The Cockney Canuck - 62. Chapter 62 A Man About a Dog

When I returned from the shower on Tuesday morning Daniel was half-dressed and in a panic.

“Can I borrow a T-shirt from you? Mom hasn’t done my washing.”

I suspected that it was more a case of him not putting his clothes in the washing basket, which he hardly ever did, but I didn’t mind. I told him to take his pick as he searched for a lost piece of homework, which had apparently gone missing from his desk. It was something that happened to him quite a lot, but unlike in the early days, I no longer found it amusing or felt the need to help him search for something that was most likely not lost but hidden under a pile of junk. I had learned from experience that he was best left alone in these situations and calmly got myself dressed, detaching myself from the fast-developing chaos on the other side of the room.

I was becoming quite adept at blocking out potentially stressful situations like these, but my bubble burst the moment he told me I had missed a text message while in the shower. My phone was still on my bedside table, unlocked and unguarded, and although I was almost certain that Daniel would never touch, or answer it without my permission, with so much at stake, it seemed like an unnecessary risk to be taking.

One of the measures that I had recently taken when Nicola-proofing my phone was to change Nathan’s name to Adam. However, the message itself may have provided a clue as to his real identity, and even if it didn’t, there was a good chance that it would contain something that I wouldn’t want him to read. Every text was quickly deleted afterwards, and I usually kept the handset with me at all times, but not when I was in the shower. Nicola was still my biggest threat, but I knew that if Daniel were to get the wind of what was going on before I got up the courage to somehow tell him, it could be catastrophic. I trusted my roommate, but at the same time, I decided that it was foolish to tempt fate, and in future, the phone wouldn’t leave my side.

The text on that occasion proved harmless, and it wasn’t even from Nathan, but Alex, who was reasonably polite by his standards. A simple invitation to meet him at lunchtime. There was no way, of course, that he would ever leave anything that could incriminate him in any way on anyone’s cell phone. I didn’t reply, but I knew that we would have to talk at some stage, and I thought that it was probably better if I did it while he was in an amicable mood and before he returned to the dickhead who usually wore that skin.

After a long and frenetic search, Daniel was able to locate his missing paper, but he had no such problem finding my best t-shirt. I was in the kitchen eating breakfast when he came rushing up the stairs wearing the Tommy Hilfiger, which I had bought when shopping with Nathan only a few weeks ago.

“That’s my new one,” I said.

“You told me to take my pick.”

“Yeah, but not that one.”

“Fine, I’ll go and change it,” he turned to go back downstairs in a huff, but I stopped him.

“Forget it; it’s too late. Just don’t ruin it, or you’re buying me a new one.”

At lunch, I sat with Rory and told him about Friday night. He took it a lot better than I had expected and even showed an interest in going to the show himself.

“I heard that it’s supposed to be good,” he said.

“It is; they’re amazing,” I said excitedly and without thinking it through. He seemed a little surprised by my enthusiasm. Rory, too, was very passionate about the things that he liked, and the most excitable shy person that I had ever met.

“Have you seen it already then?”

“Oh, yeah, I caught one of the rehearsals a few weeks back when I finished early from my extra lesson. It was really cool.”

“Who are you going with?” he asked.

“My uncle and Daniel.”

“Oh, my dad would go with me, but he has to work late on Fridays; I guess I could go on my own,” he said. He took a bite from his sandwich but his doleful eyes never left me, and in the end, I had to laugh.

“Rory, I’ve got an idea,” I said, and I watched his face light up in expectation.

“What?”

“Why don’t you go with Miss Pringle; I hear she’s looking for an escort?”

“Shutup.”

“I’m only joking; you can sit with us if you want?”

“Is that okay?”

“I’m going with my uncle and cousin; it’s not some kind of secret order or something. Of course, it’s okay,” I said. “Besides, you’re more fun than Daniel.” I think that he was a bit surprised by that comment, but he smiled and took it for what it was: a compliment to him rather than a slur against Daniel. My happy-go-lucky cousin was fast turning into an annoying, not-so-little brother, and after nearly half a year of sharing, the gloss was starting to fade a little on our relationship. It was nothing serious, and we still hadn’t had so much as a harsh exchange of words, let alone an argument, but the novelty had worn off now for the both of us. I had Daniel’s easygoing nature to thank for a relatively smooth transition period, but we saw a lot of each other, and I didn’t want to add to it by involving him in my social life, too.

