Out of His Mind - 3. Guilt

Chapter 3

Guilt

Tait woke early. He swung his legs over the side and got out of bed; and after using the facilities, he changed into a bathing suit Philip had given him. Phil had said: ‘It’s fine, T. I normally keep some of each size in, new of course, just in case a guest doesn’t have one.’

That had made Tait smile. Typical Phil – Tait wondered if he’d been a Boy Scout since he was always prepared for everything.

After finding a beach towel, Tait pulled open the heavy drapes and was surprised at the light outside. Then, after unlocking and sliding open the glass door, he walked out into the already-warm morning – the sun felt good on his body. Tait pulled down the sunglasses from the top of his head, and then made his way down the path and around the red-brick privacy wall to the patio and the pool.

The pool itself was beautiful; it was rectangular and seemed as if it had been carved from the solid rock on the west side of the property. Tait stepped from the flagstones that surrounded the pool, onto the shallow first step. The water was warm, but got cooler the deeper he went. He splashed water onto himself before pushing off from the side of the pool. He’d never been the greatest swimmer, but he wasn’t a danger to himself either.

As he swam and warmed his muscles, Tait realized it had been some time since he’d last been swimming. He enjoyed the rhythm and found it comforting. The repetitive movement allowed Tait’s mind to wander, and he found he was thinking about Phil. As he did, he slowly started to realize he didn’t know a lot about his best friend. He resolved he wanted to do better. ‘I’ve been selfish. It’s been all about me ….’

Tait wasn’t sure how long he’d been swimming, but he stopped when he saw feet dangling in the shallow end.

Philip sat on the flagstones and watched with appreciation as the water sluiced off Tait’s body when he stood up. “Morning. How long have you been swimming?”

Tait felt good and he grinned at his old friend. “Honestly, Phil, I don’t know. I woke up and decided to come out. I feel great. Are you going to swim?”

“I will for a bit, then I thought we could make some breakfast. How about some homemade muffins?”

“Muffins sound terrific. Okay, if you’re going to swim a bit, I’m gonna lie in the sun. Then I can help with breakfast. I did all the cooking when I lived with Se ….” Tait stopped short and Philip saw the change in his friend’s eyes and knew he was about to panic.

He moved to Tait’s side quickly as the color drained from Tait’s face and he gulped for air. Philip gripped Tait around the waist; he spoke loudly, “T! Listen to me. Sit. He’s not here, buddy. He can’t hurt you. Tait!”

Words filtered through his panicked brain, but he couldn’t draw air into his lungs, but Tait did hear Philip’s voice. He felt Philip’s hands help him to the side of the pool. He felt wetness on his face that he knew were his own tears.

“Breathe, it’s okay. You’re safe here. T? You hear me?”

“Y … yes, Phil. Yeah, I hear you.”

“Good. Good, now just breathe.”

They sat on the side of the pool together in silence for several minutes until Phil took Tait’s hand and led him out of the water. They walked across the patio together, around the privacy wall and back into Tait’s room.

Phil pulled back the covers on the bed, and said, “Get changed into some dry bottoms and sit. I’ll be right back.”

Phil left the room and waited in the hall. He scrubbed his face with his hands and pushed them through his hair. Feeling sick, he sighed and leaned against the wall; he did not want Tait to see his reaction. ‘Get a grip, Lawrence. He needs you, you cannot fall apart!’

Meanwhile, as he waited for Phil’s return, Tait pulled off the trunks, and pulled on some dry boxers. He sat shaking on the side of the bed.

When Philip returned he sat next to Tait. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, I feel so tired.”

Phil got up and laid Tait down gently. “You rest while I make us some breakfast, okay? I’ll come back and get you when it’s ready.”

Slipping his feet under the covers Tait lay back onto the comfortable mattress and Phil drew the blanket up. Picking up the discarded swimwear, Philip gave them a rinse in the sink of the ensuite bathroom and hung them over the shower door.

On his way out Phil said, “Just rest now, I’ll be back soon.”

In the kitchen, Philip began to prepare breakfast. As he did, he thought of the man who caused all this pain; he recalled the first time he met Sean O’Grady.

<<>*<>>

O’Grady was a well-known poet and painter, especially in Ireland and Europe, but he was trying to break into the North American markets. He was gay and wanted to deal with a specialist publisher. His manager told him that would limit his exposure, but O’Grady didn’t seem to be worried about that.

His management office suggested they could contact Philip Lawrence who was a well-known commissioning editor and worked for Hillock and Werner – a top publisher of LGBT literature.

Once they had made contact, Philip asked his staff to look into Sean O’Grady, his work and his life. That was standard Hillock and Werner procedure.

