A Long List of Nevers - 25. Chapter 25

It had started raining by the time they left the shop in Carl’s ute. They stopped by Mr. Simmons’ shop to drop off Caz’s painting. The elder Simmons looked at Carl curiously then back at Keith with a half smile. Thankfully, he didn’t ask.

 

“Is this yours?” Keith glanced over at the painting Carl was looking at. It was. One of his earlier pieces painted when he was home from uni.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Keith’s stuff account for probably a third of the paintings we sell here.” Jeff, the older of Mr. Simmons’ two sons commented from his desk. “Glad you’re painting again, Keith.”

 

“Only because I’m one of what? Three people who paint in the entire island?”

 

Jeff laughed. “Probably. But they’re really great, if I may say so.”

 

“I think so too.” Carl agreed softly, still looking at the painting.

 

Keith murmured his thanks. He avoided meeting Jeff’s gaze who had an expression of dawning understanding as he looked from Carl to Keith.

 

“Is this from Caz?” Mr. Simmons asked as he uncovered the painting. “Girl’s showing talent.”

 

“Yep. I’d like to have it mounted. It’s technically her first work.” Keith smiled. “She’ll want it when she’s older.”

 

“Have I ever told you that I still have one of your first painting ever, Keith?”

 

Keith looked at him in surprise then laughed. “No, but I bet it was something squiggly.”

 

“I guess it is.” Mr. Simmons adjusted the glasses perched on his nose. “But it’s like this painting here. It may not be that professional but even then I could see you definitely had talent.”

 

Keith snorted.

 

“Can I see it?” Carl’s deep voice issued behind Keith, reminding him that things were not quite as cozy here.

 

“Sure. If you’ll wait…”

 

“No.” Keith interrupted. “Sorry, but we have to get going. Maybe later.” He started making his way to the door, Mr. Simmons staring after him quizzically. Carl didn’t protest but just trailed behind him as they exited the shop and ran for the car.

 

“What’s the hurry?” Carl asked quietly as they slid into the ute.

 

Keith brushed off the droplets of rain caught in his hair. “Can I see it?” He mimicked sarcastically.

 

“Well, I wanted to. You painted back in high school too. Saw them on exhibitions by the art club and I’ve always liked them. What’s wrong with that?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Keith huffed, leaning back on the seat. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? Not as if I’m looking forward to the dinner, but the sooner it’s over the better.”

 

“Fine.” Carl started the ute up, his lips set in a thin line.

 

The rain was falling down in buckets by the time they pulled into the driveway. Carl parked the car as close as possible to Lee’s house then they both ran to the porch just as Lee was coming out with a brolly.

 

Lee sighed as he put away the umbrella. “Wait there, I’m getting you towels. Should’ve waited for me.” He grumbled as he went back inside.

 

“Oy!” Caz poked her head out of the verandah window.

 

“Oy.” Carl replied, grinning.

 

“You’re both wet.”

 

Carl shrugged.

 

“Mr. Simmons should get your painting framed properly soon, Caz.” Keith told her.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Lee came back out and handed them a couple of towels. As soon as they were dry enough, Lee ushered them inside to the dining room. Caz fell into step beside Carl behind Keith, jabbering on about her day.

 

Keith felt a twinge of envy as he heard their laughter. Caz really liked the big guy. He idly wondered if Carl really liked her back or it was all part of his ‘master plan’. A second later, he was mentally chastising himself for even thinking that. He really was becoming more and more paranoid. Children are far better able to sense someone’s real emotions. And if Caz was comfortable with him that much, it meant she really found him to be a great guy.

 

He wondered how she would feel if she found out that he and Carl weren’t together anymore. He wondered if she would take sides…

 

“So how are you, guys?” Lee asked Keith as they reached the table.

 

“Fine, I reckon.” Keith forced a sunny smile.

 

“Oh and welcome back, Carl.”

 

“Thanks. That smells awesome.”

 

Lee laughed. “Caz’s been waiting impatiently for you guys so we could eat.”

 

The food was indeed awesome. Caz’s antics kept the atmosphere light. Keith even forgot about everything that happened with him and Carl for a while.

