The Cockney Canuck - 3. Chapter 3 The Worst Day of My Life

That day had started so well, thanks to Tom. Sleeping with him was the most experience of my young life. It didn’t matter that we hadn't done anything naughty; we were together in a bed designed for one. I hardly slept a wink, but it was the best feeling ever.

I had spent the best part of my adolescence lusting after Tom’s rather pale, skinny, body and the rules always seemed to be you can look but you can’t touch. Therefore, notwithstanding the occasional hug, the odd wrestle, and a few accidental touches, this rule was never flouted.

That December night, however, we sailed straight over the edge of what was generally regarded as acceptable behaviour between two friends.

I had to keep reminding myself that it was Tom’s sweaty body lying next to me, skin against skin, and naked except for a pair of skimpy cotton briefs.

I was too aroused to sleep and frightened in case I missed an opportunity to push it that little bit further. I could remember him turning in the night, and his arm flopping over me to rest on my chest with his head against my shoulder. The same boy who had convinced me that he hadn't a gay bone in his body, had wrapped himself around me so tightly, it wouldn’t have been possible to pass a cigarette paper between us.

I could feel his soft breath against my neck and when I turned my head, I was able to gently kiss the tip of his button nose. It took me ages to gather the courage, even though it required the minimum of effort. I was scared of waking him, but probably over-cautious. There were times when I was convinced a marching band passing through his room wouldn’t have caused him to stir.

It seems ridiculous but at the time this random act was the most exciting and daring thing I had ever done.

‘I kissed Tom or at least I kissed his nose, does it still count if he’s asleep’?

The greatest prize of all, his spongy, soft, ruby red lips, remained tantalisingly out of reach, but I wouldn’t have dared to go there, not without his permission.

Tom had a distinctive but familiar boy scent, which was unique to him. It had filled my lungs all night, intoxicating me. Now, I had an overwhelming desire to lick his bare skin and taste him. Anywhere would do, everywhere would be better.

I wasn’t sure if he had genuinely mistaken my bony shoulder for a soft pillow, but the feel of his warm, slightly sticky, skin against mine was sending my libido into overdrive. I had twice come within a whisker of suffering an embarrassing discharge. If Tom hadn’t already guessed what effect he was having on me then he may have got a substantial clue had he woken up to find me squirting inside my already well-stretched undercrackers. What did he expect? I was young, I had hormones, and he was driving them crazy.

That morning we stayed in bed for as long as we dared, giggling under the covers as we jostled each other for the prized centre spot. He was trying to poke me in the ribs after discovering that I was ticklish, when he switched tactics, and I got lucky. He was attempting to push me off the side of his bed using his considerable size nine feet against my stomach. He must have known how perilously close to the edge I was, and another inch or two would have been enough to tip the balance, sending me crashing to the floor. It wasn’t fair; he had his back against the wall and was using it as leverage. With my backside already hanging out of the bed, I grabbed and held onto his foot. It was something that I had wanted to do for the best part of five years, but never dared.

It probably would have been possible to hear Tom’s girlish screams of laughter throughout the entire house as I began to tickle his sensitive sole without mercy. It was an opportunity that I was unable to resist and he quickly surrendered. Too quickly for my liking.

I had always had a fetish for boy’s feet and particularly Tom’s. Up until that day, he had been blissfully unaware of my obsession and now for the first time, I had a legitimate excuse to play with them.

“Can I have my foot back?”

“No." I had been waiting too long to give up my prize, although I no longer had any reason to hold onto it. He was forced to take the initiative pushing his other foot against my face.

“Now you have to smell my feet,” he said, laughing hysterically, but it only encouraged me. I grabbed it and gave him a quick ice cream type lick across the sole.

“Yuk. That’s disgusting.” I thought it was sexy and would have gone further, if I could have thought of an excuse to put it in my mouth.

I had allowed temptation to get the better of me and he looked confused as I peered at him timidly over the top of his rounded toes and released his foot with an apologetic grin. I just hoped that he hadn't spotted my boner, which was making a mockery of my ancient briefs.

Then he moved over to me and whispered in my ear, “Pervert!”

Moments later, we were forced to leap out of his warm bed when his sister started banging on the door. We had erections, which we tried unsuccessfully to hide. It sent us into fits of giggles as we tried to suppress them while donning our uniforms. The cold must have helped; his room was freezing as we hopped around, pulling on socks and trousers, and fumbling with buttons and shoelaces. All the time watching each other and giggling.

