne and orange juice.
But as the meal wore on Ray began to realize that Eddie had wanted to come
out simply to avoid discussing what had happened between them. In such a
public place they were almost strangers again.

A pattern developed between them. During the day, they were friends. They
worked at their own tasks, shared thoughts and ideas, and remained
carefully neutral on the subject of sex. But at night Ray would slip into
Eddie's bed and they became lovers again while it was dark. It didn't
count in the dark.

Just after Christmas, Eddie told Ray that the Art Department of his school
was hiring models for the life classes. "I thought you might be interested
in picking up some cash."

"Wot, naked?"

"Sometimes. More often not. Interested?"

Ray shrugged. "Might be."

Eddie gave him the name and number of Professor Schneider who was in
charge of the classroom models. "Call him soon if you want the job."

"Him? So, do I have to audition for him?" He leered and winked, and fully
expected Eddie to be amused. But Eddie just looked at him, and in his eyes
was something like disappointment.

He called the next morning; the lure of money for exhibitionism appealed
to Ray. He liked showing off his body. Schneider gave him a schedule, and
told him that if he couldn't make any of the classes, he was to call in
right away.

The first class was an advanced one, and there were only a few students
there. They were all talking and laughing when he arrived, and none of
them seemed to notice him. When their teacher arrived, they settled down
to work with a minimum of fuss. The instructor showed Ray how to pose, and
left the room. Despite the fact that they were all drawing him, they still
seemed not to have noticed him.

After two or three minutes by the classroom clock (and which seemed like
an hour), Ray shifted slightly to relieve a cramping muscle, and half a
dozen voices rose in protest.

"The pose isn't up yet!" one of the boys complained just as the instructor
returned.

"All right, what's the fuss?"

"He keeps moving," one of the girls told him.

"I do not. Just had a cramp is all."

"It is imperative that you hold the pose the full five minutes, Mister
Doyle. However as you are new to this, why don't we try something less
strenuous?" He brought a chair and posed Ray more casually. "How does that
feel?"

"I think I can manage it for five minutes."

"Good, that means I can finish my cigarette."

It was all a lot harder than Ray had imagined. Holding a pose for even two
or three minutes was difficult when muscles and tendons were shifted into
unfamiliar positions. Five minutes became agony and ten, damnation. But
Ray was determined to be a success at this. If they didn't notice and
admire his body, at least they'd notice and admire his professionalism.

Eddie taught him how to put himself into a light trance so that most poses
became easy even when they had to be held for as long as half an hour.
Eventually the instructors began to ask for him by name and his workload
increased.

One of the beginners' classes was taught by a pretty graduate student
named Amanda Harper, and she took a fancy to Ray and asked for him all the
time.

"Old Schneider tells me I have to use someone else once in a while or my
students won't learn anything about body types, but I told him that we're
doing an in-depth study of your body and that my students are learning a
lot about anatomy this way. It's a crock, of course. They couldn't learn
anatomy if you shoved a skeleton up their asses, but it sounds good."

He grinned at her and wondered if any of the students had heard. She
hadn't bothered to lower her voice much.

She shrugged. "He isn't buying it, I guess. He's promised you to Holger
tomorrow and I shan't see you for a week or more." She pouted prettily and
Ray realized that she wanted more from him than class time.

"I'm willing to do private lessons," he said.

"Are you? In-depth private lessons?"

"Absolutely.

"Well, then, I won't worry so much about this room full of twits." She
winked at him and made the rounds, offering comments and criticisms.

Ray was pleased and excited. It had been a long time since Sallie, and
he'd fancied Amanda since he met her. Eddie wouldn't mind. He'd be pleased
that Ray was seeing a girl; after all, Ray had never pretended that sex
with Eddie was anything but a stopgap. And they could still sleep together
when Ray wasn't with Amanda.

Only, Ray wasn't quite ready to tell Eddie about it. Not just then.

Because of Amanda's schedule - she worked in the afternoon and went to
school at night - the only time they had together was in the morning. Ray
told Eddie that he'd been scheduled for early classes, he would meet
Amanda at her loft by nine and they'd make love for most of the morning.

"I'm losing money like this," he mourned, not really caring.

"You can be making a lot more, you know. Ever think about dealing?"

"Dealing?"

