Five years ago...
In some ways your relationship with Ste moves slowly at first. You don't fuck for the first three months; as in all the way, balls deep stuff. You know why he won't let you go there with him. You understand and exercise a patience that you didn't know you had. Toby would be shocked by your restraint given the nature of the relationship you had shared with him.
Three months in, however, everything changes. He tells you he loves you. He lets you fuck him. And within weeks you ask him to move into your apartment in Chester. He says yes.
After six months together, he weans himself off his anti-anxiety medications. A couple of months after that, your friend and trusted colleague, Alfie, discharges him from their psychotherapy sessions.
During this time you discover Ste's humour and quirkiness, how amazing and dedicated a father he is to the family he has created and how loyal he is to his friends.
You find him strangely traditional when it comes to family values. He is a 'one man' man, pouring his all into your relationship. You have never experienced anyone like him. He doesn't do anything by halves.
After a year together you are disappointed to find out, through a random encounter with Amy, that he doubts his contribution to your relationship.
"You know he is grateful, right? It's just that I think he wants to feel like he can stand on his own two feet. You are doing well for yourself, Marty, but for Ste the waiter job isn't what he wants to do forever. He is very aware of how little he can contribute to you financially."
Ste works at the one Michelin star restaurant called La Maison de Lily located in Chester's city centre. You took him there for dinner once and he applied for a job there the next day.
"What's the big deal. We are a couple. We are supposed to share what we have, right?"
"He says you refused to accept some of the money he got off his aunt."
"The inheritance money from the mysterious dead aunt?" You say.
Strange story that. A lawyer called Ste out of the blue and said an aunt that Ste didn't even know existed had left him some money.
'Bit weird that, innit?' he asked you.
'Yeah.' You said.
'What do you think I should do?' He asked.
'If it all checks out, then it's not a bad lump sum of money to have in your back pocket for a rainy day.'
'Yeah. I suppose.'
"I don't need that money. He should save it, invest or spend it on his kids." You tell her. "I don't know why he is stressing about who is spending what when he should be chuffed to bits that he can drive himself to work, do a whole shift, have a laugh and come home without having a panic attack."
She smiles sympathetically. "It can be hard to be proud of that sort of achievement when you are dating an overachieving, multilingual, fit, intelligent and super-sweet boyfriend."
You raise an eyebrow at her. "Why, Miss. Barnes, are you flirting with me?"
She giggles. "No! I'm sure Pete would have words if I was!"
You grin. "We wouldn't want him to call off your wedding, I suppose!"
"No!"
"Look, I'll talk to Ste tonight if it's really bothering him." You say.
"Just tell him to stop stressing." She throws you a lopsided grin. "And tell him how happy you are with things as they are."
You give her a suggestive grin. "Maybe I'll show him how much I value him!"
She goes red as she gets your meaning, throwing her hands over her face in a move that reminds you of Ste. God, they hang out so much they have adopted each other's mannerisms.
"Oh! Martin! Oh!" She says coyly.
xo
When you get home at the end of the day you are welcomed by delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. Ste is singing loudly to some dance-pop diva's track. You lean in the doorway and watch him sway his hips while constructing a culinary masterpiece. An apron is secured around his slim frame. He has a spatula in hand and gives some sauce-broth-reduction-coulis thingy a stir then uses it as a microphone.
He becomes another person when he is cooking; determined, creative, confident and relaxed. You smile. He suddenly stops his dancing and singing and turns towards you with mild embarrassment on his face.
"How long have you been there?"
He lowers the volume of the track.
You walk up to him. "Long enough to see you bump and grind, thrust and do that thing that looked like a chicken flapping."
He looks at you, affronted. "Oi! That was a boss move that. I invented it meself."
You grin and try to imitate him. You know you look goofy with your two left feet but it has the desired effect. He laughs at you.
"Stop! My eyes are bleeding!" He gasps through loud gleeful cackles as you attempt a running man on the spot.
You join in his laughter and suddenly grab him around the waist and lift him up, twirling him around a few of times before depositing him on the ground. He is rigid in your arms, his face a picture of distress, pupils dilated and eyes bulging.
"Stop!" He tries to shove you away, breathing deeply in fear. He fights against the restraint of your arms in panic.
He has had a flashback; a residual of his post-traumatic stress disorder. Something in the way you touched him triggered an unpleasant memory but you are not having him run away from you.
"No." You say and keep your arms around him. "I am not going to hurt you, Ste."
