The Cockney Canuck - 170. Chapter 170 What a Friend We Have in Jesus

As my mom used to say, some people always seem to land on their feet, and this was definitely the case when it came to her brother. For a man of his size, Don was remarkably adept at escaping from a tight spot and emerging not just unscathed but in better shape than he was before. It was this inexplicable Houdini-like ability, coupled with a larger-than-life personality, that often made him appear indestructible in a cartoonish kind of way.

When Don announced to the family that he was renting an apartment near the beach, I imagined something compact and basic, similar to the one my mom bought in England, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If Sue was to have the house, then he had to have something better, grander, and much more expensive.

“Wow, this place is really neat.” Daniel’s face was a mixture of wonder and disbelief as we exited the service elevator on the top floor of the prestigious Lakeview Apartment Complex. He was carrying one end of a large trunk, and I was holding the other while Don walked in front to open the door and issue instructions.

“Put everything in the master bedroom at the end of the hall. I need to go over a few things with the building manager, so I’ll leave you boys to get the rest of the stuff from the car, and don’t forget to take off your shoes.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” said Daniel. He kicked off his flip-flops at the door and waited for me to untie my laces while Don checked his watch.

“The movers will be here soon, and I’ve got important guests arriving later, so I want you out of here by then. And don’t touch anything.”

‘Important guests?’

I figured he was referring to the usual old cronies—the self-appointed moral guardians of the town who Sue referred to as the Cobourg mafia. I didn’t want to be there when they showed up either, but it was going to take a while to unload the car, and it didn’t look like we were going to get much help from Don. I was fed up already, so the moment he left, we ditched the trunk in the bedroom and went to explore.

“I can’t believe he’s moving here,” said Daniel. “This place must cost a fortune.”

Whatever it cost, it was a massive step up the social ladder for a man who had recently told Sue he was broke.

Don’s apartment was neither compact nor basic but a fully furnished, three-bedroom, fourth-floor penthouse that overlooked the harbour. It had plush carpet, air-conditioning, and a tacky but ostentatious feel to it that was strangely familiar.

There were six penthouse suites—two on each of the three elegant white buildings that lined the north side of the Esplanade. According to Don, the apartments were built in the fifties by an American tycoon with a passion for European architecture, and they soon became a feature of the town. They appeared on many of the postcards and even the town’s website, but little was known about the wealthy residents, and access to the buildings was strictly controlled.

I now understood why Don only brought his clothes, office equipment, and a few personal items. The apartment had everything he could possibly need and a few things he didn’t, like two extra bedrooms. One was filled with boxes, and the other looked like it once belonged to a kid. There was a small desk in the corner and some stickers on the wall where a bed would have been. The replacement was propped up against the entrance to the en-suite and still wrapped in cellophane—a brand-new double mattress and bedframe waiting to be assembled. It looked like Don was expecting overnight visitors.

I followed my excited brother into the spacious study and walked to the window to look at the lake. It always captivated me, and that day, it was deep blue and shimmering in the bright sunlight. It would have been a good day to go sailing, but unusually for a Saturday, the pastor’s catamaran was still in the marina moored opposite Don’s rather sad-looking sailboat.

“I guess he’ll have to sell the boat now to pay the rent at this place. But why does he need three bedrooms?”

“So, we can stay over,” said Daniel. “That would be so cool, don’t you think? I can’t wait to tell Doug.”

I remembered what Jo told me about Don needing to bribe his kids and wondered if this was just a sweetener to win them over at a time when their support was flagging. That was why he bought the boat and Nicola’s car. They were just bribes to impress his biological children and make him look successful. Before that day, the chances of Daniel spending even one night with his father were practically non-existent. Now, it looked as if he was ready to stay the entire summer. It was a massive coup for Don and proof that he could never be underestimated, but a frivolous waste of money. It reeked of desperation and made a mockery of his attempt to portray himself as an astute financial genius responsible for making me wealthy.

“I wonder how much he’s paying for this place.”

Daniel ran his hand along the polished surface of the big oak desk and shrugged. “I dunno, but it’s probably not cheap. Everyone who lives in this building is a millionaire.”

Maybe that was true, but Don wasn’t quite in that bracket.

“How can he afford it?”

“He’s giving up his office in Toronto and moving his business here. So, I guess he’ll save some money that way. He must know what he’s doing. He made you rich.”

I should have expected that. After discovering how much I was worth, Daniel never missed an opportunity to remind me.

“I suppose it makes sense to move his business here.” I never understood why he needed to be in Toronto, although I wasn’t convinced he was there as often as he claimed. “Maybe he should’ve moved here years ago and worked from home. Think of all the money he could have saved and all the time driving to Toronto and back, not to mention all the nights he had to sleep in his office.”

“He didn’t sleep in his office. He stayed in a hotel.”

I was being facetious. “Well, that’s even more money he could’ve saved and all those lonely nights on his own when he could have been home with his family.” My brother sat behind the desk, looking disinterested as I continued. “I mean, staying in a hotel on your own would be pretty fucking boring, don’t you think?”

If Daniel knew what I was implying, he chose to ignore it. He didn’t like me casting aspersions about his dad, so I usually tried to steer clear of the subject, but there were times when I couldn’t resist stirring things up.