 

Keith volunteered to wash the dishes with Lee afterwards, while Caz dragged Carl back to the living room to show him all the shells she had collected as references for her painting.

 

Keith worked alongside the older man in companionable silence. Both of them smiled every once in a while in reaction to Caz’s peals of laughter coming from the next room. When they were done, Lee told Keith to join them in the living room while he went and got some beer from the freezer out back. It was still raining pretty hard, they might as well wait it out until it cleared up later.

 

Keith walked into the living room to find Carl alone.

 

“Where’s Caz?”

 

“Oh, she went upstairs to get something.”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know exactly. Said it was for me.” He shrugged.

 

Keith chose the farthest armchair from Carl and sat down. He didn’t say anything further, neither did Carl. Both were fidgeting nervously, avoiding each others’ eyes.

 

Caz finally returned a few minutes later, carrying a framed painting draped in a small sheet.

 

“Another painting?” Carl smiled.

 

“Yep. It’s for you.”

 

Keith wondered how she got this one framed. “Well, let’s see it.”

 

Caz laid it ceremoniously on the coffee table. Then with a theatrical ‘ta-da’ she flicked the sheet away from it…

 

…and uncovered Keith’s painting of Carl back on Sunrise Cove.

 

“Holy…” Carl stopped himself in time.

 

Keith’s breath caught in his throat.

 

“Keith painted it.” Caz grinned innocently

 

“Where’d you find it, Caz?” Keith asked tightly. He had meant to throw it away.

 

“In your garage.”

 

“What were you doing there?” He reminded himself not to get angry. Caz didn’t know anything about what happened between him and Carl after all.

 

“I used up all my blue pastels. I borrowed some from your desk. You were going to give it to Carl weren’t you?”

 

Keith didn’t know what to say. No he wasn’t, he was going to throw it away? Caz would ask why. After a few minutes of silence, he finally said a strained “Yes.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“But Caz, you should’ve asked me first. It’s mine, alright? It’s not nice to take someone else’s things without asking first.”

 

Caz hung her head. “But… you were going to throw it away weren’t you?” She asked in a small voice, but there was a faint undertone of anger behind it.

 

Keith looked at her in shock. She knew.

 

“I… no. I…”

 

“You were.” She said then turned back to Carl, completely ignoring Keith. “You like it?”

 

“Yeah.” Carl said uncomfortably, glancing at Keith. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“It’s yours.” She grinned happily again then shot a look at Keith, as if challenging him to protest.

 

“Caz!” Lee called out as he came back inside. “Bedtime, hon.”

 

“Yeah, dad.” She called back. She went over to Carl and hugged him. “G’night.”

 

“Good night, Caz.”

 

She hesitated for a bit then went around to Keith as well and hugged him. “G’night, Keith.”

 

“Good night, Caz.” Keith replied.

 

He couldn’t meet her eyes. She ran back upstairs without another word. The painting laid there in front of him and Carl like an accusation.

 

“When did you paint it?” Carl asked.

 

“What the f–” Keith started angrily but stopped as Lee came into the room.

 

Luckily the first thing he noticed was the painting. He walked over to it and whistled appreciatively. “Very nicely done, Keith.”

 

“Thanks.” Keith forced himself to smile again.

 

“Well, we’ll leave it here for a bit. Come on out, boys. Got some beer out back.”

 

They followed him out to the deck in the back. Lee sat down on the only single chair available beside the table. He had obviously thought Keith and Carl would have no problem sharing the small bench that had been bolted into the floor.

 

Keith glared up at Carl before sitting down. He hated himself for wanting to press closer to Carl’s warmth as he slid down beside him. His legs were pressing against his, stirring up memories of them pressed tight against his chest while he…

 

Fuck it.

 

Lee handed both of them opened bottles of beer. Keith immediately took a swig. When he put the bottle down, he was surprised to see Carl pushing his own bottle back to Lee… empty.

 

“Whoa.” Lee laughed.

 

Carl shrugged. “Needed that.”

 

Lee just shook his head in amusement and handed him another.

 

“So what were you doing in Perth, Carl? Business trip?”

 

The rain was drumming hard against the tarp canopy of the deck. But it was a muted chaotic noise, so they could still hear themselves talk without having to raise their voices.

