They may not mean to, but they do - 35. Thirty-Five

Sunday, they got up promptly for a run. Keith didn’t exactly love it, but he found the quiet time with just him and Thomas rather relaxing in a strange sort of way. And after, they had brunch which probably undid all the good the run had done them.

They were just returning from shopping (Saturday being devoted to work, Sunday had to be a day for shopping and jobs) when Thomas’ phone pinged. He answered the message and looked up at Keith puzzled. Caroline was coming over, bringing him something. What? Thomas shrugged; he had no idea.

There were groceries to put away, their chores to do but an hour or so later found Keith, Thomas and Caroline sitting round Thomas’ table with some tea (from Thomas) and cake (from Caroline). It seemed she and Nate had been discussing the issue of Thomas and Nate’s Father, and the inconsistencies in his treatment of Thomas. Nate who, they gathered, was tied up with a parish meeting, had been worried that he could have done more.

The couple had been doing some digging and Caroline had come across the letters that Nate’s Father had written to Nate when he was a student. Thomas’ first comment was a jokey complaint, that his Father had never written to him at Uni unless it was to complain, and he read a few samples out to them. The voice that came out of the letters was severe but not unfriendly. Caroline confirmed that there was little mention of Thomas in the letters, and certainly after Nate had come across the leaflet for the Christian camp, no mention of any problems with Thomas at all.

They sat staring at the letters, no further forward and later Thomas would comment that his relationship with his Father, uneven at the best of times, seemed to be unravelling further with no longer any possibility of retrieving it.

Caroline had to go, but on the way out she had another thought. Nate had had contact with one of his Father’s friends, Canon FitzPatrick. They should still have his details; would Thomas like them to get in contact and find out if he knew anything about his friend's attitude to Thomas’ sexuality. Thomas agreed.

Thomas and Keith repaired to Keith’s place (where the kitchen was marginally bigger) and laid out some of the groceries they had bought. The plan for the evening was to cook together. There was much good-humoured chaos, but the food was good (when it was finally ready) and Thomas didn’t think once about his Father.

-oOo-oOo-

The week sped by; both Thomas and Keith found themselves working late, takeaways were the order of the day. Keith missed the gay football, again, but managed to meet up with the lads for a kick about. Little Joe was having girl trouble again, so the talk in the pub was of girlfriends and ex-girlfriends.

Hughie asked him how he and Maria were getting on, and Keith admitted that he’d done nothing and was letting the matter lie, though he had no idea what he’d do if she got in contact again. There was little he could say to her, but her grievance puzzled him after all this time. To still be fretting about whether Keith had been seeing guys.

Hughie grinned at him and said, “Well you were.” Keith looked a bit shamefaced and said yes.

“No harm in that, you can put too much reliance on fidelity. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about the girl. If she gets in contact again, write her a letter, explain what went on in your head. If she gets to you when you try and talk, then writing might work.”

Keith thought that a good idea and at odd times during the week he jotted down thoughts but making it coherent was hard work. He was also rather exercised about the fidelity thing. He still remembered his fit about Thomas and Marco, and Thomas saying they should always talk to each other.

“I was talking to Hughie in the pub yesterday, about Maria.”

“He have any good ideas?”

“He said I ought to write to her. If she gets back in contact, then send a letter explaining. He reckoned that might be better than her getting at me again.”

Thomas nodded, “Worth a try, I suppose. How are you at writing?”

Keith smiled ruefully, “Shit. I’m trying to put ideas together. But I write something and then remember another bit.”

Thomas grinned, “Keep at it and when you think you’ve covered everything, I can help you get it into shape.”

Keith thanked him then paused, “Hughie was also talking about fidelity, and it being overrated.”

“What do you think?”

Keith bit his lower lip, “Maria and I weren’t faithful or truthful, and it didn’t work. Not for me at least.”

“Judging by her anger, I don’t think it worked for her either. You’ve got to be equal.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, ideally a partnership is two equals. So, what works for one, works for the other, but sometimes people like it differently. Sauce for the goose and not for the gander and such.”

“Oh. One can play around but not the other. I don’t like that, at all.”

“Neither do I. In fact, I just don’t like playing around. Life so far has been pretty messy for both of us, so what do you say to giving it a go as a partnership?”

“Two equals.”

“No playing around. And always talk to each other. Give that a go?” Keith nodded, that felt a lot better.

-oOo-oOo-

Saturday was going to be a treat, or at least it was meant to be. A grateful, and helpful, sponsor (Graham) had been horrified to learn that Thomas had never been to see Opera North performing, given that the company was on his doorstep in Leeds. And thanks to Graham, a pair of tickets had materialised, for Saturday’s performance of Janacek’s Katya Kabanova at the Grand Theatre.

The two had stared at the tickets for a long time, opera wasn’t something either had had experience of. Thomas knew people who enjoyed opera, but it had never occurred to him to explore it when he was in the UK. For Keith, opera was almost another country, yet he’d found his encounters with classical music rather intriguing. He had turned to Thomas, “I’m up for it if you are.”

Thomas had smiled, “I don’t think we have any choice; I can hardly tell Graham that we didn’t fancy it. And the tickets aren’t cheap.”