“There were reasons why he had to be in Toronto,” said Daniel. “Work reasons. He’ll explain them to you if you ask him.”

My brother was annoyingly neutral. He always gave Don the benefit of the doubt, and unlike me, he didn’t want his parents to divorce. It put him in an awkward position, with his loyalty divided between both parents and a troublesome brother intent on causing mischief. I never understood Daniel's bond with his father, but I envied him for it and felt the need to justify my criticism.

“According to the law, he’s my parent too, you know. You don’t need to defend him from me. I can say what I want; it’s not like I’m an outsider.”

“I know that. You’re the one who refuses to call him Dad.”

“That’s because he doesn’t act like a dad. Other than shout at me and tell me what to do all the time.”

“I know you don’t like him, but you’ve only known him for a couple of years. He wasn’t always like this. He used to be fun.”

“Yeah, right. Sometimes, he has me in stitches.”

Daniel glared at me. “You don’t know anything! He was okay before ….”

“Before what?”

“It’s not important, forget it.”

“He was okay before I arrived, you mean?”

“That’s not what I said!”

“It’s what you were going to say, though! Don’t worry, I get it. It’s all my fault!”

“Don’t be so fucking sensitive. It’s not all about you! Things changed a lot when you got here, especially when they found out you were gay, but you’re not the only reason they’re getting a divorce. You’re not that important!”

My brother stomped out of the room, leaving the chair spinning.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not the only reason.”

‘I obviously didn’t try hard enough.’

I felt sorry for Daniel. He was doing okay before I arrived and turned his life upside down. I took half of his room, stole his mom, shagged his best friend, and divided his family. I was surprised he even bothered to talk to me, yet he still felt the need to downplay my role in his parent’s divorce.

Don wasn’t so generous. He had already blamed me unequivocally for the failure of his marriage—something that Sue vehemently denied without providing any other reason. She was only trying to protect me, but in this case, Don’s version was probably closer to the truth. He knew how hard I had worked to derail their relationship and expose him as a bigot, but despite all this, he had left me alone lately and seemed remarkably upbeat for a man whose life was collapsing around him.

Even the house he once described as his fortress no longer interested him, and I couldn’t remember the last time he stayed overnight. It felt like Don had moved on, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake, and it was obvious to me that he wasn’t going to live on his own.

I found Daniel in the kitchen with his head in the fridge. He was like that at home, too, constantly hungry, but on this occasion, he was out of luck. Other than a jug of milk and some gross-looking leftover chicken wings, Don’s fridge was empty. There was no food and, even more disappointing, no beer.

The kitchen didn’t interest me, but I still opened every cupboard and drawer to look inside before pushing past Daniel to get to the adjacent living room. It was the largest of the rooms but over-furnished with a strange mixture of old and new. Alongside the latest smart television was an old-fashioned stereo with a turntable and cassette player, and hanging on the wall behind the couch was a tacky print of Da Vinci’s ‘Last Supper.’ Whoever owned this apartment may have been rich, but they also had incredibly poor taste.

The room was oblong, with vertical blinds covering a row of windows along one side. They were keeping out the sunlight and a view of the lake, so I decided to open them.

I was drawn to a control panel on the wall with half-a-dozen buttons and knobs that I began pressing. One turned on the lights and another opened a serving hatch to the kitchen.

“How about that?”

The third button switched on the television, which went straight to one of the religious channels. Organ music began blasting from the speakers while a choir standing on an idyllic beach sang the first strains of ‘What a friend we have in Jesus.’

I recognised the catchy hymn from the church, but this version was much better than the pastor’s out-of-tune congregation. They were all young and beautiful—even the girls—and surrounded by an orchestra standing precariously on giant rocks around the beach like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was too corny even for Don. He usually listened to Fleetwood Mac, Supertramp, or the Electric Light Orchestra—British bands I had never heard of before moving to Canada.

Daniel wasn’t much fun in these situations. He walked in, covering his ears and staring at the massive flatscreen on the wall.

“Switch it off!”

“I’m trying!”

I pressed the button again, but nothing happened, so I tried the others. The lights dimmed, and cool air began flowing from the vents in the skirting boards up the legs of my shorts.

“What are you doing?” asked Daniel.

“I don’t know!” I began pressing them randomly, closing the serving hatch and switching off all the lights, including the ones in the kitchen. The apartment plunged into darkness, but the choir continued in full voice. “Maybe it was this one.” Daniel watched in dismay as the serving hatch opened and closed again, and a local radio station crackled into life with a weather report to compete with the choir.

“Can you stop it?”

It was easier said than done, but eventually, I figured out what each button did and worked out where I was going wrong. The air-con switched off, and the room fell silent, but the singing continued in my head.

“I was pressing it when I should have been turning it,” I said sheepishly and laughed. “You’d think they would have these things labelled.”

My brother wasn’t impressed. “Why don’t you try not pressing them in the first place.”

That was the stupidest thing I ever heard. “What else are you supposed to do with buttons? I was only trying to open the blinds.”

“Dad told us not to touch anything. He’ll go crazy if he finds out.”

“He won’t, though, will he? Not unless you tell him.”

Daniel glared at me. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I go around snitching on you?”

