Ste
Amy brings him two aspirin. She offered to make him a fry up, a hangover remedy that they both used in another lifetime before the kids were born, but Ste had almost heaved at the mere idea of food. He hadn't even thought that he'd had much to drink last night; not more than Doug and Lynsey at the very least, but according to their messages this morning, they're both fine.
They would be, wouldn't they? They have each other.
Ste sits up on the sofa, swallowing the aspirin with the glass of water that Amy offers him. He's lucky that he's getting any sympathy from her. Leah and Lucas have been running around all morning, both of them hyperactive. They're going to a party later on today, a friend who Ste's never even heard of, and they're bouncing off the walls at the idea. Still Amy's here, holding a damp cloth to Ste's forehead, propping cushions up around him.
"I'm not sick, Ames." Perhaps it's his guilt that makes him snap at her, not wanting to accept her help. Ever since he returned he's felt like he's been keeping a massive secret, and even though he and Brendan haven't spoken in days, it feels like it's building. He's still angry, and he still isn't entirely sure that he wants to speak to him, but they're together. In Amy's eyes he's free, completely free, not tied to anyone. It couldn't be further from the truth.
His pride's waning. As he sits on the sofa, head pounding and getting sporadic flashes of nausea, he considers being the first one to call Brendan. He'd wanted to speak to him last night - he'd been close to caving, had thought that it had been Brendan on the phone instead of Doug. It feels cruel, denying himself the chance to make things right. He's had to confront the reality that he's miserable without him. Amy's going to notice it sooner or later. In a few weeks she won't accept his excuses, won't believe that he's still finding it strange to adapt back into his life here. He was only gone for three months, and she saw him after he'd been in young offenders. He was fine then: he got used to things. He adjusted. She's a smart girl, and it's not the first time that he wishes she wasn't.
"Ste?" She comes through to join him, tea towel in her hand. It's something else to add to the guilt. She's washing up from breakfast and here he is, lounging about the place, jobless with a self induced headache. He wants to laugh at how he ever seriously thought he could provide for her and the kids.
"Who's Bernard?"
Ste frowns. "Who?"
"Someone called for you yesterday evening. Sorry, I only just remembered now."
"Don't know anyone called Bernard. You sure that was their name?"
"Yes. I wrote it down. He had a thick accent - Irish."
Ste almost spits out the water from his mouth. He tries to cover it up, wiping the spilled drops from his lips.
"Oh, Bernard. Yeah, I know him."
It couldn't be, could it? But who else would it be?
"Who is he?" Amy's staring curiously at him. He doesn't exactly have friends. She'd seemed surprised enough when he told her about Doug and Ethan.
"Just a mate."
"Someone you met inside?"
He can almost see her panicking, perhaps imagining that he's got in with the wrong crowd and hasn't told her.
"No, nothing like that. He's a guy I met when I went into town the other day. He works in one of the supermarkets, doesn't he? He was dead friendly, told me he'd phone me with some advice on how to get the boss onside if I got an interview."
He's the worst kind of person. When Amy's face lights up he hates himself even more.
"Look at you. Making connections, getting contacts."
"Give over. It's nothing like that." He blushes, but it's from shame rather than her praise. She doesn't seem to realise; she looks proud of him, and he can see her previous paranoia evaporating. She clearly didn't recognise anything about Brendan's voice.
"I'll call him now. Don't worry, I'll use my mobile so it doesn't cost us any extra." It's the excuse he needs to go to his bedroom and get his phone out from his jean's pocket. He wants to be alone: no one, least of all the people he loves, should see him like this, caught in a lie.
He dials the prison's number. It feels like he knows it by heart now. He wonders if Brendan still has to look at the slip of paper he left him whenever he calls.
Someone picks up. He doesn't know who, but he's relieved when they don't give him any trouble when he asks to speak to Brendan. There's a "wait a sec" followed by silence and some muffled background noise. Ste doesn't know if the fact that he hasn't left his name is a good thing. Perhaps Brendan's more inclined to speak to him if he doesn't know who's calling. With a certain bitterness, Ste thinks that maybe he'd stand more of a chance if he was Cheryl.