“I suppose it’s not much fun having to hang out with your…brother, or is he still your cousin?” said Rory.

“Both,” I replied and took a gulp of chocolate milk, before nearly gagging on it after his next question.

“So, who’s Nathan?”

“You must know, Nathan?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking.”

“He’s over there.” I pointed to where Nathan was sitting and talking to his friend Ginny, but it was difficult to see properly across the busy cafeteria. “I’m sure you’ll recognise him when you see him up close.”

‘He’s the cutest looking guy in school’.

Rory must have had better eyesight than I did. “Yeah, I thought it was him,” he said before retreating into his shell and studying his sandwich. There was more to come, a question that he was obviously not that comfortable with but needed to ask. “He’s gay, isn’t he?”

“No way,” I said, “are you sure?” It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to turn it into a joke, maybe as a way of deflecting the question and allowing me more time to consider my answer.

It was lost on Rory, though, who had a blank expression, unaware that I was only pulling his leg. “You didn’t know, I thought he was a friend of yours?”

“He is…well, he’s more Daniel’s friend, but I know him…I know him quite well…he’s cool. A really nice bloke. Oh, yeah, of course I know he’s gay, silly; I was just kidding.”

‘That didn’t go so well’.

Rory studied his food for a while, deep in thought and making me nervous. With only the two us at the table, I would have rather he just said what he wanted to say.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“That he’s gay? No, of course not. Why would that bother me? It doesn’t make him any different from anyone else.” I had to put the brakes on, sharp. “Would it bother you?”

He pushed his plate away with half of his sandwich remaining.

‘Obviously enough to put you off your food. Maybe I got Rory wrong’?

“No,” he said.

I stared at him, waiting for him to finish. I needed a little more than that, something that would give a clue as to his leanings, but Rory wasn’t overly talkative at the best of times. When it was a subject that he wasn’t comfortable with, he would clam up.

“What about him anyway? I mean, why did you ask about him?” I said.

“Somebody mentioned his name, that’s all, but I wasn’t sure if it was him or not. He’s in the show, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and he’s good. We’ll talk to him afterwards if you like; he’s funny, I think you’ll like him.” I had a sudden case of déjà vu. I could remember Daniel saying the same thing to me in Don’s car before I had met Nathan.

Rory seemed happy with the change of plans and we arranged to meet up outside before the show so that we could sit together. It meant that our sleepover was put on the back burner, but I agreed to go to his house on Saturday to watch the highlights of the second England game.

It made him happy and when he was happy, it showed a mile away. He wasn’t capable of hiding his emotions, and it was one of the things that I liked most about this already very likeable boy. When he was in that kind of mood, Rory cut it pretty well, and I often found myself staring at him, without even realising it. Nathan, of course, in my books, had him beat, but not by much, and that was the highest compliment that I could give to anyone.

Second to Nathan, wasn’t a bad position to be, and it was a shame that I wasn’t able to tell Rory this at the time, for fear of him taking it the wrong way. I was still unsure about his sexuality, though. Every time I thought I had him sussed, he would say something to make me think again. He was either, totally naïve or leading me a merry dance and having a good laugh at my obvious confusion.

It probably shouldn’t have bothered me that much. I had enough on my hands with Nathan, but Rory intrigued me enough to keep me coming back for more, and once again, he had left me dangling. For someone like me, though—who would no doubt struggle to make the top fifty—it was no hardship having the two hottest boys in school occupying the positions of boyfriend and best friend. It was only my opinion, but even so, I couldn’t have scripted it any better if I had written it myself.

Everything comes at a price, as my mom used to say, and I never appreciated that saying more than when I saw Alex signalling at me to follow him outside. I had already finished my lunch and took a deep breath as I reluctantly cut short my conversation with cute Rory in order to dabble with the dark side. Rory and Alex were complete opposites in almost every way, and even the most amiable conversation with Alex was challenging, and inevitably physical at some point, so I braced myself for the worst.

He put on a charm offensive when he saw me follow him out of the cafeteria with his friendly, lopsided grin that he did so well. It was certainly an improvement on his growling temperament the previous day, and I was hoping that Alex was starting to realise that strong-arm tactics didn’t always work.

