Commitment Issues by Ali Ryecart

Chapter Thirty-Two

Elliot

As always, I wake up early, and even before I’ve opened my eyes I know Freddie’s in bed next to me and I’m glad he is. He doesn’t always stay overnight, even though I’d like him to. I know it’s stupid, but I feel shy asking him to.

He’s curled up on his side into a little ball, his bright blond hair’s messy and half covering his face. He looks exposed and vulnerable and somehow younger than he is.

My chest tightens. In so many ways he’s older than his years, and almost blindingly bright with it. Yet sometimes he stops me dead with his unexpected shyness, so at odds with how brazen he can be. It’s a complex, heady mix that makes up the man he is.

I love his enthusiasm for his subject, and it’s infectious. Nuzzling into him, I smile. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d find Norse dynastic struggles fascinating, but that’s what he makes it. We spend hours talking. The frivolous and funny, the heavyweight and serious, we talk about it all. But we don’t talk about the one thing we need to. We don’t talk about us.

Freddie’s twenty-four and sometimes I forget that, but I forget it at my peril because he has his life ahead of him. He seems to have it all planned out and I don’t have the heart to tell him that even the best laid plans can have their feet kicked out from under them. But one of those plans looks very, very likely, and that’s the placement in Oslo.

A year, a whole year. I wish him well, I really want him to get it because I know how much his heart’s set on it, but I can’t help that little horrible creeping feeling that I hope he doesn’t, that somebody else comes along and plucks that juicy fruit from the tree before he does, because if he goes away then it’s the end of all this.

The end of me wanting to get home as soon as possible because I know he’s coming round.

The end of walks through parks or across Hampstead Heath, and pub lunches on the river at the weekend.

The end of sitting in the garden in the warm evening air, drinking beer and talking about everything and nothing.

The end of the most incredible sex I’ve ever had.

Sex. It’s the reason we’ve entered into our strange contract, but it’s actually the least of it. It’s Freddie, the very essence of who he is, that means the most to me.

“Freddie?” I whisper quietly, but he doesn’t respond. He’s in a deep sleep and I decide to leave him as I slip out of bed. It’s Saturday and just like every other day I’ve some work to do, but after that the day’s ours.

I sort out Jasper, and then giving my second-best boy a tummy rub, I lock myself away in my office, armed with a giant mug of tea, as I fire off emails and read reports.

After what feels like minutes, the clock on my computer tells me a couple of hours have passed, and I switch everything off. Making my way downstairs I hear the radio playing quietly in the kitchen, and walk through the door to find Freddie seated at the table with Jasper very firmly in his lap.

“Do you have any plans you have to dash off for? Will you be working?” I ask as I put the kettle on. I’m hoping he says no and my heart trips as he shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then what would you like to do?” I hand him a fresh mug of tea without thinking, which he takes with a smile.

“It’s a hot day and what I’d really love is to go for a swim. The pool at the university’s fantastic, and I know it’ll be quiet.”

Disappointment wraps itself around me. If he wants to go swimming, he’ll be gone for a good couple of hours at least.

“You go ahead and I’ll see you later,” I say, trying not to let my disappointment leach into my words

“I don’t want to go on my own, I want you to come with me. Do you remember in France? You did brilliantly in the sea, I was really impressed.”

“No, you go and enjoy a swim. If I come with you, you’d have to hold my hand, and I don’t want you to do that. I don’t expect you to teach me either.”

He’s shaking his head, having none of what I was saying. “I’m not suggesting I teach you. I’m not qualified, but I know who is.” He has an intensity about him, and I know he already has this arranged.

“What do you mean?”

He puts down his tea and leans across the table. “As well as the main pool, which is where I’ll go, there’s a teaching pool. It’s lovely. It’s shallow and warm and quiet, and they only ever allow a few people in at a time. Jean, who runs the pool, is also a qualified swimming instructor. She teaches everybody to swim, from kids who are just beginning, to nervous adults, through to providing training programs for swimmers at national and international level. And she’s there today. Now. And she’s kind of expecting us.”

I stare at him knowing I should be angry when I’m anything but. He knew I’d do my best to wriggle out of it if he’d spoken to me before he made the arrangements. A quiet pool, an experienced coach. He knows what I’m like in the water and he’s thought how best to arrange it… But I still shiver and shake my head.

“I appreciate what you’ve done, but I’ve tried swimming lessons before. It was disastrous.” I shiver again as I remember the lessons Andrew arranged for me. The cocky instructor who hadn’t looked like he was much more than fifteen, and who’d made me feel like I was a five-year-old.

“Jean’s great. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t have a hundred percent confidence in her. She knows what she’s doing, and applies what she calls swim psychology. She’s doesn’t just teach the mechanics of learning how to swim, but how to overcome your fear and reticence. I’ve seen the results of what she does and it’s amazing. But, if you really, really don’t want to do this, I understand.” He pulls out his phone, ready to unmake the arrangements he’d already made. I hesitate. Haven’t I already taken the first step? I’d survived the sea in France, after all…

“I’ll give it a go. But I can’t guarantee anything beyond today.”

He smiles at me, big and bright. I’ve made him happy, and I smile back because that makes me happy.

“I’m not looking for guarantees,” he says. “Just take what’s offered now.”

We hold each other’s gaze, the words resonating through me. No guarantees, take what’s offered…

“Let’s get going.” Freddie scoops up Jasper and sets him down. It must be my imagination that the mutt looks disgruntled, but I think I’d be if I’d been snuggled in Freddie’s warm lap.

“We’re expected at eleven-thirty, and afterwards, if you do well, they’ll be a special treat for you.”

I don’t need to be told twice to go and get ready.