"Drugs, darling. Pot, acid... nothing hard. I'd do it, but I'm afraid I'll
lose my financial aid if I get caught."

He didn't like the idea much and said so.

"I never thought you were such a puritan. You don't fuck like a puritan."
She slapped his backside rather hard. "You smoke sometimes, so what's
wrong with selling it?"

"I just don't want to get involved with that. Using it is different from
selling it."

"If you say so." She got up and pulled on a faded tee shirt. "Oh, look,
Ray... I hate to have to say this, but you might want to see a doctor. I
think I have a little dose."

For just a moment he prayed he'd heard wrong. "Clap?"

"Umm. Nothing serious. Only, this boy I was with last week has it."

He didn't hear the rest, didn't even care about the other boy. How the
hell was he going to tell Eddie? Her definition of 'nothing serious' was
vastly different from his own.

"You're not upset, are you?"

"Jesus, Mandy, how am I supposed to tell Eddie?"

"The guy you live with? Why bother, it's not casually contagious..."
Comprehension dawned. "Unless you sleep with him. Do you sleep with this
guy?"

"Sometimes." The disgust in her voice made him uneasy. "Once in a while.
Rent; you know."

"God, I didn't think you were into that. You do it with a guy to pay your
rent? Christ, you can't be that badly off. Why don't you move in here with
me? I mean, if you're going to sell yourself for a place to sleep, why
don't you make the most of the sale?"

Ray shrugged. "It's not that bad."

"Ugh, turns my stomach."

For just a moment, he hated her and her attitudes. Who was she to
criticize him? "Maybe I should go before you throw up," he snapped.

"Oh fine. You don't have to come back if you feel that way."

He stopped at the school clinic on the way to his first class, and
explained the situation. They took a blood sample, and the doctor examined
him. "So the girl who gave it to you knows she has it and is being treated
for it?"

"Yeh."

"I see. And have you had any other sexual partners recently?"

"No."

"Honestly?"

"Why would I lie?"

"I don't know. However, I'd venture to say that three-quarters of the
students who come to us with VD lie about their sexual habits. If you are
lying, I'd suggest that you contact the others and tell them to get
themselves to a doctor immediately. Bend over."

Ray was hard pressed to say what was the most humiliating part of the day.
And the worst was yet to come.

That night he told Eddie that he couldn't sleep with him.

"That's all right, Ray."

"No, it's not that I don't want to. I can't. Doctor told me not to." He
didnt like the look on Eddie's face.

"I beg your pardon? The doctor?"

"Have the clap, don't I?" Despite his resolve to be sophisticated, he hung
his head.

"Which means I have it. Thanks for telling me." The sarcasm in his voice
made Ray cringe.

"You'd better tell whoever else you've been with," Ray began, but then he
realized that he'd made an even bigger mistake.

"It's not necessary, thank you for your concern."

"Look, I was only trying to help!"

"Then I shudder to think what you'd do if you were trying to hurt. Do you
think I like hearing this, or that I like the idea of going to my doctor
and telling him I got syphillis from some kid I picked up at the British
Museum?"

"How do you think I felt when the doctor asked me about who I'd been
sleeping with?" Ray yelled. "I wouldn't have had to tell you at all If we
hadn't slept together. I mean, it isn't as if..."

"If what?"

"Nothing."

"If WHAT?"

"As if we ever pretended to be lovers or anything. You knew how I felt
from the beginning."

"Yes, as I recall, you've always been dead set against it. I suppose I
have no one but myself to blame? I thought as much."

"Well, that's why I'm leaving here." He could hardly believe he'd said it.
"I'm going to live with Amanda."

"I hope you don't expect a wedding present."

"Why don't you just get fucked!"

"Not for a while I'm afraid," Eddie said with deceptive mildness. Ray had
never seen him angry before, and it frightened him a little. He decided
that the sooner he was out of the house the better.

"I'll leave tomorrow morning."

"What if I told you to leave now?"

Ray was stunned at the vindictiveness which was so unlike Eddie. "Then I'd
go," he said softly. "Do you want it that way?"

Eddie scowled at him. "I don't know why I should feel guilty when you're
the one who's been running around catching tacky diseases... I'm sorry. I
didn't intend to be mean. You can go whenever you want." And without
another word he went upstairs to bed.

