A Different Love - 4. Chapter 4

By the following June I’d taken my final exams and at last school was officially over. I can’t say it had been the best time of my life, but at least I’d got through it relatively unscathed. I still didn’t have any really close friends, but hopefully the future would be brighter and my life would take a turn for the better.

How wrong could I be!! All of a sudden, disaster struck my family and all our lives were changed forever.

It was a particularly hot day in the middle of August, but I can still remember what happened as clearly as if it were yesterday. Dad was in the kitchen fitting a shelf above one of the work surfaces, when mum and I heard an almighty crash. We rushed in to see what had happened and found him lying on the floor with the step ladder on top of him, pieces of broken wood scattered all around him. He appeared to be unconscious and blood was pouring from a wound in his head, forming an ever growing crimson pool on the floor beside him. For a second or two time seemed to stand still and we stood there with shocked expressions on our faces.

“RING FOR AN AMBULANCE!!! QUICKLY JASON!!! shouted mum, instantly breaking the spell.

Mobilised into action, I was halfway there before she’d even finished her sentence, dialling 999 with a shaking finger. Mum knew enough about first aid not to move him, so instead she knelt down at his side and tried to stem the flow of blood from his head with a tea towel hastily grabbed off the work surface. His face seemed to have taken on a lop-sided look and a trail of spittle began running down his chin as he tried unsuccessfully to speak. Mum was there in an instant, gently patting it dry, whilst at the same time mouthing comfortable words of support and encouragement. I’d taken over holding the tea towel to the side of his head, but by this time it was red with blood and beginning to drip steadily through my fingers.

The faint sound of a siren gradually grew louder and louder and I rushed to the front door, desperately hoping it was the ambulance for dad. My breath came in short gasps as it pulled up outside the gate with a loud screech and two men jumped out, trying to find the right house. Seeing me gesticulating wildly, they rushed up the path and quickly entered the house, leaving me standing there feeling totally useless and sick to my stomach. A moment later I took a deep breath and followed them in. Feeling it best to give them some space, I didn’t go into the kitchen but peered in through the open doorway. Dad’s motionless body was being carefully examined by the two medics and for a shocking moment I feared the worst. As one of them began tending to the large head wound, his body suddenly jerked into life again as he clearly felt the pain and I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Mum was standing by the sink with a look of shock and anxiety on her face that quickly changed to one of relief and it was obvious that the same thought had been running through her mind too. Once dad was conscious, the medics disappeared and returned a short time later carrying a stretcher. As they manoeuvred him on, mum stroked dad’s hand lovingly and tears began to run down her face as she followed them outside to accompany him in the ambulance. We hugged each other before she left and as I struggled to hold back the tears, she promised to ring me from the hospital as soon as possible. I desperately wanted to go with them, but she persuaded me it would be better to wait here until she knew what was happening.

After they’d gone the silence in the house was deafening. I wandered from room to room, unable to concentrate on anything until I’d heard some news from mum. Finally, I sat in dad’s favourite chair by the fire and it somehow made me feel closer to him, as though he was still at home. I must have fallen asleep because an hour later I was rudely awoken by the persistent ringing of the telephone. It soon transpired that dad had suffered a stroke followed by a slight heart attack and was lucky to be alive! It was a seriously debilitating illness and although his slurred speech improved in leaps and bounds over the following months, it soon became apparent that he would never walk properly again.

Dad had always been extremely active, and the devastating news was an incredibly cruel blow to him. I fondly remembered childhood holidays to the East Coast of England. Mum would sit in a deck chair on the beach watching dad and I playing football or running up and down flying a kite. If we weren’t doing that we would be in the sea fighting the waves or playing a game of cricket. Dad was always very energetic and loved all kinds of sports and physical activities. As I grew older we still played cricket or football together on occasions, and it was because of him that I first started visiting the gym on a regular basis.

Suddenly things became very different and from that moment on all our lives changed forever. Dad’s health never fully recovered and over the next few months he suffered two further heart attacks and was constantly in and out of hospital. We had to sell the house in Hamborough to pay off the mortgage, but luckily we were offered a specially adapted local authority bungalow, a few miles away in the village of Dryford, as he could no longer climb the stairs.

