Chapter 7

The moment I stepped outside the building, I tucked my journal into the inside pocket of my jacket and lit a cigarette. At first, I walked aimlessly, but eventually my feet took me towards that damn theatre I'd told myself I would stay away from in future. I knew I'd feel like shit again when I came out, but at the same time, the prospect of the cheap thrill coupled with endless lonely nights was enough to draw me in.

I lit a second cigarette from the remains of the first and walked as slowly as possible to give myself time to change my mind before I got there. I stopped once to look in a shop window and as I stared at the fancy suits on the plastic models, a strange sense of being watched came to me. I glanced left and right, but the other people within view were going about their business and didn't seem to be paying any attention to me. Shrugging, I walked on.

My spine stiffened and tingled. I was certain someone was following me. I'd always had that instinct to a certain extent, but more so after I joined the marines, trained to be aware of everything out of the ordinary. I spun around suddenly, but again, there was nothing obvious. A slight movement in a shop doorway twenty yards away, but nothing more.

I turned again and walked on. It was probably paranoia. Who would want to follow me anyway? I reached the theatre and bought a ticket. After a moment's hesitation, I went to see the movie that had replaced the one about the cyclists. This one was about a rich man and his butler. I took a seat halfway down the rows. No one else was in there, which was to my advantage. Most people didn't watch porn in the early afternoon.

The movie was okay. It kept my attention, and my pants grew tight. I even contemplated jerking off, but I'd never done that in public and had no intention of starting now. Instead, I'd enjoy the anticipation of getting home and doing it in the bathroom. A few minutes later, a slight sound from behind alerted me to another pervert who must have entered after me, and I heaved a sigh of relief that I didn't have my dick in my hand. A gasp caught my attention, and I grinned to myself. Whoever was sitting at the back of the room was enjoying themselves.

Another gasp came, but it sounded shocked rather than pleasured. Then a bark of laughter told me who was sharing the room with me. It surprised me so much, I turned around. He was at the end of the back row, hands clamped over his mouth as he tried to suppress his laughter. Suddenly, he lurched out of his seat and ran for the door. Shit.

My arousal vanished, and I jumped up. He was upset and somehow I felt like I was responsible. I remembered the feeling of being watched and wondered if he'd followed me from Dr Kane's office. I ran out, and quickly spotted him in the distance, hurrying along the street, wild laughter drawing the attention of passers-by. I ran after him.

"Arthur!" I caught him easily and fell into step beside him. "Hey, stop. What's going on?"

He halted, his face bright red. He was still clutching his journal, which he'd twisted and scrunched so much I doubted he'd be able to write in it again. Another laugh burst from him and his eyes watered.

"Come with me." I steered him down an alley between a couple of buildings, away from the curious stares of other people. "Try and calm down, okay?"

He choked and gasped, and eventually the laughing stopped. The colour in his face subsided, leaving him pale and shocked. He avoided my gaze. I didn't know how to deal with the situation. I didn't know what was going through his mind, or if he'd even tell me, but I tried anyway.

"Did you follow me from Dr Kane's office?"

"I, um, I, I'm sorry!"

"It's okay."

"I'm s-sorry I spied on you." His lips trembled and he looked up, sad green eyes finally meeting mine.

"It doesn't matter. I mean, I'm kind of embarrassed you know what I'm into now." I snorted and tried to ignore the heat in my face.

"Do you go there a lot? To watch sex films?"

"I try not to. It's a bad habit. I'm just lonely, I guess." I shuddered, already feeling that creeping sense of shame. It was bad enough that I went to that theatre, without being caught and having to explain myself to someone I realised I really wanted to like me.

"I know that feeling." Arthur nodded.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Was it the fact that it was a sex movie, or the subject matter that upset you?"

"Um—" He flushed scarlet again and stared at his feet. "The, um, the—" He coughed. "It was very, um, graphic."

"Huh. Yeah. You don't care that it was about two men?"

"No. Are you like them?"

"Does it matter?"

"No." He met my eyes again. "I think I might be like that too."

"You don't know?"

He shrugged, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You'll think I'm ridiculous, but I've never been with anyone, so I'm not sure. If I think about, you know, doing that, I usually think about men, but—" He shook his head, his face on fire. "Oh, God. I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Nor can I. You want to walk home with me and have some coffee or something?"

Arthur nodded. I led the way back to the main street and he fell into step beside me. We didn't talk much on the journey home. We took the train to save time, and sat side by side in the swaying carriage, staring at the floor. I thought of asking how he was, and I remembered to my shame I hadn't asked after his mother when I sat in his apartment drinking coffee and talking that one time. I opened my mouth to ask now, but then shut it again. If something bad had happened, it would upset him more. I waited until we reached the apartment block and were in the lift on the way up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't ask how your mother is when I saw you before," I said.