When Ray saw Amanda again, she was all smiles. "You still want me to move
in with you?" he asked.

"What? Oh, if you really want to."

Her indifference startled him. It was as if she'd forgotten their
conversation. "I have my clothes with me. They're all I own." Most of them
bought by Eddie, but he ignored that fact.

"Don't you travel light. I wish I could, but I just seem to be a packrat."
She produced a key. "Go drop your things at the flat, love. I have a class
to teach in half an hour."

Though he'd never imagined that they shared a great passion, he had
expected a little enthusiasm from her. How strange people were, he thought
as he walked over to her flat. If you want them, they can't recall your
name. If they want you... He thought of Eddie and dropped that line of
contemplation.

Still, life with Amanda was undemanding. Whatever he did was all the same
to her, and if she occasionally brought other boys home, he was just as
happy to spend a few hours at the pictures. The only thing that made him
uncomfortable was her drug use. Though he occasionally took them himself,
he had never understood why some people used them regularly. Amanda was
always swallowing pills, rolling joints, tripping. She had bags of drugs
stashed all around the house, and the very public way she used them made
Ray extremely uneasy. He hated the parties she threw because everyone
arrived high, got higher, and left to get more drugs.

Occasionally he would encounter Eddie at the school. Eddie used the art
department's darkroom from time to time, so meetings were inevitable. And
while Ray dreaded them, he had to admit that Eddie was never anything less
than pleasant, if a little cool. Ray missed him sometimes, missed the
warmth and the friendship. Ray and Amanda had never been friends.

Summer arrived, and with it the long vac. Amanda asked him if he was
planning to get another job for the summer.

"Hadn't thought about it. Why don't we go on holiday?"

"Because I'm tired of supporting you, that's why."

The sheer unfairness of it floored Ray. He'd been contributing all of his
earnings to the household while most of what Amanda earned by teaching
went to buy drugs. It was just another reason why Ray resented her use.

"Mark wants to take me to Spain anyway."

Mark? The rich boy, the one with no chin. "You going?"

She shrugged. "I told him yes. I suppose I could tell him no. I don't
know. He wants me to come and live with him. I might do it."

Strangely, Ray felt only relief. He hadn't realized until that moment, how
tired he'd become of Amanda. "If he's the rich bloke you brought home a
few times, I think you should do it."

She seemed affronted. "You'd know about rich blokes, wouldn't you? Which
reminds me; if I do go to live with Mark, you'll need someone else to take
care of you. Malcolm was asking if you might be interested. He has more
money than Mark does, but he's not interested in girls. I'll give you his
number."

In the end, she did go to Spain with Mark.

Left on his own, Ray didn't go to Malcolm, but to someone else he'd met
through Amanda. Richard Halliwell was a drug dealer, but he had a number
of other business interests, and one of them was furnishing 'escorts' to
people who had neither the time nor the inclination to find partners for
themselves. He had approached Ray several times with business proposals,
but Ray hadn't been interested then. Now he began to think that it was
exactly the line of work he should be in. He'd been trading off his body
since his mother had died, longer really. Why not be honest about it?

Halliwell taught him how to dress, how to make small talk and which fork
to use when confronted with a row of them. He explained how important
discretion was in a job like this, and hinted that the retribution for
blackmail would be... disagreeable. Then he introduced him to some
potential customers at a party. Several of the guests were taken with Ray
and the requests came in almost immediately.

Sometimes he was just an escort. He would show up dressed impeccably, and
accompany some woman to an affair. Frequently he escorted the mistresses
of the men who were guests of honor. Other times he was paid for sex.
Either way it didn't much matter to him. He had accepted that his
abilities lay in this direction, and was determined to make the most of
it. By sixteen, Ray Doyle was an accomplished concubine.

Not that it made him happy. Not in the least. He did his job, and was paid
well for his work, but where he once had actively pursued sexual contact,
he now accepted it as part of his routine. It no longer comforted him when
he was lonely and depressed, and in fact, it seemed to deepen the
aloneness.

At first he didn't understand, and redoubled his efforts, moving from bed
to bed, his hunger for human contact almost insatiable. But finally Ray
made a few discoveries about the facts of life; he realized that the only
time he'd ever found the depth of contact he craved was with Eddie. A year
older and wiser, he realized too that admitting that he loved the man
didn't change him in any way; it didn't make him less of a man.