Philip’s admin, Peter, had been tasked with the job a few days earlier. “Sorry to interrupt, Philip, do you have five minutes? I’ve got those details you wanted on Sean O’Grady.”

Philip glanced up from his desk at his young admin. “Sure, come in. Let’s have a look.”

Peter laid a notebook on Philip’s desk and sat down. He reported to Philip what he’d learned. “Philip, O’Grady is talented. He’s a prolific poet and painter. He dabbles in sculpture as well. He also practices a peculiar martial art called bataireacht. It’s a near extinct fighting art that uses the Irish fighting stick or shillelagh. I understand O’Grady has quite the collection of them.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of it. Never knew shillelaghs were real or dangerous.”

Peter nodded and said, “They can be weighted and I presume that can make them dangerous. Um, he’s currently single and has been for a couple of years. There’s nothing much about his personal life that I could dig up, doesn’t even have a Wiki page and his website gives little away. Anyway, that’s some background. I’ve contacted his management group and asked if they can send a bio. They are also sending us some examples of his work; photographs only of paintings and sculpture, of course.”

“Well, that all sounds good, Peter.” Philip had noticed a look on Peter’s face. “You seem concerned; why?”

“Well, I’ve been asking around after seeing stories online, and it seems O’Grady’s been in jail a couple of times for public drunkenness and assault, but the assault charges were dropped.”

“Hmmm. Is he able to enter the U.S.?”

“Yes, seems so, since the charges were dropped.”

Philip considered the information briefly. His superiors at Hillock and Werner wanted O’Grady as part of their stable of artists. If O’Grady had been in trouble but never charged, he wasn’t going to worry. There was a lot riding on signing this successful poet both for himself and Hillock and Werner.

“Well, let’s have a look at some of his poetry.” Philip reached for the sheets of paper Peter held out to him. “Thanks.”

Philip read the first poem, entitled “Wanton” aloud:

Perfection – he stands before me
My eyes n’er leave his own
His torso, golden – waiting
My body begs release

His lips swollen and ready
He lays under me
Open – I possess him
We join in wanton thrusts

Swallowing, Philip looked at Peter and said, “There’s not much doubt what this is referring to – ”

Peter blushed a rosy pink. “No, there isn’t.”

“Well we knew that O’Grady is controversial. That’s why we want him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Philip leafed through the rest of the samples. Most were rather bawdy. “Peter, find copies of his last two books, will you. Try Henderson’s they’ll likely have them if anyone will. Then contact Mr. O’Grady and tell him I’d like a meeting. I’ll fly over to Ireland to meet him.” Philip stood up. He wanted to show the samples of O’Grady’s work to his boss and discuss options.

“I’ll get started immediately, Philip.” Peter took his notebook with him, leaving the samples for his superior.

Three weeks later Philip found himself in Ireland. He was staying in the Westin Dublin and was due to meet Sean O’Grady for breakfast the following morning.

To pass the time he took a walking tour of Kilmainham Gaol, then returned to the hotel for dinner and a glass of a fine Irish whiskey, Jameson 18. Back in his room he read for a couple of hours, then Phil turned in; but not before he left a request for a wakeup call with the front desk.

In the morning he ordered coffee, showered and dressed in a black-colored light wool suit, white shirt and a gray and black patterned tie. ‘I’m certain Mr. O’Grady won’t be dressed, but his North American publisher will be.’ Philip thought this as he checked himself over in the mirror before heading to his meeting with his prospective client.

Philip knew Sean O’Grady from publicity pictures and the dust jackets of his books. He sat in the Westin’s dining room, with a steaming cup in front of him. Philip noticed Sean was dressed very casually; which he’d expected.

O’Grady was tallish, from what Philip could see. Clean-shaven, his strawberry blond hair was combed back and held in place by some product, but it was his eyes Philip noticed, and he wondered if that shade of blue had a name.

As Philip regarded him, Sean O’Grady looked up and met his glance. He rose to his feet as Phil started to weave his way through the tables.

Philip put out his right hand as he arrived. “Sean O’Grady?”

“Yes.” O’Grady took Philip’s proffered hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Philip Lawrence … Phil, if you prefer.”

“Philip, I appreciate you coming to Ireland, but I could have come to you.” O’Grady gestured to the seat across from him and waved at the waiter as he took his seat. “You’re in Los Angeles, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Phil nodded. “I’m sure if we’re both happy after this meeting, you’ll be coming to us, as you say.”

The waiter arrived, and food and coffee was ordered. The two made small talk about Ireland and books. Philip had some more personal questions for O’Grady however.

“Sean, as part of our vetting of artists who are new to us, Hillock and Werner always do to a bit of research into their backgrounds. We’ve done the same with you and we have a few questions.”