Although nothing happened between us that night, it clearly could have, and I don’t think Tom would have objected either. There was no denying the energy that we generated in that tiny bed and for me it was a dream come true. I was only one small step away from living my fantasy. It wasn’t quite a sexual experience, but it was closer than I had ever been before.

We needed to talk, but neither of us had the courage to mention it as we rushed to school that morning. The excitement from our morning frolic had been replaced with embarrassment as we exchanged subtle knowing glances on the way. He was blushing but managed to flash me a warm smile before parting company for our first lessons.

* * * * *

I already knew what I wanted; I had known for some time that I liked boys but being gay wasn’t an option at our school. It wasn’t cool, and to most kids, it wasn’t acceptable. For those who ran the gauntlet the consequences were severe, and all but a few very brave or stupid ones stayed firmly in the closet. Me included.

I met him in primary school, when we were nine-years-old, and even then there was something about him that made me want to be his friend. We sat together in class and shared a passion for swimming. At secondary school, Tom and I showered together twice a week after PE lessons and shared the same cubicle at the swimming pool. There was little point in being shy, he knew my body as well as I did, and I knew Tom’s even better.

As we grew older, Tom began to feature increasingly in my fantasies and that was where I thought he would stay. With the odds stacked against me, I kept those feelings to myself, I didn’t want to push him away or risk losing him as a friend. In my fantasy, it was always Tom who made the first move, and that was how it would have to be in real life. When I later confessed to him about my fantasies, he thought it was cool that he had been my number one choice of wanking material and even more cool that I was able to tell him about it.

As the illness took a stranglehold over my mother, everything seemed to speed up in my life. When they took her into the hospital for the last time, Tom asked his parents if I could stay and his dad helped me move what little I needed into his already overcrowded room. The only thing that wouldn't fit into his box room was my bed and the best that they could offer me was a blow-up airbed on the floor. It was uncomfortable and cold, but I never complained even though a small leak meant that it would inevitably be flat by the morning. It didn’t matter; at least I wasn't alone. I was sharing a room with my best friend.

I could see the relief on my mom’s face when I told her that I would be staying at Tom’s house. She knew him well and was fond of him. It was a shame the only time she met his parents was the day after they moved her into that terrible ward. I think they wanted to show her that her son was being looked after, so they took Tom and me to visit, but she was tired and too ill to talk. They were shocked by her appearance, but tried hard not to show it. She was a proud woman, an athlete in her day and I wanted to preserve her dignity. It was the last time I allowed anyone to visit.

After a week, Tom told me we were swapping beds. He was worried about me and concerned about the affect that my mom’s illness was having on my health. If I hadn't been so wrapped up in what was happening at the hospital, I might have noticed how much my friend was doing for me and how important he had become in my life.

They told me my mom was in the final stages of her illness; it was a nice way of telling me she would soon die. I knew what they meant, but as far as I was concerned, she had died a long time ago. The woman I visited every day in that ward was nothing like the woman in the photograph I kept in my blazer pocket. She was always heavily sedated and there were days when she never woke up the whole time I was there. I would visit her every day except Wednesday and Saturday when I had swimming practice, going straight from school and staying for a couple of hours. Tom would always offer to come with me but I didn’t want him to spend his spare time in that horrible place.

I had to be there but I hated it, or rather I hated the place, because the nurses and staff were the nicest people I had ever met. I got to know most of them well and they fussed over me, which I liked. I got my own armchair, next to a window that overlooked the River Thames and the City of London. Anywhere else that view would have cost a small fortune, but no one would have willingly swapped places with me. I was also directly opposite the nurse’s station, which guaranteed me plenty of attention. I always had a meal waiting for me at Tom’s house but the nurses would put aside cakes and puddings for me that I liked, and buy me drinks from the vending machine. I was spoiled and I knew why they were doing it.

When my mom was asleep, I would pass the time by talking to the staff or doing my homework, which the nurses would often help with. At times, it felt almost like a family, although I had no real experience of what that was like.

During those weeks, I watched people come and go, patients and families. Some would stay longer than others, and some were still there when I left, but the end result was always the same. Everyone died. Nobody made it out of that ward alive. These were people who could no longer be treated because whatever sickness they had inside them had progressed too far. It was the last stop for anyone suffering from a terminal illness. It was where they put people to die. Four to five weeks was the average stay and my mom was there for just over five. She was a fighter, but in the end, even she succumbed.

I tried to avoid any contact with the other patients and kept my eyes glued to the floor whenever I walked past. I felt bad for doing this but couldn’t stop myself, I didn’t want to see them or their pain. My mom’s illness had sapped me of all benevolence and I had nothing left to give. I wasn’t religious, but I had prayed almost continuously and there wasn’t a single prayer left in me for anyone else.

