Even Stars Die - 5. Chapter 5

I don't hear Mom calling.

   

I don't hear the bedroom door open.

   

I don't see the frustration in her face.

   

My mind is preoccupied with images: meeting Alex at Patrick's party, the messages he sends to my cell phone, carrying me up the steps, the kiss and my reaction to it.

   

'Keegs, what on earth is going on?' She leans in at the door,'I've been calling you for the last two or three minutes. Your friend is here - are you ready for practise?'

   

'Oh, shit. Sorry Ma. Tell him I'll be down in a moment.'

   

Patrick is in the lounge and when I appear he says goodbye. Mom, with cigarette between her fingers, nods her head. Before opening the door he turns to me. 'So, how's Alex?'

   

There's a tinge of sarcasm in my voice. 'Thanks for that, Pat. Sending Alex to pick me up the other day.'

   

'I had some business to attend to. What did you guys get up to?'

   

'Nothing. But yesterday we went to movies.'

   

'And?'

   

'And nothing.'

   

'You know what, Keegs, you're one of the sexiest men I know, and it's a privilege to have you as my friend, but when you have something to hide, when you lie, it shows on that gorgeous face of yours. So tell me what happened.'

   

I fidget uneasily with my watch.

   

'Don't tell me you had no idea, Pat. You organised the whole thing remember?'

   

'I simply asked Alex to fetch you. You do know he's gay? I mean really, gay.'

   

'I know.'

   

'You rascal. Are you saying you're gay curious, or gay?'

   

If only he knew. Pat's my best friend. Friend's are supposed to confide in each other. They're supposed to be true to each other, unconditionally. But this, this truth is mine alone. I should have come out years ago. Now, it's kicking me in the behind and it's not a good feeling. It's a secret I'm not ready to divulge.

   

Patrick stares at me with those big brown eyes and shakes his head in disbelief. 'Have you looked at yourself lately, Keegs? I mean really looked into yourself.'

   

'Everyday. What are you trying to say?'

   

'You told me you went on a date with a gay man. Are you going to tell me that you're straight?'

   

I don't answer.

   

Who am I? What am I? What do I want in my life? The last two years have been hell for me mentally. I look at handsome men and wish I had such attractive physical features. I don't look at women in the same way. I don't want the world to know that about me. I don't want to lose everything I have tried to achieve. I ask myself why do I think like this? This country has legitimised gay partnerships. Gay people are not frowned upon. Pink money is just as important as green bucks. Still, I know there is retribution. I know gay people suffer shame and mockery every day.

   

'Okay, don't answer, but let me tell you it doesn't matter if you are gay or straight. The important thing to remember is to be true to yourself. there's no better feeling. When you find the truth, you're supposed to treasure and protect it from harm.'

   

I listen to him. It's important in any relationship to know and understand the person you're with. He tells me that if I want to be friends with Alex, all I need do is not refuse him.

   

'We'll probably never see each other again.'

   

'How do you feel about him?'

   

'Truth? I don't know.'

   

'I'm not going to tell you what to do or how it should be. You decide, after all, it's your life we're talking about here.'

   

I stare at him, 'Typical best friend. Leave me in the deep end. Sure, its my life Pat, but this is not something I encounter every day.'

   

He glares at me through small, enquiring eyes, 'Be honest with me here, Keegs. Have you ever had sex with anyone?'

   

I don't know what to tell him. It has nothing to do with him. I tell him so, but his eyes drill into me, 'We're friends, right? You know that I love you dearly. If I was in your shoes, I probably would have abstained.'

   

My eyes are moist as I turn to him, 'Well, you're right. I have abstained. Is that what you want to hear? This macho athlete has never had sex with anyone. Okay, are you happy now, Pat? You want to hear that I wake up some mornings after a wet dream and I feel ashamed.' I begin to sob, silver pellets of tears fall from my eyes. I don't tell him that every wet dream I've had involves sleeping with a strange man, not a woman.'There's no one to hold me, no one to tell me that everything is going to be okay. No one that says, hey, I love you...'

   

'Shit, Keegs. I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to get you to tell me the truth.I thought you and Jean, I mean, she's crazy for you.'

   

'She's a friend, that's all. I sometimes have this idea that I'm abusing that friendship. I mean she's my transport, she's my ears and she's always there to get me out of a situation. Am I being selfish?'

   

'If she doesn't mind doing this for you, then there's nothing selfish about it. Do you think you'll marry her?'

   

'I don't want to lose her friendship.'

   

'Do you love her?'

   

'As a friend, yes.'