It was a theory that was lost on him, though, and I was forced to downgrade any hopes that I had of engaging in a civilised conversation after he put me in a headlock the moment that we left the building. At least he was smiling as he let me go and punched me in the ribs. It was a good sign, it meant we were still friends, which was infinitely preferable to being his enemy.

“Why can’t you just shake hands like anyone else.”

“You want me to shake your fucking hand? I’m not touching your gay hand. I might catch something.”

“Whatever,” I said, shaking my head at the boy who had been quite happy to play with my dick, and never shy of wrestling me to the ground but was too scared to touch my hand. “What do you want then, Alex?”

“You know what I want, jerk.” I was pretty sure that I did, but it wasn’t what he was thinking. “I want you to meet my brother. If you don’t, then he won’t wanna help you, and neither will I. Which means that Jake will probably kick your sorry fucking fag ass into the nearest shit-filled ditch.”

Alex’s colourful vocabulary would put my occasional foul-mouthed rants clearly in the shade, and it made me wonder how many jars of loonies he would fill if he were ever to visit our house.

“Why are you trying so hard to help me?” I said, weighing in immediately with the question that had raised so many warnings. “What do you want in return?”

“I’m doing it because I wanna help you,” he said, “and as fucking stupid as it sounds, I actually like you. I don’t want you to get hurt, man…but there’s no other reason, and you won’t owe me anything.”

It was still difficult for me to trust him, and I continued to eye him with suspicion while I tried to find holes in his attempts to placate me. “I wanna believe you, Alex, but you scare me.”

“How do I fucking scare you,” he said, grabbing my t-shirt and spitting his words into my face.

“Like that,” I said, as he let me go.

“You should fucking know me by now.”

“I do,” I said, “that’s why I’m scared.”

He moved close and lowered his voice. “I know that you’re not scared of me, so that’s bullshit. I wouldn’t hurt you because…I don’t even know why I just wouldn’t…okay? I would never let anyone get away with half the shit that you do. Not even my own family.”

He was right, and despite my words, I really wasn’t that scared of him; I was just a little cautious. However, none of this answered my question, so I prompted him again.

He looked at me and then at the floor, and I braced myself for his reply. I wasn’t sure if he would deliver it verbally or physically. He took me by surprise, though, as he smiled and shook his head.

“I know what you think, okay…I can understand what you’re trying to say, but this isn’t a trick to…you know. I mean, I’m not gonna try to….”

I wanted to hear him say it if only to confirm to myself that I wasn’t going crazy and making this story up. At times that was how it felt, almost like a dream, except dreams were usually more believable.

“What are you trying to say, Alex? Why can’t you ever talk to me about it? I was expecting him to bite my head off, but he looked almost apologetic as he considered his reply.

“I can’t talk about it because it’s not right…you know, what happened...with you. I know it was a shitty thing to do…and I wanna forget about it.” It was strangely unsettling to hear him talk like that, and for a moment, I almost thought that he was going to say sorry. He was on the verge of being humble, and I didn’t quite know how to take that.

“Why don’t you then? You’re the one who wants to talk all the time?”

“I wanna forget about it,” he said, “but it’s not easy when you keep bringing it up, like on the phone on Sunday.”

“It’s not as if it was years ago, Alex; it was only a couple of months back. You might not like it, but it happened, I know it did…I don’t wanna talk about either, and I’m not even blaming you for anything, I just don’t want it to happen again.”

“It won’t, okay? I want us to be cool,” he said, “if it’s okay?” He gave me an apologetic smile that looked out of place on his troubled face and made me feel uneasy. I almost preferred it when he was trying to beat me up.

“I believe you,” I said after about a short silence, and as stupid as it sounded, it was true. I believed that he was sorry for what happened, but I still couldn’t bring myself to trust him.

I stepped back from him as he reached across to rest his hand on my arm and pat me on the arm. It was an instinctive reaction, and he laughed.

“Why are you so jumpy? I’m not gonna hit you.”

“You normally do.”

So he did, connecting with a punch to my shoulder faster than I could react. “What like that,” he said and smiled. “That’s me being nice.”

“Thanks, Alex,” I said, rubbing my shoulder. “I was beginning to think that you no longer cared.”