The only drugs they handed out in that ward were painkillers and not the type you would take for a headache. My mom was given morphine through a drip which fed into her arm. The doctor explained it to me. I wanted to be sure she wasn’t in any pain and know why she had so much bruising on her forearms. He returned after his rounds one day and sat with me in the visitor’s room to answer my questions. I asked him to tell me the truth and he told me she was going to die. It was something I already knew, but he was the first to say it.

I think I grew up a lot during those weeks after realising I was the only one she had to fight her corner. If I didn’t ask these questions then nobody else would. It put a big burden on my shoulders but I probably should have done more. After surviving the first fourteen years of my life without having to make a single decision of any worth, I now felt crushed by the weight of responsibility that bore down on me.

When I realised why they put her in that ward I cried for ages and had to be comforted by Nurse Alice. She was my favourite. A West Indian with a beautiful accent I tried hard to copy, but could never master. She earned my trust with Jamaican food. Jerk chicken and patties were my favourites, and all home cooked. I don’t know where she got the time or energy to cook after working eight hours in that place. I felt drained after just two and I wasn’t doing anything. Alice somehow managed to remain upbeat and jovial and never faltered. She was always there for me, whenever I needed her to soak up my pain and replace it with hope. She was the kindest and most compassionate person I had ever met, in a place stained by so much death.

I liked the way that she cared for my mom, always talking to her, even if it didn’t look like she was awake.

“Talk to her Robbie” she would say. “She can hear you; she knows that you're here.” I wasn’t convinced, but afterwards, I talked to her every day. To tell her what I was doing in school, how I was getting on in swimming and what I had for dinner at Tom’s place. I would never know how much she heard or understood, but it certainly made me feel a lot better and maybe that was the plan all along.

* * * * *

In biology, I was having problems with an unwanted erection.

‘I hope that Cassie doesn't look or she’s gonna see it and laugh or even worse think that it’s because of her’.

I tried to concentrate on what the teacher was saying but my mind kept returning to images of Tom from our earlier escapade and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my dick to behave. I was on the cusp of becoming one of the cool kids in school but I knew very well, how much damage a hard-on in the classroom could do to your cool status. I was fidgeting and I could see Cassie watching me as I shifted in my seat cursing Tom.

I even considered sorting the problem in the toilet at lunchtime, something I had never had to do before. It wouldn’t be necessary.

At exactly sixteen minutes past ten, my world collapsed.

I suppose if there was something that was guaranteed to bring me back down to earth that day it was hearing my name over the public address system. It took a few seconds for me to understand what was happening, but when I did, I went numb almost instantly. The human body moving quickly into action to protect itself.

I knew that there was only one reason why they would call me to the office in the middle of a lesson. They had told me at the hospital they would notify the school when it was time and the school had assured them I would be allowed to leave straight away. The head teacher, Mr Jenkins had asked me to nominate a friend to go with me to the hospital and of course, I chose Tom as my escort. The fact that he hadn't been called to the office at the same time hadn't even registered with me, if it had of then it may have given me a clue.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the class as the teacher gave me the nod and waited for me to gather my stuff. Usually if a pupil was called to the office during class time they would have been heckled and teased by the others, because it was a good bet that they were in big trouble. The deathly silence told me that even though I rarely talked about my mom, they all knew what was happening.

Cassie was good to me, she picked up the pen I dropped and put it in my bag along with my textbook and then asked the teacher if she could go with me.

She walked with me to the office talking to me constantly but I wasn't listening. It wasn’t important; all I could think of was getting to the hospital.

The secretary jumped up from her seat the moment she saw me and told me to follow her into the head teacher’s office where Mr Jenkins was talking to a woman who I recognised from the hospital. She was a social worker but I had never seen her at the school before.

'She's probably here to take me to my mom'.

Then I realised Tom wasn’t there and I started to think that maybe it wasn’t what I had expected. Maybe there was another reason why they had called me, something that wasn’t so bad.

'She probably wants to talk to me about my living arrangements. Why can’t they leave me alone’?

I hated social workers and prepared myself for what I thought would be another condescending talk about what they decided would be best for me. Instead, she gave me a concerned look and reached out to touch me on the arm before telling us both that she would wait outside.

