21 May 2010
"I promise you mum, I can do this, I swear ... I know you're going to get your son back," says Syed; and he truly believes this.
Six weeks later
"I can't do it. I can't not love him. Christian. No matter what I do. Or what my God says. I just can't. I must pray harder. Make him hear," Syed admits, an edge of desperation to his voice.
"Syed, it doesn't matter if you pray day and night for the next year, you won't change who you are," Tamwar says gently, his face full of sadness at what his big brother has been reduced to.
"Don't say that," Syed cries in distress. "I promised mum and dad, I have to beat this."
"Syed ..." Tamwar starts to say.
"Anyway, enough of me and my problems, what about you?" he interrupts breezily. "I can't remember the last time you told me what you were up to."
"There's nothing to tell," replies Tamwar. "I've got to decide what to do next, since I'm not going to Oxford."
"You know there are other universities," says Syed. "You could try aiming a little lower; doing a slightly different course, perhaps, or going to college. You shouldn't just give up."
"I don't know, maybe," says Tamwar doubtfully.
"Any news on the girl front?" Syed asks casually.
"No," says Tamwar blushing furiously.
"Tambo?" grasps Syed excitedly, sensing he's stumbled onto something. "Come on, spill," he insists jumping up and walking mock-menacingly towards him.
"There's nothing to tell," insists Tamwar, also getting up and backing away from him towards the door.
"You know I'll get it out of you, somehow," teases Syed getting ready to put operation "tickle till he tells" into action. It never failed with Tamwar.
"Get off, Syed," begs Tamwar, putting one hand out to stop him, as he reaches behind him to open the sitting room door with the other.
"What's all the racket?" shouts Zainab from upstairs. And as Syed freezes, momentarily distracted, Tamwar makes a run for it.
"Tam, Tam, get back here," Syed calls after him, laughing as he chases him out the door and down the street.
"There's nothing to tell, I promise," pleads Tamwar, looking back at a grinning Syed hot on his tail as he rounds the corner of the Vic and goes crashing into Christian, tipping the Indian take out he's carrying all over him.
"Tamwar," screams Christian outraged, "look at what you've done, you idiot," he cries looking down at his new once snow-white shirt now covered in chicken tikka.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," says Tamwar, staring horrified at the mess he's made, "I'll pay for the dry cleaning."
"Tambo, Tambo," shouts Syed as he charges around the corner, crashing into Tamwar and sending him crashing once more into Christian; this time knocking Christian to the ground, and covering him in the last of the take out, and causing him to drop the bottle of wine he is also carrying.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't …" babbles Syed, as he and Tamwar help Christian to his feet; with Syed immediately dropping his arm and nervously backing away as soon as Christian is once more upright.
Christian looks from one to the other, not knowing whether to be angry or to laugh at their two terrified faces. "Do you know how much I paid for this shirt, these trousers?" he barks at Tamwar trying to hold onto his anger; and to avoid staring at Syed, who is looking intently at his shoes. "I was dressed up for a reason, I had plans, and I don't have time to change," he snaps when Tamwar doesn't immediately answer him.
"I am really sorry," insists Tamwar, but Christian is not ready do calm down.
"That's not much good to me, is it?" he shouts.
"Syed is still in love with you," Tamwar blurts out desperately; and as Syed's head snaps up, and Christian's mouth drops open, he takes his opportunity to run off.
"Syed?" asks Christian at the same time as Syed says, "He's lying, he just said it to distract you."
"And he thinks telling me you love me will shake me to my foundations, does he?" asks Christian sarcastically.
Syed doesn't answer, but lowers his eyes to hide his pain. "I'll drop round the money for the dry cleaning tomorrow," he says in a subdued voice, and goes to walk past Christian.
But Christian reaches out and grabs his arm, "Not so fast," he says sharply, dragging Syed back until they are level, "we need to talk, catch up," he adds in a tone that brooks no argument. "Come back to the flat, I need to change out of this," he says, looking down once more at the mess that was his beautiful new shirt.
"I need to get home," says Syed nervously, as he tries to pull his arm from Christian's grip.
"What are you afraid of?" he taunts. "Now that you're straight again, 'cured' of the gay 'illness'," he sneers bitterly, "you shouldn't be in any danger in my flat alone with me for a little while. You are cured, I take it?"
Syed doesn't answer.
"Syed?"
"Yea, I'm cured," he mumbles, without looking at him.
"Right, then, it's settled," he concludes, setting off for his flat without letting go of Syed's arm so that he has no choice but to follow.
Once they are inside Christian's flat, the memories come rushing back for Syed, and he feels overwhelmed. He realises he has to get out of there, immediately; and as soon as Christian has left the room, Syed rushes back out the door.
"Wow, not so fast," murmurs Christian as he catches him on the stairs. "What's the rush," he whispers close to his ear, before dragging him back up to the flat; this time locking the door behind them.
"Make some coffee or tea," he orders, before going to finish changing.
Syed is pacing back and forth when Christian returns a few minutes later. "Unlock the door, I want to leave," he demands as soon as he sees him. He tries to inject a commanding tone into his voice, but it comes out all shaky.
"Now that you're straight, do you still take sugar in your coffee?" asks Christian as he fills the kettle.
"Sit," he orders, a few minutes later handing Syed the coffee.
Syed automatically takes the drink and sits down.
"So, tell me about this straightening process, is it painful?"
Syed doesn't answer.
"Have you been out with any girls since you passed your 'final exam', just to test yourself?"
Again, Syed doesn't answer.
"Okay, you don't want to talk about it, so let's talk about the suicide attempt," Christian says casually, not taking his eyes of Syed.
No answer.