Like other parts of his life he needs to retrain his brain into knowing that any touch of yours is never going to result in harm to him.
You trace down his arms with your hands and settle into a ballroom hold with him. You sway your closely moulded bodies, kissing his forehead and then temple. He is so tense in your arms. It is heartbreaking.
You whisper into his ear,
"I think we make a great Fred and Ginger, don't you?"
After a while you hear him sigh and feel him relax a little.
"I don't know who you are talking about."
You start to sing badly. "Heaven, I'm in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek."
He nuzzles up to you, conforming his body to yours. "You are being cheesy."
"I know." You say and circle an arm tightly around his waist. You continue to move him on the spot. "But you have to see it. It's from a musical called Top Hat, that song. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are in it and they are simply delightful."
You think he is smiling when he says, "You can be very gay sometimes."
"Sue me. I like musicals." You grin.
He sniffs. "Sorry for freaking out."
"It's okay. It's not your fault." You say resting your cheek on his hair. "So what are we eating tonight?"
He glances over at his saucepan with its bubbling liquid and his face drops. "Shit!"
He shoves you away again and pulls it off the flame. He looks at it as if his own kid has been thrown onto a bonfire. His spatula is back in hand in a flash and he stirs while swearing under his breath.
"I think it's ruined." He mumbles then samples it with a teaspoon. "No. It's fine."
"What is it anyway?" You ask, already salivating.
"Red wine reduction to have with our beef steaks." He says. "With potato rosti and roasted Mediterranean vegetables."
"Ste, be honest, are you a feeder?"
"Huh?"
"Are you trying to make me fat?" You ask with a grin.
"Are you worried I won't want you anymore with a tummy and man-boobs?" He teases.
"No. Because I know that you are only with me because of my big dick."
He blushes and laughs. "Yeah. That's the reason!"
"Thought so. You are so superficial, Stephen Hay. You can't imagine how it feels to be treated like a piece of meat."
He giggles.
While you look at his spead of ingredients, all neatly arranged and prepped in the kitchen counter, you recall your conversation with Amy.
'He is very aware of how little he can contribute to you financially.'
"Ste, have you ever thought of cooking professionally?"
He narrows his eyes at you. "Like how?"
"Like becoming a chef."
He stares at you like he does when you start 'speaking foreign'.
"No." He gasps.
"Why not?"
"Because, I'm not good enough." He hesitates. "Because..."
"You were once a chef..." Just before you met Brendan.
"Caterer, maybe, for like a year... ages ago."
"Then why not get trained up." You say suddenly, as your idea builds in your head. "Chef Stephen Hay!"
He could be incredible.
He laughs and places the meat into a pan. "Have you been drinking?"
"Always." You joke. "Seriously, though. Ask Chef Hugo if he has a place for a commis-chef at the restaurant."
"What do you know about commis-chefs?"
You grin. "I do listen to you, you know, once in a while."
"He'll laugh me out of the kitchen, Marty." Ste says but you can tell that he is thinking about it. "Plus, I'm just a waiter."
"So cook for him and astonish him." You say.
He tries to hide his smile. "Oh, I don't know."
He presses on the steaks to get a sense on how cooked they are and turns them over.
You raise a cheeky eyebrow. "By the way, I'm going to need a work out after eating this."
"Okay."
"With you."
He groans. "I don't fancy going to the gym, babe."
"Who said anything about the gym?" You give his bum a squeeze. "I hope you are feeling energetic, Mr Hay, because we are going to try some high impact aerobic exercise in a bit."
"I'm listening."
"In the bedroom." You smile. "Clothing is optional."
He grins. "Thought so. You and your one track mind!"
XOXO
Four years ago...
Weeks later you invite your family down from Scotland for a weekend to meet him. You are dying with nerves; desperate for them to love him as much as you do.
"What a sweet boy, Marty!" Your mother gushes with her slight Hispanic twang and broad hand gesticulations. "And that beef wellington... Dios mío! I hate to admit it but it might be better than mine!"
"He is going to catering college part-time right now, so." You say proudly.
"Sounds like a keeper! Doesn't he, mi amor?" She turns to your father, a blue collar man of few words.
"He seems like a nice lad. Does he make you happy, son?" He asks, gruffly.
"Yes, dad. Very."
He nods, "Then that's good enough for me."