 

“Personal.” Carl smiled faintly. “Talked to my parents.”

 

Keith glanced up at him. As expected they hadn’t talked much at all after the argument at the beach. Keith only knew that the reconciliation with his parents had gone well from his phone calls before that. Aside from that he didn’t know anything else. Neither had he asked.

 

“What about?” Lee asked.

 

The happiness in Carl’s eyes was unmistakable. “Being gay and all that. They finally got over their initial reaction and accepted it.”

 

“Oh yeah? That’s awesome, mate!” Lee laughed. “Grats!”

 

“Thanks. Pretty hairy for a few there. I haven’t told you about it, haven’t I? But things were pretty bad after they threw me out.”

 

“Nope.” Lee’s brow wrinkled in concern.

 

Carl started telling him of his experiences, being thrown out, working through uni, and all that. But like with Keith, he didn’t mention anything about Josh or the loan he had taken from him under contract.

 

Then he started talking about seeing his dad and mum again, and he… glowed. His eyes seemed to have become little suns, as the light from inside the house reflected the golden centers of his irises. Keith swore he could feel his happiness through the thin layers of cloth separating them.

 

But there was also a certain sadness there.

 

“Really happy for you, mate.” Lee smiled from across the table. “I thought those things only happened on the telly.”

 

Carl laughed. “Yeah, me too. But I’m happy they finally came around. It’s like… finally healing an old wound, y’know?”

 

“I bet it did.”

 

Carl slid his empty bottle back at Lee again and raised a finger to indicate he wanted another one. This was his third one since they started talking. Lee arched one eyebrow but complied.

 

“Hard day at work?”

 

“You could say that.” Carl grunted as he drunk from the new bottle.

 

Keith glanced at his own barely touched bottle.

 

“It’s good you have Keith now, at least.” Lee smiled at both of them, as if finally noticing Keith squeezed beside Carl.

 

“Yeah. Very good.” Before Keith knew what was happening, Carl had looped a big arm around him and pulled him close. He closed his eyes and planted a soft, lingering kiss on the top of Keith’s head.

 

Keith also closed his eyes and counted to ten… backwards. A wave of anger rose up within him. What the fuck did Carl think he was doing?! He specifically warned him about doing something like this.

 

He opened his eyes to find Lee looking at them with an unreadable expression in his eyes. In a split-second it vanished and he was laughing again.

 

Carl never let go of him again. It made the seat feel less cramped and more comfortably snug. But it did anything but made Keith comfortable. He did everything from stepping on Carl’s toes to shooting venomous glances at him whenever Lee wasn’t looking, but Carl just wasn’t letting go.

 

Carl was also frighteningly getting rotten way too fast. He could smell the beer on his breath as he talked to Lee. He was way more animated now, even… happy. His right hand was stroking Keith’s biceps softly on one side, and he leaned his head against Keith’s every now and then.

 

Keith’s contributions to the conversation had pretty much devolved to monosyllables by now. He had lost track of the conversation subject half an hour ago. He was distracted by the warring emotions of desire and anger at Carl’s brazen closeness. Lee, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. He and Carl continued chatting amiably.

 

The crate of beer was mostly empty by the time the rain had started to dwindle somewhat. But by then it was already pitch black outside. Carl shakily stood up from the bench and stretched.

 

“I guess it’sh time I go, huh?” Both Lee and Keith looked up at him. Carl was unmistakably drunk. They were both reminded again that about half of the empty bottles of beer were Carl’s doing.

 

“What do you mean ‘go’?” Lee smiled, confused.

 

“Home. I’m tired and a little buzzed and all.” Carl started shuffling back inside to the house. He pulled the door open and disappeared inside.

 

“He’s not staying with you tonight?” Lee turned to Keith.

 

“No.”

 

“Keith… he’s fucking drunk. In this weather, and at night, he’ll end up killing himself.”

 

“I… He can’t stay here.” Keith didn’t know what else to say. Lee was right. Again, he cursed Carl for putting him in a situation like this. “He just can’t. I’ll… I’ll drive him to his house, maybe?”

 

“Bloody hell, Keith. You think I don’t know?”

 

“Know what?”