"Hello?"
It's only been a few days, but the sound of Brendan's voice doesn't feel dissimilar to the sensation of last night, when alcohol had warmed Ste's body. He feels calmer. His shoulders visibly relax. It's as though the tension that's gathered around him lately is being crowded out.
"Bernard? Is that you?"
Ste doesn't know what to expect, how Brendan will play this. He smiles when there's the sound of laughter on the other end of the line.
"Jesus."
"Nice cover up there. MI5 really should consider taking you on."
"Don't." Brendan sounds embarrassed. "It was the first thing I could think of."
"Well I nearly blew it. I had no idea what Amy was on about until she said the bloke she'd spoken to was Irish. I could have fucked it all up."
"Sorry."
Just about this?
"I just wanted to speak to you, and...I couldn't hang up this time. I didn't want to."
Ste closes his eyes, clutching the phone tightly. How many more times are they going to do this? How many more times is he going to be hopelessly drawn in, incapable of resisting?
"Must have taken some guts, speaking to Amy like that."
"I'm not scared of some girl, Steven." He doesn't sound so sure.
"She's not just some girl though, is she?"
There's silence at the other end of the line. For a moment Ste wonders if Brendan's put the phone down, before he hears the unmistakable sound of a pool game being played in the background.
"I shouldn't have said what I did. I do want to see you."
"Do you?" He's being stubborn, not making this easy, but he thinks he's earned it.
"Come on, don't make me choose. Don't make me choose between you and my sister."
"Why? Because you'd choose her?" The idea of Brendan's answer terrifies him.
"Because I'd choose you, and I don't want to lose her."
Ste's head feels like it's swimming.
"But you didn't, did you. You aren't. You're choosing her."
"Fuck, Steven, I'm not - it's one visit."
"And what about the week after? Am I going to see you, or is she going to be front of the queue again?"
"You're always front of the queue. You know that."
"That's not an answer." Ste laughs - at himself, at the situation, at how he got to be here. "Do you really think I want to sound like this?"
"Like what?"
"Desperate, pathetic - needy, like I'm trying to convince you to do something you don't want to do. I don't want to be that person. I've never been that person."
"You think you're the only one who's -" Brendan stops, and Ste can hear him breathing harshly; it sounds like he's making a conscious effort to calm down.
"Brendan?" They may have spent the last few days in silence, but he still cares. He still needs him to be okay.
"When I called, and Amy told me you weren't there..." There's a twist of vulnerability in his voice. "She told me where you were."
Shit. Fuck. Fuck.
He should have told Amy not to say anything to anyone.
"It was nothing." He's fighting to get the words out fast enough. "It was their fault - Doug and Lynsey. They invited me round to theirs, and Doug wouldn't take no for an answer. I thought it was just going to be something small, some dinner and a few drinks. Then they told me we were going to a club, and I - Bren, I swear, I didn't -"
"You don't have to feel guilty." That's not what his voice is saying: he sounds hurt, and for once his usual attempts to mask it aren't working.
"It's not like I ever expected them to go to a gay club." Ste tries to laugh, to make it seem less of a big deal than it is.
He immediately senses that he's said the wrong thing.
"It was a gay club?"
"Amy didn't tell you?" His voice quivers. Of course Amy didn't tell him; she didn't know. He'd left that part out when he'd text her.
"No. She didn't."
"Nothing happened. I didn't - I wouldn't -"
"Right." Brendan's voice is like ice. "Right."
Ste shouldn't have called him. He's made everything a million times worse.
"You're pissed at me, aren't you?"
"No." Brendan speaks slowly, still fighting to control himself. "No, of course not. We all do...we all do stupid things. These last few days -"
"You're not gonna kill Doug, are you?"
That gets a laugh. "Douglas is safe, don't worry. Although I'm sure he's disappointed that nothing happened. If nothing did happen -"
"Of course nothing happened. I wouldn't lie. Not to you," he adds, when he thinks about how many times he's lied about his whereabouts to Amy and Rae in the past. This is different: he wouldn't cheat on Brendan. Even if someone had been at the club - someone who wasn't John Paul McQueen, someone who he actually liked - he couldn't have gone through with it, no matter how angry he may have been with Brendan.