You sigh with relief at their approval but then your sister, Kate, pulls you out of your living room and into the adjoining corridor. Even though you tower over her in height, she is five years your senior and she has always been parental with you. It is her opinion you are worried about most.
She hisses at you, "Who are you and what have you done with my kid brother?"
"What do you mean?" You ask innocently. Ste has re-entered the living room from the kitchen and is having a chat with your parents next door.
I hear our son has taken you to the villa in Barcelona.
Yeah, a couple of months ago. It were well fun. You have a beautiful holiday home, Mister and Missus McCallister.
Please call us Fred and Carmela. Have you met the neighbour?
Señora Carillo? Yes. She's well nosy, in't she?
Dad laughs. Aye, that she is! I tell my wife that all the time!
"What's this?" Your sister says, gripping your cheeks to get your attention back from eavesdropping. She points at framed wall photos of you, Ste, his kids and your friends which cover a wall on one side of the corridor. She then peeps into an open bedroom you have converted into a children's room complete with toys for when Ste's kids come to stay. "He has kids!"
"Yep."
"Let me get this straight, you have never formally introduced a bloke to us, not even Toby, before."
You shrug.
"You've been with Ste for what, a year?"
You nod.
"And you couldn't commit to a haircut until a few months ago." She says.
"That's not true. I was with Tobes for nearly four years."
"In an open relationship. That's like committing to not commit. Doesn't count. So what's the deal with you and Ste?"
"What do you mean?"
She smiles at you knowingly. "Don't play dumb with me, bro."
"We are exclusive, if that's what you are getting at."
She smiles. "Wow. And you haven't run a mile even though he comes with a package deal of two children under the age of five."
"They are great kids. Really well-mannered, fun and polite."
She looks at you as if you have grown a second head. "Has he drugged you or something?"
You roll your eyes at her.
"I think I owe him a drink. You are all grown up, lil'bro. Monogamous. Domestic. Never thought I would see the day."
"He doesn't really drink much."
"Oh." She peers over at him. "He is cute in a strange way."
"Sure."
"Fun."
"True."
"Motivated."
"What are you getting at?" You narrow your eyes at her.
"Tobes said that it was love across your counselling couch. Isn't that against the hippocratic oath or something. 'Thou shalt not fuck your mental patient!'"
"Jesus, Katie!" You say. "Firstly, I am not a doctor so I don't subscribe to the hippocratic oath. Secondly, the politically correct term is 'patient with a mental disorder'. And finally, why the fuck were you talking to Toby?"
"i don't normally but he called me when you dumped him."
"Can we not talk about this right now?"
"Talk about what?" Ste says. He walks up to you both.
"Nothing." You say quickly.
"Actually, I was just about to say how I haven't seen my brother this happy in ages." She says. "I am going to put it down to you."
He looks at your sister and smiles cautiously. "Your brother is really special to me."
"He is to all of us." She says seriously.
You feel Ste reach for your hand.
"So you can understand how I wouldn't want anything or anyone to hurt him." She adds.
"Katy!" You chastise.
"Yeah, 'course not." Ste says. He rightly senses a tinge of animosity from Katy. "I get how you might be a little cagey about someone coming into your brother's life."
"Don't worry she's just being overprotective." You tell him.
"You have nothing to worry about," Ste says to her, "I love your brother."
XOXO
Three years ago...
After a year and a half of working as Chef Hugo's apprentice, Ste is now his sous-chef. It is a meteoric promotion and reflects the close bond the two have formed. You know that it is purely professional and based on a shared love of food but you would have been much happier if the Frenchman was older, balder, fatter and less charismatic.
Ste comes home late from work one day which is not unusual since his promotion. You are already in bed when he tiptoes into the bedroom, undresses quietly and slips in next to you thinking you are asleep. Normally he calls even if he is running five minutes late. It is a thing of his ever since the abduction. He has to log his whereabouts with someone just in case something happens to him en route.
But tonight he seems to have overlooked that fear.
"I was getting worried about you." You say into the darkness.
He jumps in shock. "Shit! I thought your were asleep!"
"You didn't call to say you were running late."
"Oh yeah. I forgot." He shrugs in the dark. "That's good, right? Me not being a stress-head."
"Where were you?" You ask.
He sounds excited and exhilarated, "At work. Today Pierre said that I remind him of him as a junior chef. He said that my level of skill is parfait!"
Pierre? Since when are they on first-name terms?
