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The carriage claps as I sit at her table.
‘He’s not a very good boyfriend, love.’ She shakes her head kindly.
‘He’s my housemate. We’re coming back from his mother’s funeral.’ I tell her what happened, starting with the call, and she listens quietly.
‘It’s still no excuse, love, but I can see why he’s upset. Maybe mind your business in the future, though. Family’s complicated, and his sounds like it’s worse than most. He’ll thank you for this one day, but for now maybe keep the meddling to a minimum.’
I nod.
As we pull into London, she asks one more time. ‘He’s not going to give me reason to be concerned about you, is he?’
I shake my head.
She takes her card out and gives it to me. ‘That’s my mobile. If you ever feel threatened, call me. Put it in your phone.’
She watches me put her number in before we leave the carriage. On the platform I spot Caleb wobbling towards the exit barriers, so I run to catch him. I can smell the alcohol on him. This is going to be difficult.
‘Caleb?’
He looks at me vacuously.
‘Come on.’
I manage to usher us through the taxi rank and push him into the back of a black cab. My heart pours out for him during our ride home. When we get back to the flat, I help him out of his suit, shirt and tie, then pop him into bed. He looks peaceful. For all his usual bravado, right now he just looks vulnerable and alone.
He has every right to be mad at me. I did push my way in, I did push him to see his mother and I did push myself to go to the funeral. I wanted to be there for him because I know he is alone. Even with the friends that he has adopted as brothers, he has built his life alone, he bought his home alone; he had sacrificed alone and he had grown up alone. I bend over and kiss his forehead.
‘I’m sorry, Caleb. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I didn’t understand.’
He grunts and moves away from me. He is going to sleep; and, just like he has learned, he would rather do it alone.
‘I’m sorry I got out of hand on the train last night. You didn’t deserve that. You were just trying to help.’ Caleb is standing in the kitchen, fresh in from a run and preparing my grapefruit.
How he does it, I don’t know.
‘You’re not hungover?’
He laughs like he doesn’t have a care in the world. ‘Please. I’ve been in much worse states before.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fine, the run cleared the cobwebs. I slept well. I noticed you undressed me, you little hussy. If you’re going to do that again, can we both make sure I’m awake, alert and consenting?’
‘You were out cold.’ I am suspicious. He has bounced back worryingly quickly.
‘Therein lies the problem. Keep your hands to yourself next time, Mason. We both know you’re not getting any at the moment and, contrary to what you may believe, I have standards.’
He winks and pops a plate of perfectly prepped grapefruit and my tea in front of me. Oh no. The old Caleb is back. This time he is making me breakfast and apologising while still being insulting.
‘Want to head in to work together? I can wait?’ I should keep an eye on him.
‘No. We’ve had too many days off together and I don’t want the idea that we might be shagging even crossing people’s minds. I have an infamous reputation to protect.’
‘Oh, you should be so lucky,’ I toss back.
‘Look at you with the comebacks. Just when I was getting used to you being miserable. Right, shower time.’ He laughs as he goes into his room.
I am relieved he is okay, but equally concerned. Yesterday he was a ball of anger. I promise myself not to push it; but, should he ever start to grieve, I’ll be there.
