Chapter 13
Three weeks later
"Will you open up tomorrow?" Tamwar asks, as they finish eating.
"Sure," Syed lightly responds. "But since you'll have the key, won't it be easier for you to put it in the lock and, you know, turn it?"
"I have to go to go to the suppliers. I'll be in before the lunchtime rush," he adds, as he sees the panic in his brother's eyes." Up to this point, they haven't left Syed on his own at the restaurant.
#
The morning is quiet, apart from one or two locals for breakfast, as is customary. Syed is busy cooking anything that can be cooked in advance, filling condiment dishes and shining anything that doesn't move. At just before eleven, the door opens and six men with a complexion similar to his own enter.
"Any chance of a late breakfast?" one of the party requests.
"Syed looks up, and the colour drains from his face. He cannot speak, not a word can he summon.
"Is there a problem?"
He shakes his head, unable to explain his fear.
"If you're bothered by what we look like, then you need to take a good look in the mirror, mate."
"Please leave," Syed manages to croak. He grabs hold of a nearby chair, as his legs threaten to give way.
"Are you being serious?" the most vocal of the group angrily demands.
"Is everything okay?" Tamwar asks anxiously, as he walks in on the scene.
"What the hell are you doing employing a racist asshole like that in a Pakistani restaurant?"
"I'm sorry, he's not racist, he's had a tough time of it recently. Please take a seat, I'll be with you in a moment," Tamwar quickly excuses.
Syed automatically backs away as he approaches. "It's okay, it me, you're safe," he quickly tries to reassure.
"Did he send them?" Syed whispers.
"No, they have nothing to do with Nazir," Tamwar takes his arm and leads him to the kitchen, "... and he's dead, remember?"
"Yea," Syed vaguely responds.
"Syed, are you listening to me?" Tamwar asks looking into his troubled eyes. "They're dead, all of them. You're safe."
"I know," Syed nods, but he doesn't sound sure.
"Tamwar reluctantly leaves him sitting with a cup of strong coffee, and heads back to the dining room.
"I'm very sorry about that," he greets his insulted customers. "My brother has been through a traumatic experience, and he's still a little jumpy. Please don't take his reaction as a personal insult."
"Is he okay?"
"He is, or at least he will be," Tamwar assures with a smile.
#
Syed insists he can carry on working and refuses point blank to talk about what happened.
#
"Hey," Christian greets, arriving later in the afternoon.
"Hi," Syed responds politely. Christian has been to the house to spend time with him most days, and they have crossed paths in the street and at the restaurant, but never progress very far beyond the casually friendly variety of conversation.
"I just popped by to ask if you'd like to come for dinner this evening at mine," he suggests hopefully.
"No ... sorry, I can't," Syed quickly rejects the offer.
"Are you washing your hair?" Christian teases.
"No," he responds with a reluctant smile.
"So, what's stopping you?"
"I'll see if Tam is free."
"No offence, but it's not really Tam I want to see," Christian calls after him.
#
"Tam, hey, how are you?" he enthusiastically greets later that evening, giving him friendly hug.
"I'm very well, and you?" Tamwar responds with a mischevious smile. "I hope you don't mind, we brought Afia with us."
"Not at all, the more the merrier; it's good to see you," Christian greets Afia with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Hi Christian," Syed politely greets.
"Syed," he politely responds.
They have a nice relaxing dinner. Christian has cooked Cod mornay with glazed carrots and potatoes dauphinois. A dish that earns him lots of compliments.
"You should apply for MasterChef," Afia suggests as she cleans her plate.
"You really should," Syed enthusiastically agrees.
"I'm glad you liked it," Christian says, his eyes looking deep into Syed's.
Syed looks down at the place where his watch would have been if he'd been wearing one. "It's getting late," he decides.
"Nonsense," Christian quickly dismisses. "We haven't played any board games yet; or how about a film?" He reaches for the remote.
"Something romantic," Afia cries.
"No," the boys all cry, horrified.
"There's this new Star Wars ...," Tamwar begins.
"No chance," is the universal cry.
"What about Cats, the musical? Christian tries. "I used to know a guy who played ..."
"Nooooooo."
"Syed, any ideas?" Afia gives him a nudge.
He bites his lip thoughtfully. "What about Dangerous Liaisons, the version with Glenn Close, John Malkovich and Michelle Pfeiffer? It's a very good ..."
"Where do you keep your post-it notes?" Tamwar asks Christian, and soon everyone has one stuck to his or her forehead and the guesses and hints are flying.
