Life's Decisions - 1. The Story

“Hi, Aisha. Would you let Don know I'm gonna be late? Bloody traffic …” A frustrated, light tenor voice. “Yeah, I know. … Thanks, you're a star.”

Liam Kendrick rolled his eyes, then returned to reading his book. Yet another excuse overheard, and he'd lost his thread again. The joys of commuting by bus. It was forecast to be another hot, sunny day. The return trip home would be hell.

No sooner had he resumed reading, than Liam was distracted once more.

“Yeh know, I told the bastard if 'e ever came near me again, I'd 'ave the police on 'im.” A loud, shrill female voice which penetrated the surrounding miasma of noise with ease.

Liam glanced up from his book to see who it was.

“'e never gave us no money. 'owa Jayden an' me meant t' survive? Can't live off the Social …”

A pasty-faced young woman was sitting in the buggy area, ignoring the grizzling toddler next to her. Liam's twenty years of commuting told him the kid would start yelling pretty soon if his mother didn't take some notice of him.

Liam shook his head slightly. Why was it everyone apart from him seemed to be inseparable from their phones? Didn't it bother them that everyone else heard their business? Descriptions of sexual exploits? He winced. Ailments, as well. Others blithely giving out their names and addresses without a care in the world, and anything else in-between. Liam scratched under the collar of his short-sleeved shirt and picked up his book again.

His co-workers thought he was weird for preferring to read a book, an actual, physical volume borrowed from a library. It made perfect sense to him. Most of his working day was spent in front of a computer screen. Why should he want to spend even more time doing the same? And anyway, he liked the feel of a book, the sheer heft and physicality of it somehow added to his enjoyment. Isaac Asimov. Something to take him away from the stale, grim reality of his life.

Liam fiddled with his wedding ring. Not everything was grey. There were a few hidden, snatched encounters. Furtive, virtually anonymous. Delicious. They didn't involve money. Never that. They were outlets for a part of him otherwise ignored. His spouse would undoubtedly see it as cheating; he saw it as something to relieve the pressure inside of him. Otherwise, Liam knew at some point he would explode.

The sodding bus wasn't even moving. Three lanes of traffic going nowhere. Liam stared out of the window. As usual, no sign of a hold-up. Just too many people preferring to drive to work rather than using public transport. He allowed enough time, unlike his fellow passengers who were variously bleating their excuses all around him.

Liam gave up on his book, starting instead to think about the day's work. It couldn't be as bad as the day before. Some idiot contractor had managed to sever one of the main data cables crossing through the city centre. Inevitably it had cut out large parts of the city council's IT systems. The shit had continued to hit the fan for most of the day despite a global message being sent out. Liam rubbed his eyes. Of course, the contractors had fixed things after most people had left for the day. Hopefully they'd be back to the usual forgotten passwords and software issues.

Twenty minutes later, the bus finally reached its next stop on the outskirts of the city centre. As it came to a halt, Liam looked up. There were twenty or so fed-up commuters standing there, waiting to get on their already crowded vehicle. Great. It was turning into a vintage morning. He watched idly as they forced their way on, squeezing past other standing passengers who weren't going to give up their precious space in a hurry. There was nobody out of the ordinary until he saw a young man, casually dressed, talking hurriedly into his phone.

“I'm not at work yet 'cause the traffic's been at a standstill. … No, honestly. Then we were told to get off the first bus, and I've only just managed to get on another. … Stephen, please. You'll see in a minute. My tracker will start moving again.”

Tracker? Liam's mouth opened in astonishment. That was a new one. He looked more closely. Medium height, dark brown hair styled in a modern pompadour with the shaved sides, and a toned body. Or so it appeared under his light clothing. What made Liam draw in breath were his eyes – again dark brown, lustrous with their long lashes and framing, strong eyebrows. God, they were gorgeous. He could lose himself in those. Only currently, they were wide-open with alarm as the young man attempted to convince whoever Stephen was, that he wasn't making things up.

“Stephen, look at the traffic reports, please. They'll tell you exactly the same. … Yeah, of course, I'll be back on time. … Love you too.”

Book now put away, Liam's gaze kept on flickering in the young man's direction. He wiped his forehead with apparent relief before putting his phone away in his small backpack. Then the young man reached into a pocket and produced another phone, older, with a much smaller screen, and started to tap away. Curiouser, and curiouser. Liam frowned. What kind of relationship entailed that level of control? Bloody hell. Just as well his own phone didn't have a tracker.

Liam felt a sudden wave of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature inside the bus. Before his thoughts could go anywhere else, Liam realised his stop was fast approaching. He got up and started squeezing himself through the press of passengers. Being slim and fairly compact had its advantages sometimes. Once off the bus, Liam brushed himself down, then started walking briskly towards another working day.

A couple of days later, Liam was standing at one of the bus stops in the main retail area of the city. He'd done a couple of errands after work and was clutching two additional bags as a result. The good weather had deteriorated into a humid, overcast day, together with the inevitable thunderstorms. Everything was dripping, including him. Liam plucked at the kagoul he was wearing, trying to get it away from his skin, and allow some air in. Fashionable, it wasn't, but it did the job of keeping the wet out.

It had been another tedious, aggravating day with people asking things they should've been able to sort for themselves. Genuine enquiries had been thin on the ground. Liam flexed his shoulders and back, trying to eliminate some of the stress. Still, he had something to look forward to which would help with that. He took his phone out, his second phone, unlocked it, and checked the app again for messages. Nope, it looked as though doe-eyedken was still on for later. Good.

Liam shuffled to one side so that other people could pass through the ever-increasing mob of damp, impatient commuters. He was dying for a vigorous, satisfying fuck. Would it just be a quick one? He hoped not – a few minutes spent cuddling in the after-glow would be good, as would some warm-up time. Liam felt in his trouser pocket for the condoms. One of the bags held the lube, along with the toothpaste and shower gel which were his reasons for going to the shop. Whatever the other guy said, if he didn't agree to condoms, the whole thing would be off. Liam pursed his lips. Blue-balled as he was, it wasn't worth the risk.

As usual, he'd arranged the meet for the foyer of his local leisure centre. It was busy most evenings after work. If someone noticed him leaving with another man, it would be easy enough to say they were going to one of the pubs close by. A short time spent swimming to establish his alibi, then a quick, thorough shower, and he'd be ready. Other weeks, he had a proper swim and did some weights. He had to keep looking good. They wouldn't be going to his place. The other man had offered his flat, and the necessary transport to get there. Liam had no worries about getting back – he'd already checked the general area and he wasn't that far from the main road.

Looking again at the timetable feed, Liam saw a bus was due. He started to ease himself carefully through the throng, aiming for a good position. Not at the front, but close enough to hopefully guarantee a downstairs seat. Who thought that the British still queued? Not at bus stops anyway. His 'unofficial' phone was getting low, and he needed one of the in-seat chargers to give it a boost. He couldn't have it dying on him at an awkward time. Getting into a small gap that had opened up, Liam noticed who was stood in front of him. The young man from before.