"Look, if you're mad at me - just tell me." He'd rather know.
"I just - everything with Cheryl - I understand why you're angry, I do. I fucked up, I know that. But - Amy doesn't even know who I am. She doesn't even know that I'm in your life, that you're seeing anyone."
"I told you, it's difficult." He's the one who's having to deliberate over his words now. He knows Brendan's right. At least his sister's aware that he exists, that he's part of Brendan's life. Amy's completely in the dark.
"I know. I wouldn't want to introduce me either, trust me."
Ste hates hearing that, hates knowing that he's made Brendan feel bad about himself, however much he might try and deny it.
"But I don't - I don't know how much longer I can take this."
"Please." Ste can't let this lead where he thinks it is. He's not going to let Brendan end this. There's no way. He can't.
"I've got to go."
No. No. Ste can hear him giving up. Giving in.
"Brendan -"
"I'll call you tonight, okay?"
"Do you swear?"
"I swear." There's some conviction there, some sincerity, and Ste tries to hold onto it.
"I love you." It sounds more like I can't live my life without you.
"I love you too."
The line goes dead.
::::::
Brendan
He's had breakfast. He's been to the gym for an hour. He's been for a run in the gardens. He's been to the library to get a new book, in and out as fast as possible. He can't linger there anymore. He's played chess with one of the older inmates, a man who he's never heard speak but can play a mean game. He's been to the laundry room. He's had a brief conversation with Tony in the hallway before the governor had excused himself; Brendan guessed that he was still up to his neck in trying to make the Walker, Warren and Silas situation seem less fucked up than it was.
It feels like it should be night time, close to lights out and doors locked.
It's still only mid afternoon.
He's pacing his cell, Ethan watching television on his bed.
"You know what you need?"
"What?" Brendan bites his fingernails. It's a habit he's never had, but he's seen Steven do it enough, and he's beginning to realise why it helps.
"Sex."
Brendan stops pacing.
"You offering?"
"Very funny. I'm serious though. That's why you're getting all antsy. Been a while, hasn't it?"
"Only over a week." It feels like longer. It feels like for fucking ever.
"Must be a killer for you." Ethan switches off the television. "First you had Vinnie, then Walker, then Ste. Sex on tap."
"Can we not talk?" Brendan rubs at his forehead, back against the wall.
"About sex, or about anything?"
"Anything."
His request is entirely ignored.
"At least you still remember what it feels like." Ethan sounds wistful, like he's somewhere far away. "I can't even remember what the inside of a girl feels like."
"Nice. Really nice."
"It's true. Last good shag I had..." He's silent for a moment like he's trying to remember. It doesn't seem to work. "I'm practically a virgin again. I'm telling you, that's the first thing I'm going to do when I get out. Go to a bar, find someone - anyone - and...well, you know the rest."
Brendan's had these conversations before: laddish, blokey, excruciating. Before he and Eileen split he had a small circle of men that he had drinks with. He wouldn't call them mates, but they were in their crowd, husbands of Eileen's friends. They had banter, he supposed it was called. Who they'd like to be with if they were single. What they'd do to them. It felt more like torture.
"Don't you wanna...I don't know, settle down. Weren't you engaged for a while?"
Ethan seems surprised that he's remembered. It was something he'd shared when he first came in here.
"Yeah, a while ago. Didn't work out, obviously. She was younger than me, so. I want to find someone eventually, but..." He puts his hands behind his back, releasing a sigh. "I just want to live, you know. Really live. Experience things. Don't you want that too? I know you and Ste are...but don't you ever just want to play the field again?"
"That's who I was. Always looking round the next corner, over the horizon for something better. When sometimes, what you're really looking for is standing right in front of you."
"Aw, Brendan. I never knew you felt that strongly about me."
"Enough of that."
"You really feel that way though? About Ste?"
Brendan shrugs, although there's nothing doubtful about what he's saying. He knows. He knows exactly how he feels.
"I'm tired of playing the field. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Jesus, after what you've been through - you should do whatever you want to do when you get out of here. But I've done all that. People in my past, and Vincent...Simon...I was just treading water. Waiting to...wake up." He's not about to give Steven up for one night with someone else.