 

“Something’s wrong between you and Carl. I appreciate you guys pretending for Caz’s sake, if that’s what you thought you were doing, but you’re not fooling anyone.”

 

“But… how’d you know? Did you tell Caz?”

 

“I’d have to be blind not to see that. And no I didn’t. But she seems to have figured it out on her own anyhow.”

 

“Damn it.”

 

“Look, I’m not going to get into whatever’s between you guys. I mean, I hope you two work it out. You’re like a son to me, but I also like Carl a lot. He’s good for you. I thought you just had a small fight or something, but it seems to be more serious than I thought.” Keith turned away. “I don’t butt into other people’s blues, Keith. You know that. But as of right now, Carl can’t go home like that. Whatever’s between you two isn’t worth having one of you killed over it.”

 

Keith stared out into the blackness beyond the railings of the deck.

 

“Keith, come on. I thought you’d be better than this. You–”

 

“Fine!” Keith raised his hand. “He’s staying with me then. But let me ask one thing, if you’re so worried, why can’t he stay here then?”

 

“Because the shit between you two is childish and I think you could both use a long talk with each other.” Lee replied and started gathering the empty bottles and wiping the table. “Now go get him before he drives away and kill himself.”

 

Keith glared. This night really ended up well, didn’t it? He stomped back inside the house.

 

“Carl?” He kept his voice down, mindful of the fact that Caz was sleeping upstairs.

 

Carl was nowhere in sight.

 

Fuck. Images of Carl lying over the steering wheel of the old ute, drenched in his own blood flashed through his mind. He frantically ran outside to the verandah.

 

“Carl!” He called out into the darkness.

 

Silence.

 

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath then hurried down the steps. He ran through the muddy lawn to where they had parked the car and promptly collided with Carl’s broad back. He landed on his arse in the mud.

 

“Ow.” Carl murmured sleepily, still standing. “Whozzer?”

 

“Carl, you fucking piece of shit-sucking sheep-shagging dickhead! You planned all of this didn’t you?”

 

“Planned whut?”

 

“Getting drunk so you can sleep in my house and get into my pants?” Keith got up angrily. He was entire backside felt like it was caked with inches of mud. “I already fucking told you, I’m not paying your fucking debt.”

 

“I know. Fuck the debt anyway.” Carl laughed. “And I’m not drunk. I gotta go, it’s raining and the painting’s getting’ wet. Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

It was only then that Keith noticed the painting tucked under Carl’s arm, wrapped protectively under his jacket. Carl started walking again to the ute. He blearily fished his car keys out of his pocket and was playing pin the tail on the donkey with the car door. Undoubtedly adding up to the scratches already adorning the beat up old ute’s paintjob.

 

Keith growled and snatched the keys away from him.

 

“Hey!”

 

Keith just took one of his big hands and started dragging him towards his house.

 

“I can drive, Keith.”

 

“No you can’t, you fucking nong.”

 

“I’ve driven home after drinking more than that before.”

 

“And I ought to smack you in the noggin for that alone. This isn’t Perth anymore, Carl. We don’t have streetlights here, or sealed roads on every street, or traffic cops to pull you over and send you to jail for the night. You’re sleeping at my house and that’s that.”

 

Carl let himself be pulled up the verandah, standing by idly as Keith angrily opened the door and let them in.

 

“You got mud all over you.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock.”

 

“Look, I really can drive, Keith. I’m a big bloke, it takes more than few bottlesh to get me drunk.” He was slurring even as he said it.

 

“Twelve bottles in three and a half hours isn’t a ‘few’.” Keith snapped as he locked the door behind them. “And what the fuck is up with you feeling me up earlier? Didn’t I tell you not to do that? You really don’t give up do you?”

 

“I was pretending.”

 

“Yeah right.” Keith rolled his eyes. “You were, I could definitely tell by the way you kept doing it unnece-fucking-ssarily.”

 

“Well it‘s not exactly a secret that I want you, is it? Did you want me to pretend not to like it for you while I pretend to like it for Lee at the same time? Sorry, but I’m not much of a liar. Never was.”

 

“You could’ve fooled me. Oh wait, you already did! Hah hah.” Keith gazed at him stonily then went off to the kitchen to wash the dirt from his hands. He was splattering mud all over the hardwood floor, but right now, he really didn’t give a shit.