“Well, it’s funny how you never get caught doing anything wrong. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been grounded over the last year.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“And I’ve put more money in that stupid, fucking swear box than everyone else put together. I probably paid the first month’s rent on this place, but I’m not the only one who swears. And all because I sucked Nathan’s dick!”

“Yuk, that’s disgusting,” said Daniel. “I didn’t need to know that.”

I stared at my brother in disbelief. “You mean, you couldn’t guess? What did you think we were doing?”

“I try not to think about it at all,” he sighed. “Have you finished ranting?”

“No, I can think of plenty of other things to moan about.”

“Well, can you at least wait until we get the rest of the stuff from the car? I’m done arguing with you.”

I hated it when he refused to get drawn into a row. It left me frustrated with no way of venting my anger, and to top it off, I had that hymn stuck in my head. ‘What a friend we have in Jesus’ played repeatedly as I tried to remember what button turned on the lights.

I guessed wrong and stared in awe as the blinds opened and bright sunlight lit up the room.

“How about that? I must have missed that one.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” said Daniel. “Have you seen this?”

In the middle of several large windows was a set of double glass doors that opened out to a rooftop patio that neither of us knew was there. It was about the size of a tennis court but shaped in a semi-circle, with a mosaic-tiled floor and fancy wrought iron railings around the edge. I followed my brother outside and stood in the middle to take in the view dominated by the magnificent lake that stretched as far as the eye could see. Below, a small parking lot was all that separated the front of the building from the marina, and to the left in the distance was the busy beach, now in full summer swing. It was much better than the views from the bedroom or study, with nothing above but blue sky.

“This is awesome,” said Daniel. “I wanna live here.” He shielded his eyes from the glaring sun and then held onto my shoulder as he peeked tentatively over the railings. “But I don’t like heights.”

We were only four floors up—not exactly the CN Tower—but we were higher than most of Cobourg’s relatively modest skyline, and I could point to several local landmarks, like the water tower and the town hall.

As was often the case, our petty squabbles were quickly forgotten when confronted with something of mutual interest, and we became friends again. We used our phones to take photographs, followed by the inevitable selfies, including some rare shots together with the beach in the background. He sent one to his girlfriend, so I sent one to Rory, and all the time, ‘What a friend we have in Jesus’ played in my head.

“I can see the top of the school,” said Daniel.

“I can see Don,” I said. He was walking to the entrance from his car and shaking his head at the lack of progress.

Daniel panicked. “Oh, shit! Now we’re in trouble.”

“We can avoid him by taking the stairs.” I knew it was the one place he would never look, so we stepped away from the railings and then jumped a mile when we saw someone standing in the doorway behind us.

We instinctively grabbed each other and froze in fright until our hearts started beating again.

Mr Symmonds was almost unrecognisable with dark sunglasses and a Panama hat, but his height and ill-fitting, blue crumpled suit gave him away.

“Did I make you jump?”

“Yes!”

I hadn’t seen my former counsellor since he caught me talking to Matthew in the church and threatened me, and he hadn’t improved. His dark glasses made him look more like a mafia hitman than a representative of the church.

“If you don’t want people walking in, it’s best not to leave the front door open.” He joined us on the patio and pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his brow.

“Our dad isn’t here,” said Daniel.

“Actually, it’s you I’ve come to see,” said Symmonds, and he walked past me to pat my brother on the shoulder. “How are you coping?”

“I’m fine,” said Daniel, but he sounded a little scared by the unexpected attention of the lanky counsellor.

“Don told me you’d be here today, so I said I’d pop in to have a little chat. You don’t mind, do you?”

“What about?” My brother looked bewildered and nervous. He only knew Symmonds from what I had told him, and I was never very complimentary of my one-time counsellor.

“It’s okay, you’ve done nothing wrong. He’s just worried about you, that’s all. It’s not easy for kids when their parents get divorced, and in your case, I imagine it’s been particularly difficult. We don’t want you to feel isolated or rejected by him leaving.”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Don told me how resilient you are, but that’s never enough, I’m afraid. It’s important to talk to somebody.” He glanced at me before continuing. “Preferably, someone outside of your family circle who can give you the right kind of advice. I can help you if you want.”

It was the same old spiel, but I was pretty sure his advice wouldn’t benefit Daniel. My brother looked at me for help, and I squeezed my fear long enough to object.

“He can’t. He’s helping me today. You’ll have to come back another time.”

Symmonds looked surprised by my intervention. He wasn’t used to being challenged, let alone asked to leave, but Daniel’s presence forced him to bite his tongue and behave in a way that was more akin to a counsellor than a bully.

“I didn’t mean today. We can arrange to meet here after school one day when there are no distractions.” He handed my brother a card and then turned his attention to me. “There’s no need to be rude. I know you don’t like me, but the least you can do is show me respect. Don told me you were getting better, but I guess he wasn’t referring to your manners.” He loosened his tie and moved towards me, forcing me to take a step back. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No,” I said, but he knew it was a lie. He must have seen the fear in my eyes.

“I hear your boyfriend’s going to be in a movie, or is he a girl? I can never tell.”

“He’s a boy.”

“Well, you should know. I’m told he’s going to Vancouver. That’s good news. Maybe he’ll stay out there. The further away, the better, as far as I’m concerned.” He smiled at my discomfort. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes you with him.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’ve seen his videos on YouTube. That wasn’t very smart, was it? I don’t suppose Don would be very happy if he saw you kissing Trixie Bell or if he found out you skipped school to spend the afternoon with him.”