I turned my attention back to Mr Jenkins and waited for an explanation. He must have been able to see the fear in my eyes, as he guided me towards a chair and asked me to sit down. I began to feel sick and noticed my palms were wet. I couldn’t swallow and felt tears welling in my eyes as he pulled over a chair to face me and put a hand on my shoulder. I could see the pain written on his face and started to shake, knowing what he was about to say. I felt something wash over me, fear maybe or adrenaline. It coincided with the sudden realisation of what had happened. I had tears streaming down my face before he was able to utter a single word.

It was his job to inform me that my mother had passed away earlier that morning. I cannot remember the exact words he used because I was trying hard to block them out. I didn’t want to hear him say it because I didn’t want to believe him.

The tears were soon joined by sobs as I gave in completely to the emotions that were now pouring out of me. I cried loudly and unashamedly for what seemed like ages but was probably no more than a few minutes and all the time he kept his hand on my shoulder and his eyes tightly shut as if he was trying to hide a pain of his own. Maybe a loss that he had suffered himself, cruelly brought back by this situation.

I couldn’t believe it had happened so quickly. When I left her the night before, she was asleep but she didn’t look any worse. I was talking to her; telling her that Don and Sue were coming over from Canada. She couldn’t talk but she nodded and squeezed my hand. Now she was gone.

‘Why didn’t they tell me? The hospital should have let me know. Why wasn’t I there? I needed to be with her’?

There were so many questions that I wanted to ask and I knew that Mr Jenkins, as nice as he was, wouldn’t have the answers.

“I need to go to the hospital,” I said and stood up quickly, but he sat me back down again.

“Of course,” he said, “I understand. Mrs Oakey will drive you there.” He handed me a box of tissues as my crying became a series of random sobs. I was still shaking and now I had a headache. I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to drive me, I would have preferred to walk with Tom.

Mr Jenkins went outside to talk to Mrs Oakey as I began to piece together what had happened. I remembered the consultant talking to me. He had told me that she was close to the end and it would be soon but I didn’t think it would be this soon.

It wasn’t a surprise to find out that she was going to die, I had known that from the very beginning. For eighteen months everyone had been telling me that she would get better. They were lying; I knew people didn’t recover from that illness. It was a terminal illness and that meant it was going to kill her. That was why she was in that ward, I asked Nurse Alice, and she told me it was true. I wanted to talk to her.

I sat alone for a couple of minutes before the secretary came in to ask me if I wanted anything.

“Tom,” I mumbled.

“Sorry what did you say?”

Before I could answer, Mrs Oakey came back to tell me that she would drive me to the hospital. “If you want the nurses can take you to see her.”

“NO! I DON’T WANT TO SEE HER.” It sounded a lot worse than I intended. “I mean, I don’t want to see her dead.”

“I understand but you might want to talk to the nurses who were with her this morning when she passed away. They want to see you.”

I sat with my head in my hands and she watched me before turning to walk away. “Wait. Do you know who was with her?”

“Yes,” she said, "it was Alice."

I nodded and turned away as more tears fell from my face. I knew Alice wouldn’t let me down and I knew my mom had been in the best possible hands. I just wish I had been there too.

“WHY WASN’T I TOLD EARLIER? WHY DIDN’T THEY TELL ME WHEN THEY KNEW THAT SHE WAS GOING TO DIE? THEY PROMISED ME THAT THEY WOULD TELL ME.”

“I’m sorry Robbie. It happened very quickly I’m sure that they will explain it to you at the hospital.” I didn’t know why I felt the need for that outburst but I wasn’t sorry.

“I feel sick,” I said, “and I’ve got a headache.” She told me that she would get me something as she left the office for the safety of the reception.

Mr Jenkins poked his head around the door. “Is it alright for me to come in?” He was joking after hearing me shout at Mrs Oakey, but I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“It’s your office.”

“It’s not just me,” he said. “There’s someone else here that wants to see you.” I looked up to see Tom. His face was strained and full of hurt. Different from the one I had woken up to that morning and different from the shy embarrassed face I said goodbye to at the school gates. I could see that he was genuinely hurting too.

“Mr. Jenkins told me what happened. I’m really sorry mate.” He sat next to me and put an arm around me squeezing me tight, while I rested my hand on top of his and cried from the pit of my stomach.

It felt good to have Tom there and I didn’t want him to let go. It may have been one of the few occasions when it was acceptable for two boys to openly hug each other in school and I played it for every thing I could. When it was time to leave, Tom stood me up and cleaned my face with a tissue and I leaned into him for support, with my head on his shoulder.

“I’ll sign you out Robbie,” said Mr. Jenkins. “And Tom as well I guess. I know that you’re living at Tom’s house at the moment and I’m not sure what your long term plans are, but obviously you won’t need to come back to school until after the funeral.”