That hairstyle was pretty distinctive, as was the horizontally-striped jacket. To Liam's experienced eye, that jacket looked to have been sourced abroad. He wasn't quite sure what it was about it, but he'd bet on it not being sold in the UK. Colour combination, perhaps? The other man was talking rapidly into his phone, turning his body in to try and keep the conversation private. However, at various times, his youthful tones rose in pitch and volume, allowing Liam to overhear snatches.

“Why don't you believe me, Stephen? You never believe me.” Indignation, almost anger.

But nervousness as well. Liam had moved slightly by this juncture, the better to see the young man side-on. It was almost as if he'd regretted what he'd said as soon as it was out of his mouth. And after the outburst, came the reaction. Phone held tightly to his ear, he paled visibly as Liam watched.

When he started to speak again, the young man kept his voice down. Liam saw the pleading well enough without needing to hear. The hand holding the phone was trembling slightly. There was something wrong about that relationship. The control, suspicion. Threats? How did people get themselves into such a position? His own life was far from straightforward. But that? Liam shook his head. To him, that was abuse.

Just as the long-promised bus was pulling in, Liam heard one last wail.

“I haven't spoken to anyone, Stephen. I'm at the stop. It's another problem with the buses. Look! Please?”

After a moment or two, the other man then held his phone up as if he was filming. Presumably it was a live feed going straight to his wanker of a … boyfriend? Husband? God, what a life.

As the bus continued along its route out to the suburbs, the crowd of commuters gradually thinned out. Liam spread himself out more in his seat and moved cramped limbs. He'd been hemmed in by a large, exuberant African woman and her shopping trolley. His book remained in his bag. Even if he'd been able to get at it, the woman's laughter and full-throttle chatter would've meant him giving up. She sounded as though she was enjoying life regardless. Liam looked out of the window with a sour expression. There were some small parts of his life he'd miss, but they were far outweighed by the rest.

He took note of the next stop announcement – going to the leisure centre meant getting off two stops earlier. Another fifteen minutes or so. Liam took his wedding ring off and placed it in one of the inner compartments of his workbag. He always did it when he was going swimming, but it was doubly necessary that evening. It was obvious enough he wore one – the pale band of skin was a giveaway – but at least it wasn't there, catching his eye, as he fucked some stranger.

Was his phone charged? It was a cheap, pay-as-you-go job – no registration, no potentially incriminating monthly payments. Disposable, if push came to shove. He was just like the young man with the gorgeous eyes in that respect. They were both conducting hidden lives. Cheating on their partners on one level or another.

Liam uncoupled the charger, then looked up again. Suddenly he noticed who was sitting on the seat opposite him – the young man. He was talking again, this time into his old Nokia lookalike. Liam started listening in shamelessly, though it only took a few words for him to realise the conversation wasn't in English.

“Cześć, Mamo. Jak się masz?” ... “Czuję się dobrze. Pracuję ciężko jak zawsze. Czy dostałaś pieniądze które ci wysłałem?” ¹

Polish? Something like that. What was it like being gay in Poland? Was that why he'd come to England? Liam remembered reading a survey somewhere online. Poland had been listed as one of the worst EU countries for LGBTQ rights. Liam listened more intently, which was daft, because he was still none the wiser. However, the lad's body language and the smile on his face suggested a loved one, someone he missed. His mum? Liam thought he recognised the word for mum or something similar.

“Tęsknię za tobą i Tatą.” … “Żałuję, że nie możecie tu przyjechać odwiedzić mnie.” … “Nie myśle, że to będzie możliwe.” ²

Liam caught a glint of tears in the other man's eyes. Homesick? Or just wishing he was away from 'Stephen'? He was prevented from eavesdropping any further by his own phone starting to ring. His real one, not the other. Getting it out of his kagoul pocket, he saw who it was. Liam sighed, then accepted the call.

“Hi …”

"Did you get the toothpaste?"

“Yes. And the replacement pair of school trousers for Ryan.”

"Hope you got the right size. They're needed for tomorrow."

Liam rubbed his eyes. This was vintage Kath. Straight in with the questions, no 'hello' or anything. She sounded her usual bad-tempered, harrassed self.

“Yes, love.”

"When are you gonna be back?"

Liam absent-mindedly tapped his ring finger on the seat. “It's Thursday, Kath. My gym night.”

"Can't you give it a miss for once? I told Ryan you'd help him with his maths homework."

“No, I can't. I've had a pig of a day and I need the workout. Can't you help him? You know as much about maths as I do.”

"He's your son as much as mine. And you're not the only one who's had a shit day. …"

As his wife continued with her complaints, Liam felt a trickle of sweat dribble down between his pecs, on towards his stomach. Fucking weather. To his relief, the next stop was his. Standing up in a hurry, Liam grabbed all the bags with his free hand.

“Sorry, Kath. I've gotta go. My stop. I'll help Ryan tomorrow when you're out at church, like I always do.”

"Hnh. See you later then."

“Yeah.”

Liam cut the call, pocketed the phone, and lurched down towards the front of the slowing bus. Kath could help Ryan, or not. It was her choice. It had been a couple of months since his last encounter – no way was he giving it up.

Rob Capstick sat on the edge of his seat in the leisure centre's café, an undrunk mug of coffee at his elbow. What was he doing there? It was the first time someone had taken any serious notice of his online profile. How long since he'd last hooked up with someone? Before Jonathan. As usual, Jonathan's name made him sigh. Though why, for fuck's sake? Jonathan was the one who screwed up. Who'd had a bit on the side for the final two years they were together. Yet he still missed him. Rob chewed that over. No … he missed being with someone. The companionship, laughter, support. Just another person being there.

He was too old and frankly too staid for the club scene. So doe-eyedken was born. That had taken him three months before he'd found the courage to sign up. The name was no more stupid than any of the others he'd seen. No 'dick' or 'cock' for him. Rob looked round the café and the foyer area once again. What did he expect to see? A man with a large sign, an arrow, perhaps? Then his thoughts were interrupted.

“Evening, Rob. Haven't seen you here in a long time.”

Rob's heart was pounding as he recognised one of his former gym partners.

“Err … No. I've been off the idea of exercising recently.”

The other man shrugged. “It happens. You're still looking trim, though.”

“I walk when I can. Other things as well.”

“Good for you. See you around.”

“Yeah, maybe. Bye.”

As the other man moved away, Rob took a deep breath. Why hadn't he thought that his 'date' might be someone he knew, however superficially? He'd posted a head-shot, but his date hadn't. Jesus … To calm himself, he ran through what he'd done at home. The bed had fresh linen, there were additional clean towels, and he'd cleaned the bathroom. Really scrubbed it, rather than the surface skim he performed when it got too bad. It was all presentable. Rob chewed a finger briefly, then downed the mug of coffee in a couple of gulps without thinking.

Immediate, open-mouthed gasping resulted.The liquid was still hot enough to singe his tongue and the back of his throat. A croaked 'Fuck!' escaped.

“You should take more care. The coffee's lethal enough when drunk properly.” Amused tone.