“How do you …?”

“There’s not much I don’t know about you. I make it my business to know and protect the decent people in this town. They don’t want you here corrupting their kids and destroying families to satisfy your perversions.”

“I’m not corrupting anyone. I kept to our agreement.”

“I know you did. Let’s keep it that way, shall we? Matthew has enough friends, so you don’t need to feel sorry for him.”

“I don’t, and I told you before he’s not my friend.”

“Good, just remember that if you happen to bump into him on your way out. He’s much happier now he doesn’t have you poisoning his mind, and I suspect Daniel will be, too. Have you ever stopped to think what effect your promiscuous lifestyle would have on him? No teenage boy should have to share a room with someone who’s attracted to the same sex.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” said Daniel. “I don’t care if he’s gay. To me, he’s just an annoying brother.”

I smiled at Daniel, but I doubt if Symmonds was even listening. Common sense and reason seemed to bounce off him.

“You don’t have to be loyal to him,” said Symmonds. “Do what’s best for you. Robbie can’t stop you from seeing me. Well, off you go. I thought you had something to do.”

It was too late to avoid Don. I saw him walking through the apartment while Symmonds was talking.

“They’re supposed to be helping me,” said Don. He shielded his eyes and stepped onto the sunny patio to shake Symmonds hand before growling at us. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“It’s my fault,” said Symmonds. “I wanted to see Daniel. I can help him if you want.”

It sounded like Daniel didn’t have a say in the matter, and I knew Don wouldn’t protect him. He didn’t have a problem with Symmonds and was happy to hand over his son for indoctrination by the evil counsellor. Maybe I was too cynical and a little overprotective, but I knew how dangerous Symmonds was, and I considered it my duty to protect my younger and more vulnerable brother. It was a role I fully embraced from the outset and an opportunity to prove my worth to my new family. I still felt the need to justify my inclusion. It wasn’t a birth rite.

As expected, Don thought it would benefit Daniel to spend a few hours talking to Symmonds. Sue was likely to disagree, and it was unclear who had the final say, so I decided to tell my brother everything I knew about the counsellor, even if it meant breaking my promise to Matthew. Daniel needed to know what Symmonds was really like.

I needed to get out of there before Don’s sickly grin made me throw up. Carrying boxes from the car suddenly seemed like fun, so I signalled to Daniel and then cringed when I heard the pastor’s voice behind me.

“Well, well. If it isn’t young Robbie and Daniel. This is an unexpected blessing. Are you here to help?” I ignored the pastor and focused on the boy standing behind him. Matthew looked uncomfortable but healthy and squeaky clean in a white shirt and shorts. He glanced briefly at me before looking away nervously. “I’ll take that as yes,” said the pastor. “The Lord rewards those who work hard.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” I said.

“That’s better. I was getting worried. It’s so unlike you to be quiet.”

“They haven’t finished yet,” added Don. He clapped his hands and pointed to the door. “Hurry up, you’ve hardly done a thing.”

Daniel moaned as he led the way, stopping briefly to say hello to Matthew. The pastor’s son acknowledged my brother with a slight nod, but when I passed him, he kept his eyes fixed on the floor. I figured Symmonds was watching his every move.

Earlier, the security guy in the foyer gave us a key fob to access different parts of the building. It hung on a ribbon around Daniel’s neck, and he used it to call the service elevator before surprising me with a spontaneous hug.

“What was that for?”

“For rescuing me from Symmonds. That was pretty cool. He scares the shit out of me.”

I smiled at my brother. “He scares the shit out of me too. He’s an arsehole, and he doesn’t give up easily. There are things I need to tell you that you won’t like.”

“He’s not gonna beat me up, is he?”

My jaw hit the floor. “What made you say that?”

“There’s a kid in my class who used to go to that church, and he said that Symmonds used to hit him all the time. He ran away to his grandparents in the end.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Why would I? You don’t even know him. Anyway, I wasn’t sure if he was making it up. He’s a strange kid. I told him he should go to the police and press charges, but he shot me down in flames.”

I wasn’t surprised. It was a familiar pattern. “He won’t go to the police because the chief is one of them. I’ve seen him at the church. He’s friends with the pastor and probably knows Symmonds too.”

Daniel shivered. “One of them. That sounds sinister. So, what are you saying? Do you think the kid in my class is telling the truth?”

“Probably.”

Daniel followed me into the elevator, snapping at my heels. “Probably?”

“Yes, probably. I wouldn’t be surprised. Symmonds is a bully. He has no reason to hurt you, but you need to know what he’s like. Just agree with him, and you’ll be fine.”

“Shit! The guy’s crazy. He can’t just go around hitting kids. He should be locked up.”

“Don’t tell him that, whatever you do. He’s gonna try to turn you against me, you know that, don’t you? And he can be very convincing.”

“Well, it won’t work. I don’t care that you kissed Trixie Bell.” He smirked as we stood on opposite sides of the enormous elevator for the painfully slow journey to the basement. The stairs would have been a lot quicker. “And if he tries to hurt me, Dad will beat the shit outta him.”

My brother had far too much faith in his dad.

“I hate to break it to you, but your dad and Symmonds play for the same team.”

