Take My Breath Away by Ali Ryecart
Chapter Thirty-Seven
PERRY
As soon as Alfie opens the door he envelops me in a big, hard hug. It feels like both yesterday and a million years ago since I was last with him.
Like me, he’s on the shorter side, but that’s where the comparison ends.
Alfie holds me out at arm’s-length, his face wreathed with smiles. His skin’s tanned although I suppose weatherbeaten might be a better way of describing it and his blond hair’s cropped close to his head. As ever, his style is… eclectic.
Patchwork harem pants and a T-shirt that’s got to be older than the two of us, if the Maggie Maggie Maggie, Out Out Out slogan’s anything to go by, are baggy and out of shape, but they don’t conceal his muscular frame. He looks every inch of what he is: sometime shepherd and urban poet, and always my best friend.
“You’re looking good, mate, you’re looking really good. Come here.” He pulls me into another strong Alfie hug, before he clamps both his meaty hands to my cheeks and gives me a smacker of a kiss on the lips. I roll my eyes, and Alfie answers with a cackle. It’s him, it’s what he does, but I’m kind of glad James isn’t here to see.
He disappears into the kitchen for a moment, and returns with a couple of bottled beers, thrusting one into my hand.
I follow him through to the living room and throw a quick glance at the sofa, and I’m happy to see it’s covered with a multicoloured throw, hiding the stains of God knows what.
The flat’s empty apart from us. No trapeze artists, no yogis, no knife throwers, none of the weird, wonderful, and sometimes slightly scary people Alfie attracts like a magnet. For now it’s just the two of us and time to catch up.
Alfie’s itchy feet mean he could take off again at a moment’s notice. I hope he doesn’t, because I’ve missed him, especially when things went south with Grant. He knows all about that particular shit storm, as I sent him a long message about my change in circumstances. I wasn’t sure he’d got it, what with him exercising his shepherding skills deep in the Scottish wilds, but the short, blunt and very Alfie response of thank fuck for that had dropped into my inbox and made me smile.
“How long are you back for?”
“Indefinitely. I need to dust off the suit and join the rat race again for a while, because the coffers are pretty bare.” He knocks back his beer but he still doesn’t meet my eye, and that’s not Alfie. There’s more to this and I want to know what it is.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. I know you too well and you’re looking furtive.”
He laughs, and gently shakes his head. “You could always read me and you’re one of the few who can.” His smile’s warm and full of the friendship and closeness we’ve always shared despite being so different from each other. “I’ve met somebody, up in Scotland, but he actually lives in London. He was there for the emotional transcendence course at the place where I was working, and staying in one of the yurts.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” I try my best to keep my face straight. “So what was he doing? Trying to get his wonky aura straightened out, or his dreams defined, or—”
“Don’t be a cheeky fucker,” he says, but he’s laughing. “He wasn’t actually attending the course. He’d come with his sister who’s going through some sort of crisis. Whilst she was being, erm, transcended, he went walking in the hills and helped me with tending the sheep. We’ll see how things go. Another beer?”
He jumps up and dashes to the kitchen. It’s likely all I’ll get out of him, at least for now, so I won’t push.
“So no come back from that tosser Grant?” he asks, before he takes a glug from his bottle.
I shake my head. “No, nothing. He’s long gone.” And he won’t be coming back, not after the pasting James gave him. “It’s all in the past. I’m with James now.”
He’s peering at me over the rim, his eyes narrowed. For a moment he reminds me of James, which is kind of weird because the North and South Poles couldn’t be further apart.
Alfie’s blue eyes blaze out from his weatherbeaten face. “The guy who always flirted with you? The one you’ve always had the hots for? I thought you were just renting a room in his gaff, and the next minute you’ve properly moved in with him? You sure that’s wise?”
He’s sounding almost censorious, and I shift on the lumpy sofa. For such a free spirit, unfettered by the bonds of societal norms — his words, not mine — he can be surprisingly traditional in his outlook. I’m feeling judged, for making the best and probably sanest decision in my entire life.
I tamp down my annoyance. He’s being a friend, that’s all. He’d warned me what a twat Grant was, and said I was crazy to get involved. I wished I’d listened, but there’s no comparison with James, not in a million years.
“It’s the wisest thing I’ve done. I like him. A lot.”
“Should hope so, seeing as you’re shacked up. Which kind of raises the question, what’s happening with your plan to move down to Brighton?”
The question he couldn’t not ask, and the one I can’t not answer.