I must have looked panicked; it was something that I hadn't even considered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you make those arrangements,” said Mrs Oakey. “And I’ll talk to Tom’s parents in a few days. We may have to move you somewhere better for you in the long term.”

“NO,” I shouted. “I’M STAYING AT TOM’S. I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE ELSE.”

“It’s okay Robbie. Tom’s house might not be suitable for you, that’s all.”

“Where else would I go?”

“There are a lot of families who we use as foster parents.”

“NO WAY. I’m not going to live in a bloody foster home. Anyway, my uncle wants me to live in Canada. He’ll be here soon, tomorrow I think. He’ll probably want to make the arrangements for the funeral too.”

They looked surprised. I hadn't told them about my mom's arrangements, only Tom and his family knew. It meant that Mrs Oakey wouldn’t get the chance to meddle with my life after all. My mom had only just died and this busybody wanted to put me into care!

* * * * *

I sat in the back with Tom as Mrs Oakey drove us to the hospital later that morning. He had his arm around me the entire journey and kept looking at me to make sure that I was okay. Whenever I looked at Tom that day, I was sure that I could see an angel. I was beginning to understand just how much he meant to me and how close we had become since I moved in with him. My mind went back to the previous night and how he had offered me half of his bed. It felt good being close to him.

I had always been jealous of Tom for having so many people around him when all I had was my mom, a woman lying in the hospital who was unable to talk to me. Now I didn’t even have her anymore. I hated that ward and hated having to go there that day for the last time knowing that she was no longer there.

When we arrived, I was shocked to see that there was another bed in the place where my mom had been for so long. She had only died that morning and already someone had taken her place. Only yesterday, I had sat in that chair attempting to talk to her. Now there was someone else and that person’s family were occupying what had become my own personal space. Everything had changed so quickly in just a few hours and I wasn’t ready. As uncaring as it sounds I didn’t want anything to change, even though it was hurting me. I wanted things the way that they were. I had my routine, and as long as it continued then it meant that my mom was still with me. I could still talk to her and tell her what I did at school, even if she couldn’t hear me, and even if she didn’t look anything like the person that she used to be.

Nurse Alice was waiting for me and took me into the staff room to explain what had happened.

“I was there with her this morning when she went. She wasn’t in any pain Robbie.” I was crying but I didnt take my eyes off her, I wanted to know everything.

“It was her time and I think that she just decided to let go. When a person decides to do this then it is usually very quick and there wasn't enough time to get you here. But she wasn’t alone. I was with her and I held her hand as I’m holding yours now. She died peacefully and with dignity. You can be very proud of her.”

I needed to hear that and she held me tight and patted my back while Tom stood awkwardly watching from the other side of the room. I called him over and grabbed his hand, holding on to it tightly.

“Is this your best friend Tom?” asked Alice. She smiled at us making Tom blush but he didn't try to pull his hand away.

“Yes, I’m Tom,” he said, no doubt surprised he was known to her. She smiled sweetly at him and then back to me and I got the impression that she was giving me her approval.

‘She thinks that he’s my boyfriend. If only it were true'.

I suppose I had talked about him quite a bit and even though she was jumping the gun, she was pleased to finally meet him.

“I’m going to miss you, Robbie,” she said, “you used to brighten up my day. You would bring sunshine to this ward. But it’s a blessing that you don’t have to come here anymore. You’ve spent too much time here already. Now you must start to move on.” I closed my eyes and listened carefully to every word that she said. I could listen to her all day and never tire of her voice. In the short time I knew her, I loved her like family.

Alice helped me to understand what happened, but I could never accept why, and I never will.

As I walked out of the hospital with Tom on that cold grey December afternoon, it felt like I was closing a chapter of my life. It was the end of an eighteen-month nightmare.

For as long as I live I will always be haunted by the hours spent in that desolate ward, but as strange as it may sound it wasn’t all bad. I was going to miss my makeshift family of nurses who had fussed over me, made me laugh, and helped with my homework. They were good people who worked tirelessly, to help those who had no hope left. I will always be thankful to them. Together with Tom they made my life bearable at a time when I was unable to see further than the next day.

I would see Alice again at the funeral and I called her a few days before leaving for Canada to let her know I was going. She was happy for me knowing that my life was starting to get better and as much as I missed her, I also knew that I didn’t need her anymore. There were other people out there who needed her more, and as long as she was able to do her job, she would be there for them.

I’m not sure how many Nurse Alice’s there are in this world but I do know that there aren’t enough. This selfless woman with a heart of gold will have a profound effect on me for the rest of my life. I am indebted forever.