“But Dad would never let anyone hurt me.”

Daniel looked confused. It was a lot to take in, so I returned his hug from earlier and reassured him.

“I don’t think so either, but it’s best not to put him in that position. Remember, Symmonds is not a nice man, and he has the church's backing.”

“He really doesn’t like you, does he? What’s this agreement you have with him.”

“He’s blackmailing me. It’s no big deal. He does it to everyone.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“No. He said he would tell Don about Nathan if I didn’t keep away from Matthew, and he’ll probably try the same trick to stop me from seeing you.”

“What a jerk. He probably thinks you’re after Matthew’s dick.”

“Something like that.”

“I knew it. Those people are weird. Matthew’s not gay, though, is he?”

“If he was, he isn’t anymore, that’s for sure. Symmonds would have taken care of that.”

The elevator shuddered to a halt, and the doors squeaked as they opened in the loading bay. I left my brother to work out what I said and walked up the ramp.

“Wait!” He caught me up and walked backwards in front of me. “Matthew’s being abused, isn’t he? I mean physically abused. How long have you known about this?”

“Will you Keep your voice down? I have no proof, and Matthew won’t talk to me about it anymore. He told me something once, that’s all, and then he swore me to secrecy. I’ve tried to help him, but he refuses to admit that there’s something wrong. What more do you expect me to do? Who am I supposed even to tell?”

“Shit! This is serious. We have to stop him.”

“How? Matthew’s too scared to talk to anyone. I wish he hadn’t told me. Why should I worry about his problems when he doesn’t want to help himself.”

“I’m sorry,” said Daniel. “I know it’s not your fault, but eventually, somebody has to stand up to that creep, or he’s gonna keep getting away with it.”

“Yeah, somebody eventually, but not me and not now. I’m too compromised. I can’t believe he’s been watching Nathan’s YouTube videos. Worse still. He knows all about Nathan and me skipping school, where we went, and what we were doing. That’s scary because I know I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Maybe he’s following you, or he could have planted a tracking device in your bag.”

“Nothing would surprise me with him. Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way.”

“I was only telling the truth. I don’t care if you’re gay, you know that. I feel sorry for Matthew, though.”

So did I, but as far as I was concerned, the matter was closed. I had wasted too much time trying to help someone who didn’t want to be helped. My conscience was clear.

“With any luck, he’ll be gone by the time we get back.”

“I wouldn’t bank on it,” said Daniel. He pointed to the front of the building, where Matthew was leaning against the wall, biting his nails. He jumped when he saw us approaching from the loading bay and came to meet us at the top of the slope.

“My dad said I have to help you.”

The pastor believed in the virtues of hard work—as long as he didn’t have to do any himself—and he never missed an opportunity to offer his son's services. I was in favour of anything that would reduce our workload, and Matthew made an immediate impact by suggesting that we use one of the dollies. He went to find the security guard, and a few minutes later, he was pushing a big four-wheeled cart up the slope.

“That’s perfect,” said Daniel. “Where did you find it?”

“They keep them here for removals. You just have to ask someone at the desk.”

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” I asked.

Matthew looked puzzled. “Didn’t you know? We used to live here. Your dad’s moving into our old apartment.”

Suddenly, it all made perfect sense. The brash décor, tacky furniture, and religious paintings were all hallmarks of the wacky pastor.

“So, he’s renting the apartment from your dad?”

“No, it’s owned by the church, but I don’t know what arrangements they’ve made. They don’t tell me stuff like that.”

The church supposedly owned the catamaran, too, and I wondered if it was some kind of tax fraud. Whatever dodgy deals the pastor was doing, it seemed likely that Don was getting the apartment at a discounted rate.

“Why did you move out?” said Daniel. “That’s a cool apartment. Right opposite the marina and a five-minute walk to the beach.”

I elbowed my brother in the ribs. “You sound like a real estate agent.”

He pushed me away. “I’m serious. I would love to live there.”

“I thought you were living there,” said Matthew. “That’s what my dad said. But what do I know.” There was an uncomfortable silence before he directed the conversation to something he knew we would find interesting. “Have you seen the pool yet?”

Matthew was looking at me, but Daniel reacted first, nearly jumping down the kid's throat.

“There’s a pool? Where?”

There was no way my brother would let him off the hook, so Don’s clothes had to stay in his car a little longer while Matthew took us for an impromptu tour of the basement. We followed him around the side of the building and down a set of stairs to the back door, which he opened with a key fob before passing it to me.

“Give this to your dad. I was supposed to hand it in when we left, but that was over two years ago, so it’s a bit late now.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll make double sure he gets it,” I smiled, but I don’t think Matthew believed me.

‘Unless I forget.’

The basement was much larger than I imagined and divided by a corridor with floor-to-ceiling windows. On one side was a thirty-metre pool, complete with a hot tub and changing facilities, and on the other, a fully equipped fitness room. The facilities were modern, stylish, and, like the rest of the building, totally deserted.

Matthew must have read my mind. “It’s a shame; they keep the pool at a constant thirty degrees all year, and hardly anyone uses it.”

Daniel was excited. “Are we allowed to use it?”

“It’s for residents only, but no one's gonna check if you have a key.”

