WILL
Day Two
We sit across from the Parthenon, where marble flute columns stand tall and proud, allowing us a glimpse of the chamber inside. Once a dedicated space to Athena, now photographed by tourists from all over the world. I want to stay present in the moment and truly take it all in, but my mind keeps wandering to what happened on the walk up here, and what Sam has shared with me.
Knowing the reality of what life is like in Greece for those who aren’t tourists makes me worry for Sam. I suppose I’ve had the luxury of feeling safe as a gay man in the centre of Cardiff, especially as I got older. Sure, there have been incidents– I’ve had homophobic slurs thrown my way– and I do second-guess myself. Ollie did, too. He never would hold my hand in public, and I understood why. But Sam’s hiding himself in ways that I haven’t had to do. Not really.
Samnothaving a girlfriend hadn’t crossed my mind. I’d created a straight image of him that gave me a pass to enjoy looking at him.
Now, knowing he is gay, that isn’t allowed. Especially when he is meant to be my fake boyfriend.
Sam sips his water as he observes the structure facing us. A tour guide walks into our vision, and I envy the umbrella she holds for shade.
‘Pericles commissioned this structure,’ she says to her group. ‘You see over there we have the Erechtheion? Those caryatids are the sisters of Athens. Replicas up here, but you can see the original five in the museum.’
‘But there are six,’ someone in the group says.
‘Ah, yes.’ The tour guide’s face darkens. ‘Yes, the British government refuse to give the other sister back, after Lord Elgin took it in the 1800s. The Greek government have tried many times to return her home. In the museum, there’s a space waiting for her, but the British government won’t return her.’
I feel embarrassed for something I played no part in.
‘The temple is dedicated to Athena and also Poseidon. Very much adored by the Ancient Greeks.’
‘Greek mythology is wild,’ I say, as the group stroll out of earshot.
‘I love it,’ Sam says.
I lean back, taking a deep breath. Tourists stop for pictures, some more impressed with the view of the white homes in the city below than the surrounding history. Couples, holding hands, straight and without any concerns.
I can almost imagine the people shouting ‘why do we need pride?’, when men could love men, women could love women, and those in between could be their true selves. Yet so much still has to be done. Constant gender recognition pushbacks, attacks on trans rights, so-called debates on human rights, and protests over the legalisation of same-sex weddings. Straight people make me wistfully sad.
‘Having you at the wedding with me will be great,’ I say.
Sam’s head jerks back. ‘Cool.’
‘I’m awful for even considering I could stop Ollie from marrying someone else.’
‘What made you see sense?’
‘Compassion,’ I say. ‘Morals. A scary receptionist called Lydia.’
Ollie’s the one. There can be no one else. There will be no one else. Ollie is my soulmate, and soulmates are meant to be together. Without Ollie, I’m half of a duo. A Dawn French without Jennifer Saunders. A Ross without Rachel. It hurts to be apart from him, like nothing makes sense without him.
‘It’s hard to accept he’s moved on.’ I sigh. ‘It’s hard to accept that maybe I should, too.’
Sam pats my knee, sending a jolt through my nervous system. I savour his touch, closing my eyes.
‘What do we do about us?’
‘Us?’ Sam asks, then realisation dawns. ‘Ah, yeah. The whole fake boyfriend thing.’
‘Yeah.’
Sam pauses. ‘Well, he’s got a fiancé. Their relationship is a bit more serious than what we’ve got.’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘Which is?’
‘A partnership of six months to a year.’ Sam laughs. ‘Whichever we decide.’