Rob straightened up to see another man, fresh from the shower, standing by his table. His reddish hair and swimmer's physique put him on alert. Was this it? He didn't know how to ask, to check.

The other man beat him to it. “So, you Ken?”

Rob gulped. “Err … Yeah. Hi. You're redswimguy?”

The other man nodded. “John.” He sat down opposite him.

Something made Rob think that was no more his name than he was Ken.

“D'you want a drink or something?”

“No, I'm fine. A couple of things before we go any further.”

Rob raised his eyebrows.

“We use condoms, or it's off.”

Rob nodded.

“No photos, filming, or otherwise posting images on social media.”

Video? Rob blinked. “Yeah, no problem.” He risked a question. “Filming?”

The other man scowled. “One bastard thought he'd try creating his own porno. Soon as I realised, I was out the door in no time. Fortunately, we hadn't got anywhere.”

Rob coughed. “So that didn't put you off the whole thing?” He would've deleted the app immediately.

The other man snorted. “If you can't look after yourself, and take the rough with the smooth, then hook-ups aren't really for you.”

Rob debated with himself for a moment. “Err … I'm not very experienced with this whole dating app thing.”

A short bark of laughter. “It's got bugger all to do with 'dating'.”

Disappointment leaked into Rob's heart. He had hoped otherwise. His companion stood up – he was evidently in charge.

“Right … Let's make a move. I can't be late back.”

An instinctive rejoinder of 'Why not?' remained unsaid. They didn't need to know anything about each other. It wasn't quite having sex in a toilet somewhere, but it wasn't far off.

“Sure.” Rob tried to sound bright.

As they left the café, Rob kept ahead of his 'date', but he soon caught up and they walked along together as if they were mates.

“Err … the car's just out front, in the car park.”

Rob sensed the other man looking sideways at him. He flushed slightly. Now was not a good time for nervous gabbling. He kept his mouth shut until they were outside, and there indeed was his battered, silver hatchback.

Sweating profusely and panting, Liam lay on top of the other man for a few seconds before disengaging carefully. Keeping hold of the condom, he rolled over onto his back, still panting.

“OK?” The other man sounded unsure.

“Oh, yeah. God, I needed that.”

Liam stirred, pulled off the condom, tied it up and threw it in the wastebin.

Meanwhile the other man was cleaning himself up with a washcloth. He cleared his throat. “Ehm … If you'd like to have a shower, there's a clean towel.”

Liam had flopped back down on the bed. “Thanks. In a minute.” He was still recovering from his orgasm, and the flat was swelteringly hot.

After a short time, he rolled over onto his side to face his sex partner. Liam reached out and stroked his companion's chest and nipples. The man's fair skin was still flushed – right down to his stomach, and it looked so sexy. He'd let himself go a little. No real muscle definition, but then nobody was perfect.

“You enjoy that?”

Liam was pleased with the other man. An experienced sex partner was an added bonus. Even if he was a bit rusty. They both knew how to make the sex pleasurable for the other.

The other man smiled. “Yes, it was great. … I wasn't sure I would.”

Liam's eyes asked his question.

“Ah … The whole casual sex thing? It's going to take some getting used to. If I decide to continue with it, that is.” A brief hesitation. “Could we … cuddle for a minute or two? I miss the skin-on-skin contact.”

Was the other man out of a long-term relationship? Something like that. It would explain the gaucheness when it came to app fucking.

“Yeah. Why not? I enjoy a cuddle.”

Liam stretched out for his jacket and found his phone. He still had a few minutes left before he needed to leave. Moving closer, he half lay over the other man, head nestled on his shoulder. They both relaxed, touching and stroking, not needing to say anything.

Finally, Liam broke the spell. He sat up. “I've gotta go. Just time for quick shower.”

“OK.”

Before he got up, Liam gave his sex partner a brief, thank you kiss on the cheek. He gathered his clothes, conscious of the other man's gaze, and headed off to the bathroom.

Later the same evening, Liam lay in his own bed, listening to his wife having an argument with Ryan. Rule infractions were one of many things that got her going. From what he could hear through the door, Ryan had been using his computer out of hours again. Quite why Kath was getting so worked up, he didn't understand. It wasn't as if their son could be watching porn or otherwise getting himself into trouble. He'd seen to Ryan's computer himself. Liam fidgeted. Should he get up and give Kath some added firepower? No … His son already regarded him as the big, bad wolf, brought in to dispense final warnings and punishments.

As he filtered out their voices, Liam allowed himself to replay parts of his earlier encounter. Risky. Suddenly the bedroom door opened. Liam hastily put his thoughts aside. Kath marched in and made a bee-line for the en-suite, just passing a comment on the way before she shut the bathroom door.

“Thanks for your help and support.”

The sarcasm wasn't a surprise. Liam waited for his opportunity to reply – he wasn't going to yell.

After a moment though, Kath was back out, toothbrush in hand. “Why do I feel I'm bringing up Ryan on my own most of the time?”

Liam bristled. He sat up and glared at his wife. “That's rubbish, and you know it is. I work hard to provide for us all …”

“And what does that make my job then? A hobby?” Flared nostrils gave a hint of real anger.

“No. No, of course not …” Kath worked part-time in the local supermarket.

“Hnh!” Turning on her heel, she returned to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Fuck! … Liam rubbed his eyes. Yet another unresolved argument to add to the ever-growing list. Somehow, they'd stopped communicating, and he had no idea how to change that. The hidden part of his life, his sexuality, created a barrier before anything else was factored in. But surely he and Kath should be able to have a civilised conversation? Talk about things that mattered to them as a family. Back to his sexuality again. God … No wonder he felt trapped. Liam tried to shut down that line of thought. Tomorrow was another work day, and he knew from experience that thoughts of that nature meant a sleepless night.

He sighed, and attempted to ease the tightening band round his skull by some impromptu cranial massage. So much for the earlier fuck. Liam lay down with his back to the bathroom, and Kath. He turned off the bedside light. Despite his resolution, thoughts and desires swirled round. The man named Ken. What would living with him be like? He seemed nice enough. What would happen if he tried being openly gay? Abandoning Kath … Would he be able to see Ryan?

A couple of weeks later, Liam was hurrying for the bus. He was late. Yet another disagreement with Kath over breakfast. Somehow, neither of them was available later to attend Ryan's parents' evening. It was his turn, but a compulsory after-work training session ruled him out. Had he told Kath? He could've sworn he did. Maybe he'd assumed Kath could just drop everything and take his place. That was the basis of their argument. Liam felt a twinge of guilt. There was a lot of truth in that. Kath had taken on an extra shift that she was unable to change at such short notice. They needed the money for Christmas. A great start to the day, and he would be coming home late to continuing recriminations.

It was another warm, sunny day. Not that it suited his mood. Instead of his usual stroll through the leafy side streets, he was striding along the main road, breathing in all the traffic fumes. As he rounded a corner, Liam noticed two men ahead of him, walking in the same direction. His eye was immediately caught by the jacket worn by the slighter one of the pair. Coincidence or what? It was the young man again, wearing his striped, instantly recognisable garment. Liam kept his eyes focussed on the two men. So, was that 'Stephen' with him? They were holding hands, but not like lovers. Liam was reminded of his childhood, his mother almost dragging him along to the dentist.