As far as I was concerned, it was just another way of bribing his kids, and I wanted no part of it, but Daniel started to look vulnerable. I remembered what Sue said about people trying to divide the family, and it seemed like this was Don’s objective.

For a weedy-looking kid, Matthew seemed to enjoy rolling up his sleeves and doing manual labour. It was evident at the church and again that day as we managed to stack all the boxes and suitcases onto the trolley and take everything upstairs on a single journey.

Don was impressed. He watched from the living room with the pastor and Mr Symmonds as we walked everything into his bedroom before begrudgingly giving Daniel and me our weekly allowance.

This was the bit I hated, but with my funds rapidly dwindling, I became increasingly reliant on Don’s money, and he knew it. I stood beside Daniel while my adopted father opened his bulging wallet, counted eighty dollars in ten-dollar bills, and divided it between us. It nearly killed me having to say thank you, but unlike my brother, I couldn’t conjure up a smile.

“At least try to look a little grateful when I give you money,” moaned Don.

“I said thank you, didn’t I?”

My attitude rankled Don and brought a disapproving look out of Symmonds. The church kids weren’t allowed to argue with their parents, but the pastor seemed to have a soft spot for me. He pulled me aside, and Symmonds backed away. He was utterly subservient to the pastor.

“Will we see you in church tomorrow, young man?”

“No.”

“You’re as stubborn as a mule, but I don’t give up easily. You know that.”

I nodded. “Neither do I.”

The pastor was drinking wine and had a silly grin as he walked to the window and pointed at the lake. “Isn’t it beautiful? Do you know why I like it up here, Robbie?”

“Because it’s closer to God?”

The pastor laughed. “No, no. You don’t need to be up high to be close to God. He can hear you wherever you are, and he’s always listening. Don’t forget that.”

“Then why do we have to go to church?”

“For spiritual guidance, young man. The church is the voice of God, and it’s my job to pass on his instructions.”

“Does he talk to you then?”

“Well, no, not directly.”

“Then how do you know what he’s saying?”

“Robbie, that’s enough,” said Don, and he apologised to the pastor, who pretended not to be bothered by my questions.

“There’s no need to be sorry. The boy’s inquisitive, that’s all. Asking questions is a good thing. Everything we need to know is in the bible.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if God talked to us directly?”

The pastor smiled condescendingly at me and was showing signs of agitation.

“That would be impossible. Think of how many people there are in the world. How could he talk to everyone?” He laughed with Don at my stupidity before shutting down the conversation to say hello to an elderly couple I recognised from the church. They were the first of Don’s guests to arrive and were followed by several others.

Daniel stared at me as I mulled over the pastor’s answer. His eyes pleaded with me to let it go, but it didn’t make sense, and the devil in me wouldn’t allow it.

“But you just said God’s always listening. So, if he can hear everyone, he must be able to talk to everyone.”

The pastor huffed and apologised to the person I interrupted. “It’s not our place to question the Lord's methods. I’m sure all will be revealed eventually to those of us who believe. Do you believe, Robbie?”

“No. I don’t see the point in believing in someone who doesn’t like me.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t like you?”

“Because he doesn’t like gay people.”

That word was guaranteed to get me an audience. The other conversations stopped to listen while Don held his head in his hands.

“Then maybe you need to change your lifestyle?”

“He has changed,” said Don. “He’s been doing well lately, haven’t you?”

It was a polite way of saying I wasn’t engaging in sexual acts with other boys, but Symmonds knew better, and he looked ready to intervene.

“Why can’t he be more flexible, like the God in the Catholic church downtown? He doesn’t have a problem with gay people.”

The handful of guests muttered amongst themselves, and Don looked like he wanted to kill me. I guess I overstepped the mark.

“He’s not usually like this,” said Don, without talking to anyone in particular. “I think he’s autistic.”

Symmonds dismissed Don’s excuse and replaced it with something far more sinister. “It’s blasphemy,” he claimed. “And he’s doing it intentionally to make you look small and undermine your authority.”

Don’s veins were beginning to pop on his forehead, but he didn’t need the lanky counsellor to goad him into action, and I was immediately grounded.

Daniel stood behind me, pulling at my T-shirt. He must have thought I would make a scene, and I usually would, but this time was different. I was happy to accept Don’s futile punishment, knowing Sue wouldn’t bother enforcing it, especially if it concerned the church.

“I’ll call Sue later,” said Don sternly, “and tell her you’re grounded for a week.”

“What for? Blasphemy?”

My flippant tone and defiant body language made it clear to everyone that I wasn’t concerned by his attempted punishment, and he must have realised what reaction he would get from Sue. There was an uncomfortable silence, and the colour drained from Don’s cheeks as it dawned on him, perhaps for the first time, that he no longer had an effective way of controlling me. It was a significant event in the rapidly changing dynamics of our relationship and a moment I will remember forever.

Symmonds was fuming, and I could almost read his mind. He wouldn’t have put up with such insolence, but the pastor came to Don’s rescue with a hearty laugh to diffuse a potentially volatile situation.

“Let’s not be too harsh. I’m sure Robbie meant no harm. He’s a little stupid, that’s all. Besides, I doubt if there’s anything he could say to make you look small, Don.”

I could see from his troubled expression that Don wasn’t quite sure if the pastor was praising his strong character or making fun of his size. A mischievous glint in the pastor’s eye made me believe the latter and further compounded Don’s woes, but I resisted the urge to laugh.