 

When he returned, Carl was sitting quietly on the lounge, the painting perched protectively on his thighs. Keith ignored him and went inside the bedroom. In the ensuite, he quickly stripped and threw the muddy clothes in the laundry basket. He was reminded once again that the washing machine was out of order. If he wanted to prevent the mud from permanently staining those clothes brown, he’ll have to wake up early tomorrow and wash it. As if he needed one more problem.

 

He showered and changed into a clean pair of stubbies and a cotton shirt. The shower had helped with his temper somewhat, but he was still pretty pissed when he walked back out to get Carl settled.

 

His anger left him completely when he saw Carl. His big frame was curled up uncomfortably on the lounge fast asleep. He had placed the painting on the coffee table. His hair was still wet from the rain, his lips half open as he snored lightly.

 

Keith stood over him, his heart aching. Why did Carl have to be a fucking liar? For a moment he wanted to wake him up and ask him exactly that. It was so fucking unfair. After all these years, he had finally found someone he could honestly say he loved with all his heart and it had to be someone who was yet again using him. After what he had gone through with Josh, he’d have thought whoever was in charge of the fates would have given him a fucking break. But… here he was. Déjà vu.

 

Asleep, Carl looked even more blameless. And he really was so fucking beautiful. Fucking fucked up fuck.

 

Despite the train of his thoughts, his hand was reaching out involuntarily to those soft lips. Lips that gave him his first kiss, lips that he wanted so badly to kiss again.

 

Millimeters from touching them, Carl’s soft breath stirred the small hairs on the back of Keith’s knuckles. Keith jerked his hand back quickly and flushed guiltily.

 

Carl went on snoring, unaware of the little one man drama unfolding above him.

 

Keith sighed and turned away. Halfway back to his bedroom door he stopped. He couldn’t leave him like that, issues or no issues. The bed was big enough for both of them to sleep without ever touching each other.

 

He returned resolutely to the lounge and shook Carl gently. “Carl?”

 

Carl grunted and hugged the pillow he was clutching tighter.

 

“Carl, wake up.”

 

“Hrm?” Carl opened his eyes and looked up at Keith. He smiled sleepily. “Keith!” Then the smile disappeared. “Keith.” He repeated more soberly.

 

“You’re sleeping with me.”

 

“Eh?”

 

“Not sleeping with me, sleeping sleeping with me.” Keith scowled.

 

Carl rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I’m fine here.”

 

“No you’re not. You won’t be able to move tomorrow.”

 

“Why are you so concerned anyway? You hate me, remember?”

 

“I hate Josh, and I hate that you went along with him. But I don’t… fuck it, Carl. Just fucking get up, okay? I’m tired too and we both have to work tomorrow.”

 

Carl got up obediently. His eyes found the painting sitting quietly on the table. “You really were going to throw that away?”

 

“Yes.” Keith told him flatly before leaving him to follow on his own. In the bedroom, he divided the pillows up between the two sides of the bed and got another doona out from the drawers. He settled himself on his side and covered himself with his blanket.

 

It wasn’t exactly a lie. He had meant to throw it away… eventually. Or so he kept telling himself. It had been sitting there in the garage for almost a week now, wrapped up in a bin bag and ready to go. But he still couldn’t bring himself to just pick it up and chuck it in the rubbish.

 

Carl shuffled into the dark bedroom a moment later. Keith had closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the sounds of Carl undressing. He felt the bed dip as Carl crawled into his side of the bed.

 

Then… nothing.

 

A few seconds later, he could hear Carl’s soft snoring. Keith felt disappointment settle over him. For the next couple of hours, he laid there awake, willing Carl to turn over in his sleep and move closer to him. He wanted to feel his body again. They could always pretend like it was all an accident when they wake up the next morning. He really didn’t care. He just missed him.

 

Carl never did. He stayed on his side, almost at the edge of the bed. Keith fell asleep wishing yet again that things were different.

 

When he woke up the next morning, Carl was long gone, along with the painting. He convinced himself that the emptiness he felt inside would be filled in by breakfast.

 

It didn’t.