Sometimes he thought it might have made him more of one.

But he also had to face the fact that Eddie was gone from his life.
Sometimes, when he was alone, he'd play out scenes in his head: he'd
imagine all the ways that they could get together again. As the months
flew by, he played the scenes over less and less. It hurt too much to
think of what he'd thrown away.

In spring of his seventeenth year, he accompanied Halliwell to a gallery
opening. "I have a few clients who want someone who can talk about
cultural things. You're one of the few who has the mind for it," he
explained to Ray. From Halliwell it was less a compliment than an
assessment.

Halliwell approached art, as he approached everything else, as a business
proposition. To that end, he did his homework beforehand, and spent the
evening attempting to put the square pegs of art into the round holes of
financial assets. On the other hand, Ray found himself remembering how
Eddie had taught him to look at art, and felt at peace with himself for
the first time in almost eighteen months. He moved from room to room,
painter to sculptor, with a sense of wonder and gratitude. He forgot
Halliwell, and the reasons for being there, and just let himself enjoy the
evening.

Halliwell found him standing in front of a photography of Westminster
Abbey; contemporary, and yet conveying the same timelessness as the one
he'd seen at Eddie's.

"The photos aren't as important as the other things. You did look at the
sculpture, didn't you? Here, I've made some notes for you."

Ray looked down at the notebook and handed it back to Halliwell. "Richard,
I'm finished."

"We only have two more artists, Ray. Drawings, nothing special."

He turned to Halliwell. "No. I mean, I can't do this anymore. It's eating
me up. I'm giving you notice."

"Don't be an idiot, Ray. Let's go look at the drawings and then we can go
to supper."

"No. Richard, I'm sorry, but no."

Halliwell was clearly in a quandry. He could hardly start a scene there.
"We have to talk about this."

"I know. Let's go back to my flat."

Once there, Halliwell told him exactly what he thought of Ray's defection.
"You are the most ungrateful little bastard I've ever met," he asserted.
"What do you think you're going to do once you leave me?"

"I don't know. I hadn't given it any thought."

"Then you're stupid into the bargain."

"I only just decided tonight. I'm unhappy."

"What is it you want?" he demanded, "hearts and flowers?"

Ray shook his head. "I'm not that stupid, no matter what you think. But
what I really want is to stop feeling so alone. Maybe you've never felt
it..."

"Everyone feels it. Why the hell do you think you make such good money?
You help people."

"You make it sound like a service to humanity. All the same, I'm though
with it."

"What will you do?"

"Don't know, do I? But I'll sweep up before I whore for you again."

He packed all the things he owned and turned the key to the flat over to
Halliwell. "This makes us quits."

"Save any money while you worked for me?"

"Why?"

"Just wondering how long it'll be before you come back."

He found a bed-sit, then went back to the school and asked Professor
Schneider if there was any employment available. He said he'd prefer not
to model again, except occasionally.

"As it happens, um..." he sorted through a stack of papers. "You know
where the storeroom is? Well, there's been no one looking after it for
several years now, and it's in a mess. We've been talking about hiring
someone to get it back into shape. Of course, we'd intended to hire a
student for this position. You're not a student, are you?"

"No sir."

"Ah. Were you planning on becoming one?"

Ray made a helpless geture. "I suppose. How?"

Schneider looked stumped. "I don't know, precisely. Let me look into it
for you. Until then, you can work without being enrolled. Can you start...
um, today?"

"I guess so."

"Fine, fine. Here are the keys. You'll need to arrange everything, order
new stock. You'll get the idea."

When Ray saw the storeroom, he began to think he'd been had. The place
wasn't simply a mess, it was a disaster. The dust was an inch thick in
some places, and in others, tubes and cans of paint lay about uncapped,
the paint dried to rock-like consistency. Bugs had eaten much of the glue
and unprotected paper. Ray wondered if anyone had even bothered to change
the lightbulbs once they'd burned out.

He tried to find more bulbs, and when he couldn't, he stole an armload
from enpty classrooms. He spent most of the afternoon throwing anything
broken or damaged into bins, though he kept careful account of everything
in case they called on him to account for what he'd disposed of. He worked
well into the night without noticing the passage of time, and when he did
finally leave for home, he felt a sense of satisfaction he hadn't felt in
a long time. He'd done good work.