As much as he tried to hide it, Philip could tell that Sean wasn’t happy, but he replied, “Nothing to hide Philip, ask away.”

“We found reference to some arrests. We understand charges were dropped – ”

Sean interrupted, “Philip, I was a bit of a lad when I was younger. I drank too much, partied too much and got myself into trouble. And I admit I did assault someone, but the judge held that I’d been provoked, so charges were dropped. But all that was some years ago, now. I’ve been a pretty good boy since. Nothing the police have been involved in, anyway.”

“Sean, I appreciate your forthrightness. I’m sure you can understand our reasons for asking.” Philip put down his napkin and considered his feelings for Sean O’Grady. He wouldn’t say he was very fond of him so far, but the man had talent and there was a market for his work. It was his job to sign this man; he didn’t have to like him.

“One other thing, we were told you practice martial arts … with shillelagh, is that true?”

“How did y… oh never mind. May I ask why this is important?”

Philip nodded. “Well, officially it isn’t important, but your background helps us know you better. Plus I’m curious, on a personal level.”

O’Grady seemed to accept the reply and continued, “The practice is quite old but many cultures used clubs, and cudgels as weapons, not just the lower class in Ireland. A shillelagh, is not just a stick, they are made from blackthorn wood and are cured and were often weighted. Those were used for fighting. I’ve got a large collection of them, some very old.”

Philip nodded. “I did not realize that they were used for fighting. I thought they were just part of the leprechaun myth.”

“No, they were carried by many people as walking sticks but also for protection.” O’Grady was enjoying himself and continued, “They say that a shillelagh is born, not made, rather like a good poet, but like a good poet it is developed, polished and its growth is slow.”

Sean smiled at Philip. “Perhaps we could discuss this again another time, if you’re interested.”

Philip nodded, though he knew he would never bring it up again.

“So, Sean, let’s get down to business. Hillock and Werner would like to publish your work for the North American market. In addition to that, if you need an agent we can recommend several for print and also for your sculpture and paintings.”

O’Grady sat back, wiped away the final remnants of his breakfast with the linen napkin. He smiled and said, “I think Phil, after a little more negotiation with respect to my money, which I’m sure we can agree on, my answer is yes, I accept.”

<<>*<>>

‘I wish I could turn back time,’ Phil thought, as he pulled fresh Morning Glory muffins out of the oven. ‘Because if I could, that son-of-a-bitch would not be in L.A.’

<<>*<>>

Tait sat up and took a deep breath. He could smell something sweet baking and he realized he was hungry.

‘Phil is such a great guy, he’s successful, nice and he cooks. Why isn’t he married or something? All this time and I barely gave the guy who’s turned out to be my best friend, and now savior, a thought.’

With that, Tait grabbed a t-shirt and wandered to the kitchen, hoping that whatever was baking would soon be available.

“It smells good in here, Philip.”

Philip turned to see Tait, dressed only in boxers that left little to the imagination, enter into the kitchen. Philip groaned inwardly at his friend’s almost perfect shape and swallowed before saying, “Hey, you’re up. Feeling any better?”

Tait grinned at him, pulled on the shirt, and sat at the kitchen table. He ran his hands over the smooth but uneven top. “Yes, sorry about before. It felt so natural to say his name and then I remembered him ….”

“It’s fine, honestly you don’t need to apologize, Tait. You need to deal with Se … Sean, we can’t pretend he doesn’t exist.”

Philip took the muffins out of the pan and placed four on a plate. He put the warm baked goods next to a cheese board and a dish of butter. They were soon followed a brightly painted sugar bowl, and a matching creamer. Coffee in solid white china mugs were also placed on the table.

“This smells so good, Phil. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” Tait reached for a fresh muffin.

Smiling at his friend, Philip took a muffin and removed the paper liner. “No trouble, I bake them for myself and then freeze them. I can just grab-and-go then.”

Tait buttered the muffin stump, took a bite and chewed. There were things he wanted to know about Sean, but was afraid to ask. Part of him felt that if he didn’t ask, he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Silly, yes but it was how he felt right then.

Philip watched Tait eating; he seemed to be lost in thought. “Tait, don’t forget to take your meds, okay?”

“No, I won’t, I’ve got them.”

Philip saw Tait open his meds dispenser and take the pill. “T, you have anything you want to do over the next few weeks? Not today, but there are things we need to discuss.”

Sighing, Tait asked, “What do we need to talk about, Phil?”

“Look, not today; shit I shouldn’t have said anything. Why don’t we go and do some shopping for you – get out of the house? You could use some clothes, toiletries, shoes, you know. Are you feeling up to that? We can do lunch too.”