* * * * *

When I got back to the house, I went straight upstairs and jumped in the shower to wash off the tears and sweat. When I walked into his room, Tom was waiting for me.

“I think I need a rest,” I said and climbed into his bed. I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to talk. I just lie there for hours thinking about my mom, while Tom sat in the chair reading a book. Every so often, I saw him look over, but he never said a word and he didn’t leave me.

It was dark when I woke. My mind was still filled with the events from that morning and mixed with memories of my childhood. I heard someone open the door and the room was bathed in light. It was Tom and he shut the door quickly, trying not to wake me. Then in the dark he tripped over my shoes in the middle of the room.

“Hello Tom."

“Did I wake you up?"

“No, I’ve been awake for ages, just lying here thinking.”

“You should have called me, I could have brought you up some dinner. Are you hungry now? I can get you something, would you like a drink?”

“I would like you to stop fussing over me and treat me like normal." I sat up on the edge of his bed and put my feet on to the floor, while Tom switched on the bedside light and began unrolling the airbed.

“It’s been a tough day for you,” he said. Then he plugged in the electric pump and went outside to get a sheet and blankets. I assumed he was making the bed up for me and we would go back to our regular sleeping arrangements. It was a bit cramped in his small bed. I liked it, but I could understand if Tom had been a little freaked out by the whole thing.

“I don’t know what to say to you Robbie. I’ve never been in this position before.”

“Neither have I.”

“I guess not; I just want to help you.”

I sniffed, “You have helped me, Tom. You've been the best friend ever." I wanted to say much more, there was a lot I needed to say. “I don’t feel tired now, what time is it?”

“It’s just gone ten and I was going to bed,” he said as he began to undress. “You’re not tired because you’ve been asleep for most of the day. It doesn’t matter though. We can talk if you want, or you can go downstairs and watch TV?”

“I want to stay with you,” I said. “You can have your bed back.” I stood up but he pushed me back down.

“No, I want you to have the bed tonight."

I hadn't been looking forward to sleeping on the air-bed, but I didn’t want Tom to have to sleep in it either. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he said. Then he peeled off his socks and scampered over to switch off the light. I was hoping he would want to get in with me. I wanted him next to me again but I didn’t know how to ask or how he would feel about it.

As he hurried, back to the airbed, he tripped over my shoes again and fell on top of his bed holding his foot and swearing. He was soon shivering and ducked under the covers. “Whoa, it’s cold." I laughed knowing how he felt. I knew how uncomfortable it was too. Tom was in for a rough night.

“Will you have to go with them back to Canada?” he said. It was unexpected, but I guess it had been bothering him.

“I want to stay with you,” I replied, avoiding the question.

I could see him looking over towards me in the dark. “Me too," he mumbled, but we both knew that it wouldn't happen. The imminent arrival of my uncle and aunt signaled the beginning of the end.

While my mom was still alive, it wasn't something that I had to deal with or worry about. Even when she told me her plans, I wasn't expecting her to go so soon. It may have been a blessing that her suffering was over, but it also brought everything forward.

Now Canada loomed large on the horizon and it wasn’t going to go away. Don told me they would be going back a couple of days before Christmas and I could understand why it was important to them. They had three children and wanted to be with them over the holidays. Soon I would be living there too, and if I gave my consent, they would become my adopted family. At the time, it was a proposition that I wasn’t comfortable with.

The big problem for me was having to leave Tom. Our friendship had gone past best friends. We had become soul mates, and I was sure that I loved him and in a way that was not usually associated with two boys. We were already inseparable in school but now it was as if we had been surgically sewn together.

Everything seemed to be happening at the same time and it felt as if I was riding a huge emotional rollercoaster. That morning, I was happier than I had been in months, only for it to turn into the worst day of my life. I knew that while Tom was with me, things would be okay and I didn't want to contemplate a time when he wasn't. He had shown me a side of him that I had only seen in my fantasies. It was only a matter of time before we finished what we had started earlier.

I tried many times to pluck up the courage to tell him I was gay, but there was always a reason not to. Sometimes I couldn't even admit it to myself. Tom was my best friend though and for that reason alone, he needed to know. It would have made life easier and who knows, maybe something would have happened between us sooner.

I could hear him fidgeting and I knew how uncomfortable that bed was even when it was fully inflated.

I wasn't sure if it was right to be discussing this on such a terrible day, but there was no way that he was going to hurt my feelings.

“Tom.”

“Yeah,” his tones were muffled from under the covers. He was probably still cold and I wondered if I should just ask him if he wanted to get in with me. Like he had done.