"You're lucky," Ethan says softly. "I kind of wish someone felt that way about me."
"I don't think Steven feels very lucky right now."
"Whatever it is - if you're arguing, or...you two will make it up. You always do."
"Yeah, except we can't properly make up now." Brendan raises his eyebrows, hoping that Ethan will know what he means so he doesn't have to elaborate.
He looks victorious. "See, I knew it! You are missing sex."
"I'm not a fucking robot. And yeah, I feel like I'm about to -" Brendan searches for the right word. Nothing seems monumental enough.
"Explode?"
Brendan nods. He's embarrassed to be talking about it - to be talking about it with Ethan - but it eases it somehow, admitting it to someone.
"Why don't you just jerk off?"
"Wow, never thought of that genius."
"Alright, calm down! I've never seen you do it."
"I don't do it when you're in here, do I?" There had been a thrill about being with Steven when Douglas had been in the same room; he hadn't been able to wait, and the idea of pissing Douglas off was an added bonus. But he has some need for privacy, some need to keep hold of it.
His coldness hasn't seemed to deter Ethan. He looks like he wishes he hadn't brought up the subject, but he's still trying to help. Brendan wants a hole in the ground to open and swallow him up.
"Maybe you could...I don't know...try something new..." Ethan's gone a bright shade of pink.
"Like what?"
"Walker had all those toys, didn't he? Maybe he left some behind."
Brendan snorts. "Yeah, that's top of my priorities. Use some of Walker's old toys on myself. Great idea."
"I'm sorry, okay? I just -" He scratches his head. "To be honest I'm not sure how we even started talking about this."
Brendan can't help but get some satisfaction from the way Ethan's squirming. Straight men can be so funny.
"Maybe I'm just used to talking to Doug about everything."
"You talk to him about this?"
Ethan tuts, ignoring the jibe. "I just mean - we used to talk about any old crap. I miss him."
"That makes one of us." He hates Douglas possibly even more than he did before he was released. He keeps on thinking about Steven's words to him on the phone: Doug wouldn't take no for an answer. He's sure that it was his idea to take Steven to a gay bar. He was probably praying that he'd meet somewhere there, that he'd forget all about visits and telephone calls and waiting.
"Why do you hate him so much anyway?" Ethan asks, frowning up at Brendan. "I could never work that out. For as long as I've known you two, you've loathed each other. Did something happen?"
"Nothing happened." There's never been a moment, never one single incident that's led them to here. It just is: him and Douglas, it's always been this way.
"Something must have. Every time you were in the same room as each other you ended up fighting."
"There's different kinds of people, okay? There's people like Douglas, people who have fucked up their lives in their own way. He's in here for a reason, isn't he? He gave his friend drugs, she died - he fucked up."
"Yeah, and he's always admitted that," Ethan says defensively.
"He admits it, but he acts like he's better. From the first day I met him and he found out what I did, he didn't want anything to do with me. He thought I was a monster."
"Maybe he was just scared. I was too, you know. Not everyone knows how to take you. You're...intimating," Ethan says apologetically.
"Even if he was fucking terrified, he didn't have to look at me the way he did. He didn't have to treat me like I was beneath him. Then there's people like Steven. He knew about me - he heard all these rumours, all these things that people in here told him. He was scared, and he probably hated me at first, but - he never looked at me like that. He never treated me like I was worth nothing."
"Brendan, I don't want to...Doug's my best friend."
"I know. Forget about it." Brendan turns his back. He wasn't meant to say all that. He doesn't know where all this honesty's coming from. It's like Desmond's doing this to him. He's not leaving things in his office anymore. It's seeping out into everything.
"Sorry." He's not sorry for what he's said about Douglas. He doesn't regret that: he stands by it. He's only sorry that Ethan had to hear it.
"Don't worry," Ethan says dismissively. His ability to forgive shocks Brendan. He sounds like he's already stored their conversation away, locking it in the past. "Spot me at the gym? I'm worried one of the weights is going to fall on me, and I don't trust anyone in there not to let it fall on my head."