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm well good, me!" He says beaming at you. "He asked me to stay back afterwards so I made him this dessert. Like a posh version of Manchester tart. Totally on the spot and he loved it."
"Did he now?" There is an edge to your voice. Jealousy. Um. Curious. Not a feeling you are familiar with but you have felt all sorts of new feelings since getting with Ste.
"Yeah and then we spent some time experimenting with different flavours."
"Just you and him, after hours?"
Ste cosies up to you and nods. "He says he wants me to help him come up with the restaurant's new signature dish."
"Did he ask anyone else?"
Ste smiles slowly as the significance of your reaction dawns on him. "Are you jealous?"
"No."
"You should be." He says. "He tried it on."
Your heart stops. "He did?"
"No, silly! He has a girlfriend."
"Oh."
"You are crazy, you!" He says teasingly. "Why would I want anyone else?"
"I don't know." You say with grin. "Why would you? I am pretty much the total package!"
"God, you are so full of yourself!"
"I was thinking, and this is in no way related to the fact that I thought Chef had designs on you, maybe you should set up your own business. Like a small restaurant. What do you think?"
"I think that I am too tired to have this conversation and that I am only halfway through my training."
xo
Amy backs you up. And Pete. In fact, you all agree that it could be something to invest the inheritance money in. Pete is happy to invest money into the business too as a silent or active partner.
Ste mulls it over. The scared twenty-one year old PTSD sufferer would have said 'no' outright. The new Ste gathers you, Pete and Amy round him a week later and says,
"So basically, I am not saying I am definitely doing opening a restaurant or anything, but if I did I couldn't do it on my own because I am bad with numbers and things. I would need an accountant to help me balance the books and an interior decorator to make the place look good. People I trust."
All three of you grin at him. You say, "Yeah. That makes sense."
"I could help with the accounts." Pete says helpfully.
"And I have an eye for what looks good so if you want I can decorate the place." Amy adds.
Ste nods seriously. "And I don't want a restaurant. I want it to be a bistro."
"That's a great idea, Ste." You say hopefully.
"I know." He says. He produces a booklet out of nowhere and opens it up to the first page. "I have some ideas. Number one, I would call the place Peckish. What do you think?"
xo
The official opening night of PECKISH! is by invitation only. Many of Ste and Amy's friends from Hollyoaks attend as do his children, his mentor, Pierre Hugo, and former colleagues at the restaurant. He serves up a three course meal designed to show off the bistro's menu. When he emerges from the kitchen in Chef's whites with his sous-chef at the end of the night he receives a standing ovation.
You are bursting with pride. You smile when he blushes at the crowd's plea for a speech.
"I am not very good with talking." He starts.
"Liar!" One of the guests says. "No one can shut you up!"
"Thanks, Doug." He grins. "What I mean is that sometimes I find it hard to find the right words. Thank you so much everyone for coming today. I really hope you enjoyed the food and atmosphere." The guests cheer in appreciation.
"There is no way in a million years I could have done this alone. I am so lucky to have people who have pushed me in the right direction, supported me and helped me along the way. I wouldn't be here without them. So I would like to raise a toast to my good friend, Pete, and the mother of my two beautiful children, Amy, who have been hands on from day one of this venture and will continue to be my right and left hands."
There is another cheer.
"And finally I would like to thank someone who was there when I was in a really dark place in my life. He saw through the sad, terrified person I was when I met him and helped me grow into the person I am now." He looks over at you. "Martin, I don't think I would be here if it wasn't for you. I don't mean here, here. I mean on this Earth. You have been amazing and every day I thank my lucky stars that I got the nerve to step out of my house and into your office. I love you."
He walks up to you and folds his arms around you. He feels more solid to you somehow; not so much a man that needs protecting but one that can stand alone.
Mission accomplished. That is what he wanted.
"I love you, too." You say. You feel a tug on your knee. You both look down to see Lucas wrapped around both your legs, He looks up at you with a wide sauce covered smile.
Ste laughs and picks him up. You wipe the sauce off the wriggling three-year old's face with a napkin.
"You having fun, champ?" You ask.
"Yes, Matty." He nods and then asks, "After this can I be a chef, puhweez?"
"After what?" Ste says in amusement.
Lucas points his pudgy little hands at the seated guests.
"When everyone says bye-bye. Can I puh-weez make chocolate cake, daddy?"
You grin. Ste occasionally gives the little man a bowl and spoon with something or other in it so that Lucas can stir and beat away while keeping Ste company in the kitchen.