“Can we talk for a bit?” I could hear him moving and watched as he sat up and wrapped himself in the blanket.

“It’s alright,” he said. “We can talk if you want. I’m not tired anyway.”

“I don’t think that I’m gonna be able to sleep for a while yet."

“It’s not like we have to go to school tomorrow. You can sleep in if you want. I won’t wake you up.”

“There’s something that I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. I’m not sure how you're gonna react but it needs to be said. Especially after what happened last night.” I could see him watching me carefully in the dark before he reached over to switch on the small lamp on his bedside table. He looked a little uneasy; he had been avoiding talking about it all day.

“What happened last night?”

“I’m not sure Tom. You need to tell me. Because I’m confused.” He didn’t answer, he was too busy examining his foot where he had tripped over my shoes. I couldn’t be distracted. “I’ve known this for a few years and I’ve tried to say something before, but it was never the right time, you know.” My throat was dry and my voice was cracking. Tom was my best friend but telling him this was proving much more difficult than I thought. He waited for me to finish. “What I’m trying to say is, I think. No, I know that I’m.”

“You’re gay!” he finished for me. There was a silence.

“Yes,” I whispered looking at the floor. There was another long silence and when I looked up he was smiling at me.

‘I shouldn’t have said anything. Not today, what was I thinking? How did he even guess’?

“Is that it?” he asked, and he let out a small giggle.

“What do you mean?”

“Is that your big secret? What you’ve been trying to tell me for so long?”

“Yes, aren’t you surprised?”

He laughed. “Surprised? No, of course not, why would I be surprised? I’ve known for ages.” He pulled the sheet back over his shoulders. “I thought that you were gonna tell me something really bad, like you're a secret Spurs fan.”

I didn’t find it funny. “How did you guess?”

“How did I guess?” He looked confused. “You're having a laugh. Where do you want me to start? Let’s see. There are plenty of girls in school who like you, but you’ve never had a girlfriend or even gone out with a girl before, not even once.”

I shrugged. “So?”

“When I tried to set you up with my cousin, who for whatever reason, thinks you're wonderful, you didn’t want to know. And when that girl wanted to kiss you at the fair last year, you pretended to be ill and went home. You thought that it was disgusting when my sister and her friend were sunbathing topless in the garden and you wouldn’t even take a little peek.”

“She’s your sister! It wouldn’t be right.”

“It didn’t stop me,” he said.

“Is that it?”

“No," he said, "there's more. I’ve never found a single adult magazine or any other wanking material in your room, despite searching everywhere and when I gave you that Playboy mag to take home, you left it here on purpose.”

“I forgot it."

“Okay, whenever we go swimming, I always catch you looking at the boys but never any of the girls.” He raised his eyebrows at me and I shrugged my shoulders.

“I caught you looking at pictures of Bieber on the internet, and you wanted to join the scouts.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, you promised you wouldn’t ever mention the scouts,” I said. “It’s not entirely true anyway.”

“What bit isn’t true?” He was trying hard not to laugh.

“It wasn’t Bieber, I don't like him,” I said with a faint smile on my face.

“But it was a boy?”

“Yes.”

“Who happened to be topless?”

“He was on a beach,” I mumbled. “It was very scenic. Okay, I admit he was hot. But other than all the things that you’ve just mentioned, what was it that gave me away?” He threw his pillow at me and laughed.

At last, I was able to relax and I let out a huge sigh of relief. “So you really have known about me for ages. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you?”

‘Good question’.

“But didn’t it ever bother you? I mean getting changed and stuff, most boys wouldn’t like that.”

“What are you saying that I’m gay?”

“You asked me to get in bed with you last night." It was my best card.

“You looked like you were cold. Does that make me gay?”

“No, Tom, I don’t think you're gay,” I said. “No more than any other straight boy out there anyway. Maybe you're a little curious, but you're not gay. I would have noticed by now. But even if you did already know, I still needed to tell you. You're the first person I’ve ever told. It’s a big thing for me. It means a lot.” I wanted to remind him about that morning in bed when we were both hard.

'Did he do that to keep me warm too'?

I lie back down pulling the duvet over my head. I wanted to cry but there were no tears left, I was as dry as a bone. Pepper spray wouldn’t have done it.

Less than a minute passed before Tom was whispering to me. “Robbie.“

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. It's cool you decided to tell me first. I know it couldn’t have been easy. Maybe today isn’t a good time to talk about these things.”

“It doesn't matter, it needed to be said. I think I owed you that much. At least talking about this takes my mind off my mom for a while.” There was another long silence.