"Sure." Brendan grabs his towel and follows Ethan out of the cell.
::::::
Ste
The dreams aren't going away. They're intensifying; every morning he wakes up with wet sheets, and he makes his way to the kitchen after checking that the coast is clear. He's tried to make sure that he's the one who does the laundry, but it doesn't always work. Amy seems amused at first, all knowing winks and raised eyebrows, but Ste can tell that she's beginning to grow curious, wondering about the change in him. He rarely had this problem before: once, twice a year maybe. When he woke up with a morning hard on in the past, he'd deal with it in his own terms. She'd never know. Now it's unavoidable. He can't control what he dreams about, and everything he dreams about is to do with Brendan.
He tries to make sure it doesn't happen again. He goes to bed early one night, making sure that the door's locked. He's got his laptop propped up against the covers, and he removes his clothes until he's naked, shivering at first in the cold before heat and desire and arousal pools in his gut. The images in front of him are unnecessary; all he has to do is think about Brendan, about being with him, and he's hard. But he drinks it in, the two men on the screen, and he imagines that that's him. That he's back in that cell, and there's nothing between him and the man he wants.
His screams are muffled when he comes. He draws a pillow up to his face, biting down on the material when he feels the sticky wetness gather in his palm as he holds his dick, riding out the last of the aftershocks. When he's got his breath back he switches down his laptop, cleans himself off in the bathroom and climbs back into bed. The flat is silent: it could be just him for all the lack of noise, but he still feels guilty, as though Amy knows what he's just done, who he's thought of.
He tries to be rational: she can't know. She can't possibly know anything. He sleeps easier that night, sure that he's got it out of his system, that he'll wake up without the embarrassment of having another secret to keep from her.
|t doesn't work. The dreams still come. Sometimes they're real, based on something that's happened; the first time that he and Brendan had sex, when everything was new: every touch, every exploration, every inch of skin and every taste. Other times they're creations of his own fantasy; Brendan's here somehow, released, and Ste's welcoming him home. They exchange a few words, smile at each other, but most of the time they say nothing. They kiss, and Ste leads him to the bedroom by the hand, and Brendan's grinning at him the entire way there. It's the kind of easy, open smile that Ste's never seen on him before. They push the door back - perhaps it's Ste who does it, or perhaps it's Brendan, or maybe it's both of them in their haste - and they crash onto the bed - actually crash, so forcefully that the bed moves from the pressure.
Ste doesn't wake with a start. It's not like how it is in the movies. He wakes slowly, and his head feels like it's spinning. It takes him a moment to realise where he is, and what's happened, and when he does it feels like he's being wrapped up in a suffocating kind of coldness, so tight that he can barely breathe. He has to get up, has to make sure that Amy doesn't see the evidence from the dreams, and then he has to make sure the kids get to school on time.
The world keeps moving, but it feels like he's stopped.
::::::
Brendan
"Chez. It's me."
"Bren!" She sounds surprised. It's rare that she hears from him outside of their visits. Sometimes he thinks it's because he doesn't want to bother her, doesn't want to interrupt her from her life with Nate. But he knows that's not really it. Talking to her is difficult. It's a trigger.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine." Be brave. Just be brave. That's all you have to do. "How's everything with you? Nate okay?"
"We're fine, yeah." It's unusual for her to be this quiet. Brendan knows she's waiting, seeing why he's really called.
"Good. Listen, about the visit this week..."
"I'm so sorry. You know I wanted to be there, but Nate's mum was ill, and I really thought I should be -"
He doesn't need her apology. He doesn't deserve one. Cheryl's looking out for her family - her own family - and he wants that for her more than anything. This is what all this was for; he's in here so she can be free. So they can both be safe from Seamus for ever.
"Don't worry about it. I mean it." He doesn't want her to waste a single moment feeling guilty, but she's not listening.
"But I let you down." It's like she's on autopilot, unable to be pulled away from her train of thought. "I'm all you have every week."
He knows she means well, but her words are like a punch. All he has? It hurts to realise how right she is. Before Steven, she really was everything. All he had to look forward to were her visits.
"I wasn't alone, Chez."