What on Earth? Liam attempted to gain ground, but the pair abruptly turned left into a side street. And his bus was approaching. Liam had to run to catch it.

Once settled, Liam's thoughts returned to what he'd seen. His imagination got to work. What might cause a man, young though he might be, to almost literally drag his feet? Was he being forced to do something? Or have something done to him? Like what? Liam's knowledge of the gay universe and its constituent subcultures wasn't great – he shared the laptop at home with Kath. Tattoos? Piercings? Something the dominant man wanted for his … lover? And he clearly expected to get his way. Liam winced. 'Lover' was hardly the right word. From the little he'd gleaned, the relationship appeared painfully unequal.

That thought led back to Kath and his assumptions. He would have to try harder. Mend at least some of bridges between them. As Liam hunched up in his seat to let another passenger sit next to him, his thoughts returned to his last sex encounter. Who was 'Ken'? It was odd – normally he was fine not thinking about his partners, but the grey-eyed ingénue had reappeared several times, both as wank material, and more generally. Yes, the sex had been great. Had they clicked? Liam thought in retrospect, the answer might be 'yes'. That was the only explanation that fitted. Immediately, he had a vision of the other man, stretched out, naked, flushed from their combined orgasms. His cock stirred.

Liam sighed noisily. The woman sitting next to him glanced sideways and inched closer to the aisle. Why did his brain do this to him? What he should be thinking about was arranging a rare evening out with Kath. Part apology, part getting them to talk to each other. Or that was the hope. Ryan had been agitating for a sleep-over with some of his classmates, so it would kill two birds with one stone. Would Kath respond? With another sigh, he reached into his bag and got out his phone. It had been so long since he'd booked a restaurant, he'd almost forgotten how.

Kath was staring aimlessly out of the taxi's window when it started to slow. It saved them having to make conversation, but also didn't bode well. Liam chewed his bottom lip. Kath started to take note of the shopfronts as it became clear they'd arrived.

“What?!” Her head swung round, eyes glaring at him. “Your idea of a night out is eating at The Star of India?”

Liam was taken aback. “They do great food. You know they do. A good choice, I thought.”

“Oh, yeah?” A look of disbelief. “I hate curries.”

“Since when?” Liam was lost.

“How many times have we been here with your parents? Too many. Yeah, you all love it. I fucking hate it.”

Liam's stomach sank. Oh, god. “Err … we haven't been for a while. Let's at least have a look at the menu. They do proper Indian cuisine – not just curries. I'm sure we'll find something you'll like.”

Kath continued to stare at him for moment before jerking her head in the direction of the taxi driver. Liam grimaced. Typical. Of course he'd been listening in. Liam handed over his debit card. Kath got out, leaving the door open. The card was soon given back.

“Hope you both have a great evening.”

The smirk that accompanied the jaunty comment made Liam's blood boil.

Kath had stalked over to the restaurant window and was staring at the menu by the time Liam caught up. Was there …? Yes. Liam breathed a sigh of relief.

“Look, there are dahls, pakoras, and several other things. OK?”

He started to shepherd his wife inside.

“I still think you should've let me choose. Instead of assuming.”

“It was a surprise.”

“Hnh. Yeah.”

The maître-d approached. Liam cleared his throat.

“Err … Hi. I've booked? Kendrick's the name.”

As they were being shown to their table, Liam sent up a prayer. He wasn't hopeful it would be answered.

The unaired sheets of the spare bed were clammy, even in the summer heat. Liam lay there, reliving the events of the past few hours. The food was great, really well cooked. However it did nothing to conceal the banality of their conversation. When they did talk. Otherwise they both let the Cobra beer take the place of anything meaningful. So much for his idea of clearing the air. Why didn't he have the guts to make them both talk about what mattered?

Their uneasy truce lasted until they got home. Liam stared at the ceiling in frustration. Bloody typical … If an attractive man wandered past, as if by magic, he'd spring a semi. His wife? No chance. The alcohol had made her feel sexy, and she'd come on to him for the first time in … months, certainly. Years? Nothing she did produced any effect on his cock which stayed completely limp. A drunken row had ensued with Kath making accusations of adultery. So, here he was. Banished. Hopefully, come the morning, cooler heads would see sense. If only for Ryan's sake.

That made him pause. Back to the question of him being gay. Somehow, when he was still experimenting, he'd got Kath pregnant. A shotgun marriage had followed – her Catholic family had made it very clear that was the least expected. If it'd just been the two of them, then maybe he would've said something before. But his son made things more difficult … Liam sighed. Other people apparently managed to thrive in complex familial situations. Why couldn't he? Or was it, he thought Kath wouldn't put up with it if he made his situation clear.

The man called Ken stole back into his thoughts. That image … Liam came to a sudden decision. For the first time ever, he wanted to see one of his hook-ups again. Might they get to know something real about themselves next time? Like, their names, for a start. The image reappeared yet again, and one of him fucking his sex partner, stiffening with his oncoming climax. That sexual high. Immediately, copious amounts of blood found its way back into Liam's cock. How long would he be able to live like this? After a moment, he got out of bed and found his disposable phone. He opened the app and started typing.

A couple of days later, Rob Capstick was fumbling in his pocket for coins. He could hear the frustrated tutting from people behind him, impatient to get on the bus.

“Sorry. How much is a single again?”

He was getting flustered, fingers clumsy, face colouring. The bus driver wearily pointed at the large poster displayed right next to him.

“Ah … OK. Two forty.”

Rob took his ticket from the machine and moved towards the back of the bus. His car was in for servicing. He preferred taking the bus rather than fighting with an unknown loan car in the rush hour. An hour's flexi-time meant he didn't have to hurry. Unlocking his phone, he took yet another look at the message that had appeared a couple of days ago.

redswimguy

Want to meet up again. Same basis as before. You were great. Hope you thought I was too.

doe-eyedken

>

There was the cursor waiting for him to reply. The message had been accompanied by a new image. Rob didn't dare open it on the bus – it showed the lower half of the other man's body, a prominent erection the focus. Not completely hard, but close enough. 'This is what you do to me' was the caption. Rob felt himself turning pink. Really? He hadn't received that sort of compliment since the early days of being with Jonathan. Was he going to reply? It only took a second for him to know that 'yes' was going to be his answer. Would it go anywhere? Rob shrugged. If they became fuck buddies, it would take away at least some of the loneliness. He started typing, the near anonymity giving him courage.

doe-eyedken

Yeah. Let's do it. Your pic was great. Can't wait to have it inside me again. XXX

He pressed Send before he had time to change his mind. Then he was distracted.

“Kath, I said I would at breakfast. OK?”

Rob's head shot up. He thought he recognised the voice, slightly clipped, with a faint Irish accent. The Irish lilt was quite distinctive.

“Yes. It's Friday. I'll be back in time to sort Ryan's tea out. I always am.”