"She's still in the hospital. She's pretty sick."

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I'm sure she's in the best place."

"Yeah."

"And how are you?"

"Same as usual." Arthur stepped out of the lift.

"Mine or yours?" I asked him.

"Yours."

I walked to my door and unlocked it. "Coffee or beer?"

"Coffee, please. I don't think I'm supposed to drink with my medication."

"I don't think I am either, but I still do." I chuckled and switched the kettle on. "Black with sugar, right?"

"You remembered. Yes, two sugars, please."

I made two coffees, less sugar in mine than his. We sat in the living room, and Arthur gazed around at the sparse furnishings.

"You don't have much stuff."

"I haven't been here long. I never had much stuff before, though. I have what I need."

He nodded.

"So, um, you want to talk more about earlier? Why'd you follow me?"

"I didn't!" Arthur laughed loudly, then quickly put his mug on the table before he spilled it. "Okay, I did. I'm sorry. I don't like going to see Dr Kane. She doesn't help at all. Talking to you that time helped, and when I saw you were there, I thought—" He paused and sighed. "I don't know. I thought I'd ask if I could walk home with you, but I lost my nerve. So I followed you instead, and then you didn't go home, and suddenly I was in that place and—" Laughing overtook him, but it was brief. "I'm sorry," he added again. "I shouldn't have done that. I feel like I know something about you that you didn't want anyone to know."

"It doesn't matter. Just don't tell Dr Kane." I shot him a quick grin.

"I won't, I promise," he said seriously. Then he smiled and relaxed. "Can I ask about it?"

"If you want." I didn't particularly want him to ask me about watching porn, but it was my fault he'd got that shock. I supposed I should explain more, but it wasn't the movie he wanted to talk about.

"When did you know? You know, that you're like that."

"You mean that I like guys?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. I was about fifteen, I guess. I liked girls, too, but then I saw this movie one time and I liked the guy in it. It made me look at things differently."

"What movie was it?"

"Not my usual type of thing." I snorted. "Roman Holiday. Have you heard of it?"

Arthur chuckled. "It's Gregory Peck, isn't it? He's nice."

"Yeah, that was it. So, I had pictures of him, and some other men I decided I liked. My father found out a couple of years later and threw me out of the house."

Arthur gasped. "What did you do?"

"I stayed with a friend for a few weeks. I'd already signed up to join the marines. I didn't have long to go."

"My mother doesn't know," Arthur said. "There's nothing to tell anyway. I haven't been with anybody. Have you had a, um, a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?"

"I had a girlfriend back in school for about two weeks, until I did something to piss her off. That happens a lot. I tried dating this woman after I left the marines, too. A really nice woman. She worked for the senator's office. We went for a coffee and arranged another date. Then I messed up and she wouldn't speak to me again."

"What did you do that was so bad?"

"Took her to a porn theatre."

"Oh!" Arthur reddened, but laughed. "Wouldn't dinner have been a better idea?"

"Well, yeah, probably. I don't know what I was thinking."

"So, you haven't had much more experience than me, then." Arthur laughed and actually winked.

"There was this one other, um, thing." I gulped my coffee and lit a cigarette, while I wondered why in the hell I had started this conversation. I could have cut it off earlier. I could have avoided saying that last sentence. And yet my damn tongue wouldn't stop flapping and was going to make me say it. "You want one?" I offered him the pack of cigarettes.

"Thanks." He took one and lit it. "What thing?"

"When I was in the marines." Shit, stop it. I sucked on the cigarette and tried to think of a way to backtrack. Just tell him you don't want to talk about it, I told myself, but it wasn't working. Still, Dr Kane had said talking helps, hadn't she? All the doctors had said the same damn thing.

Arthur stayed silent, patiently waiting for me to continue.

"His name was Gerry. We were in the same platoon."

"How old were you?"

"Twenty-three." Images flashed into my head and I closed my eyes but doing so only made them more vivid.

"Did you love him?" Arthur asked softly.

"I dunno. I guess I probably did. We only had a few weeks. Sneaking around to be together without getting caught." My pulse began to race, the blood rushing in my ears. My chest ached and a wave of nausea came over me.

"What happened? Travis?"

"We were in Vietnam. We came under fire. He was right beside me and he got shot to pieces. Blood everywhere. I put my hands on him to try to stop the bleeding, but there were too many wounds. He died in minutes."

"Oh, Travis." Arthur's hand touched my shoulder. I couldn't see him. I had my hands over my face, grinding the heels of my hands into my eyes. I could hear myself breathing, harsh pants as if I'd been running.

"I'm so sorry," Arthur whispered. "I'm so sorry." His long thin fingers stroked the back of my neck, then around to beneath my ear and brushed over my scar. "You were injured too?"

"Not then." I pulled my hands away from my face and reached for another cigarette. "That's a whole other story."