   

'Take it from me, she feels a lot for you. If you can't reciprocate that feeling, you should tell her so that she can move on. She's picking you up later, why not tell her?'

   

'I don't know how she'll react. Anyway, if she ever found out about Alex, she'll probably chuck our friendship.'

   

    * * *

   

Jean picks me after practice. I avoid the change rooms today. I have no wish to be close to Marx and de Beer. I reckon once beaten twice shy, besides, there's a perfectly good shower at home.

   

She's waiting for me at our usual spot, under the Oak tree in the parking grounds. Her hair has been cut page-boy style, and there's a light to her face I've never seen before.

   

'You're looking all bright and bushy tailed - boyfriend?' I ask her, tongue in cheek.

   

'You wish. Yoga, I started yesterday and just finished a lesson.' That explains the track suit and short hair.

   

'You look good. Must be the lotus position.'

   

She's the only one who laughs at my dry humour.

   

'Short hair suits you. Just watch out you don't grow hair on your chest, girl.'

   

'Is that a joke, Mr? Because if it is, I'm not laughing. Get in.'

   

I hear a car approach and think nothing of it. This is a parking lot, but this one stops directly in front of Jean's Puegot, blocking it. Two guys get out. I see it's de Beer and another unknown guy, Marx's friends.

   

I know we're in trouble.

   

De Beer has a sjambok in his hand.

   

The other guy has an evil smile.

   

'Going somewhere, gay boy.' de Beer swings the sjambok in the air.

   

I don't answer.

   

Jean flies out of her seat and approaches them. 'What do you want, de Beer?'

   

'We have no business with you, woman. We're here to teach gay boy a lesson.'

   

She blocks them off from me and says, 'You'll have to do me first.'

   

The dark haired guy rushes forward, leaps and kicks her in the abdomen. She is flying through the air, crumpling to the ground. I rush forward blindly, hoping to punch the living daylights out of him, but de Beer stops me with a punch of his own and I fall, pain enveloping my face.

   

'I told her we aren't interested in her, but if she wants to be a part of this, then so be it.'

   

'Marx sent you here, didn't he?'

   

'Marx? No pansy, we came to show you what it's like to be a man.'

   

He attacks me with several punches to the face and abdomen and, crack, something in my nose gives way.

   

My eyes hurt. There's a ringing in my ears.

   

It's Murphy's law. On the day I am beaten up in a normally busy car park, no one comes to collect their cars. No one sees what de Beer and his buddy are up to. I realise there's nothing I can do. The kicking and punching and cursing carry on for an eternity.

   

Before passing out, I hear another car racing towards us. It stops to a grinding halt. The door is slammed shut and a familiar voice shouts out, then nothing.

   

    * * *

   

I wake up in the university's infirmary.

   

At first I'm confused, then Jean comes to me and tells me to rest. I smile at her, it hurts, but all I can see is Alex sitting on the edge of the bed and I know I'm safe.

   

'Alex?'

   

'Hey, don't talk.' He leans over me and whispers,'you're in good hands. The doc says you'll be fine.'

   

Jean leans in and says, 'They fled the moment Alex arrived. If it weren't for him, they would have killed you.' She reaches for her car keys. 'I have lots to do, including a report to hand over to the police. Alex is here, you'll be fine.' She leans over and kisses me on the forehead. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

   

My arms hurt, still, I reach out and grab her hand, 'No police, please Jean, no police.'

   

'But, Keegs, we have to stop this madness...'

   

I shake my head, 'It will only make things worse for me, please.'

   

'Let me think about it. Those rats deserve to be put up against a wall and shot.'

   

I agree with her, but I'm the one who has to live with the beatings.

   

    * * *

   

There is a strange silence after she leaves, and when we speak, our voices clash.

   

He says, 'If only I'd been a few moments earlier...' and I say, 'thank you...'

   

'Don't thank me. I'm just happy I was able to stop them from inflicting more damage. Jean is hurting. They kicked her in the abdomen.'

   

'Will she...will she be okay?'

   

'She'll be fine...and you need to rest.'

   

'My mom and dad, do they know?'

   

'Jean phoned them. She said you'll be here a day or two. They are worried.'

   

'They...they always worry about me...' I pause for a moment, 'Alex...'

   

'Yes'

   

'Don't go. Please stay.'

   

'I'm not going anywhere.'

   

I feel his fingers creep over mine and squeeze. He doesn't let go. I fall asleep with a smile.

   

The following morning I wake up to find Alex sleeping in the bed next to mine. A nurse wonders in, shakes him awake and offers him breakfast and a cup of tea. A doctor follows her, stands over me and checks my status.