There was the shock of reddish hair, down at the front of the bus. He sounded pissed. Who was Kath? Mother? Wife? That put a different gloss on things. Rob chewed at a finger. He'd never had sex, or a relationship, with a closet case. Should he send another message? No … The sexual release would be for him as much as the other man. He was now wary of getting significantly closer though. Rob chewed some more as he thought.

The bus arrived at the stop for a tech village and the other man got off.

Liam was running late – a server problem had kept him at work. It would be a Thursday, of course. The one he'd arranged to meet with his sex partner, Ken. As he was hurrying along the crowded pavement, he was also trying to type a message on his phone. He nearly walked into two people before he decided to give it up. The message would have to be done when he was on the bus.

By running the last fifty metres or so, he managed to squeeze himself onto a bus that was about to leave. Peering through the throng of standing passengers, Liam spotted a seat at the back that was unoccupied. It remained empty, so Liam eased along the aisle, quietly and efficiently, until he reached his prize. He slotted himself in between two young men of Pakistani heritage, neither of whom paid him any attention, their eyes glued to their phones.

As soon as he was settled, Liam grabbed his disposable phone, opened the app and scribbled a quick message.

redswimguy

Sorry, running late. Wait for me. I'm already hard. I want to fuck you so much.

The message sounded needy, but he didn't want the other man to give up on him. It was true – his cock was already feeling constricted in his trousers, and he did want to have sex again. A short video clip played in his head, starting at the point when the euphoria of his climax overwhelmed him, followed shortly by his partner's own release. Liam placed his workbag on his lap, the better to conceal anything that shouldn't be showing. The weather wasn't particularly hot, so the other man's flat ought to be more bearable. Not that he minded – just the two kinds of heat in combination made him feel as though spontaneous combustion hadn't been far off.

Life with Kath was one of armed neutrality with the occasional flare-up. The latest argument – this time about Ryan's birthday party – had blown up a week ago. Liam was still consigned to the spare room, but he had hopes there was a thaw on the way. They'd actually managed to have a discussion at breakfast, one that resulted in a decision which they both agreed with. That was a minor miracle. Liam grimaced. He'd spend several days trying to get into Kath's good books, then something he did or said ruined everything. This time the truce had held long enough for them to eat yesterday's evening meal with Ryan without one of them losing their temper. He'd better phone in a few minutes to say he was going to be late. That was something he often forgot to do.

From his vantage point at the back of the bus, Liam had a view of the rest of the passengers. His eyes felt scratchy, and as tired as the rest of him. Staring at code for hours on end wasn't a recipe for a pleasant working day. Instead he let his mind wander. If he and Ken got to talking, what was the wisdom of confiding in him? He planned on opening up a little, enough to allow him to ask about living as a gay man. … Was he sure the other man was openly gay? Ken hadn't said anything concerning a previous relationship, the one Liam had made assumptions about.

Now Liam felt a headache coming on. God … wasn't anything in life straightforward? The heat and humidity of the bus were getting to him. The fact all the window vents were open didn't seem to make any difference. Liam wished he could take his formal shirt off, however having nothing on underneath was a problem. He felt drowsy. Gradually, his eyes closed, and he dozed for a time.

Suddenly Liam jerked awake again. The bus had stopped. Where was he? Both the people next to him had already got off. The bus as a whole was much emptier. In a panic, Liam peered out of the closest window. He breathed out in relief. It was OK. God, he hardly ever fell asleep on the bus. He reached inside his workbag for his water bottle and took a long drink. The automated stop announcement completed his reassurance. Panic over, Liam became conscious of stirrings in the crotch area again. His cock was plumping up big time. If it continued, getting off the bus without making an idiot of himself was going to be tricky. He looked down the bus in search of distractions and there, at the front, was 'his' young man, the Polish guy.

Taking advantage of the lack of people, the other man stood up to take off his light jumper. In doing so, the sleeveless tank underneath rode up his body, exposing several marks that caught Liam's attention. He frowned. Those marks had the colouring of bruises. Before he could look further, the young man had hurriedly smoothed the material back down. Liam pursed his lips. So … sex play of some kind? That was something he wasn't into at all. Never any physical chastisement, or serious pain as an aid to a sexual high. Were the bruises a token of anger, or a jealous rage? Given the little that he'd witnessed of the other man's relationship with his … partner, that didn't seem impossible.

The young man was talking loudly into his Nokia lookalike. He sounded upset. More than a tinge of anger as well.

“Co mam zrobić, Jan? Cały czas mnie obserwuje.” ³

Liam wished he could understand Polish.

“Nienawidzę go. Stephen mnie przeraża. Wiesz, uderzył mnie w zeszłym tygodniu. Nadal mam siniaki.” ⁴

Liam heard a faint snuffle following that sentence. Quietly, he moved down the bus to an empty seat closer to the other man. A quick side glance told him there were indeed tears. Should he try to help in some way? His nostrils flared. Hardly – he had enough trouble in his own life without taking on someone else's. The young man must have friends and relatives. They were much better able to help him if that's what he wanted. Before Liam could take this line of thought any further, the bus was approaching his stop, and the long-awaited fuck.

On his hands and knees, rear end lifted up, Rob Capstick braced himself against two, three forceful thrusts from the other man's dick. The forward pressure of the man's hips was threatening to push him up against the headboard of the bed. The other man grabbed hold of his waist, giving more support as he gave two final lunges while he came. Rob's dick was rock hard, but he hadn't been able to spare a hand to do anything about it. Now things were calming down, just the occasional, gentler thrust, he moved to bring himself off. He was beaten to it by his partner whose hand firmly gripped his organ and swiftly brought him to a juddering climax. His cum spattered over the specially-placed towel.

As he came down from his sexual high, Rob realised the other man had disengaged and rolled over to one side. Rob flopped over onto his back, narrowly missing the messy towel.

“God … Whew … That was great.”

He spent a few moments luxuriating in his feelings, aware of his companion cleaning himself up. For an apparent closet case, he gave a really good fuck. He remembered it wasn't all about the top's pleasure – there'd been nipple play, and kisses on the back of his neck. His hole was going to be sore though after those final few strokes. It didn't matter, apart from serving to remind him just how out of practice he was.

He rolled onto his side, taking time to fold up the towel. He used it to give himself a quick rubdown before throwing it on the floor. Clearing up would wait until later.

“That was even better than last time.” Rob smiled at his companion. “I've always liked that position.”

“Good. Yeah, I like it as well. I can thrust harder, and your arse-cheeks are a wonderful cushion. Is it more tiring for you?”

Rob shrugged. The other man sat up.

“How about another of those cuddles? I've got time.”

Once the two men had been comfortable for a couple of minutes, Rob decided to make the first move, a little confidence-building before he started to ask some awkward questions.

“Err … My name's actually Rob, not Ken.”

The other man stirred, moving away slightly so he could see Rob's face from a better angle.

“OK … So we're onto introductions then?” A chuckle. “Good fuck, Rob. I'm Liam. … Liam Kendrick.”

Rob was surprised. Both names? No way was he giving out his surname. They'd only met twice and they were hardly conventional encounters. And if he was right about the other man's position, he didn't want to get further involved.