Eventually, Syed excuses himself to go to the bathroom.
"No offence, but can you make like a tree ..," Christian urgently whispers the second he is out of earshot.
Tamwar looks blankly at him.
"... and leave," he hisses, "I want to talk to him alone."
"Oh yes, of course." He quickly gets up.
"Wait," Afia stops abruptly in the hallway just as they reach the front door. "I think it would be better if we stayed, Syed would want us to stay."
"I need time with him; here, where he cannot run away, and where no one can interrupt us," Christian insists.
"No."
"He's my husband, in case you've forgotten," he heatedly exclaims.
"He's not ready," Afia pleads.
"I'm not going to jump his bones, if that's what you're thinking."
"Afia, has he told you something, about what happened in the house?" Tamwar asks suspiciously.
"No, not really," she nervously denies.
"What did he say?" Christian demands.
"Nothing ... really ... at the police station, he was looking at the photos of the dead bodies ... he noticed that there were only three when there should have been four. The Sargent explained about the man who was undercover ...," She hesitates.
"What did Syed say?" Tamwar encourages.
"He was still focusing on the photos, but seemed to come to a realisation. He said, almost as if speaking to himself, 'He saved me ...'"
"Saved him?" Christian urgently demands. "... from what?"
"Christian," Tamwar quickly stops him, realising that Syed has returned and is standing in the sitting room doorway watching them.
"Syed, we were just leaving, something's come up at the restaurant, it's such a shame," Afia says a little too brightly.
"I'll come with you," he quickly decides.
"Syed, we need to talk," Christian gently insists turning so that his exit is barred.
"Syed?" Tamwar looks unsurely at him.
"He'll be fine," Christian firmly assures.
#
"Would you like a coffee?" he asks, after the door has closed behind Tamwar and Afia. He walks past Syed into the kitchen and reaches for the kettle. "Sit down, relax."
Syed doesn't move.
A few minutes later, Christian arrives with the drinks. "There's no need to look so worried," he teases as he hands him the mug.
"What do you want to talk about?" Syed asks uneasily.
"Come and sit down, and you'll find out," he tempts.
They drink their coffee without saying anything. "Have you missed the place?" Christian asks. What he really wants to know if Syed has missed him.
"I miss the bedsit," he unexpectedly admits.
"You do?" Christian asks, surprised. "It was so small and cramped. "Maybe you miss the relationship we had back then?" he adds thoughtfully.
"What did you want to talk to me about?"
"I suppose my first thought would be, why did you go off with Nazir?"
"You threw me out, our relationship ended," Syed reminds him.
"You cheated, I had every right to be angry," Christian points out.
"I guess there's nothing more to say." Syed makes a move to get up.
"Hang on, of course there's more to be said," Christian laughs, grabbing his arm to prevent his escape. "That was just the opening gambit."
Syed sits back down, but his heart starts to beat a little faster.
Christian notes his reaction to being pushed back into his seat, the way he pulls his arm away. "Are you afraid of me?"
"No."
"You must know that I would never do anything to hurt you?"
"I would say that, given the right set of circumstances, a man is capable of doing just about anything."
"What happened to you in that house?"
"I saw you with a guy in the Vic," Syed quickly diverts.
"It was nothing. He was trying his luck. I pushed him away. Rox saw you in the doorway. You should have come over."
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes it does," Christian insists. "I meant every word of my marriage vows. I would never cheat on you."
"Sober Christian might not, but you have little control over drunk Christian."
"Drunk Christian?"
"He had his hands all over you."
"Tell me about drunk Christian."
"With drunk Christian, you never knew what you were going to get. Sometimes, he would be really loving and attentive, promising me the world; at other times he would disappear and I would have no idea when he might come back. I could never be completely sure if you were being faithful to me. I didn't really believe you would plan to cheat, but l've often heard people say that alcohol lowers your inhibitions, and with Roxy egging you on ... Sometimes, I would fancy that she was giving me a look that suggested she knew something I didn't. And you were always whispering and giggling together."
"It's safe to say you don't like drunk Christian?"
"I don't know how to deal with him," Syed admits.
"You've never spoken about this before."
"You wouldn't have listened; it doesn't matter now."
"Of course it does."
"Our relationship is over."
"I thought you were okay with me having a drink now and then?"
"I was, until I realised that being with me was boring for you, that the novelty had worn off, and that you were having more fun with Roxy. I couldn't complete with that."
"I don't have more fun with Roxy."
"It doesn't matter now ..."
"Stop saying that," Christian growls impatiently.
