Christian was hunched over on the sofa, mouth open, eyes like balloons, hugging his cushion. He had dozed off during his vigil, all of the alcohol drained from him, replaced by a jittery mix of anxiety and anguish. When he heard the door open, his head fell back and then forwards, and he looked up, hesitating, eyes filled with pain, and with guilt.
"Where've you been?"
He choose an even tone, but Syed heard a hint of waver, read the remorse in his face. He remained silent, but a silence in which Christian read in a reproach...
"Sy, Syed...I...I am so, so...sorry for what I said..."
Syed moved silently into the kitchen and Christian rose to follow him in. He could not believe the state of him, torn jeans, red-rimmed eyes, his beautiful hair tangled and dull.
"You look like you've been at a wild party yourself."
Syed stared at him. Christian shrugged ruefully, moved towards him, touched his arm; Syed looked down at his arm, at the hand on his arm, and shivered. Christian removed the hand and moved toward the refrigerator.
"Christian, we have to talk."
Syed's lovely lilt now dulled, flat. Christian glanced up at his forlorn lover and simply said,
"Yeah, I know. I know we do. Go, get out of those clothes, take a shower. You're freezing. I'll make us a hot drink, and then, we can talk."
Syed went into the bathroom and took off his clothes, showered, wrapped himself in his green dressing gown, and went back into the room. He moved like a zombie, lifeless, depleted.
The two men sat on the settee, clutching their cups of cocoa, and sipped, not touching, not speaking, not at peace.
"Syed, I didn't mean it. I really didn't mean it. Please believe me..."
Christian took Syed's jaw tenderly in his hands, guided his face around, until they sat face to face.
"You are not dull, I never for a moment feel anything other than excited and intrigued by you. But - you are right about me, Sy. I am shallow – sometimes, anyway..."
"Please Christian, don't look at me like that. You have brought no shame to our relationship. But I have."
This time, Christian was silent, as a distraught Syed spilled over with words,
"I was so angry with you, Christian. I wanted to stay in with you and celebrate last night, to turn the anniversary of my wedding and that moment of horror with my mother, into a memory of why in the end it was all worth it, why I am here, how happy we are and will be in the coming year. I wanted to be with you, whose touch makes my heart stop, but you, ou didn't want to be here...So I went out..."
Syed told him about the call to Tamwar, the visit to the mosque, the surprising encounter with the Imam and his secret nephew, the visit to the cafe...
"At midnight...at midnight, Farhan stood up, pulled me to him, and kissed me. And..." Syed faltered, then lowered his voice to a whisper, "I kissed him back, Christian, I kissed him back."
Syed choked out his confession, glanced at Christian, then looked away. Christian was stony silent for a moment, clutching his cushion, then he moaned, dropped the cushion, and covered his mouth with his hands, as if to stifle his despair.
"You kissed him back." He finally said. "Why Sy? Why would you do that? We had a fight. All couples have fights, say things they don't mean. We've had fights before. Why Syed, why this?"
"I'm a cheat, Christian. I cheated my parents, I cheated Amira, I cheated you. Why are you so surprised?"
Syed's self-pitying tone grated on Christian, he grabbed his arm roughly, dragging him around until they were facing each other. His tone was bitter.
"Leave it out, Syed. That's just too easy. You tell me why."
"Christian..."
" You promised me that you would try to talk about your feelings more. I need you to do that . me. why."
Syed pulled his arm away and sank back into the settee. The pain of what he was doing would not go away, and he needed to understand it and explain it to Christian. He owed him that much.
"I don't really..know. This past year, until I left my parents to come and live with you, it was a nightmare. You know all of it – what I put you through, what I did to Amira. Now, my parents ignore me, they have buried me alive. I have a baby brother they won't let me see. What did the Queen once say? Annus Horribulus? I just need some quiet time in. That's fun to me, Christian, being in, talking to you, watching a video, making love, reading. I don't need anything else. Funny, you once said that to me , that I was all you needed. And yet, all you want to do is go out and get drunk and be with Roxy. Have fun..."
"So this is my fault now?"
"No, it's my fault. Maybe I am too dull for you. I'm a Muslim, Christian. I go to mosque, pray 5 times a day. I don't eat pork and I don't drink. I like to read the Qu'ran. I can't stand watching people getting drunk, making fools of themselves, fighting, vomiting. And I have trouble with that side of you, too."
Christian just sat there, feet on the ground, his back caved in, hugging the cushion, his stubbly face drawn and haggard. Syed stopped speaking, fell back into the sofa, and assumed once more the mantle of silence.
"Let's go to sleep now. I don't want to speak any more, Syed."
"Okay. I'll stay here on the sofa and you can have the..."
Syed's voice trailed off as Christian sobbed and lifted his head to the ceiling.
"Let's go to bed, Christian. I just thought you wouldn't want me in your bed tonight."
"Mybed." He cried out, "For me, it is still our bed, Syed."
Syed took him by the hand, and led him to the bed. He slid off his dressing gown, helped him lie down, noting in his distress that this was the first time since those days after Christian was beaten up that he, Syed, moved into the role of protector. He remembered with a shudder that the beating was his fault, too.
He went to the bathroom and got a facecloth, ran warm water over it, wrung it out, then gently wiped Christian's face and eyes and the top of his head. He remembered from his childhood that this tender maternal gesture always calmed and soothed him. Christian snored softly.
Syed got into bed too, and covered them both up. This was the first time since they'd been together that they avoided touch, that Syed did not ache for his caresses. For now, he was devoid of thought and feeling, or almost devoid. One thought remained. Some part of him withheld approval from Christian, and that they, or rather, he, needed to sort out.
He, too, slid into dulled sleep. It was 9:00 in the morning, New Year's Day.