The next day was more of the same, but by late afternoon, he began to see
a difference. He found a cupboard of photographic chemicals and carried
them down to the darkroom to find out if they were still good. He was also
hoping to see Eddie there, though he knew it was unlikely. Part of him
still hoped for a reconciliation.

There was only one student in the lab, and he couldn't say for sure if the
things Ray had brought were worth saving. "Why don't I ask someone and
have them get back to you?"

"Fair enough. Remember, though, I have to account for everything."

He stayed late again, and was surprised to hear a rap at the door about
nine. It was Eddie.

"Well, hello."

"Oh, hi."

"David told me you'd brought some things down to the lab to find out if
they were still good. Most of them weren't. May I come in?" He stepped
into the storeroom. "I made a list of what we threw out and what we kept.
We'll use it up immediately," he assured Ray. "And here's a list of what
we need to stock in the future. You're going to be ordering?"

"I think so. I don't even know if I'm really employed yet."

"What d'you mean?"

"They want a student. I'm not a student. I might not even get paid for
this." He scanned the lists. "How do you tell if something has gone off?"

"Did Karl Schneider not officially hire you?" Eddie looked annoyed.

"He gave me the keys to the storeroom; I suppose he thought that was
official enough. Will they let me take classes here just to keep the job?"

"I'll speak to Karl. Stop by the lab tomorrow around one and I'll teach
you everything you need to know about our supplies. I'm glad you're back."
It was said in the same, cool, detatched way in which he offered
information, and for a moment, Ray thought he'd misheard.

"Glad to be back."

He kept telling himself it was stupid, that fretting about his meeting
with Eddie was useless since it was business, not personal. But at the
same time, he was excited to think that they'd be working together even
peripherally. He told himself not to anticipate anything, but all the same
he hoped.

He arrived at one exactly. Eddie was looking at some slides. "Oh, good.
Ray. Let's see, I have a list of things I want to talk to you about. I
spoke to Karl and you are offically in charge of the storeroom. If you
work out, the job will be yours, student or not, for as long as you want."

"Christ, that's a relief."

"I asked the rest of the staff to compile a list of suppliers for you and
lists of the things they need, so you can begin ordering as soon as you
have things in order. They'll be dropping them off at the storeroom. I
have a list here, for photographic supplies."

"I'd better find myself a desk. Tell me about the supplies. If I know what
I'm ordering, I'll do a better job."

Eddie talked to him for about half an hour, then observed that it was past
time for lunch, and wondered if Ray wanted to continue the discussion in
the employees' canteen. For Ray, it was almost like an invitation to some
posh restaurant. He agreed almost immediately, perhaps too quickly, he
thought; he didn't want to appear too eager. Not as eager as he really
was.

"Have you been all right?" Eddie asked over a lunch he insisted on paying
for. "I've thought of you often."

"Been doing odd jobs."

"How odd?"

"Very irregular."

Eddie thought it was a joke; he grinned. "Just like you. But you've been
well?"

"Fine. Not always on top of the world, but then who is?"

"You still living with that girl?"

Ray shook his head. "Not since last June."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. What about you? Have a new boyfriend?" He held his breath.

I'm seeing someon."

God, but it hurt. He tried not to let it show in his face, but he couldn't
have been too successful, not the way he felt just then. "Good for you,"
he managed as he pushed his stew around his plate.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh... still up and down. The last few months have been tough. Sometimes I
still think about them and, well, I get a little depressed."

Eddie looked concerned. "Why so?"

"So much of my life seems to have passed without my noticing. Can I tell
you something?"

"You can tell me anything."

"I've been whoring for a living."

"Jesus, Ray! Why didn't you come to me first?"

"Hold it, hold it. I didn't have to do it. I mean, I could have found
something, worked a barrow, anything. I did it because I thought I wanted
to. I thought I was real smart. But it ate me up inside. The others didn't
seem to mind."

"Perhaps they did and you didn't see it."

It made sense. It also made Ray feel worse to think that it might have
been true, and he'd been so self-absorbed he'd never noticed. "Yeah,
maybe. Forget it. I quit that."

"I'm relieved. But look..." he leaned forward. "If you ever do need a
place to stay, or money or anything, please don't go back to it. Come to
me."