The pastor had plenty of faults, but unlike Symmonds, they were watered down with a sprinkling of common sense and empathy, which made him less of a threat. It was a shame he couldn’t treat his son with the same respect, but I guess he didn’t need to be saved.

Daniel waited for me while I tied my shoelaces at the door. “Why do you have to antagonise him? You only make things worse for yourself.”

He was right, and I knew it, but as always, I refused to admit it.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I smiled at my brother and bundled him into the elevator as Don came out of his apartment to moan about leaving the door open.

“And don’t forget, you’re grounded for a week.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” I waved goodbye as the elevator door closed and then turned to Daniel. “Don’t look at me like that. At least we got the basement back.”

When we arrived home, Nicola had already moved most of her stuff upstairs, and the family room looked empty. While my brother began de-girlifying the place, I packed an overnight bag for my Saturday night sleepover at Nathan’s house.

Don must have realised he would be wasting his time calling Sue, but I told her anyway and as predicted, she scoffed when I said that Symmonds wanted me grounded for blasphemy. She was more interested in Don’s apartment and looked worried when Daniel told her how wonderful it was. She must have realised at that point that it would be difficult to keep the family together.

I felt sorry for Sue. None of this was her fault, but she refused to admit that I was in any way responsible for the breakup of her family, and she stood by this claim even though no one believed her.

*     *     *

Later, at Nathan’s house, I told my boyfriend that Symmonds was watching his YouTube videos and using my participation in them to blackmail me, but he was too busy to pay much attention. His upcoming movie was now the most important thing in his life, and everything else was trivial. I wasn’t even sure if I was in the top three. The school play was more important than me, so it seemed Simon.

Nathan described his overtly gay dance partner as an indispensable team member and praised his massive input. In my filthy mind, those words took on a new meaning and made it difficult for me to concentrate when it mattered.

“Are you even trying?”

“Of course, I’m trying.”

It was an odd question to ask. I didn’t realise I had to try. It was usually the other way around. I was more familiar with the difficulties of trying to stop an orgasm—a task which always ended in blissful failure.

There was no denying Nathan’s talents. He was good, but despite a cultivated technique and considerable effort, my boyfriend could not get me to the finish line.

The boy kneeling between my legs studied the top of my soggy penis and removed a stray hair before flicking his eyes towards me and continuing with his task. He looked less than happy, and perhaps that was the problem. I preferred it when he looked like he was enjoying himself, even if I knew it was just an act.

I pushed his fringe back to give me a better view of the action, and he looked over his eyes at me, hoping to see an indication that I was close. But I was nowhere near, and he stopped for a breather.

“You’ve been jerking off, haven’t you?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not when they have a boyfriend to do it for them. If you were more disciplined, this wouldn’t happen.”

“It was this morning when Daniel was in the shower.”

“I don’t wanna know about your dirty masturbation habits.”

Nathan made me laugh. He had spent the past half an hour with my dick in his mouth, and he thought I was dirty for jerking off. I was about to point this out, but he was already back to work, grasping my penis in his clammy hand and tugging it in a direction it didn’t want to go.

“Ouch! Be careful.”

He grinned at me and apologised, then looked at his watch and frowned. None of these actions were particularly helpful, but Nathan didn’t give up easily. It was a matter of pride for him, and he had a variety of techniques on which to fall back. He was also a skilled wanker with soft hands and a delicate touch that he used in conjunction with his tongue to finally get the desired result. I’m sure he was just as relieved as I was to see the fruits of his hard work splatter the back of his hand.

“Is that the best you can do?” he said, wiping his hand on his bedsheet and fluffing his pillow. “We can wait a while before you return the favour. I need to get back to my manuscript.”

He was reading the screenplay of his movie, something he did at every possible opportunity, even in the middle of sex, it seemed.

“Do you want me to help?”

“How can you help me read? You’re funny sometimes. You can help by lying beside me and keeping me warm. Oh, I forgot to mention I won’t be here next weekend. I’m going to Toronto for three days to watch them shoot part of a new television series. The film company arranged it to familiarise me with the technical side of the business, so I know what to expect when we start filming. I get to hang out with the director and the cast and ask loads of questions.”

“It sounds exciting. Isn’t it the long weekend?”

“Uh-huh, they’re gonna be filming downtown, so they have to do it when there’s not many people around. I’ll be staying in a hotel with the actors and film crew, but I can’t take you with me. I have to be accompanied by someone over eighteen, so my sister’s going instead.” He kissed me and rubbed my hand. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, it’s your job now. That’s what you do.”

“Ah, you’re so sweet. I’m still going to take you to Vancouver with me, though. I won’t be able to go without you for four weeks.”

He sounded determined, but I knew it wasn’t going to happen. The same rules would apply, and I wasn’t old enough. It looked like I would be spending the summer on my own.

I admired Nathan’s dedication, but watching him read was boring. I wasn’t cut out to be a lapdog, and there was little in his room that interested me. So, while my boyfriend immersed himself in his script, I put on my shorts and crept downstairs to watch television and call Rory. It was late, and Nathan’s family were in bed, but Rory was wide awake and anxious to brag about his beloved Manchester United. Earlier that day, they had secured the Premier League title and, in a couple of weeks, were playing in the final of the Champions League—a game I had agreed to watch at his house.