“Yes, I feel fine,” Tait replied. “Do I have any money, Phil? I mean I don’t even fucking know that.”

‘I can’t even imagine how he feels,’ thought Philip.

“Tait, when you were in the hospital, the courts authorized a conservatorship. That means I was in charge of your money and decisions about your health and things. So, yes, you do have some money. With the help of a lawyer, we petitioned the courts to help us determine what part of your accounts with Sean was yours.”

The muffin top was buttered and Tait held it up as he listened. He’d not known about any of this. “Thank you. I mean it must have been a lot of work, and I know you’re busy enough.”

“You’re my friend, and well, it’s entirely my fault, isn’t it?” Philip groaned and thought, ‘Ass! Think before you speak!’

Tears formed in Tait’s eyes and he shook his head. “Phil, none of this is your fault. It’s easy to think back and wonder what if I’d done things differently, but you weren’t to know. How could you?”

‘I already knew he could be dangerous, and I could have stopped it but would have been picked up by another publisher. And I wanted the recognition, plus the bonus,’ Phil thought.

“T, I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you.”

The tears didn’t fall but they were there, and Phil pushed down the urge to reach over to wipe them away.

“Let’s go get you some clothes.” Philip got up and collected the dishes. He rinsed them and put them into the half-full dishwasher. Tait went to dress in the only decent clothes he had.

After a quick visit to his own room, Phil went into Tait’s room and said, “I brought you a t-shirt to wear.” He handed Tait a light blue shirt.

“Why Phil? Your stuff is too big for me.” Tait held up the too large shirt.

“I don’t want people to recognize you. So wear that and don’t tuck it in. I’ve got a baseball cap for you too and make sure you have your sunglasses.”

“Geez, Phil. Maybe we shouldn’t go.” Tait looked pale.

“Come on T. It’s going to be okay. We’ll be together and people won’t be looking for you.”

Tait sighed and pulled on the too big shirt which hung off his slimmer frame. He looked down at it and grimaced. “I don’t wear hats, Phil.”

Phil shoved the hat on Tait’s head. “You do now, buddy.”

<<>*<>>

The pair enjoyed their outing and stopped at Phil’s favorite coffee shop for a light lunch. Tait removed the hat and pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head.

When the waiter brought menus and water, he looked twice at Tait but said nothing.

“Thank you.” Philip said to the waiter after he’d put down their water and menus.

Tait took his mid-day pill and chose a Waldorf salad, knowing he needed to start to get back into his healthier routine.

“Hmm, that’s appetizing, T. I think I’ll join you, and have the salad.” Philip said as he browsed the menu.

Smiling, Tait regarded at his friend. “You don’t need to worry about your weight, Phil.”

“Huh, neither do you, yet here we are.”

“We could order burgers instead,” Tait said, hoping Phil would cave in and change his mind.

“Oh, I get it. Okay, you can blame me – fries as well?”

Tait gasped, horrified. “No, of course not – onion rings!”

Philip laughed and lifted his hand to get their waiter’s attention. Tait got up and went to the men’s room. “Order for me, okay Phil?”

“Sure.”

The waiter arrived and took the order. When he’d written it up he said, “Sorry, but is your friend, that model … Adamsen? The one that got beaten up?”

Phil groaned inwardly. “What’s your name?”

“Jimmy, sir.”

“Jimmy, listen. We just want lunch okay? Mr. Adamsen, would rather not have people know he’s here. I know he’d greatly appreciate you keeping this to yourself.”

“Oh, sure, yeah I understand.” Jimmy nodded. “I won’t say anything.”

“I know he’ll thank you for that.” Phil smiled at the young man.

Tait saw the waiter walk away as he slipped into his seat. “Order in? What’s with the waiter?”

“Nothing everything is fine.” Phil made a mental note to tip very generously.

“Okay.” Tait looked at Phil curiously but said nothing.

As they waited for their orders, Tait sat quietly, gazed at his friend, and he spoke quietly, “Phil?”

“Yes, T?”

“I … I want to know ….” Tait blinked, swallowed and took a deep breath. “I want to know about our house.”

‘Shit.’ Philip thought as he scrutinized the man across the table. “Tait, I think we should make an appointment with a lawyer so he can – ”

“Phil, please. Please, you tell me. What’s happening to the house, can I go in?”

Phil said nothing for a few moments. “Okay. Okay I’ll tell you. Right now I’m fairly sure you can’t just go to the house. I wouldn’t let you anyway.”

“Why, Phil? It’s empty right?”

Shaking his head, he reached across the table and touched his friend’s hand. “No, it’s not. Sean’s there.”