"Sy, the sooner you talk to me, the sooner you get to leave."
"I thought you had an important date tonight?" Syed demands abruptly, "shouldn't you be heading off?"
"Did I say 'date'? I thought I said 'plans'? Christian murmurs. "Anyway, I've cancelled, so you don't have to worry on my account."
"Well, I really need to be getting back, mum will be wondering where I am," Syed tries once more.
"Ah, mum of the year, Zainab," laughs Christian, "does she still wish you were dead?"
"Don't, don't you speak to me like that," cries Syed jumping up, his eyes filling with tears.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry babe," says Christian huskily, instantly regretting letting his own anger and pain push him into taking such a cheap and hurtful shot. He quickly gets up and reaches for Syed, taking him in his arms. He kisses the side of his head and holds him gently.
Having Christian's arms around him once more, after all he's been through in the last couple of months, is too much for Syed; and before he can think about it, he's clinging to him and crying like his heart is going to burst, his face buried in his shoulder.
After a little while, the torrent passes, and he is able to get himself under control again. He moves out of Christian's embrace and, wiping away his tears with a tissue Christian gives him, sits back down.
"I didn't plan to commit suicide," he says shakily. "I just wanted to get drunk and forget everything for a little while, but then Roxy, she said ... I felt so terrible, everything was all my fault … and then I saw the pills on the table ... I don't know if I was thinking very clearly ..."
"I'm sorry about what Roxy said, she thought she was fighting my corner," Christian explains, "she didn't know the whole story. When it really hit me what you'd almost managed to do, I was so angry; I couldn't believe you would give up like that, try to leave me forever without warning."
"You didn't want to see me ever again," Syed reminded him, the tremor in his voice betraying how much hearing that had hurt him.
"No, I didn't," Christian admits, "but 'ever again' in the heat of the moment is very different from 'ever again' literally.
"And you've moved on, I saw you leaving the Vic with that guy," Syed can't help accusing.
"Yes, I have moved on," Christian confirms, "more than once, in fact, over the last few weeks."
"Good for you," says Syed bitterly, getting up once more to leave.
"Did I say we were finished?" asks Christian reaching for his hand to stop him moving away.
"Why are you doing this?" Syed cries swinging around to face him. "If we hadn't just bumped into you in the street, I wouldn't be here. You've moved on, you don't care about me anymore, and I'm straight. There is no point in us having this conversation, or in my being here."
"I'm guessing your miracle worker told you to stay away from me; maybe he warned you that, although you are now straight, I might try to corrupt you and undo all his hard work," Christian suggests quietly; "so if you want me to stay away, leave you alone from now on, you'll finish our little chat."
Syed sighs, and sits back down.
"So, how far did this 'curing' business go? Did he hurt you? Was it just preaching, chanting, or did it get a bit more serious?" Christian asks.
"It was mainly about attending counselling sessions," Syed explains reluctantly. "During these sessions, they help you to understand that there is no such thing as homosexuality; that you are heterosexual, but have a homosexual problem, which you can cure by re-educating your mind. You also attend one-on-one sessions where they ask you questions about your life to try to figure out why you have SSA – for example, it could be because of some kind of emotional trauma or abuse you suffered in your childhood. After meeting mum, Allen had the idea that my close relationship with her and her strong dominant personality may have played a part. They tell you your own masculinity is broken, and show you how you can heal. 'SSA is something you choose to do, not something you are' – that kind of thing," he concludes self-consciously.
"SSA?"
"Same sex attraction."
"Wow, that's really mad," Christian laughs, "I can't believe they are still trying to pull this sh*t. But you said 'mostly', did they try anything more intense, like electric shock; anything like that?" he asks casually, keeping the worry out of his voice.
"No, nothing like that," Syed says, "there was no need; I responded very well to the therapy sessions, and now I'm cured," he adds confidently, looking out the window.
"Yea, 'cured'," says Christian sarcastically. "I'll bet Zainab and Masood are thrilled."
"Yea, they are," Syed confirms. "We've put the last few months behind us and are moving on with our lives; everything's perfect."
"Really, so why do you look so miserable all the time?" Christian challenges. "Why do you walk aimlessly around the Square for hours on end with your hands in your pockets, going nowhere? Why do I get the impression that without Tamwar by your side, you'd fall apart?"
"I think we've covered everything," snaps Syed, irritated, "so can I please leave?"
"Now that you're straight again, maybe you and Amira can give it another go?" Christian replies with a little smile.
"That's enough," cries Syed, jumping to his feet. "You don't speak her name. You destroyed what we had. We would have been happy if you hadn't led me astray. I don't know what I ever saw in you," he shouts angrily, before turning and walking determinedly towards the door. "Allen was right," he continues over his shoulder without stopping, "you're just a phase I was going through; I can't imagine what I was thinking back then; I look at you now and all I see is a flash exterior with nothing to back it up."
"Unlock this door, now," he demands furiously; even as he repeatedly turns the door handle to try to force it open himself. Christian ..." he shouts, before Christian's hand descends on his shoulder, roughly dragging him around to face him.
"No, no, I don't …" Syed cries desperately, just before his lips are mercilessly crushed under Christian's.
After a few minutes, Christian slowly pulls back. "So, you've missed me, then" he murmurs; as he removes one of Syed's hands, which he guesses will have left scratch marks on his back, from beneath his shirt and carefully removes his other hand from inside his jeans. They are both breathing heavily. "I really shouldn't have done that," he whispers huskily in Syed's ear, as he reaches behind him to unlock the door; "but don't feel too bad, I'm so hot, even straight guys have trouble resisting." With that, he opens the door and gently pushes a dazed Syed out.