Flash In The Pan - 16. Christmas Present

The kiss reminded him of chemistry lessons in school, when if the right two elements were put together, they’d explode. Alan leaned forward to peer at the TV screen, drinking in the men's beauty, their ardour and sexiness, and the rightness of it all. Even his faded, ancient corduroys momentarily felt tighter in the crotch. Then a lifetime's worth of regrets, hidden secrets, and loneliness welled up; tears oozed out, one by one, until slow rivulets flowed down the lines in his face.

A groping hand found the hanky in his pocket. He mopped up and blew his nose fiercely.

He turned the TV off, tossing the remote onto the other half of the sofa. "Why start watching the film, you stupid sod? You know that sort of thing always sets you off. And it's worse this time of year."

A small, silver, pre-decorated tree, balanced on a pile of books, was his only concession to Christmas. It was usually accompanied by two cards from his siblings, but since his long-delayed coming out the previous year, all communication had ceased.

Eyes lingered on the empty space. He grimaced. "You're better off without those two bigots." Something inside him declined to agree and the waterworks started up again. He brushed the drops away with brusque flicks of a hand.

Sitting upright, Alan turned on the radio. His timing was impeccable: into a pregnant hush came a boy's voice singing 'Once in royal David's city... ' Remaining tears drying on his cheeks, the music faded into the background as he became lost in memories.

The chemistry analogy reminded him of one particular day in school when a new boy joined their science class. Lithe, golden-haired, and with a ready smile, the newcomer was an instant hit with the girls. That was when he knew himself; knew for certain.

"God, he was stunning. And a complete shit."

Of course, he did nothing about the attraction. The other boy was so far out of his league it was laughable. No fairytale endings were possible in a 1960s, northern town. After a few weeks of surreptitious calf love, the infatuation was beaten out of him when one particularly soppy look was intercepted. The memory of that still gave him the shivers. Despite this, a name escaped him - old age. Yet more tears threatened.

The doorbell rang.

"Bloody hell!" The hanky was pressed into service again. Part of him wanted to ignore the intrusion. Another buzz - longer this time. "It's fucking Christmas Eve. Haven't you got anything better to do?"

He stomped through to the front door. Opening up revealed his new Polish neighbour, a woman in her thirties. A friendly smile did nothing to improve his temper.

"Yes?"

"Happy Christmas, Mr Rudge!" The smile faltered slightly when she looked at him properly. "Please would you join us for our Christmas meal this evening? There is always a place set for an unexpected visitor – it's a Polish tradition."

His jaw dropped. "Err... that's very kind of you, ... Hanna." Was that her name? He gulped. "Unfortunately I have other plans this evening."

"OK – that's a pity."

Alan shuffled under her intelligent gaze. The only plan was for him and a bottle of good red wine to get maudlin together.

"How about I bring a selection of dishes over? Just a taste of a Polish Christmas."

He was getting cold standing on the doorstep. "If you like."

"There's mushroom soup, pierogi... err... stuffed dumplings, cabbage rolls, and to finish, gingerbread with stewed plums. How does that sound?"

A loud rumble from his stomach reminded Alan he hadn't bothered with lunch. His mouth watered. "That sounds great. I wouldn't want to be a trouble, though."

"It's no trouble. Celebrate Christmas Eve the Polish way. Tomorrow you can have your turkey and Christmas pudding."

He stared at her bleakly. "With whom? My last remaining family disowned me when I stopped hiding myself."

"Hiding?"

"I came out to them last year."

The woman frowned. "I don't know this 'came out'."

"I told them I'm gay. It's taken me long enough."

The look of surprise opposite made him wonder whether the offer of food would be withdrawn.

The woman shook her head. "That is so sad. And cruel of them." One hand fished in a skirt pocket and produced a phone. “Excuse me for a moment.” A few taps later, she put it away again. "I work in local government – social care. Maybe I have an idea. I'll be back soon." Another smile. "Bye."

Alan wandered into the kitchen. In the fading light, he stood at the window watching a large, black crow parading across the lawn; yet the bird would scare as easily as a wood pigeon if he were to move suddenly. It was putting up a front, in other words - something he never learnt to do. Another thick blanket of regrets threatened to smother him. A burst of music, bright and angelic, carried through from the living room. He remembered the carol service on the radio. Sitting back down on the sofa, he tried to pay attention this time.

Alan had dozed off by the time the doorbell rang again. Answering it, he blinked blearily at his neighbour.

She held out a bag containing several plastic food containers. "Wesołych Świąt, Mr Rudge! Your food, and something else, I hope, to make your Christmas merry."

He took hold of the bag, peering inside. Several sniffs only detected hints of the offered savoury food. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” A phone appeared. "Take a look at this."

He squinted at the minute text on the screen. It appeared to be an email addressed to his neighbour. With relief, he noted Hanna was indeed her name. Puzzled, his eyes skittered over the page until the sight of his own name brought them to an abrupt halt.

'Alan, you are invited to a party at the Birmingham LGBT centre tomorrow - free food, games, and a present for everyone. Why not take a chance to meet your new brothers and sisters in a safe, welcoming environment? We will collect you…'

The rest of the message blurred – tears, yet again. He sniffed hard before handing the phone back.

Hanna smiled. “You are lucky. I just managed to catch the organiser before they left for the day.” She glanced at the screen. “In case you missed it, they'll collect you from here at eleven. OK?”

His throat swelled. "Thank you, Hanna - for everything. What have I done to deserve such kindness?"

“Nothing, except to be you. Kindness like this costs nothing, yet it can change lives.” Now a beaming smile lit up the porch. “Enjoy!”

“I shall. I shall.”