   

A few seconds later Coach arrives.'Good to see you're awake, young man. If it wasn't for your friend you might not have survived. Who did this?'

   

Of-course I'm not telling. I don't want to be beaten up again. I tell him I don't know, that a bunch of hooligans did this. Alex can't say anything, because he really doesn't know.

   

'What is this country coming to?' The doctor asks Coach, and he agrees with him. 'Random crime all over the place. Anyway, apart from a bruised chest and a splintered nose, aggravated by a slight concussion, there's nothing else wrong with you. If you feel up to it you can go home, recuperate there.'

   

Coach agrees, 'Don't worry about training this week. I'll see you next Monday, then it's training flat out for Cape Town.'

   

'Thanks Coach.'

   

On his way out, Coach turns, 'I'll tell the team not to worry.'

   

The doctor follows him and its just me and Alex.

   

He takes my hand, then does something no one has ever done before, he kisses it and holds it tight. 'You want to go home?'

   

'No. I want to come to your place, if you'll let me.'

   

The smile on his face is answer enough.

   

    * * *

   

We get to the steps and this time he doesn't help me. It feels as though I am climbing towards an unknown destination with foreign smells, views and carefree love. This is my destiny, whatever happens during these two days will follow me for the rest of my life. I know that I have to make the best of it. He's the only person in the world that I have ever kissed, apart from my parents, but that's different. He's everything I want in life and this is the time for me to prove that every fear I had been harbouring so deep inside, will be cast aside. Unlike childhood fears, like being scared of the dark, or that fear that there's something wrong with you when your voice changes and your nipples hurt and you think you're getting sick but you're becoming a man. The fear that all the chicks will hate you because your face looks like chicken skin and no girl will accompany you to the matric dance.

   

This is different.

   

Alex makes everything different.

   

He pampers me. We eat a roast leg of lamb with the crispiest potatoes. Later, on the floor in the living room, we chat randomly, Alex with his red wine, me sipping at guava juice.

   

'How many men have you had?' I ask. My voice sounds like an etchy little mouse with my nose dressed in plaster.

   

'You make me sound like a whore.' He smiles, taking a sip of his wine.

   

'I don't mean it that way. Just curious.'

   

'Enough.'

   

'Come on, one, two, three guys?'

   

'Two. The last one fucked me up badly. Mentally and physically.'

   

'He must've been quite a story.'

   

'Not one I want to read ever again.'

   

'What happened?'

   

'Too aggressive. Loved brandy and coke. One too many and he's not the same guy. One day he beat me up so badly I landed up in hospital.'

   

'Did you report him to the police?'

   

'Nope. Guess I still had some respect left for him. That didn't last long. Eventually I walked away. Just the clothes on my back and a bag of toiletries.'

   

'Did you love him?'

   

'For a while, yes I did. He seemed to be everything I wanted in a man. Caring, gentle, loyal, honest. As time went by I could see it wasn't so. He wanted to have a good time all the time. Clubbing and drugs every weekend. Flirting with guys. Things I don't do.'

   

'Where is he now?'

   

Alex shrugs, 'I have no idea. I don't care.'

   

'Regrets?'

   

He laughs loud, 'Regrets? No way. If that never happened I would never have met you.'

   

I blush. He notices. One thing about blushing, you can't hide it. He leaps up from the floor, dashes out and returns a moment later with a picture album.

   

'This is all about me. I don't show it to just anybody, so...'

   

The album has a white cover with large matt black pages and plastic holders. The first picture is Alex holding a small, melon coloured Yorkshire terrier.

   

'That's Bliksem. He's dead now, run over by some drunk bastard. I loved him so much.'

   

He turns the page; Alex and a tall woman wearing a red bikini. 'My sister at her 21st birthday. She lives in the United States now. We talk via Skype now and then.'

   

Another page; another woman, this time he's dressed in a tuxedo, hair combed back, the woman is middle aged, she's dressed in a long black gown. 'This is my mom and me at my niece's wedding. My mom is one hell of a lady A philanthropist of note. Always tipping beggars at traffic lights.'

   

He turns the page; a colour photo of himself and an older man in a wheelchair. The man has no legs. He hesitates before speaking, 'This...this is my dad. He was born without legs. He's been in a chair all his life.'

   

Suddenly I understand.

   

'I...I'm sorry. I had no idea.'

   

'Don't be sorry, he's the best dad anyone could ever hope for. He's fun, loving and gentle. He was a handsome man in his earlier years.'

   

'Where is he now?'

   

'They stay down the road. We should visit them soon.'

   

'How does he manage? I mean, doesn't he worry what people think?'