Ray felt unaccountably unhappy just then, but he didn't know why. "Eddie,
I'm not really hungry. Would you mind if I went back to work?" Without
waiting for a reply, he left the table.

There were a couple of supply lists waiting for him when he got back to
the storeroom, and a few names for suppliers. One he recognized from an
old catalog he'd unearthed. He called each of the suppliers and requested
new catalogs before he went back to his cleaning. Things were looking
brighter on this front. He'd disposed of the last of the useless material,
and cleaned the dirt off what was left. Now he began to inventory what he
had. The job was so tedious that by tea time he thought he'd go mad if he
didn't take a few minutes off. He went down to maintenance and shared a
pot of tea with Kelly, the old duffer who kept the whole school running.

"Couldn't 'ardly believe some of the stuff you tossed," he confided.
"Think this school is made of money, they do, the way they treat things.
And the perfessers is as bad as the rest. Careless. Never 'ad to worry
about where it was coming from, did they?"

"That's the truth," Ray agreed. "Real sty, it was, when I walked in there.
Not even a lightbulb."

"So you're the one who took those bulbs!"

Ray nodded. "Sorry. I didn't know where to go for more."

"You just come down here when you need something like that. You need
anything else just now?"

"Well, I could use a desk and chair. And I think there's a phone line for
the room, but no phone."

"Cummon." The old man led him down a corridor to a locked room. "You pick
yerself a desk an' chair." he said as he unlocked the door. "I'll find you
a telephone."

"The room was filled with furniture in various states of repair. Ray
hunted until he found a small desk that suited him. It was a dark wood and
a bit scuffed, but it had a friendly feel to it. With a little care it
would be lovely. He chose an old, comfortable chair, and added a filing
cabinet to the group. If he was going to run the storeroom, he had to have
an office.

"Good choices," Kell said, with a nod of approval. "They'll serve. I'll
'elp you get 'em down to the storeroom." He brought two dollys, and they
managed the whole load in one trip. Then he gave Ray some wood soap and
polish. "Clean 'em good before you shine 'em. Get all the dirt off."

Ray spent the rest of the evening washing the new furniture, and applying
a coat of polish. It was late by the time he finished, but they looked so
beautiful that he didn't regret a moment of the job. He was beginning to
feel in charge of the situation; it no longer frightened him to think that
everyone in the school would be depending on him for their supplies. "I'll
end up like Kelly," he thought. "They won't be able to do anything without
the old man in the storeroom."

There were worse ways to grow old. This was, at least, peaceful.

By the time the catalogs arrived, Ray had the storeroom cleaned and
organized. He filled some orders with things already available, and this
caused amazement among the staff who had sworn for years that there was
nothing in the storeroom worth looking for.

Since unearthing the records of his predecessor from a box on the top of
an otherwise empty shelf unit, he'd studied them carefully whenever he had
a chance. He began to learn how to place orders, and what terms were
expected. He found out how to submit bills for payment, and how long it
took. Finally he was ready to take on the suppliers.

The lists he'd been given were fairly similar. It seemed that most of the
instructors patronized the same few suppliers, and to Ray's mind, this was
not always the most economical way to do business. He'd gone through the
telephone book and ordered catalogs from any supplier, no matter how large
or small, who carried the items that were being requested.

He studied the requests, and compared prices in the catalogs he'd ordered,
then began calling each supplier. He asked bluntly for better prices for
volume buying, and promised regular sales if his terms were met. Many of
them were happy to accomodate him, and he found that he could meet and in
some cases undercut the prices on the invoices of five to seven years
before. He began to order, and he insisted on quick delivery, and in
almost every case, the suppliers were able to comply. By the end of his
first month on the job, the storeroom was completely restocked with good
quality merchandise at sensible prices. And the bursar, used to signing
expense chits, noticed the difference. Ray was a clever, frugal employee.
His tenure was virtually assured.

It became something of a joke around the school, that if there was
something Ray didn't have in stock on Monday afternoon, you could bet he'd
have it for you by Tuesday morning.

There was something about this job that was satisfying in a way no other
job had ever been. He was proving something, perhaps more to himself than
to anyone else, but proving it nontheless. And if he went home to an empty
room, well, it wasn't forever, he told himself. One day there'd be someone
to share his life. And when that person came along, Ray promised himself,
he wouldn't be as stupid as he'd been with Eddie. Eddie was a constant
regret.