“Remember, I’m saving your sorry ass, man.” I wanted to laugh at that comment, Alex had done more damage to my sorry ass than anyone, but we weren’t allowed to talk about that.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Make sure that Jake doesn’t find out who he is.” His words grabbed my attention as the conversation strayed into dangerous territory, triggering my defence system.

“Why?” I said. “What have you heard, he doesn’t even know Jake.”

“Whoa, cowboy, slow down. I think I just found your weak spot,” he said, but he dropped his smile. “Don’t let Jake find it.”

That worried me a lot more than our little fling that seemingly had Alex crippled with guilt, but he refused to elaborate on this veiled threat, and I was left with no choice but to allow his dodgy brother to save my bacon in exchange for Alex’s friendship and goodwill. The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded, but he had papered over all the cracks and I was unable to think of a downside to any of this.

It was too early to start nominating him for a Nobel Peace Prize, and I couldn’t picture him in the Sally Army, but I did have to concede that he may just be telling me the truth. As utterly ludicrous as that seemed, it was possible and, therefore, could not be dismissed. I had nothing to lose.

“You gotta promise me now, dude, that you won’t ever mention what happened, ever again,” he said. “Not even to me, not ever. It never happened okay, none of it.”

He couldn’t have made it any clearer, and I was more than happy to agree to his terms, which suited me as well. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about Alex,” I said as straight-faced as I could, and at last, I had said something that he appreciated.

“Cool,” he said, “we’re cool. I can actually see us being buddies in the future, you know that?”

“You can?”

“Sure, if you weren’t such a fucking faggot.” It was a relief, at least, to know that he wasn’t expecting me to hang out with him anytime soon. Being a faggot, exempted me from joining his inner circle, which was good news, but it didn’t prevent him from slugging me in the arm, which wasn’t so pleasing but much easier to live with.

* * * * *

It was later than usual when I called Nathan that evening, and in a break from the norm, I chose to go for a walk, rather than call from the back of the garden.

“Where did you go at lunch today?” he asked. I saw you leave early. Did you go back to the library?”

“No, I think that we’re barred from the library after yesterday.”

“Do you think,” he said giggling, “we probably should be barred from the washrooms too?”

Just hearing him mention the previous afternoon’s sexy encounter in the school toilets sent my pulse racing. “That was really hot,” I said as I waved to one of our neighbours, who was out walking her dog.

“I know,” he said, “we would’ve been in big trouble if we had been caught.” It was stating the obvious.

“You think? We probably would have been expelled for doing that. You surprised me, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I didn’t have it in me, but maybe next time, huh?”

“Bloody hell, what happened to the shy boy that I knew. I’ve created a monster. I told you what would happen, didn’t I? Once you try it, you can’t leave it alone. Now you’re dragging me into public toilets and talking about…well, you know.?”

“Fucking,” he said loudly, and I glanced around me, even though I was the only person now on the sidewalk and the nearest house was probably fifty feet away.

“Well, I definitely owe you one after yesterday,” I said. “But it won’t be what you’re thinking…it’ll still be good, though.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“You know there’s no reason why we can’t stay late again tomorrow after school.”

“No way, we can’t do that again.”

“Sure we can, no one’s gonna know, we proved how easy it is.” He sounded as if he was considering it, so I honed in. “Don’t you want me to pay you back? I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“I know I’ll enjoy it,” he said, “now stoppit; you’re getting me all worked up.”

“I can solve that problem for you tomorrow,” I said. He was already faltering, and I was sure that he would collapse after some more friendly persuasion tomorrow. In the meantime, I was happy to hear him change the subject to something that wasn’t going to impair my ability to walk along the street in loose-fitting shorts.

“So, where did you go today at lunch?” he asked me again.

“I had to go see a man about a dog,” I said, using an old English term used to describe suspicious activity. It was lost on Nathan, though, who, despite the odd lesson or two from me in cockney, still lacked proficiency in the lingo.

“What dog?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll explain later.”

“Are you really getting a dog?” he asked.

“No, are you?”

“No.”

“So why did you ask?”

“Because you said you had to see someone about a….”

“Dog,” I finished for him. “Yeah, I did, but when I said a dog, I didn’t mean an actual real life, woof, woof, dog. That would be silly.”

“Of course it would,” he said, mocking me, “so is it slang?”

“Kinda.”

“What does it mean then?”

“It can mean anything.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Okay, so going to see someone about a dog….”

