Stronger Than Lions - 35. Breakfast on Saturn

The hardest part was deceiving my father.

When I told him Chris’s mom had come home, he seemed to buy it. I even faked conversations with Chris on the phone. And for the rest of the week, I would get up, shower and put on my school uniform and cycle through Newlands until my dad had left for work.

After two days I’d had enough and pretended to have flu.

* * *

‘How long do you think you’re going to be able to keep this up?’

Bella leaned against the wall, arms folded, staring at me with her eyes narrowed as I sat slumped on my bed.

‘She's right,’ said Rob, reaching over to turn down Radiohead's OK Computer that was blaring from my CD player. ‘You have to tell your dad, dude.’

‘He’ll go nuts,’ I said. ‘He’ll storm straight to the school and raise hell, which will just make things worse.’

‘You can’t suffer in silence,’ said Bella. ‘I feel like going to the Major myself.’

‘Please don’t,’ I said, a little too desperately. ‘They’ll ruin Chris. Mr Craig said so.’

‘The fucker is blackmailing you,’ said Rob. ‘Besides, Chris can fend for himself. Why has he been so fucking silent? I’m sorry, but your boyfriend is being a dick.’

‘I don’t think he sees himself as my boyfriend anymore,’ I said miserably.

‘This is messed up,’ said Bella. ‘Because of a little kiss. I mean, it’s not great you were outed like that, but the story was going to come out sometime. Just sucks that you had no control over it.’

‘I’m a freak.’

‘‘We're all freaks, but in your case it's not because you like dick.’

I stared at her, stunned, as Rob failed spectacularly to stifle a giggle.

She grinned and I gasped.

‘Your teeth!'

Her braces were off, and her smile was perfect.

‘Yeah, I know. Came off yesterday. Don’t change the subject now, Cal. There are more important things.’

‘I want to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about this any more.’

‘Easy, tiger,’ said Rob soothingly. I'll drop it, but just think about what we’ve said.’

‘Okay,’ I said, knowing I was lying. ‘You guys promise you won’t blab about this?’

‘I promise,’ said Bella. Rob groaned and looked away. ‘Come,' he said, sighing as he got up. 'Let’s get a DVD.’

I felt a little guilty, wanting to be alone to wallow in my misery, while my two best friends were being so sweet. But I couldn’t ignore the deep, deep weal etched across my heart. Wherever I looked, there was a Chris-shaped hole in my life. I could smell him on my pillow. Some of his clothes were still about, as was his bottle of shaving gel in the bathroom. I used it, torturing myself. I didn’t change the sheets. I wore his boxers.

After four days he hadn’t replied to any of the messages I’d sent or left on his voicemail. I tried to ignore my anger. I was wrong, I told myself. I was the one who’d messed with a decent guy. I’d even cheated on him, for fuck’s sake. And then he'd forgiven me. I was a fool for believing I could have my Prince Charming. Misery was the price of getting drunk on a dream. A beautiful, stupid, toxic dream.

* * *

I was dozing on the couch later that evening when my phone rang. I didn’t recognise the number, and answered it with surprise, as it was past nine.

‘Caleb?’ came deep, rich voice. 'It's Mr Mazibuko.'

‘Sir!' I shuddered. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I hope you don’t mind me disturbing you so late, but I’ve been busy making a lot of sudden decisions about the gala on Saturday.’

‘Sir. I’m sorry about…’

‘Caleb. You have nothing to apologize for.’

‘Sir?’

‘I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I’ve decided to withdraw St Francis from the tournament.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t enter my team without my star swimmer when he’s the victim of prejudice.’

'I...'

‘It’s okay, Caleb,’ he continued. I of all people know what it’s like to be discriminated against. In fact, most of the team don’t want to enter without you in it, and I shall be submitting my decision to Mr Craig tomorrow.’

'How did you know that...’

Mr Mazibuko gave a hollow chuckle. ‘During the bad old days I could smell a police raid coming on a mile off. I knew something was up when the Deputy Headmaster told me, and I only had to overhear a minute of cheerleader gossip to put the whole thing together.’

‘I don’t know what to say, sir.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. As far as I’m concerned you should have just been given detention at most… you know, we can’t have students being inappropriate on the school premises. But I was a teenager once too.’