"Not tonight, champ. Maybe another day." Ste kisses his son's forehead.
"Your daddy has made a cake for everyone already. You and Leah get to have the biggest pieces." You say, ruffling the kid's blond hair.
"Okay, Matty." He says, sweetly and sleepily in his father's arms.
You hear Ste gasp all of a sudden. He takes a step away from youlooking behind you as if he has seen a ghost. The person in the doorway is someone you have never seen before; a busty girl with big blue eyes and blonde hair styled into ringlets that cascade down to her shoulders covering rather large hoop earrings. She has a sense of fashion and taste for costume jewellery that you would expect to see on a blind woman stuck in the eighties.
"Cheryl." Ste says. Anguish is etched on his face as he hugs his son to him.
"Hiya, love." The woman says taking a tentative step into the bistro.
Who the fuck is she?
Amy is angered by her presence. "What the hell is she doing here?" She whispers to Pete loudly enough for you to hear her venom.
The room goes quiet as everyone turns to stare at the late uninvited arrival. The Hollyoaks crowd seem to recognise her.
"Alright, Chez? Long time no see!" Says the guy Ste referred to as Doug moments ago. "How's Dublin treating Brendan?"
Your boyfriend turns ashen at the guy's words and Pete throws Doug an evil glare and says, "Shut up, Doug."
You feel your throat close up. He called her Chez, as in Chez Chez; the club that Ste used to work in back in Hollyoaks. You remember a pink neon logo emblazoned on a black bloodied t-shirt.
This must be Cheryl Brady, Brendan's younger sister.
What the fuck is she doing here?
"I should have called but..." She says in a strong Ulster accent that you can't rationalise. You were sure Ste said Brendan was from Dublin.
She glances over at Pete, who ducks his head.
"You told her about tonight?" Ste asks him in angry accusation.
"No." Pete says in a small voice.
"I just wanted to congratulate you, babe." She says taking another step closer to where you are. You are not sure that she has registered you at all. She is staring so intensely at Ste. "I am so proud of you."
"Don't." Ste passes you his boy without looking at you and raises a halting hand to her. It is shaking. "Does he know about this tonight?"
You frown at his question.
"Brendan?" Cheryl shakes his head. "No, he doesn't know I am here."
"I want you to leave." Ste says abruptly. "You aren't welcome here, Chez."
"Ste." Pete protests. "It's not Cheryl's fault..."
"She is his sister!" Your boyfriend spits out.
"Ste, he misses you." Cheryl is crying.
"I don't want to hear it." Ste replies. He closes his eyes, releasing tears too and covers his ears in a manner that reminds you of his daughter. The guests are looking at the scene with dropped jaws.
"I get why you are upset, love. But, you don't understand, Ste." Cheryl says as tears run down her cheeks. "What happened... Brendan... It's not... I mean..."
She surveys the room of captive listeners. Peter gives her a sharp look and her shoulders slump as if in defeat. There is something she wants to say to him but can't in front of the group of gathered people.
She pleads, "Don't hate Brendan."
Your boyfriend's fist connects with a solid wall. You are stunned by the force of impact. "I SAID I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT, CHERYL! NOW FUCKING LEAVE!"
Lucas covers his mouth and Leah closes her ears over their father swearing.
Cheryl is visibly shaken by Ste's outburst. You actually feel a little sorry for her but she has upset Ste and that won't do.
"I think you have done enough damage tonight. Please go before this becomes an even bigger scene." You say.
She stares at you for the first time, and sees Lucas wedged comfortably in your arms. His little head is tucked into your neck while he sucks his thumb and stares at her with wide curious eyes.
Recognition flashes through her face when she then scans between you and Ste.
"Oh. Right. I am sorry." She hiccups and wipes her tears. She looks at Ste and says,
"This was a mistake. It will never happen again."
She runs out of the restaurant and is followed by Pete who rushes past you in his wheelchair trying to catch up with her.
Ste storms off in the direction of the kitchen. When you make a move to follow him Amy stops you,
"I think it might be better if I go. Keep an eye on the kids, will you?"
You nod, numbly. So much for the past staying in the past. It has been shoved right into your face.
XOXO
Present Day (Day 4)...
Your presentation to the gathered audience of fellow psychotherapists and affiliated professionals in the large auditorium is drawing to a close.
Right now you feel like a fraud giving a speech on a subject that you are a national lead expert on. You feel paradoxically under qualified.