“You can bring Nathan along if you want.”

“No chance. I want to have fun. He’ll be rehearsing anyway.”

“Isn’t he with you at the moment? I thought you were staying at his house tonight.”

“I am. He’s in his room reading. So, I came downstairs to watch TV in the basement.”

Rory laughed. “No naughties for you then tonight.”

“There’s always naughties, Rory. But tonight was a struggle. I wasn’t in the mood.”

“Wow! Are you ill or something?”

“Don’t be so cheeky. You must think I’m a sexaholic or something.”

“No, but you do it more than me.”

“Monks do it more than you, Rory. But you’ve only got yourself to blame. You have plenty of opportunities.”

“You think I’m being too fussy, don’t you?”

“Either that or you’ve got a low sex drive.”

He giggled. “That’s silly. I’m the same as everyone else. Just because I don’t talk about it all the time, it doesn’t mean I don’t wanna do it. Sometimes, I think about it a lot.”

It sounded like this was one of those times, in which case I had some excellent advice for my horny blonde friend.

“Use your hands; that’s what they’re for.”

“I was trying.”

I laughed. Rory was getting bold in his old age. “What’s the problem then?”

“People interrupting me by calling late at night.”

It had to be a joke. Rory never talked about masturbating. It was strictly off-limits for him. I didn’t even know he did it.

“You weren’t really jerking off, were you?”

“You sound shocked. I’m a teenager, and I don’t have a partner. It’s not illegal, you know. I’m in my room; it’s not like I’m doing it in the street.”

He was right; I was shocked. Not because he was wanking, but because he admitted it and was happy to talk to me about it. Usually, he would rather have walked over hot coals than divulge that kind of information, especially to a self-confessed pervert like me.

“Sorry, mate. I thought you were joking. I can call back another time. It’s not important.”

He laughed. “It’s okay; it can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. I’m not that desperate. I’m just a little, you know.”

“Horny,” I interrupted. “Yeah, I know. But it’s perfectly normal. You need to get rid of some spunk, or your balls will explode, and I don’t wanna be around when that happens, or maybe I do.”

Rory was giggling and probably blushing like crazy. He was a long way out of his comfort zone.

“I’ve told you too much.”

“No, you haven’t told me enough. I didn’t realise you jerked off. Maybe we can do it together someday. Nothing gay, of course, no touching, but we might be able to learn from each other. I still think I’m doing it wrong.” My suggestion was met by a long silence, so I walked it back. “On second thoughts, forget I said any of that. You’re not doing it now, are you?”

“No, I’m not doing it now,” he giggled.

“You can if you want; I don’t mind. It’s cool that you can talk about it, though. You don’t usually do that.”

“I didn’t realise I had to. It’s kinda personal, don’t you think?”

“Not with best friends, it isn’t. It’s important not to have secrets.”

“In that case, I’ll take notes, and we can discuss it on Monday.”

“Photographs would be better, and don’t wait until Monday; send them to me straight away.”

“I’ve only got one pair of hands, you know. If it’s that important, you can come here and watch.”

I nearly dropped my phone. “Fuck! What’s got into you? You can’t say things like that, not even as a joke. You’re getting me all worked up.”

“Who said I was joking?”

This time, I really did drop my phone. It fell down the side of the couch, and I had to lift the cushions to retrieve it, along with a ten-dollar bill and a condom still in its foil wrapping.

“How about that? I just found ten dollars and a condom in Nathan’s couch.”

“Too bad you’re not in the mood, or you could’ve given him something to think about while he’s reading.”

Nathan wouldn’t have been happy if I tried to shag him with a condom, but there wasn’t enough time to explain the finer details of our relationship. Not with Rory hanging by a thread and anxious to get back to pleasuring himself. If I thought he was serious, I would have put the money towards a taxi fare and taken him up on his offer to watch.

That thought was enough to stretch the fabric at the front of my shorts, creating a tent big enough for a travelling circus. It put Nathan’s earlier efforts to shame, and he had my penis in his mouth for the best part of half an hour. Nothing made sense anymore, and it was all Rory’s fault.

“Talking to you has made me horny. You cured me.”

“Haha, I’ll send you the bill. But I have to go now before my balls explode.”

“Don’t forget the photos. I promise not to share them.”

“Not a chance. You’ll have to use your imagination.”

I was left staring at my phone and inadvertently playing with my dick. My overactive imagination was already out of control, filling my head with explicit images of my best friend beating off in ever more compromising positions. I had never heard Rory talk so candidly about sex before, even as a joke, but I liked this new, liberated version of him. He must have been feeling super horny after I interrupted his wanking session, which begged the question.

‘Who answers the phone when they’re wanking?’

Rory was way too polite and a walking aphrodisiac. If I could have put him into bottles, I would have made a mint. He didn’t send me any photographs, so I went back upstairs to show Nathan my flagpole and prove I was still a man. I was ready to challenge Simon with a massive input of my own, but I was too late. My boyfriend was already asleep, with his face covered by his screenplay. I took a photograph to sell if he made it to stardom and climbed into bed only to be kept awake by the chorus of ‘What a friend we have in Jesus.’

That’s what you get for blasphemy.