"What do you mean?"
He curls his fingers around the cord of the phone, twisting.
"Steven came to see me."
"Steven? Who's -" She sounds perplexed, stopping for a moment before comprehension dawns. "That lad that was in there? That you've been seeing?"
"Yeah. He's out now - remember, I told you he was getting released soon? He came back. He came back to see me." He feels like even more of a bastard when he says it. Steven made the effort of coming back to prison, of travelling to see him, of going back to somewhere that he must hate, all for him. And first chance he gets, Brendan turns him away.
"I didn't know it was that serious."
Brendan frowns. It's a shock sometimes, realising that Cheryl doesn't really know that much about his life anymore. He should be happy. It's what he's tried to protect her from. But -
But she doesn't really know him.
"It's serious." He doesn't want to go any further. She's nosy at the best of times, and he knows she must want to hear more; about their relationship, about whether it's different to what he had with Macca and Vincent. He doesn't let her get that far.
"If you don't want me to come for the next visit -" She sounds like they're sharing a secret. He's sure she'd be winking and nudging his shoulder if they were together right now, like a couple of teenagers.
"Actually -" He steels himself for the words which will change everything. "I want you to meet him."
::::::
Ste
He's managed to get an interview. He doesn't know how the hell it's happened. Even when he'd finally managed to complete his CV it hadn't felt like an assurance of anything. He'd emailed a few places - some supermarkets in town, a newsagents that he saw was advertising, a couple of cafes. Most had gone ignored, but one of the supermarkets has finally got back to him.
Amy's in the kitchen when he tells her, doing the dishes. She's wearing bright yellow gloves, and she throws her arms around him, fairy liquid getting in his hair. She kisses him, half her lipstick getting transferred to his cheek, and he tries to be bright and buoyant, but he feels like a dark shadow's settling around him. The idea of going to an interview makes him feel sick, the knowledge that he won't get it even worse. But when Amy tells him how proud she is of him, he can't help but feel it too: a spark, however dim, of hope, and the disappointment that comes when the one person he wants to tell isn't there.
He starts planning what he's going to wear, what he's going to say. It's a distraction from waiting for the phone to ring, from imagining Cheryl visiting Brendan and him not being there.
Within five minutes of Amy stepping out of the door with the kids, the phone rings.
"Hello?" Ste doesn't know how, but he knows it's going to be Brendan before he even answers it.
"Hey. Can you talk?"
"Yeah. Amy's gone to the park. It's like you knew or something."
"Not just a pretty face, me."
"Hmmm." In the silence he considers telling Brendan about the interview. He's been wanting to all day, but suddenly he feels deflated. He knows he won't get it. He knows they'll turns him down the first chance he gets, that the entire experience will be humiliating. He can imagine the jokes at his expense already: how can we know that you won't steal something from us, Ste? Shame courses through him.
"Steven, what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"
Ste hesitates, panicking. Does Brendan know?
"Why?"
"Because I want you to come and see me."
Ste's eyes widen. "You're kidding me?" His heart's banging wildly in his chest.
"I'm serious. Come."
Ste laughs; it's partly at having everything he's wanted all at once, and partly for the sheer absurdity of the timing. He finally, finally has an interview.
"Did something come up with Cheryl? Got busy again, did she?" His voice is full of sceptiscm, full of fire. He can't afford to hope.
"No. I told her that it's going to be a joint visit." Brendan stops, waits for his reaction. "Steven? You still there?"
"I'm still here." The words are ringing in his ears. It feels like they're echoing around him. Joint visit. "You asked Cheryl? You really asked her?"
"I told her that my...that you're going to come this week. And every week after, if you want."
It feels like all he's ever wanted.
"You just picked up the phone and asked her?"
Brendan laughs. "What do you need, a recording of our conversation?"
"I just...I can't believe - you asked her, all by yourself? She didn't even guess?"
"Yes, I asked her. Come on, stop torturing me."
"Torturing you?" It still feels bizarre that he could have that kind of power over Brendan, that he could make him this nervous.
"Let me know if you're coming."
He's about to say that of course he is. He's about to call Brendan daft for ever thinking that he wouldn't. Then he remembers.