   

'He's over that. The day my mother came into his life he stopped worrying.' He stares deep into my eyes, for a moment I can feel his empathy towards me. 'And you? Why do you worry what people think?'

   

'I do not. I mean...most of the time.'

   

'Most of the time you worry, don't you?'

   

The sad details of being mocked fill my head and although I want to evade the question, I hear myself. 'Yes, students stare. Especially when I wear the Cheetah blades. They find them strange. I get mocked, but not as often as before. Jean's always there to protect me from what they say. She tells them where to get off.'

   

'She's a very special woman, isn't she?'

   

She is, my mind tells me. She's brave and loyal, but I don't say that, 'She's my girl friend. Sometimes I think she'll die for me.'

   

'Girlfriend as in romance?'

   

'No. I...I've never thought about her in a romantic way.'

   

'Why not?'

   

I can't find the words. I know what I want to say. Identity crisis...She's not my type...I haven't found what I want. He senses my sorrow. He knows I'm in the black, murky depths of sexual limbo.

   

'You're still fighting it, aren't you?'

   

'Fighting what?'

   

He takes my hand and holds it lightly, 'You're so full of conflict, Keegs. You know what I mean. It's all about the real you, not the guy you want people see.'

   

'The real me? Yes, I'm fighting the fact that I find men attractive, and I just don't know if I'm ready to come out now, Al. I have a lot to lose. My family, my athletic career, Jean. These things I care about.'

   

'And me, do you care about me. I want you to.'

   

'Yes. I care about you.'

   

'Then what is it? What is it about me that turns you off?'

   

'I...I'm not turned off by you, Al. It's just...Like I told you, I'm not ready. Besides, look at me. I'm far from complete. Only half a man.'

   

His hand wonders up to my face and his fingers touch my eyes, my mouth, my adam's apple, 'You are more than a man, Keegs. Those creeps who mock you, call you names, they are the freaks, never forget that. To me, you are the most complete person I have ever met. Forget about the legs. It's the stuff in your soul and heart that counts. Besides, you weren't always handicapped. You weren't born this way.'

   

'My father can never forgive himself. It was meant to be a wonderful holiday, just us three. I try to block it out, in a way I have, but there's no denying, we were extremely hyped up on our return from Cape Town. I was fifteen. Becoming a man, my voice was breaking. I was into chicks and cricket and athletics. Sometimes I'd sit for hours on the beach and stare at the waves, thinking about how the rest of my life will pan out. Will I be wealthy, like my dad? Happy, like my mom? She didn't smoke then. Now she's a chain smoker and my father's poor and an alcoholic.'

   

He touches my lips, 'Shhh. You don't have to tell me anything.'

   

I take his finger and kiss it with a smile, 'I want to tell you. I've been haunted by the memory far too long, I need to get it out. We were a happy family. I wanted for nothing. That December was one of the best holiday's I have ever had. We travelled by car, over mountain passes, through the Karoo, and dad didn't stop for a rest. We were oblivious to just how tired he was. We approached Oudshoorn via the Outeniqua Mountain pass and just as we reached the summit a buck leaped into the road in front of us and ... and the car skidded, then summersaulted over the embankment down the cliff. We were all thrown out. Somehow the car rolled over my legs before disappearing over the precipice, and I woke up in hospital without them. They had been so badly crushed that the doctors had no option but to amputate. I remember screaming and screaming when they told me. I remember my mother trying to comfort me. Her face was badly scarred and my father escaped with only minor bruises. It was the best and worst time of my life and I've been locked in that bubble ever since.'

   

Alex remains silent. I realise I'm weeping. He wipes away the tears with his fingers and I grab his hand and sob into it for I don't know how long.

   

I sob myself to sleep. I don't feel him lift me and place me on his bed. I don't feel the covers. I don't feel him settling in beside me, cradling me, running his hand through my hair. All I know is that he's there when I wake up the following morning, holding me like he'll never let me go.

   

    * * *

   

His breathing is even, and I feel it against my neck. I don't want to move away. His body is pressed up against mine and I'm warm, so why disturb the moment. My chest burns from the blows inflicted by de Beer. His hand is under my pillow, jutting out a little. I take his hand gently in mine. I've never woken in a strange bed, least of all with someone holding me close.

   

'Are you awake...?' His voice is soft against my neck.

   

'Hi.'

   

'Did you sleep okay?'

   

'Like a baby.'

   

He tries to move his hand but I jerk it back. 'Cuddle me. It feels so good. Takes away the pain.' He brings his other hand over my thigh, and rests it there, at the same time moving his body closer against mine.

   

'Like this?'

   

'That's good.'

