Thomas and Andrew are characters from my book: ‘Moving On’ first published 2008 and re-published 2010. For the purposes of this little story Thomas, purveyor of proverbs, takes a rare turn as narrator
Words
Andrew awoke from what had been an altogether fitful sleep, his voice sounding anxiously out of the darkness of Christmas morning, “where’s Bob?”
Twisting my head I glanced at the clock, which read four a.m. “He’s in his basket downstairs, don’t worry, love, he’s fine. I made him a litter tray up and blocked his cat flap so he wouldn’t be tempted to drag his old bones out into the snow.”
“I’ll just go and check on him,” he sat up in preparation for getting out of bed, disturbing the cosy vacuum of warmth we’d created under the duvet as he did so. Goose pimples sprinkled themselves across my body as the chill air made contact.
Reaching for him I pulled him back down, tucking him into the duvet and wrapping my arms around him tightly. “Andrew, it’s four o clock in the morning, you are not getting up to hold a conversation with Bob, who I’m sure will be fast asleep anyway. The vet said that he’d sleep a lot over the next few days, so let him get on with it.”
“I still think you could have let him sleep in here with us.”
There was more than a hint of sulky resentment in his voice, which I ignored, as befitted it. He was much too apt to sulk when things didn’t go his way, a fact he strenuously denies. “Listen, the sooner Bob gets back into his old routine the better. He’s suffered enough disturbance and so have we, so settle down.” I stroked his hair, “you were crying in your sleep, sweetheart, did you have a bad dream?”
He moved his head in a negative motion against my shoulder, “sorry if I disturbed you.”
“You didn’t and that’s not an answer to my question.” I didn’t want to come across heavy handed, not on Christmas Day of all days, but I had no doubt that he could remember what he’d dreamed about, he just wasn’t telling me. “Andy, last night I was so proud of the way you told me about your worries and feelings, don’t start withholding things now. Nothing is too trivial to talk to me about. You tell me when something upsets you, we talk, and by talking we strip whatever is worrying you of any power to hurt you. That’s the rule.”
“You and your bloody rules.” There was a momentary silence and then he said, “I know it’s daft, but I dreamed that Bob had died. It was horrible.” His voice crackled with emotion.
“It’s alright,” I tenderly kissed the top of his head as he dampened my chest hair with tears, “I think in the circumstances it’s a perfectly natural dream to have, a classic anxiety dream. However, Bob is just fine and he will be for a while yet.”
“He won’t be with us forever though.”
“All things die, Andrew, all living things, it’s the rule of the universe.”
“Screw the universe.”
Another collage of tears flooded my chest. In many ways Andy was still learning how to grieve for past losses, he wasn’t yet ready to deal with fresh loss. I also suspected that his fear of Bob dying was tinged with fears about my death. I was older than he was and chances were that I would die before him. The thought of leaving him pained me and I kissed his hair, murmuring gently, “stop dwelling on things that haven’t yet happened, deal with the things you have to deal with, the things that have happened. Let tomorrow stay forever tomorrow. Bob’s here now, I’m here, we love you.”
“Huh, I know the proverb says that love is blind, but I didn’t know it was stupid as well.”
I wasn’t having that. Pulling back the covers I sat up, turning him onto his front in order to land a sharp slap to his bottom, eliciting a yell. His buttocks were still tender from the spanking I’d given him earlier so the slap would have registered hard. “I’m not putting up with that kind of negativity,” I smacked his backside again, “it insults us all.”
“I’m sorry, Tom.”
He sounded sincere and I lay back down flicking the covers back over us, pulling him back into my arm and cuddling him. “Try to sleep, love, it’s going to be a busy day, and you know my aunt Edie she’ll run us ragged.” It was no good. I could still feel the tension radiating from him. With a sigh I got out of bed, clicking on the bedside lamp. After shrugging myself into my dressing gown I held out my hand, “come on, we’ll go and check on Bob and make sure he’s still alive and then maybe you’ll stop fretting and actually make an effort to sleep.”
I smiled, watching as Andy squatted down to pet Bob who purred happy appreciation. He really did love him and it would undoubtedly be a hard parting when the time came, but God willing it would be a while yet. I did some petting of my own, tickling the back of Andy’s neck, “happier now?”
He glanced up and smiled, “yeah, I’m happy now.”
“Come on then,” I drew him to his feet, “let’s go back to bed. We need to rest.” Switching off the light we left Bob to dream in his basket by the warm radiator.
Snuggled back under the bedcovers he was quiet for a while and then said, “I’m so glad that Bob is home.”
“Me too,” I settled him more comfortably against me, “now, seeing as you seem determined to avoid sleep, let’s talk about rules regarding alcohol over the holiday.” He groaned, but I ignored him. “You may have one glass of wine with your Christmas lunch and that’s it, so make the most.”
“One! Come on, it is Christmas, Tom. I promise not to get drunk and disgrace myself.”
“One, and one only. Any dissension and there will be trouble, is that clear?”
“Yes,” he said, adding with typical Andrew sarcasm, “never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.”
“Exactly, and believe me my honey if you trouble me I’ll deal with you. Don’t forget I’ve now got a key to Amy’s house. I can quite easily make an excuse to our guests and take you over there.”
“I don’t suppose the size of the one glass is up for negotiation is it?”
“You suppose right, now go to sleep.”
“Tom?”
“What is it now, Andrew?”
He spoke solemnly. “Many a mickle makes a muckle.”
“Meaning exactly what in this context?”
“Fucked if I know, I just felt like saying it.”
His body convulsed with giggles at his own silliness. That was Andrew, using sarcasm and jokes as a way of coping with life. The giggles were infectious and I couldn’t help but join in. When they subsided we kissed. One thing led to another and sleep was postponed again as we made love. I took my own pleasure first; prolonging his climax so that when it came it came strongly, making him cry out as his body shuddered. He would sleep now.
Before drifting off he nuzzled my neck and whispered in my ear, making me smile with pleasure. There’s a proverb that says ‘love will find a way’ and I believe it holds truth, because love had certainly found me. He’s my joy. I bless the day that I stopped my car to pick up a rain-bedraggled stranger, whose shoulders seemed bowed with a burden much heavier than the bag he carried.
The end.
Copyright Fabian Black 2009.
fabianblackromance@googlemail.com
http://www.fabianblackromance.com
Moving On is available as a print from Lulu.com and Amazon.co.uk also Amazon.com
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