"This week...it's not really a good time." Why does it have to be that day of all days? Any other day, and it would be fine. Any other fucking day.
"Oh." For a second Brendan's disappointment is evident, but the next moment he's covered it up effortlessly. It's frightening, how easy he's able to do that. Ste reckons he's had a lot of practice. "That's okay. Next week. If you've got plans..." He's curious, Ste can tell. He wants to ask him, but he seems to be battling with himself, trying not to give in.
"I'm just meeting up with a mate, that's all."
"A mate?"
It's the wrong thing to say, the wrong lie to tell: whichever way he tells it, it'll come out sounding wrong. He can't be meeting a guy - that would open up a whole other host of questions. And the girls he knows are all his ex's; Amy, Rae. Brendan wouldn't like that either.
"Mitzeee."
"Mitzeee? What the hell is a Mitzeee?"
"It's a name. It's one of the mums from the school - she has a son there."
"Flirting over the school gates, eh?" The touch of jealousy in the comment makes Ste smile.
"Nah, she's way out of my league. She's a model. You've probably seen her in those lads mags."
"Can't say they're exactly my sort of reading material, Steven."
Ste laughs, low and filthy. "Oh yeah." He considers telling Brendan about their recent meeting, about how he'd had to literally run away from her, but he remembers how he'd felt an irrational irritation at seeing Lynsey and Brendan together before he'd been released. It didn't matter that nothing was ever going to happen. He still didn't like it.
"Anyway, we're just meeting for a play date."
"Play date? Doctors and nurses?"
"The kids, you div. And Amy's busy, so she can't take them." He feels guiltier for saying it, for using the kids in a lie. Brendan knows him. He knows he wouldn't back out of a visit if it wasn't something important, something that it would be impossible to get out of.
But he's not arguing with him. Ste wishes he would.
"Don't worry about it. One week doesn't matter." It sounds like it does; it sounds like it matters a lot.
"It'll go really quickly, won't it?" He knows it won't. He knows that every second in prison feels like a lifetime. "Bren." His voice is low. "I just want you to know...this isn't a punishment. Please don't think that. I'm not doing this to get back at you."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
Ste doesn't believe him.
"I love you." Its only as Ste says the words that he thinks about what this is doing to him: can he really wait another week to see him? This is his big chance, his opportunity to meet Brendan's sister. He's waited for this for a long time, to feel accepted into Brendan's world, to not feel like he's someone to be ashamed of.
He won't get the job. He knows it. He won't get the next one either. Maybe it would be different if he interviewed well. Maybe he could charm someone, convince them to give him a chance. But he knows how he comes across. People think he's trouble, and every time he only manages to prove them right.
"Wait." He's frantic now, desperate for Brendan not to put the phone down on him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, I just...forget about what I said. Forget everything. I'm coming to see you."
"What about the kids?"
"Amy will look after them."
"But you said -"
"Or we'll get a child minder."
"Can you afford that?" Brendan knows him too well.
"I told you, forget all that. I'm coming. I'm gonna meet Cheryl." He feels like he's shaking from anticipation, from the knowledge that he's seeing Brendan again tomorrow.
"What about Mitzeee?" Brendan's smiling. Ste can tell.
"I'll have to tell her I got a better offer."
"I love you - you know that?"
"I know." Ste looks at his reflection in the mirror. He's beaming now, all gleaming teeth and stretched smile. He looks almost deranged with it. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Tomorrow."
He puts the phone down and lets out something that's halfway between a yelp and a screech. He hopes the neighbours can't hear; they already think he's out of control enough as it is.
When Amy and the kids come back from the park, his sudden good mood doesn't go unnoticed. He opens a can of beer, sitting on the sofa. It doesn't matter that the furniture in this place has seen better days. It doesn't even matter that after this visit they'll be an entire week of waiting again. He feels happy.
"Having a job suits you." Amy joins him with a tea. He feels like her words don't touch him, like they're floating straight over him. He doesn't even correct her, reminding her that he hasn't got anything yet.
"Guess so."
When she's stepped out of the room he hurriedly phones back the interviewer, telling him that something's come up.