"Maybe we should never have gotten together; we're from two different worlds."
"We got together because we love each other and because we have similar views on so many things. Just because I like to party and you are not so keen, doesn't mean we should give up on our relationship."
"I gave up on our relationship when I cheated," Syed reminds him. "Now, I really have to ..."
"What happened in the house?" Christian puts the question quietly but firmly.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"It must have been so terrifying," he gently sympathises.
"I said, I don't want to talk about it," Syed cries in vexation. He jumps up, catching Christian by surprise, and is at the door before Christian can catch him.
"We're not done yet," he firmly insists, slipping his arm across Syed's chest to halt his progress.
Syed quickly backs away from his touch. "Please Christian, let me go," he pleads. "I don't feel comfortable ..." he trails off.
"... alone with me?"
"If you come to the house tomorrow ..."
If you tell me what happened from the moment you left with Nazir that day, to the moment we arrived at the hospital, I'll let you go."
As Syed ponders the tight spot he finds himself in, Christian takes his hand and draws him back to the couch.
"Whenever you're ready," he encourages.
"I called Nazir. He took me to the house, a different address from where I went the first time when we ... met up. He hesitates, a blush covering his cheeks.
Christian Does Not Comment.
"There were three other guys at the house when we arrived. He spoke to them in Urdu. From what was said, and the demeanour if the men, I realised I was in some kind of danger. I tried to leave, but a drink he gave me must have been drugged, and the next thing I knew I was lying on a bed in a small room. Nazir told me I was ill and that I needed rest. I'm not sure how long I was kept there, everything became very muddled. And then, one day I was rescued. That's it."
"Try again," Christian calmly suggest.
"That's all there was to it, I'm telling you the truth."
"If that was all it was, you wouldn't be having nightmares."
"Why can't you just leave it?" he cries in frustration.
"Did Nazir tell them you were gay? Did they ... do anything to you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I've read up on it. In parts of P*akistan, there is a tradition of brutally punishing men who practice homosexuality."
"Why would you read up on something like that?"
"When you were missing, Tam and I spent a lot of time together searching. We talked about you and our relationship. He pointed out a few things I'd never considered. I've been reading up online about people in your position."
"I don't want you to ... I never asked you to ..."
"That's part of the problem. Tam helped me realise that."
"Let me guess, you're going to become M*slim now?" Syed snaps edgily.
"No, but we are going to talk more about things, including your religion and how your religious beliefs influence your decisions."
"Well, if I was worried about you getting bored before ..." Syed lets the sentence hang.
"Maybe you need to learn a little more about me, as well," Christian suggests, "if you think I'm only interested in drinking and clubbing."
"You mean like the fact that your idea of paradise is walking on the beach on a hot day with the sand between your toes, eating a cornetto? Or that you don't actually like any of the traditional gay icons, even though you pretend you do? Or that you're sick of wearing white vests, but keep it up because you like the attention? Or that your favourite film is actually Blood Diamond, even though you tell people it's The wizard of Oz? Or that you're more likely to listen to Abba and Justin Birber than Coldplay or Beyoncé. That you worry about getting old, your strained relationship with your mother, your lack of relationship with your father. And don't get me started on your favourite colour, foods, book, side of the bed; your insecurity about your body and looks, even though you must know you look incredible, better than any guy I've ever come across, at any rate ..." He hesitates, embarrassed.
"You know him so well," Christian smiles. He reaches out to take Syed's hand. "I've missed you," he says huskily.
Syed's answering smile fades, "It's getting late," he says nervously. "I want to leave. We've broken up, so this is pointless. I'm not your problem anymore."
"Okay maybe you're right, maybe I need to accept that we're over for good and move on," Christian says quietly, and unexpectedly. He lets go of Syed's hand. "I thought that if you came here tonight, if we talked, then maybe we could find a way to bridge the gap that has grown between us, but I guess it was too much to ask."
There is an endless, deafening silence, and then he stands up.
"Come, I'll walk you back."
When Syed doesn't move, he reaches out a hand.
Syed accepts it and gets awkwardly to his feet, his legs a little unsteady. Christian pretends not to notice how shaken he is, and how the colour has drained from his face.
They walk without a word being spoken as far as the front door of the Masood's.
"Take care of yourself," he tells Syed, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the cheek.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asks, a note of pleading in his voice.
Christian looks into Syed's unhappy face. He notes the shadows under his eyes, how tired he looks. "Will you come and visit me?" he asks huskily. I'll be in at lunchtime."
"Okay," Syed agrees, his eyes shining with relief.