I stopped him. “Uh, uh, going to see a man about a dog.”

There was a brief silence on the phone, and I wondered if we had been cut off until I heard him sigh. It was as if he had suddenly realised that I was truly barmy after all, and I wondered what had taken him so long to reach that conclusion.

He cleared his throat. “So going to see a man about a dog can mean absolutely anything at all.”

“Anything except going to see a man about a dog,” I added, and he growled in frustration.

“You English are crazy.”

“It makes perfect sense to me,” I said.

“Because you’re one of them.”

“Nathan, if you wanna talk like a cockney, then you first have to think like a Cockney, and that means forgetting everything that you’ve ever learnt in the past.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, and any logic or common sense because that’s the last thing you need. It’ll fuck with your mind, and you won’t understand a thing. Get it?”

“It kinda makes sense, I suppose,” he said, but that was a straight fail.

“Well, it shouldn’t because nothing makes sense in Cockney. I’m afraid you’ve still got a lot to learn, mate.”

I could hear him letting out a long, deep breath. “It’s no good,” he said, “this Cockney language is just too difficult. I’m afraid I’ll never be as stupid as you, Robbie.”

“Never mind, young Nathan, there are plenty of less challenging vocations out there. We can’t all have shit-for-brains; maybe you’ll end up a doctor or scientist.”

“You think?”

“Ah huh, most of them are failed Cockneys you know.” He laughed at my ridiculous comment but kept it going, nevertheless.

“Like Einstein, you mean?”

“Good example. He may have understood the time and motion thingy, but he was hopeless when it came down to the apples and pears.” He laughed again, and then there was another break in the conversation, but I could hear him breathing softly, and I kept the phone to my ear as I turned the corner at the edge of town for the long walk home.

“Robbie,” he said.

“I’m still here.”

“Good, because I really love you, you know?”

I stopped walking and stared at the phone. I hadn’t expected that, and maybe he didn’t either, but I could tell that he meant it, and it sent shivers down my spine as I repeated his words in my head.

“That was really cool, Nathan, but totally out of context.”

“Not for me, it wasn’t. I keep thinking stuff like that all the time, and I go all soppy, but it’s true. I mean it, I really do love you, okay. And I know it sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Some people would think so, but they don’t understand and maybe they never felt like this, but I don’t wanna scare you, I just wanted you to know that I love you so much, okay?”

“I’m totally cool with that, Nathan; believe me, I am.”

“You’re not gonna laugh at me?”

“Laugh! Fuck no.”

“Honestly?”

“Of course not, I love you too, more than I can fucking put into words.”

“You say the nicest things; that was so beautiful.”

“It was?”

“No…but I still love you.”

“Pucker, I think that you’re gonna make it as a cockney after all!”

* * * * *

I told Sue on Wednesday morning that I wouldn’t be catching the school bus home that afternoon. With only a few days remaining before the summer break, I wanted to make use of the school facilities to finish off a few projects that I had promised to take care of. She was pleased by my new-found diligence and happy to see me taking an interest in my schoolwork. My good grades were proof of my continued improvement, and I seemed to be pleasing all the right people, especially Nathan, who was the main beneficiary of my hard work after school that day. He didn’t take a lot of persuading when I asked him to stay late to help me study in the library, and by the time it closed and the school was almost empty, he was the one leading the way back to our favourite stall, in boy’s washrooms.

I took care of things, all right, and it was a happy ending for my boyfriend, who was able to complete his work in a reasonable amount of time and without damaging my eyesight. We made it out of there just as the cleaners were arriving, and we laughed all the way to the bus stop. The thrill of engaging in such a blatant sexual act in the middle of the school was fast becoming addictive, and as I sat grinning on the bus home, I was already making plans for our next after-school lesson. It wasn’t the most hygienic of locations to be shoving things in my mouth, but it was incredibly exciting, and after counting down the days for so long, I was now starting to resent the approaching school holidays.

* * * * *

I arrived home just in time to see Daniel falling backwards off his skateboard, and I feared the worst when I saw him curled up on the driveway, grimacing in pain.

I knelt down quickly to reassure him and to make sure that he hadn’t damaged my Hilfiger before running into the house to fetch Sue. When she followed me out, he was already back on his feet, nursing cuts on his arm and knee, but thankfully, no broken bones.