The names on the tickets didn’t mean anything, it was only with some quick searching online that they’d found out a bit more about the opera and the composer – a Czech composer and an opera about a woman in an unhappy marriage who commits suicide. But their list of things to do in Leeds had not got very long, so this was an ideal way to continue their explorations. More online searching brought up some of the composer’s music, including an amazing brass fanfare. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Graham had also provided some recommended restaurants near the theatre, so they found themselves having a rather early meal in a Cuban restaurant that did a pre-theatre special and had several middle-aged and elderly couples taking advantage of it. They wondered if the couples were going to the opera too; Thomas commented that he couldn’t really imagine what else they might be doing in this area of Leeds on a Saturday night.

It was still early, but they had already passed some groups of girls and boys, hunting in separate packs. At this stage most seemed to be getting food or queuing up at cash machines, but even now some were somewhat worse for wear. Certainly not going to the opera.

Their waiter was a middle-aged man of foreign extraction, probably not Cuban but they weren’t certain what he was, and it seemed rude to ask. But he knew all about the opera, said that the production was top notch and that they would enjoy it. He was going to see it later in the week.

The woman at the next table leaned over and asked them if they were regulars at the opera, Thomas said no, the tickets had been a gift from a friend. She was chatty, they lived near Thirsk and drove down regularly. From her comments (her husband said very little) it seemed as if they were not opera buffs but came along to whatever Opera North performed. The husband commented that they always got a top-quality show. They had seen this production a few years ago when it was new, it was quite a challenge but certainly very dramatic.

Keith was quite thankful that it was soon time to go, the couple were pleasant enough but hearing about someone else’s experiences wasn’t his idea of fun. They got to the theatre far too early, but Keith had been reading about the building and took Thomas exploring. He wasn’t sure whether the décor, with its rich colours and gilding, was gaudy or grand.

Thomas grinned, “Definitely not a style of decoration to have at home”.

They had seats in the centre of the stalls and marvelled that anyone would build something as richly elaborate and highly coloured as this.

The opera was a surprise. It was quite short, for a start, and the drama was remarkably gripping. There were no big screaming moments. At first, the music felt edgy and disjointed, but soon it drew Keith in. The mother-in-law was a terror, and he desperately wanted the heroine to be able to escape.

At the interval, the queue for the bar was too long, so they went outside for a bit of air. For Keith, the difference between the absorbing world of the opera and night-time Leeds, with its traffic, bright lights, and groups of revellers, was a shock. Thomas was less taken by the music but enjoyed the drama and kept commenting on visual details of the staging that Keith had not noticed. It certainly looked different to what they expected, all dramatic angles and certainly not the sort of old-fashioned sing-along that Keith had thought opera was. By the end, he was gripping Thomas’ hand and afterwards Thomas laughed that it was a good job that the opera wasn’t longer, as he wouldn’t have had a hand left. Both had enjoyed it in different ways, and the programme book had adverts for future performances. Keith was keen to try, and Thomas was happy to have a go. It looked as if they would be back.

It was still relatively early, and they decided to have a drink at a bar someone at work had recommended to Thomas. It was sort of on the way to the car, but to get there they had to avoid the groups of rather drunken young men, and women; not objectionable in themselves but merry enough to be oblivious to others walking down the Headrow. And both marvelled at the minimal clothing that many of the young women wore. Keith laughed, commenting that he could remember going out like that with Maria, and she wore little more than some of the girls. At least it was warm tonight, Keith remembered nights standing freezing in a queue, Maria in a short skirt and himself in just a short-sleeved shirt.

He turned to Thomas, “Do you think we are getting old and fuddy-duddy?”

“Not at all, our tastes are just changing. You enjoyed tonight didn’t you”, Keith nodded, “well then, there’s plenty of other things for us to explore, that’s not fuddy-duddy. And after all, it wasn’t long ago we were queuing up to get into a club, rather merry from a couple of beers at the White Horse if I remember right.” They both grinned. “Have you heard from Stan?”

“No. Well, just a text saying he’d be in contact.”

“I think you should text him; it’d do us good to go out again.”

“You sure?”

Thomas nodded, “If nothing else, it’ll show that we’re not fuddy-duddy.” He put his arm around Keith’s waist and hugged him. No-one around them took much notice, just two blokes being affectionate, but such a public display felt good. And not fuddy-duddy at all.

The bar was busy, but they managed to squeeze a space at a sort of counter with stools. Opposite them two young women were deep in conversation, they looked up at Keith and Thomas and then ignored them. The women seemed to have the remains of a plate of cold meat, cheese and such which set Keith’s stomach rumbling more. Thomas went to order and asked Keith what he fancied, and he nodded at the plate. If the girls had been a bit more friendly and open, they might have asked what it was, but the bar was quite noisy and leaning over and asking seemed too intrusive.

Still, when Thomas returned bearing two glasses of a rich, dark red wine, he had a bright smile on his face, he’d ordered them a mixed platter. It took some time in coming, but there was interest to be had in watching the people around them. It was a different crowd to the Cuban restaurant, and Keith wondered whether anyone had been to the opera and then Thomas spied a group of people of mixed ages, perhaps parents with grown-up children or maybe work colleagues, with a copy of the programme on the table beside them.

The work idea sparked a discussion about the idea of coming with others, would Alison be up for it? Keith tried to imagine any of the boys coming along, but Thomas said you never know. And he’d have to remember to tell Jan about Janacek; presumably as Jan was Czech, he’d have heard of the composer even if he didn’t like the music.

The platter, when it came, was a treat, bread, olives, oil, Spanish cheese, and salami. From Czech opera to Spanish food in a Leeds bar. They smiled at each other and tucked in.