After dad’s health failed, mum had no choice but to give up her full time work to look after him. She did a fantastic job, but as a consequence money was always tight and we couldn’t afford many luxuries.

By then summer was over and I was desperate to find a full time job. I would be seventeen this coming December and the only income I had came from a part time job at the local butchers. The pay left a lot to be desired and the money I earned barely covered the few essentials I needed. I was desperate to help out at home, but mum and dad always refused to accept anything from me, insisting that until I began full time work, what little money I earned was mine.

My only two vices were cigarettes, which mum and dad still didn’t know about, and a few underage pints of beer on a Saturday night. Strictly speaking of course, cigarettes and a few pints of beer one night a week could hardly be described as essentials, but for a teenager they meant everything. At almost seventeen years old the lure of being able to get away with drinking illegally was new and exciting. I started to catch the bus into Hamborough every Saturday night, tentatively visiting different pubs on my own, constantly hoping a miracle would happen and I would get to meet someone. Although being gay made it an awful lot harder, I was determined to try and do my best to find someone special. For me, the most important adolescent activity of all was conspicuous by its absence. Things had been pretty bleak on the sexual front since my experiences with Ben the previous summer and the fact that I was still a virgin was testament to this. For me sex was nonexistent and the only viable option was frequent self pleasuring.

As far as a job was concerned, I had no idea what I wanted to do. Coupled with the fact that decent jobs were hard to come by, it took a stroke of luck to secure the possibility of a good one.

Shortly after we moved to Dryford, mum discovered that Margaret Buchan, an old school friend of hers, lived nearby. Her husband John was the manager of a large computer store in the city and they were looking for a couple of trainee sales staff. She had obviously mentioned the fact that I was looking for a job and I had no hesitation in jumping at the chance of an interview when it was subsequently offered. Once fully trained the salary was surprisingly good and I was desperate for the chance to work and the opportunity to earn some much needed money.

My interview with Mr. Buchan was the following Thursday and it seemed to come around in no time at all. I desperately needed the job and was determined to do my best to secure it. My stomach was doing somersaults as I stood outside the large computer store in the city. Checking my appearance carefully in the reflection from the window, I made an unnecessary adjustment to my tie and walked nervously into the store. It was 10:45 and my interview was arranged for 11 o’clock. All the staff seemed to be busy serving customers and it was difficult to get the attention of someone. The palms of my hands became sweaty with apprehension as I hoped that someone would soon become free. As the minutes ticked by I looked at my watch anxiously, reluctant to interrupt one of them in mid flow.

Suddenly a tall, good looking guy in the far corner became free and I rushed over towards him before he had the chance to assist another customer. By this time a band of sweat had broken out on my forehead and I tugged at the collar of my shirt to ease my discomfort.

“I wonder if you can help me? I asked him nervously.

“Yes, of course” he answered pleasantly “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got an interview……for a job here” I said shakily, unable to stop myself from looking at the clock “At 11am with Mr. Buchan?”

My voice had a slightly questioning tone about it as though he might not know who I was talking about.

“No problem!” he answered amiably “Follow me”

He ushered me through a nearby door marked ‘Staff Only’ and as soon as it closed behind us he turned towards me and held out his hand. “I’m Tom by the way.”

Quickly wiping my hand down the side of my trousers I grasped his outstretched hand and shook it firmly “Oh its erm Jason” I answered shakily, beginning to feel slightly sick. “Jason Wright”

“Nervous eh?” Tom commented, raising his eyebrows “Don’t worry Jason, you’ll be fine”

His friendly demeanour and immediate use of my first name seemed to calm me down and I smiled at him, feeling slightly better. We continued down the corridor and he stopped outside a door marked ‘M.Buchan. Store Manager’.

“Take a seat Jason” he said, indicating a nearby chair “I’ll tell Mr. Buchan you’re here”.