“Don’t get any blood on my t-shirt,” I told him as I followed him into the kitchen. There was already a mark on the back of it, and it was one of my favourites.

“I’ll try not to die in it,” he said.

“I don’t care if you die in it, just don’t bleed on it.”

“Leave him alone,” said Sue swatting me away with her hand. “You should be wearing elbow and knee pads,” she said to Daniel, but we all knew that wouldn’t happen. At least he was wearing a shirt, even if it was mine.

Sue always seemed to relish an opportunity to show her nursing skills and was quick to patch him up and send him on his way. I knew those Band-Aids would be coming off as soon as he escaped her care, and so did his shorts the moment the bedroom door was closed behind us.

During the warm summer months, those shorts were often the only thing keeping him decent, and as I spun around in my chair to face him, I found myself staring at his formidable appendage. I wasn’t overly concerned by something that I had seen more times than I could count, but I was worried about my Hilfiger. “Can you take off my t-shirt?”

“I dunno, is it safe to be naked in front of you?”

It was an odd comment to make, but I shrugged it off as he pulled the garment over his head and threw it at me.

“You can put that thing away as well,” I said, pointing to his dick.

He laughed. “You’re just jealous,” he said, surprising me with his bravado. He rarely talked about stuff like that, even though he was quite happy to show plenty of skin to all and sundry.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Because I’m bigger than you, I suppose,” he said and chuckled. He had a good point, and it was one that I knew I wouldn’t be able to argue. He didn’t need a tape measure to prove his superior length; only a blind man would have disputed it, and he had seen me enough times to know exactly what I was packing.

I decided to change tactics. “Have you been looking at me, Daniel? That’s kinda gay, isn’t it?”

He didn’t bite, it wasn’t necessary for him to prove his heterosexuality, we both knew that he was as straight as they come. He had turned down an offer from Nathan to fool around when they were younger, and that was a truly remarkable feat that proved his case beyond doubt.

Unfazed by my defence and seemingly unwilling still to cover himself, I was forced to fall back on the trusty little quip that every male uses when compromised in that way. “It’s not the size that matters; it’s what you do with it, mate.”

If I had to surrender to him on size; I still had him well beaten on usage, and we were able to reach a temporary truce over bragging rights in our ongoing rivalry. There were times when I quite enjoyed the sight of Daniel's landing gear, but with the taste of Nathan still in my mouth, I had had my fill of them that day and found it difficult to hold a serious conversation, with that thing swinging victoriously in front of him.

I knew that it was normal behaviour for two boys of similar age to compare their bits, and it meant nothing. If anything, I considered it a barometer of how far we had progressed from the early days of my arrival in the Taylor household.

We may have shared the occasional bath together when we were very young, but when I moved into his room eleven years later, we were total strangers. That was less than six months ago, but now it felt as if I had known him all my life. It was good for us and great publicity for Don, who was always keen to show off his family as the perfect working model. It was good for business, for his image, and most of all, for the people who he worked so hard to impress. Public officials mainly, like the chief of police, the mayor, and even the principal at our school. He knew them all and wasn’t shy to ask a favour when he needed to.

I had benefitted from Don’s influence on my first day at Stephenson, when the principal, Mr Andrews, had waded in to prevent me from being dropped back a year. I knew that it worked both ways, and I wasn’t surprised, therefore when I heard that Don had invited the principal and his new wife to dinner on Saturday.

Daniel had long since covered his tackle with a pair of boxer shorts when Nicola came knocking on the door to break the news of the impending visit. He groaned at the prospect and Nicola wasn’t exactly overjoyed, but I had a sneaky feeling that it was going to be me who would undergo the most scrutiny.

It wasn’t going to be bad, though, I was expecting more praise than criticism, especially from Andrews, who had taken a shine to me from the very beginning. It was also clear that despite letting him down on occasion, Don viewed me as a success story and, therefore, a useful asset to have at his disposal over the dinner table. He knew how to embellish a story, and my one had a fairy-tale ending, which I was apparently already living happily ever after. It was a story, though, that wasn’t complete and there were chapters which he hadn’t read and probably wouldn’t want to. I was convinced that when the time came, and the news broke of my extra-curricular studies with Nathan, my recent rise in the popularity stakes would take a sudden and dramatic nose-dive of kamikaze proportions.