"I'm okay now I know you're still alive…"
Michael's response sounded blithe and jokey, but Syed thought he detected an underlying truth and twisted his mouth, rueful at the effect he had caused, both touched and guilty.
"… What's happening? How are you coping? I was really sorry to hear it all went tits up with you and Christian. Do you want to come over? Rory's away."
Before a background crash drowned it out, Syed heard an intake of breath and with a sinking heart, realised that Michael knew what he had done. He began to panic, interpreting the invitation as a come on and quickly tried to think of a kind refusal, a way to let Michael down gently, again.
'At least I won't be shoving him in the chest and running away.' He closed his eyes at the memory of the sports field, the same warmth burning from the sun onto his face, a quiet resignation replacing the savage, angry, torn passion of before.
"Michael, I…"
"What? Sorry. I dropped a saucepan. Fred's here, she's not very well, so I'm making her a hearty soup. Except, I'm not, I'm talking to you and wrecking the joint. Bollocks, carrots everywhere. You were going to say?"
Syed laughed, cursing himself inwardly for his arrogant assumption.
"Open a tin, Michael. Where's your Rory gone?"
"Winchester. He's looking at medieval porn, working with his ex-boyfriend."
Detecting a peevish note behind Michael's cheery comment, Syed asked gently,
"Are you jealous Michael?"
"Hell yeah! But I'm being very grown up, not throwing a massive queenie strop like before. And it isn't really porn. I made that bit up. Though I swear the smell of old paper turns him on. Never mind, he'll be all fired up for when he gets home to me! Yippee! I'm in for a damn good seeing to. I'm getting a lob on just thinking about it. Sorry, that was probably too much information and I'm rabbiting on about myself. Come over and help me cook, Fred will be eternally grateful. Where are you?"
Lucky you and lucky Rory. I'm in Miami."
Another bang, sounding suspiciously like head meeting wood with a clash of cutlery thrown in, filtered down the line from across the world, swiftly followed by a deluge of hissed cursing.
"Shit. You what? Truly? Isn't that a bit drastic? I mean, I'm sure you look hot in the uniform. Have you had to have your lovely hair cut?"
"Eh?" Perplexed, Syed frowned. "What are you on about? Did you just give yourself concussion?"
"I was trying to pick up the carrots and forgot I'd left the drawer open when I stood up. I think you might be right about the tin option. Or a carton, soup's posher from a carton… If you've joined the army, they'll make you get a short back and sides, won't they? Mind, you'll probably look fabulous…"
"Ha! Miami, you nutter. I'm in Miami, Florida, America."
They laughed delightedly at each other, until Michael stopped abruptly, still bemused.
"Well I did think it was odd, I wondered if sorrow had sent you over the edge. Are you on your own? You're not…"
"I'm with Christian." The simple statement filled Syed with contentment and he smiled at a woman, power walking up the beach, making her flush with pleasure at the sweetness and nearly collide with a parasol. He held the mobile slightly away, protecting his eardrum from Michael's whooping.
"Thank fuck! Where you should be. I'm so pleased for you both. If you two couldn't make it work, I didn't think there was any hope left for the rest of us. He's the only man for you." Michael giggled, adding in a deep, seductive voice, "Apart from me, of course."
"Obviously. You're taken though, so what could I do?"
"I know! Gutting for you. Ha! Are you having a brilliant time? Living the high life? Where are you staying? The Betsy Hotel on Ocean Drive is fantastic…"
"I'm sure it is. We're staying with Christian's parents and his sister." Syed's elbows ached, reminding him of the discomfort of the cold tiled floor. "You heard I lost a lot of money?" He knew the inevitability of an affirmative answer, figuring Sam would have found that out too and been unable to keep it to himself.
"Yep, 'fraid so. Sam can't really help it. I think it's pathological. We could have given it to you Syed, bailed you out."
Bridling slightly, Syed pursed his lips, battling with his bruised ego that smarted as painfully as his elbows.
"Why should you? It was, is, my mess and I need to sort it."
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
Syed groaned, hating the hurt in Michael's tone, wishing his pride hadn't made him so snappy, hadn't made him make so many mistakes.
"Thank you. For the offer. I do appreciate it."
"Look…" Michael hesitated and took a deep breath. "…Say no f you want, I won't mind, but we bought you and Christian a wedding present and it seems to have been sent back because there was no one there to sign for it. We might have been a bit extravagant. Who am I kidding? I might. If it were down to Ror you probably would have got a book token. It would have been a wonderful book token, filled with love. However, as I am a flash git, it was a home cinema system and a plasma television, which is now cluttering up the spare bedroom. So how's about I return it and send you the money instead? You probably don't need to watch all those Rom Coms you like in 5.1 surround sound anyway and if I say I'm shipping it to Miami, Rory's glasses will steam up. What do you think?"
The prospect of being able to repay his parents a little money and maybe there being enough to have to at least one night in a king size bed, in a luxury hotel, made Syed's objections begin to vaporise.
"I'm ignoring the Rom Com comment. There's no need. Why not keep it for yourselves?"
"We've already got one at the flat and if we had it here the ceiling would cave in the minute a spaceship went over on the screen. No worries. It was just an idea."
A tantalising image of Christian's naked body against white sheets, curtains blowing softly in a warm breeze in front of open windows, a view of palm trees and the sea, peace and quiet and togetherness, finally made Syed graciously capitulate.
"It's a wonderful idea. Thank you so much Michael."
"You're our friends, we love you. Besides, I had a good year and I could write it off against tax, tee hee. What's your bank account details? I might as well transfer it now, or I'll get caught up in trying to cook stuff and forget. Hang on, I need a pen. Fred!"
Syed listened to Michael's footsteps echoing on wooden boards, Fred sneezing and snuffling, and bent down to pick up a handful of sand, letting it trickle through his fingers, minute grains shimmering.
"Aw, bless you! Poor baby. Where's your dad hidden all his quills? Ta darling. It's Syed. He's in Miami with Christian… Fred says hello and she wishes she was in Miami too. Ooh, I've got a pen with a pink fluffy wobble head!"
"How appropriate!"
"Cheeky. Fire away."
Syed passed over his details, wanting to transmit a hug along with them, to see Michael's handsome face and his vivid blue eyes, suddenly home sick. He dimly registered the blaring of a car horn and someone shouting a version of his name with too many vowels in it.
"Better shoot. My ride's here…" He said, in an American accent and winced. "Bollocks. I told Christian off for doing that. I'm incredibly grateful, Christian will be too…"
"Oh shut up. Love you buddy. When are you back? We need to party! Celebrate yer nuptials."
"We do! I'm not sure, though our visas run out by February. We haven't really thought about it yet, only just got here and Christian's mum isn't very well."
"That's a shame! I hope she gets better soon. Hmm, maybe we could come out and see you. Go on a road trip."
"Why am I scared? Take care Michael. Love to Rory and Fred."
"Give Christian one from me and don't be a stranger... And Syed…"
Sprinting up to the waiting car, hair flopping over his forehead, Syed mouthed sorry to Jane, who was nervously checking the mirror for any lurking traffic cops who might be waiting to pounce and fine her for parking illegally,
"What Michael?"
"Be happy."