“Hi, Liam. You certainly know how to use your dick. Ehm … I'll stay as just Rob for the present.”

He reached out for Liam's right hand and brought it closer, inspecting the white band on his ring finger for a moment before letting go.

“I've a question for you. A personal one.”

The other man nodded cautiously.

“You married? Or …”

Liam sat up. He kept his eyes to himself.

“Yeah, I'm … married.” A pause. “With one kid.”

Rob decided to force the issue – he needed a clear answer.

“Married to a woman, or a man?”

“Woman.” The other man swallowed hard. “I am gay though. Not curious, or bi.”

And that made the cheating somehow better? Rob's rejoinder was only in his head. He kept quiet for the moment.

The other man looked in his direction. “Is that going to be a problem if I ask to meet you again? … I'd like to.”

Rob stared up at the ceiling, trying to reconcile conflicting thoughts. Yes, he enjoyed the sex, the human contact very much. It was an attempt to fill some of the gaping hole in his life left by Jonathan. But his own relationship had failed because of a third person, an intruder, who'd come into their lives. … Would he find anyone else? It had taken almost all his courage to make this first encounter. Might it become easier over time? Not for him, no. Unlike the man next to him. He didn't want to give up the arrangement they had. Selfish? Yes, undoubtedly. There was only him now, so some selfishness was to be expected.

“Rob?”

Rob too sat up in bed. He took a breath. “Liam, for now, the occasional fuck with you is great and I'd like it to continue. I'm not going to pretend that I like what it's doing to your marriage – that's your business. And just so we're clear …”

The other man was hanging onto his every word.

“My goal is to find someone with whom I can have a stable, long-term relationship. No idea how I'm gonna find him, but it'll be with a man who's open and available. Properly available.”

Rob listened to himself. Was he just salving his own conscience?

“So you're up for continuing?” Liam sounded relieved. Had he even listened to the rest?

“Yeah …” Rob stopped, then took a decision. “Look, Liam. You need to think very hard about your marriage, your wife and family. It's not fair on them that you're leading this kind of life, and it's equally unfair on any gay man who gets drawn in. I mean, thanks for being straight with me. That's made things clearer. … I get the impression I'm the first man you've told?”

The other man grimaced in reply. Without speaking, he got up, collected his things, and went into the bathroom for a shower.

Rob took that to be a 'yes'.

Later, Rob sat in his kitchen, chewing his way through a chicken salad. Was he right to keep on seeing Liam? He remembered hearing several horror stories over friends' dinner tables when he was with Jonathan. Getting mixed up with a closeted gay man was dangerous. Skating on thin ice. Certainly, Liam needed to decide which life he wished to live – apparently straight, with a wife and child, or as a gay man with different opportunities ahead of him. Both paths involved pain, difficult decisions, the possibility of losing things, and people.

Coming out to his parents hadn't been easy; his dad had taken a long time to accept him for who he was. Still, he loved living a queer life. Yes, it wasn't what his parents wanted for him, but he wouldn't change it. The stress and deceit, self-deceit, of Liam's life must be sapping, more so the longer he continued with it as it was. Would Liam and he work as fuck buddies? Rob moodily crunched his way through a celery stick. If he didn't have the guts to look elsewhere, then it was a case of beggars couldn't be choosers. He would have to give a deal of thought to exploring other avenues to find a life-partner. Being alone wasn't something which suited him. Just as long as the other man didn't try to push their arrangement towards something other than sex on demand. God, what a pair they were.

The late evening sun looked inviting. Rob decided a stroll would be a good idea to settle himself before bed. However, as he got up to clear the dishes away, his mind was still full of the man called Liam.

Kath Kendrick quickly and efficiently pushed the cans of chopped tomatoes to the back of the shelf, making sure they were lined up properly. 'Facing' was something her supervisor took seriously. It was the usual organised panic once the morning's delivery had made it onto the shop floor. It was a change from being on the tills, at least, and she could chat to any of her mates who were within range. Not that she was feeling in much of a mood for a gossip. There'd been another row before she came to work, while Ryan was trying to eat his breakfast in the same room. God, she could throttle Liam sometimes. Selfish bastard.

“Hi, Kath.”

Taken by surprise, Kath swung round. “Oh, hi, Charlene. Sorry, in a world of my own.”

Kath continued loading the tomatoes while they talked. Charlene moved a little further down with her pallet of pasta sauces.

“You OK?” Charlene used a cutter on the thick plastic covering her next pack of bottles. “Only you're looking a little peaky.”

Kath ground her teeth. So much for redoing her make-up after all the earlier tears of rage and frustration. A problem shared …?

“I had another row with Liam during breakfast.”

“Oh … I thought you two were good again?”

Charlene was busy with the glass bottles. Kath took more of the cans from the pallet.

“Not so much. In fact, not much at all.” Saying it out loud saddened Kath, for all it was a statement of the obvious. “I asked Liam to give up one of his Thursdays at the gym so I could go with the girls to see Miss Saigon. He refused point blank. Ryan still needs a sitter, you see.”

Charlene stopped what she was doing. “What? No discussion or anything?”

She sounded astonished.

“Nope. I mean, why couldn't he visit the gym on another evening? Or give it a miss for one week? It'd hardly kill him. Selfish bastard.”

Kath tore into the cardboard packaging before tossing it onto the spoil heap. She grabbed hold of the next batch of cans.

“I'm beginning to wonder if there's something else going on.”

Her co-worker continued filling her shelves. “You mean him having an affair?”

Just hearing that made Kath tear-up.

Charlene turned round to get the next batch of sauces. “You noticed anything different about him? You know, strange hairs on his clothes, him smelling odd, phone calls he doesn't want you to know about …”

“No … He's come back from the gym a couple of times smelling different 'cause he borrowed a mate's shower gel. Nothing else. … There's something going on though. I just know it.”

“You could come straight out and ask him.”

“Oh, yeah? And get a flat denial? Liam's not one for admitting his sins. No, I'll wait. He'll put a foot wrong, sooner or later.”

“Men.”

“Yeah. They're all bastards. Thanks for listening, Charlene.”

“No problem. I'm around later if you want to talk more.”

“Ta, but I've got to fetch Ryan from my mum. That's another thing Liam refuses to do – look after his own son in the school holidays.”

Charlene shrugged – she'd never had any choice in the matter. Hearing their supervisor's voice in the vicinity, both women got down to work without any more talk.

It was a cool, sunny morning with a hint of autumn in the air. Liam took no notice of the weather. The schools were back with a vengeance. Six weeks of bearable traffic conditions and now they were back to their normal hideous state. Grinding along, stopping every fifty metres or so. As he sat amongst the other sleepy commuters, Liam didn't bother with his book. Instead he let his mind go back to the holiday he and the family had just come back from.