“Obviously I’m staying in London now. We’re looking for small kitchen premises I can work from.” I do my best not to squirm. I should have expected the question, but it still makes me feel a little defensive, like he’s questioning my judgement — which of course he is.
“So, you’ve turned all your plans upside down?” Again, for another man, he may as well add.
“No, I’ve adjusted them, that’s all.”
His impassive expression tells me he’s not convinced. I’d hoped for more enthusiasm from my oldest friend, but I have to remind myself that he’s often had a front row seat to watch the farce that’s been my relationships. But James, and what I have with him, is different and I need to make him understand that.
“Alfie, I know what I’m doing. Believe me when I say he’s different — when you meet him you’ll realise that.”
James in his handmade suits, and Alfie dressed like he’s raided the fancy dress shop. Despite their surface differences, I think they’d not only take the other in their stride, but even like each other.
Alfie releases a long breath, and nods. “Okay. Tell me about him.”
I take a sip from my beer, as I think how to begin.
“Well, he’s older and by quite a bit. No, he’s not some kind of Daddy,” I say, when Alfie cocks a brow. “That’s not my thing at all, and I definitely don’t have an older guy, silver fox fantasy thing going on.”
Or not really… Or maybe just a bit…
“I don’t really think about the age difference. James is just — well, he’s James. I guess being older gives him confidence and self-assurance, and that’s attractive in itself, and that makes me feel more confident, I suppose.”
I look down at my hands fiddling with the damp label on the beer bottle. I’m silent for a moment and when my words come, they come slowly.
“He listens to me and values my opinions. And he respects me, too. Let’s face it, most of the guys I’ve been with couldn’t have cared less about what I thought of anything. I feel safe with him. It’s not that I’m looking for some sort of safe harbour because I’m not, but I feel that with him I can truly relax and be who I am. I’m not on edge, I don’t feel I’m having to run around trying please him all the time, like I’ve always done in the past.”
“And the sex is fucking hot?”
I burst out laughing. Alfie being Alfie, direct but never cruel. It’s one of the reasons I love him.
“Yes, it is. It just sort of happened and it’s gone from there. There was never any expectation on his part, when I started renting a room,” I say quickly, meeting Alfie’s eye. “Sex was never, ever part of the deal. Don’t think that because it’s not true.”
Alfie doesn’t say anything for a moment. He’s thinking, wondering what to say or how to say it. I know because I recognise the sign, the rapid tap, tap, tap of his right heel on the floor.
“Being older means he’ll have a history—”
“Of course he has, and he’s told me some of it. What’s your point?” I snap when I don’t mean to, but Alfie’s words have put me on the defensive. I’m living in my James bubble and I don’t want it burst.
“My point is, if he’s a lot older and he’s not attached that might be because that’s not what he really wants, not deep down and long term.”
“So what are you saying, Alfie? That I’m some kind of novelty for a few months? I’ve told you, it’s not like that.”
I’m angry, but I’m also upset, but I need to keep a lid on it, and tell myself that in being devil’s advocate, Alfie’s being the friend he’s always been. Yet I can’t help the ice that settles low in my stomach.
“No, I’m not saying that, but what I am saying is be careful. You meet someone and five minutes later you’re getting all serious and settled down.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a long term relationship.” Heat throbs in my cheeks. I can protest all I like and although he’s exaggerating there’s some truth in what he says and we both know it.
“Perry, most blokes our age aren’t looking for that.”
“That’s the point. You’ve said it. James isn’t our age. And anyway, we’re just starting out.”
He keeps his steady gaze on me before he nods, leans forward, and rests a hand on my thigh.
“Okay. But just be aware that after the honeymoon period there might be a mismatch. He’s rescued you, and I don’t think that’s an overly dramatic way of putting it. He rescued you from living in a fucking basement for God’s sake, and he rescued you from trying to talk Grant around so he’d let you crawl back under his boot again. Because it’s what you would’ve done. You got somewhere nice to live with somebody you like and the breathing space you need. And you’ve added sex into the equation. You’re both getting a lot out of the current situation but what you ultimately want might not be the same thing he does. Look, enjoy what you’ve got. For now. If it goes on to be more, then that’s great but don’t invest everything in this guy—”
“His name’s James.”
“James,” he says gently. “Be careful, that’s all, although I guess that’s like telling the sun not to shine or the tide not to ebb and flow.”
Don’t invest everything… But Alfie’s words have come too late, because invested is exactly what I am.