“Robbie.”

“Yes, Tom.”

“You like me don’t you?”

I knew what he meant but played dumb. “You’re my best friend, Tom, of course, I like you.”

“No. I mean like me as in, you know,” I looked blankly at him. “You fancy me?”

“Oh, I see. No, Tom. I don’t think of you in that way, maybe you're not my type.” I was sure that if I weren’t indoors I’d be struck by lightning.

“What not EVER?” he said, sounding a little putout.

“No, not ever. Why does that bother you?”

“Of course not. I just assumed that you always.”

“Always what?”

“It doesn't matter. It's no big deal.”

“It bothers you, doesn't it?” I said teasing him. “You're upset because I don’t fancy you.”

“No, of course not!”

I was trying not to laugh but it was getting difficult. I couldn’t believe he was sulking over this. “I’m Sorry mate.”

“Why are you sorry? You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I’m sorry I don’t fancy you. I didn’t realise you had feelings for me. It’s a bit insensitive.”

“What do you mean?” He sat up again in a hurry. “I don’t have feelings for you.”

“I can pretend,” I said, and he looked puzzled. “If you want to do stuff with me, I can pretend to fancy you, I don’t mind.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant. And I think that it’s cute.” I winked at him and he studied my face in the dim light.

“You bastard. You're winding me up.” I started laughing as he leaped up and jumped on top of me.

“Get off.”

“Say sorry Tom for winding you up.”

“Never,” I said laughing until he grabbed my sides. “Okay, I’m sorry Tom for winding you up.” He rolled off and I expected him to drop back to the floor but instead, he sat on the edge of the bed leaning over me with his arms either side of my chest. I was still wrapped in the duvet, holding it up to my neck, but he looked cold in only his vest and briefs.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked.

"Yes. But that's not important." He screwed up his face and looked me in the eye. "So you do fancy me?”

“Yeah,” I said. “A lot.”

“I thought so.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know.”

“You're not angry at me?”

“Why should I be?”

“Most boys wouldn’t like that.”

“I’m not like most boys…but I’m not sure if I’m like you either,” he said. “I’m confused."

Confused, wasn't what I was expecting to hear. It meant that there was still a chance. I pulled my hand out from under the duvet and lightly brushed my fingers across his forearm focusing my attention on the tiny almost transparent hairs on his arms.

‘I never realised he had so many hairs on his arms. How did I miss that? They look nice on him’.

Right on cue, there was a gentle knock on the door, it was Tom’s mom. He jumped up and went back to the airbed.

“Come in."

“Is Robbie asleep?” she whispered.

“No, I’m awake."

She looked concerned as she walked over and sat on the bed where Tom had been. I could tell that she didn’t know what to say and there wasn't anything she could have said that would have helped. After asking if she could get me anything, she kissed me on the forehead and told me to try to get some more sleep.

“I’m glad that Tom’s letting you sleep in the bed tonight,” she said before getting up and signalling for him to follow her outside. I wanted more than that from her son, but I smiled in appreciation.

I heard her whispering to him on the other side of the door, giving him instructions. Every so often, Tom would say, “Yes mom,” or “I will." Then he closed the door, ran back to the airbed, jumping on it to get out of the cold. It the final straw for that old bed and the small leak suddenly became a very big one. I watched amused as he sat on top of it while it deflated until he was on the floor. I was leaning over giggling at him and soon he was laughing back.

It was obvious that we weren't going to be able to repair it, and sleeping on that cold floor wasn’t really an option either. I could see him looking over towards me eyeing the bed jealously and I smiled as I shifted over to leave enough room for him.

“You don’t mind?” he asked.

‘As if’.

I wanted to remind him that it was his bed. “As long as you don’t mind sharing your bed with a gay boy.”

“Only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself,” he said and he gingerly climbed in next to me without waiting for my reply.

“I can’t promise, but you know it’s not my hands that you should be worried about.” He laughed as he grabbed his pillow and shoved it next to mine then turned onto his side so that we were facing each other. My back was right up against the cold wall to leave him enough room but our legs and arms still met in the middle. It was too cramped to be comfortable but infinitely better than sleeping on my own.

“Your feet are cold,” I said.

“I wish I had a bigger bed.”

“I don’t.”

“Pervert,” he whispered.

“How do you know?

“I can read your mind.”

“I hope not!”

“Why?”

“Because it would be embarrassing if you knew what I was thinking and you probably wouldn’t like it.”

There was a long silence before he looked me in the eye and grinned.

“What makes you think that?"