A week's camping in rural Wales. Hardly glamorous; more cheap, with guaranteed rain. He and Kath had survived by going off and doing their own things, taking it in turns to occupy Ryan. Kath liked shopping, nature, walking. He preferred hill walking, running, and photography. They both spent time at the area's few tourist attractions for Ryan's sake. They met up for the evening meal, by which time they were all so knackered that sleep was the next thing. It saved on the small talk and the possibility of disagreements. And anyway, there was no internet and barely any phone signal, both to Ryan's disgust.

God, he was glad to get back to work, to reclaim his own space. He wanted to meet up with Rob. They'd met several times following his admission. Perhaps they'd make time to talk soon? His hopes weren't particularly high on that front. A barrier had come down between them once Liam had explained his personal situation. The sex was still great, but he wished to know more about the other man. Affection was something he craved and from someone of his own kind. As for his present life? He seemed paralysed, unable to go forwards or back. Everything was stalled. He needed to make a decision.

With a sigh, Liam realised the time he'd set for them meeting that evening would have to be changed. He'd be lucky to have travelled half the distance by that point. Reaching into his bag in search of the disposable phone, his hand found nothing. Alarmed, Liam opened the bag wide and peered in, his hand exploring every corner. Still nothing. Fuck! What had he done with it? Increasingly flustered, Liam searched all his pockets, drawing a blank. Fuck, fuck. The thought that that he might've left it at home made his stomach clench.

How could he have been so fucking careless? When had he last used it? He couldn't remember. Was it lost? That wasn't a problem – the phone was easily replaceable. The thought of Kath finding it was unbearable. Liam tried to focus. He needed a plausible reason for having another phone. Where had he left it? The phone never came out of his bag unless he was about to use it. … The sweat trickled down under his shirt, cold and wet. Think, for fuck's sake! Did the loss of the phone mean that Kath had searched his stuff? Shit! Liam felt his heart pounding. His whole world was slowly, but surely, imploding.

Mopping at his brow with his shirtsleeve, Liam became aware of the odd curious glance. He tried to get a grip. OK … Worst case scenario was Kath now had the phone. It was always locked, and the app had another password, but the mere fact of its existence was enough. Should he tell Kath the truth or not? Or make up some cover story instead. Liam kept skirting round the subject – just thinking about it made him ill. Bile threatened to get into his throat. He couldn't allow himself to vomit on the bus. Swallowing hard, he decided to move to a slightly safer topic, leaving the other until later.

Liam downloaded the hook-up app onto his proper phone. He needed it now, he had no other way of communicating with Rob. It could always be deleted later, not that it was likely to make any difference. While he waited for the app to install and load, Liam's thoughts swirled round and round. How about … if he said the phone belonged to a co-worker? They'd left it behind and he was looking after it for them. God, that was so full of holes. Not least, anyone seen in the office with that piece of junk, would've felt ashamed. Would it hold up though, if he rehearsed it? Shit! Liam had always thought he'd have time to prepare if it came to telling Kath.

He desperately needed to talk to Rob – he was the only other gay man he knew beyond a few random fucks. Finally, the app finished installing. Liam opened it up, his fingers trembling.

redswimguy

meet later – 6.15. Must talk – need your help, Rob. Please

Liam prayed the other man had his phone turned on. He needed an answer, though his sex partner didn't owe him anything. Should he turn round and go home to look for the phone? No … Kath didn't start work until lunchtime. He'd have to spend the entire day in suspense. Dear god … Work was going to be hell. And there was no point in going straight home after work either. He needed to get his head sorted, and Rob was going to be a vital part of that. Looking up, Liam noticed his stop was next. Still feeling sick, he stood up and rang the bell.

Rob drove into the leisure centre's car park and parked up, but didn't get out immediately. He remained at the wheel for a minute or two, gathering his thoughts. The message from Liam had come as an unwelcome, but not entirely unexpected, surprise. So much for being sex partners – no ties, no commitments. He ran his fingers through his hair. So the other man's wife had found out something? What precisely, he'd find out soon enough. Bloody hell … Would it result in a forced coming-out? Rob winced. He started chewing at his fingers. That wasn't something for the fainthearted. Liam was going to need guts. And someone to help him. Rob sighed. That would be him then. He could hardly turn his back on Liam now.

Taking a deep breath, Rob got out of the car. Nearing the café entrance, he slowed down and looked inside. Liam was already there, squirming in his seat like a small child. His eyes were fixed on the outer door, as if he were willing Rob to appear. Just the sight of him made Rob feel nervous.

As he opened the door, Liam stood up.

“Thank god, you're here.” He hadn't even waited until Rob reached him before the words started pouring out. “I don't know what to do. You've got to help me. Shit! I thought I'd have time …”

Other customers in the café were now listening in unashamedly. Rob gently persuaded the other man to sit down again. He sat opposite. Liam looked pale, and his eyes were red and puffy.

“OK, Liam. Breathe. …” He watched until Liam lost something of his frantic edge. “I was gonna suggest we talked here. That's not what you want though, is it?”

Liam shook his head. Then a sob escaped. A wave of sympathy welled up inside Rob. He didn't fight it, but he did wonder how much of Liam's distress was selfish. Thinking only of himself, not his wife or their kid. One of the many things they needed to get out into the open.

“Right, let's get you back to mine. Have you eaten anything since breakfast?”

Again, the shake of the head.

“Tea with two sugars, and a quick sandwich, I think, when we get back. Then we'll have to talk.”

Liam nodded. “Work was dreadful. I made so many errors …”

Rob smiled. “That's hardly surprising, is it? Come on, we'll talk this through. The sooner you make your mind up, the sooner everyone will know where they stand. The car's out front.”

He stood up and held out his hand. Liam grabbed hold of it as if it were a lifeline.

The two men sat apart in Rob's living room – him in the armchair, Liam on the sofa. Liam was perched on the edge of the seat, curled in on himself. A second mug of sweetened tea was clutched in one hand.

Rob grimaced. The other man presented an image of acute, gnawing anxiety.

“Liam?”

Liam looked up.

“We're likely to be a while. Sit back and settle yourself down. Try to relax.”

Of course, he moving over there and giving the other man a cuddle would help as well, but it wasn't going to happen. Not then, at least. He watched as Liam took a couple of slurps from the mug before putting it down on the nearby table.

“OK … You'd better start by telling me what happened this morning and why it's got you into this state.”

Liam rubbed his eyes, then his forehead. “On the bus this morning, I realised I'd given you the wrong time to meet up. Forgotten the schools were back. I reached into my bag for the phone …”

Rob listened as Liam outlined what had happened, the story being well laced with details about his marriage, his fears, doubts, wrestling with his identity as a gay man. Nothing definitive had happened yet, but it was easy to see why Liam was so distressed. A day of wondering, dreading the worst, without anything solid to go on … To his mind, it was a situation that had suddenly come to the boil after however many years of slowly brewing.

He took a moment after Liam finished to gather his thoughts. “So assuming your wife, Kath, has the phone, the main question is whether you're aiming to stay with her, if she'll let you, or not. You'll have to tell her some version of the truth. About what happened, and that you're gay.”

“I had been thinking of telling a lie. Saying the phone belonged to someone else, someone from work.”

“What? Liam! I can't believe I'm hearing this.”