"A person affected by post-traumatic stress disorder has not only been through a most unimaginably harrowing event, he or she then has to re-experience it time and again, unable to escape it as it follows him in his daydreams and sleep. It is a cycle of relived trauma that seems impossible to break and prevents him from moving on with life as he once knew it. He becomes avoidant of situations that trigger flashbacks. He locks himself indoors or immerses himself in work or hides within safe relationships and situations. He feels less than whole and all because of an event that was unexpected, painful, agonising and out of his control. All because he has been violated and left broken and battered; emotionally, mentally and physically."
You envisage three different Stes. The wispy, frail and defenceless one you met for the first time in your office. The happy, carefree and healthy one you proposed to. And finally, the distant, broken one you left your hotel room this morning with your engagement ring lying next to him.
An awkward cough from the audience snaps you out of your daydream. You zero in on Toby. He is looking at you with wide eyes as is witnessing a car crash in slow motion.
Are you okay? He mouths.
No. You are not okay. You have fifteen more minutes of talk left but you are over it so you draw your talk to an end.
"So in summary, factors associated with a good prognosis include rapid engagement of treatment, early and ongoing social support, avoidance of retraumatisation, positive pre-morbid function, and an absence of other psychiatric disorders or substance abuse. Two-thirds of people with PTSD who undergo treatment make a full recovery and lead a satisfying quality of life. The current evidence suggests that trauma-focussed psychotherapy, EMDR, behaviour therapy and antidepressants are all effective in treating this condition with no treatment modality being significantly better than the other. I, personally, have found psychotherapy with or without SSRIs very effective. We, as psychotherapists, can help make a difference to a mental health condition that can be totally cured if not managed. Thank you."
The audience clap and the chairman, puzzled by your abrupt finish, walks up to you on stage. He addresses the audience.
"Thank you, Martin McCallister, for a concise up-to-date overview on PTSD. If you have any questions for one of the UK and Ireland's leads for this condition please feel free to ask during our Q and A session at the end of the day."
He shakes your hand and you walk off stage and straight out of the room. Toby is right behind you following you into the lobby outside.
"What was that?" He whispers loudly in his clipped received pronunciation accent once he stops you in the coffee lounge just outside the auditorium.
"What?"
"That." He points towards the auditorium.
"A lecture."
"It went to the dogs towards the end. Looked like you were having a break down." He looks closely at you, "... I hope you don't mind my candour."
You rub your eyes tiredly. God, you feel exhausted. Wrung out. "You were never one to mince your words, Toby. Don't change on my account."
"Were you referring to Ste? Is he still symptomatic? Is that what the trouble at home has been about?"
"No."
Toby nods slowly. "So what is it then?"
"Huh?"
"The problem between you and Ste."
"Nothing."
Toby suddenly grabs your hand. "Why aren't you wearing your engagement ring then?"
The observant fucker. You snatch your hand away. You can't make eye contact when you say, "I left it at the hotel."
"Why?"
"Toby, don't take offense but you are probably the last person I want to have this conversation with."
"Then I shall persist until I find out what's troubling you." Toby says, "Did someone break the rules?"
You don't get his meaning so he clarifies, ticking off the fingers of one hand in turn.
"Complete disclosure, honesty about all encounters, advance approval of partners, no sex with complete strangers."
You catch his drift. "We don't need rules."
You have never even entertained an open relationship with Ste. You simply couldn't stomach the idea of someone else's hands on him; setting his senses alight, making him writhe, purr, sign and groan like he did for you. And equally you couldn't imagine another man turning you on the way Ste did.
"You are exclusive?" He sounds incredulous.
You nod.
"See, now we are getting somewhere. See how good it feels to share."
You give him dagger eyes.
"He must be pretty special. You couldn't be monogamous for me, remember?" You hear the tinge of sadness in his tone and you feel like a right shit.
"Did he cheat on you?" Is Toby's third guess.
He is closer to the truth with that theory. No, Ste hasn't cheated on you technically but you suspect, like a husband turned mad with rabid jealousy, that your beloved's heart has strayed away from you. Even worse, that it was never yours to begin with. That it belonged to another man.
"No." You reply. "No one has done any cheating, Toby."
Toby takes in your downturned expression. He says nothing for some time then,
"Then you shouldn't give up."
You are shocked at his advice.
"Show Ste why you are the right man for him; why he picked you in the first place."