Ray had been working in the storeroom for several months when Eddie
decided to pay another call. He poked his head around the door. "Hello."

"Hi, Eddie." He turned down the radio. "Need something?"

"Actually, I came to talk."

"Oh. Sure, sit down." He'd scrounged another chair from Kelly and
occasionally instructors and even students stopped by for a cuppa and some
gossip. Like Kelly, Ray seemed to know everything that was going on in
school, but he was friendlier.

"I wanted to apologize," Eddie told him. I think I must have said
something to offend you last time we were together, though I'm not sure
what it was. Either way, I'm sorry if it's so."

"Oh, no! You didn't say anything wrong. It was me. I was feeling low.
Look, you didn't think that all this time, did you?"

"You left so abruptly, I couldn't help but wonder."

"Jeez, I'm sorry. God, I've done it again. Someday I'll be able to say
just what I mean... maybe. I'm sorry you always seem to get the worst of
it."

This last seemed to surprise and confuse the other man. "What're you on
about? I? Get the worst of it?"

"The night I left... the things I said." He bit his lip, knowing that this
would be hard, but it was past time to have said it. "I said all those
things because I was confused and angry... and just plain stupid. But what
I should have said to you was that I'd never met anyone who cared about me
before, and that I was grateful. I should have told you that Amanda was
fun to sleep with, but that I didn't really care for her; and I should
have said I was sorry about the clap. I wanted to stay Eddie, but I didn't
know how to ask for that. I spent a year fucking up my life, and I
couldn't come back to you while I was in such a mess. But things are
better now, in here." He tapped his forehead. "And maybe someday you and I
can... you know." Here he paused and grinned. "Be more fun this time.
Anyway, I know you're involved now, and I guess that's part of the reason
why I was so depressed at lunch that day, but I can wait. What I'd really
like to ask is if you'd be interested in getting back together if you and
you... if this relationship doesn't work out for you." He paused and
watched Eddie for some response. "I'm almost eighteen," he added as yet
another incentive.

"What a strange boy you are," Eddie observed, his face unreadable. "And
I'll consider your offer. In the meantime, if you'd like to come back to
live at my place, I'd be happy to have you there."

"I thought..."

"Involved with, not living with. She won't mind."

"She?" Ray was genuinely surprised.

"You never did believe me, did you?" He looked amused. "Teach you not to
doubt your elders."

"You're a bundle of surprises, Eddie. I'd like to come back. I'm lonely,"
he admitted. "Very lonely."

"I know," Eddie replied, and Ray had the oddest feeling that he truly did
know how it felt to be lonely. "So then it's settled." Eddie stood up and
rubbed his hands together. "When do you want to move back?"

Ray was startled by the speed at which his life seemed to be moving now
Eddie was a factor in it. But Eddie always did seem to have enough energy
for two. "Any time."

"Wonderful. This weekend?"

"Fine, I guess."

"I'll stop by on Friday after my last class." Then he was gone, and Ray,
who had been holding his breath, exhaled with a 'woosh' and slumped in his
chair.

"That was easy," he remarked to no one in particular.

And, in fact, it was easy. Eddie came by the storeroom about five, they
drove over to Ray's flat and cleared it out in about an hour (what little
there was Ray had packed the night before.) Then they moved it into
Eddie's spare room in about the same time. By nine they were sitting down
to supper together.

"It feels like I never left," Ray admitted.

"It does rather."

"Thanks."

Eddie shrugged. "Nice to have you back."

He settled in nicely, but was curious about the woman Eddie was seeing. He
refused at first to admit to admit that he was jealous: and once he did,
he didn't know what to do about it. Ethical considerations had never
figured prominently in Ray's life up to this point; he saw no real reason
to allow them to do so now. He wanted Eddie back, but how?

First he set about sizing up the competition. He'd thought that it was the
doctor next door, and he spent a lot of time watching her and Eddie when
they were together. But they didn't act like lovers; didn't even sound
like lovers and Ray eliminated her from the running.

Trouble was, Eddie never talked about the woman (The Woman, as Ray had
come to think of her.) Ray knew that sometimes they went out together, and
on those nights, Eddie would come home very late, if at all. He was
cat-quiet about it all; very private. So finally Ray asked him outright.
"Who is it? Anyone I know?"