The other man flushed a deep red.

“Don't you think there's been enough lies?”

After a couple seconds, there was a single, reluctant nod. Then a gulp. “I'm scared.”

And he looked it. Pale, jittery still, despite the tea. Another wave of sympathy washed over Rob.

“Bloody hell, Liam, I'd be as well. You've got to get past it. Be as brave as you can. There're are important decisions to be made. And you've got to remember you're not the only person involved. Your wife and child stand to be hurt as much as you.”

Rob made no apology for emphasising the last point. Liam had to realise it wasn't all about him. He got another nod. Liam then drank deeply from the mug as if it contained an elixir to cure all ills.

“Have you come to a decision?”

Rob felt he was pushing quite hard. What else could he do? Limited time, and another man reluctant to put himself down on either side of the fence.

“I'm … I'm going to leave them. Kath wouldn't want me there anyway.”

“Liam, make the decision for yourself. Yeah? Don't push the responsibility onto your wife.”

Another necessary prod. They continued talking, with Rob keeping one eye on the time. Finally, Liam talked himself out. In the silence that followed, Rob moved over to the sofa and gave Liam a kiss on the cheek and a cuddle.

“You'll need to leave in a minute. It would be better, I think, if you got home about the usual time. Just in case Kath hasn't discovered anything.”

Rob handed over a piece of paper. “Here's my number. Put it into your phone now. Call me if you need to. You're welcome to stay here for a bit if you've nowhere else. It'll be cramped, but we'll manage.”

“Thanks, Rob. Really. Thanks for everything. I don't know what I would've done without you.” A quiet sob followed.

Rob squeezed him again. “Courage, Liam. Dig deep. And don't forget it'll be as upsetting and shocking to your wife and child as it is to you now. Nobody'll win this evening, but there'll be chances for a better life to follow.”

He stood up, and held out his hand.

“Come on. The sooner you get home, the sooner you'll set things in motion. Good or bad.”

Liam looked ashen, though a little more composed than when he'd arrived.

“Yeah. Now I've called it, I want to get going. It's been the not knowing that's really killed me.”

“Good.”

It was a less frightened Liam who left to go home while Rob sat in the deepening gloom, waiting for a phone call.

'You fag! Pervert! You're no husband of mine, you fucking queer!'

Liam sat on the bus, shaking, crying, snot and tears dripping down his face. Kath's fury had been terrifying. Her scornful, hate-ridden words still rang in his ears. It could hardly have gone worse. He mopped ineffectually at the mess with a hankie – his hands were shaking so much, he could hardly do anything.

Kath indeed had possession of the phone. He'd no sooner started to open the front door than she'd let loose a barrage of questions and accusations. Backed into a corner, Liam had lost it, retaliating by throwing the fact he was gay in amongst a torrent of grievances, some of which he never knew he'd harboured. Kath, far from being overwhelmed, seized on the word 'gay' almost as soon as he'd uttered it. That had produced the firestorm which now saw him out on the street, with only the clothes he had on his back.

A fresh flood of tears trickled down his cheeks. Eleven years of married life down the drain in a moment. No time for anything other than bitter recriminations on both sides.

“You OK, dear?”

An older woman stood over him. Had she just got on?

“Ehm …” Liam tried wiping his face again. “Yeah … Actually, no. It's something personal.”

The woman fished around in her bag until she found a diary. Opening it, she tore out a blank page, then scribbled something on it.

“Here, take this. It's just the number for the Samaritans, but they'll listen if you've got no-one else.”

Liam welled up again, this time in gratitude. He found it hard to speak. “Thanks. … I'm going to a friend's.”

“Oh, OK.” The woman looked hard at him again. “You look after yourself. This friend know you're coming?”

“Oh … Err … he will in a minute.”

The woman nodded, then turned to take a seat.

Just that short exchange calmed him down. Liam fumbled in his pocket for his phone. Getting it out, he called the unfamiliar number. It was answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

“Rob, it's Liam.”

It was fully dark now when Liam left work. The view out of the bus window was almost monochrome – blackness punctuated by car headlamps and street lights. The thought of Christmas depressed him, though he would be able to see Ryan for some of the time. His own mother had proved to be an effective go-between and mediator to the extent that he and Kath were meeting face to face for the first time at the end of the week. The shock of his coming-out had been the same for his mother as for everyone else. She'd got over it by rolling up her sleeves and applying herself to the urgent, real problems, not agonising over whether he'd suddenly grown two heads.

His world, having come apart at the seams, was slowly reforming as something different, unsettling, scary sometimes. Now the recurrent bouts of tears from the initial, hideous confrontation had faded away, Liam felt better. The relief from living his life as he wanted was like drinking draughts of sweet, cool water. Soothing and refreshing at the same time. He felt he was the right Liam now. Of course, it hadn't suddenly made everything OK, nothing like it.

Rob, a man who owed him practically nothing, had been an untiring helper and comforter. Wise as well, he persuaded Liam to examine his conscience. To understand that the problems between him and Kath were far from being her fault alone. It was a painful reckoning which he didn't entirely agree with.

Liam remembered something. He got out his phone. Rob was working late that evening.

“Hi.”

"Hi, Liam. Good day?"

“So-so. You?”

"Not bad. I've nearly finished."

“We need anything from the shops?”

"Err … nope. Not that I can think of, anyway. Who's cooking tonight?"

“That'll be me.”

Over the time he'd stayed with Rob, Liam had discovered he made a reasonable cook, once Rob had reminded him of the basics.

"What are we having?"

“Something with sweet potatoes – they need using up.”

"OK. See you later."

“Yeah. Bye.”

Not lovers, not boyfriends, he and Rob were more housemates than anything else. Rob was also his mentor and guide to living his life as an openly gay man. Might it develop further? They still cuddled, and hugged, with the occasional kiss, but no sex. They were taking time to discover things about each other instead.

Liam's ears caught a snatch of conversation. It sounded Polish, with that cadence peculiar to some gay men. He hadn't seen 'his' young man in ages. In fact, he'd pretty much forgotten about him. Liam scanned the other passengers for the familiar hairstyle and those gorgeous eyes. Nothing. Then he spotted an ordinary looking guy, wrapped up against the cold, a woolly hat pulled down until it met his glasses, phone clamped against his ear.

What had happened to the other man? Liam grimaced. Should he have interfered when he had the chance? He'd probably never know. Maybe they'd moved? Or the man had changed jobs? Liam hoped it wasn't going to be another stain on his conscience. He shrugged – it was too late now. People came and went. Sometimes he'd see a fellow commuter for years, then overnight they vanished. He might speculate for a little while, then he moved on. That was life.

Right, what had they got that went with sweet potatoes?

 

1. “Hi, Mum. How're you?” … “I'm fine. Working hard, as ever. Did you get the money I sent?”

2. “I miss you, and Dad.” … “Wish you could come over here to visit.” … “I don't think it's going to be possible though.”

3. “What am I to do, Jan? He watches me all the time.”

4. “I hate him. Stephen scares me. You know, he hit me last week. I still have the bruises.”