"He picked me because I was there when he needed someone to make him feel safe." You say before thinking. "Or maybe he transferred his feelings for Brendan onto me."
It takes a moment for Toby to recall who Brendan was. "His ex? Is that what this is all about?"
"Doesn't matter." You say and point in the direction of the auditorium. "I think I'm going to get going. Tell someone in there that I had to shoot off, yeah?"
"Marty. People don't ever forget their exes. They are lying if they say they do. How can they? They can only hope to move on from them. Mother always used to tell me that 'the scars on a man, acquired in childhood, are still there but appear smaller'."
"Poetic." You say sarcastically. "The thing is the scars are still there. And every so often something comes along to remind him that they are; whether it is a blood encrusted t-shirt, or fucking Cheryl turning up at his bistro on opening night out of the blue or a trip to Dublin or bumping into his ex at a restaurant in Dublin. The scar is picked and the memories come flooding back and everything that has happened since and the smooth healthy skin that surrounds it are forgotten. They fade away to nothing. I fade to nothing."
You prod Toby's chest with two fingers shaped like a gun emphasising the last four words with four sharp jabs. He looks worriedly at you so you turn on your heal and head for the doors.
"Where are you going?" He calls out in concern.
"Sightseeing." You lie.
"Are you going to be okay? You're coming to the conference dinner tonight, yeah?"
"Yeah." You nod as you reach the exit and grip the door handle. "I'll be there."
XOXO
Three years ago...
You knock on the door and wait, feeling agitated. You look around at the kids milling around as if there are no classes to go to. A few of the younger girls keep staring at you, whispering at each other and giggling coyly.
"Come in." You hear from within and walk into the Head teacher's office of Hollyoaks High.
"Marty, what are you doing here?" Peter says in surprise. He takes in your taut expression. "Is everything okay?"
You close the door and walk up to the desk that divides you.
"Don't kids go to class now-a-days?" You say. "Or am I being old fashioned?"
"It's called a break." He frowns and leans back into his chair. "You seem troubled. Why don't you take a seat?"
"I prefer to stand." You are unsettled and jumpy. "What the fuck happened last night? Why did Brendan's sister show up?"
He holds his hands up apologetically. "Yeah, look mate, I have to take the blame there. I called home a month ago or so to catch up with a friend of mine, Lynsey, who lives in Belfast and I may have let slip that we were about to open up a bistro."
"How did Cheryl find out?"
"We all know each other. Lynsey is her best friend. She must have told her. I'm sorry, Marty. It slipped out. I was excited. How is Ste?"
"He has probably spoken two words since. She fucked up what should have been a great experience for Ste."
"I know."
You begin to pace. "Tell me what you know."
He swallows nervously and begins to shuffle papers in front of him. "I don't underst-"
"Don't insult my intelligence. Yesterday, Brendan's sister was about to say something to Ste but you stopped her."
Pete pushes out a forced laugh.
"Oh that. It's nothing, honestly. It just wasn't something for everyone's ears."
"What was it? Cheryl implied that Ste's anger towards Brendan was misplaced."
He huffs. "Yeah. Look, I don't know how to put this tactfully..."
"Please. Don't spare my feelings if that is what you are worried about." Your hands are in tight painful fists, waiting.
"Okay. But you have to promise not to tell Ste."
"Will my silence hurt him?"
"No. It will protect him."
So you nod.
Pete speaks quietly. "Ste is certain that Brendan left him because he had somehow fallen out of love for him. That's not true. Brendan still loved him. In fact, in his own warped way, Brendan loved him more. The thing is my best friend had a lot of enemies, all of them nipping at his heals wanting to get a bite out of him. When Ste was kidnapped Brendan felt he was to blame. He felt responsible for what happened to Ste. He figured he was better off without him. So he left."
Your mouth feels dry. "Was it his fault Ste got abducted?"
"No!" Peter says quickly and certainly. "No, of course not, but guilt is a bitch."
You wish you had never heard this. You feel complicit somehow now.
"So all this time Ste has been in bits thinking that Brendan stopped caring when actually..."
"Yeah." Pete says. "It's better this way, Martin. Believe me. It is so much better this way."
XOXOXOXO
Fred and Ginger in Top Hat (1935) perfoming 'Cheek to Cheek' on youtube- .com/watch?v=WOYzFKizikU&feature=related.
Old school but you've got to love it! I hope you all had a great Christmas and New Year,
Hugs,
Chips