I let out a bitter little laugh. ‘You’re not… you’re not horrified… that I’m… I’m…’

‘You’re eighteen, and I don’t care what you do with your private life. The only thing that horrifies me is the way you had to be… what’s the word… outed? That and the cowardly way the staff are not saying anything to Mr Craig. So I thought I’d let you know that I’m thinking of you.’

‘Thanks, Sir.’

I felt winded.

‘Just sit it out until you’re back at school,’ he continued. ‘I know this will blow over.’

I wished I could believe him.

He rang off, and I lay for a long time on the couch, astonished that someone had come through for me. But nothing felt healed: if anything, the little rush of comfort was but a thin membrane that was straining, stretched across a great festering burn of shame inside me.

But another little flame, this time of anger, was spreading when I pondered I hadn’t heard anything from Chris.

I picked up my phone and scanned through the load of texts I had sent him.

I was very calm as I typed out a final message:

• I know you’re avoiding me. But it's not I want things to end. At least let’s do it face to face. If this was a giant mistake, and you want me out of your life, I can respect that, but look me in the eyes and tell me. C.

Cubby was still on my nightstand as I collapsed into bed, and I tortured myself a bit more by holding him close to me. Presently I heard a tap at the window and jumped up. But it was just another moth, thrumming agains the pane, desperate to fly toward the fake moon of my desk lamp.

'Go away,' I said, getting up and rattling the window. 'Go away and save yourself.' The little creature gave another tap and paused, as if it was listening. Then it flickered its little wings and flew off into the night. I shook my head and got back into bed.

* * *

I awoke at around nine, and lay for a few minutes in that foggy stupor where you don’t know what time it is, who you are or where you’ve been. The conversation with Mr Mazibuko filtered in, and I turned around and realised again that Chris wasn’t next to me. Still, my body stretched, as if with muscle memory, around the bedclothes to find him.

Perhaps love is as much a way of life as it is a constellation of feelings: you become used to each other, you become each other’s habits. I tried not to think about it. Maybe Chris would slowly wane inside me, atrophy, desiccate.

But I knew two things: I wouldn’t survive him being ripped out of me all at once, nor would a part of him ever leave me, even if it remained as a scar.

I was startled to see my father casually reading the newspaper at the breakfast table. He was not wearing his white jacket.

‘Oh, you’re finally up,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Can I get you some coffee, my boy?’

‘Dad? What are you doing at home?’

‘I thought I’d take the morning off. I rescheduled two very understanding patients for the afternoon.’

My heart beat in my throat. ‘Oh?’ I said, trying to sound casual.

‘I guess you must be pretty bleak that this flu has knocked you out of the tournament.’

I looked away. I couldn’t bear this much longer.

My father gave me an little smile. ‘Which is odd,’ he continued, ‘because you wouldn’t be swimming anyway. I hear St Francis isn’t competing.’

‘I…’

He came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s all right, my boy, I know everything. And I’m furious as hell.'

'Dad?!"

'Not with you, laddie, but with the whole situation. I haven’t ripped off Craig’s head… not yet… but I want you to know I’m very close to doing so.’

‘How did you…’

‘Perhaps it’s better that your boyfriend tells you the whole story from the beginning.’

‘Chris? He’s…’

‘Behind you, Cal,’ said my father, pointing.

He was standing in the kitchen doorway. There were dark rings under his eyes and his white tee and cotton pyjama trousers were tragic with crinkles.

‘Cal,’ he murmured. ‘I fuckin' messed up again. I’m so sorry.’

‘I—I don’t understand,’ I stammered.

‘Perhaps this will make you understand,’ he said, and walked up to put an arm around me. The kitchen dissolved and then there was only him, his scent, his warm chest against my head, his stubble against my forehead. His breaths were like a high tide, and the thrum of his heartbeat a lullaby.

At least a minute passed as we hugged each other, until we broke apart when my father cleared his throat.

‘Don’t mean to interrupt,’ he said kindly, ‘but I think I’m going to work in my office a bit while you two catch up. Then I’ll want to speak to you boys after you've had something to eat.’

'To eat,' I repeated stupidly.

‘There’s eggs and bacon in the warmer,’ he said as he walked out of the kitchen. ‘And no, I didn’t burn them.’

‘Better get some grub,’ said Chris, ‘we’ve got a lot to talk about. Let's have brekkie in the dining room?'

I nodded, dumbly. I thought we might as well be having breakfast on Saturn.