October 14th, 1989

October 14th, 1989

At home

I have no idea what time we stumbled back to Stephen’s last night but regardless of the hour, he insisted on playing his new Gloria Estefan cd. The two of us danced around his living room to “Oye Mi Canto,” which, according to Stephen, means, “hear my voice.” A perfectly appropriate title for the way he belted, “Take me, only for what I am,” as Jon looked on in amusement from the spot he staked on the futon.

This morning, when I stumbled into Stephen’s kitchen I looked over to where Jon lay asleep on said futon. I moved quietly around the kitchen so as not to wake him then I heard him say, “I’m awake McGarr. I’ll take any type of liquid. Soon. Please.”

I made him a cup of tea.

“I’m never drinking again,” he lied, as I sat on the other end of the futon drinking my tea.

He had the sheet wrapped around him, with no top on and I have to say he looked rather yummy but I did manage to keep my eyes focused on his face. Mostly.

If only to distract myself, I made tea for Stephen.

“I’m never drinking again,” he lied, from underneath the duvet.

“Two liars in the same flat!” I exclaimed.

“What are you on about?” he mumbled.

“Oh, nothing.”

Stephen peered out from under the duvet and looked around his bedroom. “Did you shag him?” he whispered.

“No, I did not,” I sibilated. “I slept in the spare room and he slept in the living room.”

“You should’ve,” he grinned. “He’s got it bad for you, you know.”

“He does not. We already did all of that. Now we’re just friends.”

“We’re just friends,” he said, mimicking me.

Through the duvet, I slapped his leg. “I’ll leave you to drink you tea,” I said tartly, “and at least make an attempt to do something with that face of yours.”

After much more tea, toast and chuckling at the state Stephen was in, Jon and I left.

“I appreciate you taking me to Gatwick to get my car.”

No problem, McGarr. How’s your car running by the way?”

“It’s a bit slow.”

He gave me a confused look. “What do you mean by slow?”

“It lost power last week, then sputtered and stopped.”

“But it’s running ok now?”

“It was fine after about ten minutes, bit scary though, it happened at night.”

“Did you take it in to have somebody look at it?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t actually.”

“Might not be a bad idea.”

“I hate doing stuff like that. I think it’s time I got something newer with more power for all the motorway driving I do.”

“I can give you a hand looking, if you want.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

On my way home from Gatwick, I sang along to the radio and thought about how much fun we had in Brighton, but that all changed when mum opened the front door and I saw how ill she looks.


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