I nodded and sat down as he knocked on the door and disappeared inside the office. Within a few seconds he came out again and smiled at me encouragingly. “He’ll call you in shortly”

I nodded my head and gave him a weak smile of thanks.

“Nice to meet you Jason anyway” he said, beginning to back away down the corridor “And good luck, I hope you get the job”

Within minutes the door opened and Mr. Buchan ushered me in, offering his hand “Good morning Jason, sit down, please”

“Good morning” I answered, quickly following him in. I sat down in the chair he’d indicated, facing his desk.

Mr. Buchan wasn’t at all what I expected. He was a tall, imposing man with flaming red hair and a wild goatee beard. His strong Scottish accent was evident as soon as he spoke and for some reason I instantly knew he would expect the highest standards from his staff. From the moment I entered the room, my interview didn’t go at all as planned and I was pretty sure I’d blown my chances of getting the job.

“Ok Jason” he began, squinting at his paperwork “So tell me, what qualities do you have that would make me employ you?”

My throat had gone as dry as sandpaper and I took a huge gulp before answering in a shaky voice “Well....erm....I’m good with people....and patient....erm....oh and polite, I’m very polite!”

“Mmm....” He nodded his head and absent-mindedly tugged at his beard, giving me no clue if my answer was favourable or not. Another question quickly followed “So Jason, what do you think would make you an asset to the company?”

This was a question I thought I’d prepared for, but I still struggled to answer. I could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down my back and all I wanted to do was ditch the tie and loosen my collar. “Well....erm...I’m always smart and polite and...erm...” My voice faltered and I knew that I’d started to repeat myself. I quickly realised that was never a good thing!

There was an awkward silence as if he was waiting for me to say something and I desperately tried to stem an attack of the shakes. Before I could say anything further, he jumped in with a question.

“So you don’t think that time keeping is important then?”

My heart thumped with dismay as I realised that was the answer he was waiting to hear and I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. “Yes....yes....of course I do Mr Buchan, I’m an excellent timekeeper!”

He smiled slightly for the first time and shuffled the papers on his desk “Good!! Because that’s something I always insist on”

The questions just kept on coming and I became ever more confused and frustrated. He had a rather unnerving habit of staring at me with his bright blue eyes, as though he could read my mind. I must have been on auto pilot for the rest of the interview because the time went by in a blur and as it came to an end Mr Buchan had to remind me it had finished. When I stood up and thanked him, my legs felt weak and unsteady and he promised he would let me know by tomorrow. By now I was a quivering wreck and all I could think of was to make my escape as quickly as possible.

I left the store in a daze, angry and upset that the chance of a good job had probably slipped through my fingers. Thankfully, Tom was nowhere to be seen to ask me how it had gone and I was grateful at least for small mercies.

The following morning I was eating breakfast about 9:30am when the telephone rang. Mr. Buchan had promised to ring me either way and as I walked across the room to take the handset from mum it felt as if my heart would burst. It was the moment I’d been dreading ever since my interview the previous day and with a heavy heart I waited to hear the inevitable rejection. Mum stood nearby with her fingers crossed, watching me intently and dad’s expression of hopeful anticipation showed clearly on his face. All three of us held our breath until I took the telephone off mum and hesitantly answered. When Mr. Buchan informed me that I’d got the job it was the last thing I expected and for a moment it refused to sink in. After a few seconds, I turned towards mum and dad with a huge grin on my face and punched the air in triumph. Their faces visibly relaxed and the atmosphere of tension that had been in the room immediately dissipated, like air escaping from a punctured balloon. A wonderful feeling of euphoria surged through me and for a second or two I was completely overcome with emotion, hardly able to speak. As I replaced the handset mum came over and gave me a huge hug and dad congratulated me excitedly.

I was due to start on the following Monday at 9am and the nerves had already begun to set in. Perhaps I would be lucky and Tom might be the person assigned to train me, but with the amount of people working there it seemed fairly unlikely. It was probably for the best anyway, as he was extremely good looking and I would need all my concentration to learn the job.