Eddie was clearly startled, and was uninclined to answer. "One of the
staff," he said at last, and Ray began to sort furiously through his
mental file of instructors.

"Is it Laura Franklin?"

"I'd rather not say." Eddie sat down and unfolded his newspaper.

"Well, is it Sinead? She's a stunner."

"Ray, please."

"I just want to know." He jumped onto the couch and grabbed the paper away
from Eddie. "Is it Sinead?"

"No. Now leave me alone." He grabbed back the paper, Ray refused to
relinquish it and it ripped in half. "Goddamn!"

"Is it Laura Franklin, then? She's not bad."

"Ray, will you mind your own bloody business?" He tried for a few moments
to concentrate on the bits of the paper he clutched, then crumpled them
and threw them across the room. "What on earth is going on with you?"

"I want to know."

"Why?"

"Because I do."

Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I'm sizing up the competition, if you must know. Here." He shoved the
rest of the paper at Eddie, curled up at the other end of the couch and
began to pout. "I don't think it's very nice of you."

"What?"

"You know." Designed to make Eddie crazy, it was working.

"What are you on about?"

Ray inched closer. "I just want to know what I'm up against, is all.
That's not much to ask, is it?" Too coy for Ray's taste, but effective.

A pause, then, "I can't make heads or talks out of this conversation." And
with that, Eddie got up and went out to the kitchen.

Advantage Ray. Eddie was running away from him, pretending he didn't know
what Ray was getting at, when only a moron could mistake his meaning. Ray
licked his lips and took up the pursuit.

"I'm sorry."

"Right."

"No, really. I am. It was a stupid thing to ask. Making cocoa?" He
followed Eddie around, ostensibly trying to help, but generally getting in
the way; and Eddie, who was now attuned to Ray's body, grew more agitated
by the minute. *He's been wanting me too,* Ray thought, and he allowed
himself a little smile.

When the cocoa was made, they carried it back out to the couch. Eddie sat,
Ray sat beside him. A little unsubtle, but Ray was beyond subtlety by this
point. "Is she important? I mean, do you love her?"

He was prepared for one of those long, involved explanations that Eddie
was so good at, about the different sorts of love and affection, and all
the reasons people come together; and he had every intention of making his
move spang in the middle of it. But Eddie turned and stared at Ray, and
there was something in his eyes that seemed wary, even a little amused.

"I suppose you're going to say that you love me, and doesn't that count
for something. Am I close?"

Ray was stunned. In a moment Eddie had laid bare all the self-centered
hypocrisy a sixteen year old boy was capable of, and Ray shrank from it.
It took him a moment to catch his breath. "I was going to, yes." It was a
moment of pure revelation, and Ray suddenly found he needed to be alone
for a few minutes to think about it. "I was going to say just that," he
admitted again, feeling like a prize fool. "I think I'll just go up to bed
and think this one over. 'night."

He lay in the dark and stared up, out of sightless eyes, truly
understanding for the first time in his life that other people had needs
and desires independent of his own, that they had lives, that they existed
outside of his experience. Somehow that, more than all that had gone
before, marked the end of his childhood. That he knew it added a
bittersweet taste to the moment. He couldn't have stopped the tears
coming, even if he'd wanted to.

It was hours later that he woke to find Eddie sitting on the edge of his
bed. "I'm sorry," Eddie whispered. "Truly."

Ray held out his arms and Eddie gathered him up and hugged him. "It's so
hard to grow up at all," Ray whispered. "And I'm not even graceful about
it."

"You're doing fine. I keep forgetting how young you are."

There was something in this moment that touched a chord in Ray. He found
himself thinking of his mother; of all the times she had forgiven him his
rages and his lies, and all the scrapes, small and large.

"I'm not a child," he whispered, more to himself than to Eddie. The moment
was to be savored. And rued. Childhood had come to an end for him, and
he'd only just noticed it. He wished his mother had been there to see it;
to help him through. "She did love me, My mother," he added, as he noticed
Eddie's confusion. "Nothing lasts forever, does it?"

"Feelings do, sometimes. I guess the best we can hope for is that the good
things last for the time being."

"Like us?"

"Yes. Like us. We'll last for the time being, Ray."

He knew it was enough.

-- THE END --

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