   

He presses into me. I feel his manhood brush against my buns. I smile, it feels natural, and I realize I'm hardening, but I dare not take it further.

   

'You do know that in a few seconds I'm going to be hard as rock.' He squeezes me.

   

'Ouch! I'm bruised remember.'

   

His grip relaxes immediately. 'Fuck, sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to. I forgot.'

   

I smile, 'I know. Squeeze gently. No sex. I just want you up against me. Is that okay with you?'

   

'More than okay.'

   

    * * *

   

Breakfast in bed. Not bacon and eggs. Corn flakes and hot milk, a banana yoghurt and a cup of Liptons's Earl Gray tea with two tablets in the tray. The doc had prescribed a pain killer and an antibiotic for my nose. Yesterday was a nightmare. Today, I realise how crazy I must have been to want to come to Alex's place. He draws the curtains and the sudden light sends ten thousand bolts through my head. Seeing me whince, he quickly draws them together.

   

'I hope you don't mind but I rubbed an antispetic cream on your bruises last night. Man, they really beat you up, didn't they?'

   

'I don't mind, thanks.'

   

'It's cloudy and windy out there. Looks like we're in for heavy rain this weekend.'

   

'Hmmm. That means we're in for a wet practise session. Coach trains in all kinds of weather.'

   

'You intend going to practise this weekend?'

   

'I was thinking about it.'

   

'Coach said that you can take the week off. He said there's no rush.'

   

'Ja, but I would prefer to keep it up. A week's break could interfere with my time in Cape Town next week.'

   

My cell phone beeps. I hadn't realised that he'd placed my cell phone on the bedside table. I reach for it and turn cold the moment I read the message.

   

It's Jean.

   

She's messaged me five times.

   

She wants to know where the hell I am.

   

'I'm going to have to have to call her.'

   

'She doesn't know you're with me.'

   

'That's just it. Ah, well, here goes.'

   

I press the buttons and she answers shortly. I tell her politely where I am and I can sense it in her voice that she's not too happy. She wants to come over. She needs to know that I'm doing fine. I try to tell her that there is no need but she insists.

   

I turn to Alex, 'Jean wants to come over. She wants to see for herself that I'm doing okay.'

   

He smiles, 'Sure. If you don't mind, I don't mind.'

   

'Hey, Jean. I'll see you in about twenty minutes.' I give her the address and quit the call.

   

Alex slips in beside me and holds me about the waist, 'We'll need to get you into the spare room. She'll have questions if she finds you in my bed.'

   

I glance at him, and although my head tells me he's right, the words that come out of my mouth are different. 'No. If it's fine by you, I want her to see me in your bed. Let her ask as many questions as she wants.'

       

 * * *

   

Jean finds the house and hoots. Alex answers and invites her in. He leads her into the main bedroom and announces her arrival.

   

'You look like crap.' She says to me, leaning over and kissing my forehead.

   

'Not for much longer. I'm due for practise tomorrow.'

   

'So, how are you feeling?'

   

'Better than yesterday. I heard you got beat up too. How are you doing?'

   

She rubs her abdomen, 'A little bruised but fine thanks.'

   

She phoned the infirmary and they told her I had been released. She thought I had gone home, and was a little peeved that I had not called her for a lift. She left messages instead of contacting my mom. I am relieved. She is relieved that I called her back.

   

Alex offers her breakfast and she politely declines. 'I didn't press charges. I thought to hell with it, but let that bastard de Beer try one more time, and the cops will have him for breakfast, excuse the pun.'

   

'Jean, I want to say thanks for stepping up for me. What you did in that parking lot was very brave. I appreciate it.'

   

She glares at me with a quizzical look on her face. 'If it wasn't for Alex, we'd probably both be looking for another body to inhabit, or reincarnated. So, don't mention it.' She looks about the room, sees the walk in cupboards and the painting of two men beneath an umbrella walking along a beach, and the bathroom on suite. 'Is this the spare room?'

   

Alex laughs nervously, 'Nope. It's my room.'

   

She glances at me, then at Alex, 'Oh. I thought you'd be in the spare room. You do have a spare room, Alex?'

   

'Yes, but I cleaned up the moment I woke this morning. He's a lot more comfortable here. He has the bathroom, towels, shower all in one room. It's the least I could do.'

   

'He looks comfortable. So, I just want to tell you I won't be around this weekend. If you need help, Patrick says he'll be more than honoured. I'm off to the Drakensburg to visit family.'

   

I'm sure I'll be just fine. Thanks for everything Jean.'

   

She leaves shortly after. I can't help but think that she's a little suspicious. I make a mental note to tell her everything the moment I feel a little better.