Kaimoana Tales, Ashton 53

(Just because).

Mrs de Groot busied herself in the kitchen area, the boys sat and looked at the fire. It was all driftwood burning, like a beach-fire brought inside. So that was why he saw Peter pushing a cart full of wood around.

Ashton looked around the crowded, cluttered, little room. It was a big room for the little house, it was probably more than half the floor area of the whole house, but it was small compared to what he was used to.

The kitchen and dining areas were at the end by the backdoor and there was a bed (!) at the opposite end. It was all very full, there wasn’t an empty space anywhere. The floor was covered in a dozen bits of mis-matched carpet pieces.

At first glance, it looked like it had been furnished from a junk shop. However, Ashton had grown up in a house full of objects d’art and he knew quality when he saw it. Some of the bits and pieces here were very high-class stuff. His mother would love to get her hands on them.

There were books everywhere, and they were good books too. There was no sign of a computer, there wasn’t even a TV.

“What are you thinking, Ashton?”

“Eh? Oh. This is a nice room, it looks like a home.”

“It is a home,” Peter grinned. “We live here.”

“Of course you do – you’re lucky. So there’s just your mum and you?”

“And Father, when he’s home. Soon he won’t have to go away for work and he’ll be here all of the time. That will be great.”

“It will? You like your parents, don’t you?”

“I love my parents and they love me too.”

“Really? You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“Oh, but I do. I’m very lucky.”

“Yeah, you are. My parents don’t give a shit about me.”

“I’m sorry, Ashton. Your parents must be blind. You are their greatest treasure.”

“Yeah? I wish they thought so, but they don’t. They think more of their dogs than their kids.”

“They must be mad!”

“Something like that.”

Mrs. de Groot came over, pushing an old-fashioned tea-trolley which was laden with trays of cakes and goodies.

“Here we are, Boys. Eat up, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Ashton’s eyes popped. “Wow, this looks great, thanks, but there’s way too much here for just the two of us.”

“Nonsense. You eat. We don’t want you going away hungry.’

“Not much chance of that,” Peter grinned. “Eat what you can, Ashton. Mother is a great cook and she likes feeding people.”

“That’s great.” Ashton took a piece of apple crumble. “Did you make all of this, Mrs. de Groot?”

“I did indeed, this and more. I’ve got some savouries heating in the oven, they must be nearly ready. Would you like some vegetable soup, Boys? There’s hot soup on the stove.”

“Well, maybe just a taste would be good, thanks.”

“Wonderful!” she beamed. “You are a good boy. Stay there and I will get it. You will have some too, Peter. You don’t eat enough.”

“Mother, I eat plenty.”

“You are a growing boy. You need more. Are you warm enough, Ashton? Put some more wood on the fire, Peter.”

“Mother, the fire is fine. Don’t fuss.”

“I do not fuss. We don’t want your guest to get cold. I’ll get the soup and savouries, just wait.”

She hurried back to the kitchen and Peter shrugged. “Sorry. Mother can be a bit much sometimes.”

“No she’s not! You’re mother’s great. She’s a nice lady.”

“She is really,” Peter smiled. “There’s never a cross word around here.”

“Never? Wow. You wouldn’t want to see my house.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Oh, but it is.”

Mrs. de Groot came back. “Here you are, Boys. Nice hot soup and bread fresh out of the oven. Have you eaten some cakes? I’ll get some more.”

“Mother! There’s no need. We’re never going to eat half of what you’ve got here.”

“You must try harder, Peter. The savouries are ready, I’ll get them now.”

She went back and Ashton grinned. “I’m starting to see what you mean. There’s so much food here! You must have a lot of waste?”

“No. Not at all. A load goes to the Old Folks Home, twice a week.”

“That much? I hope she gets a good price for it.”

“No, she just gives it to them.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Mother loves baking, it’s her one extravagance.”

“You’ve got a great mother, Peter.”

“Yes, I have. It’s a shame that they never had any more children. Mother and Father would have been great grandparents.”

Ashton wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but Mrs. de Groot came back and he let it pass.

“Nice hot savouries. Please be careful and do not burn your mouths. Oh, I am a silly old thing – I forgot the tea!”

When she returned with the tea-tray, there was nowhere to put it, so it went on the hearth in front of the fire.

“There now, the fire will keep it warm until you are ready for it. Now, have you got everything you need? Did you see the funeral today? There was a huge turn-out for that poor boy.”

Ashton gulped and turned to look at the fire.

“Sorry, Ashton. Mother, the funeral was for Damian Woods, he was Ashton’s brother.”

“He was your brother? Oh, I am so sorry, you poor lamb! That is so sad. What a terrible, terrible thing to lose your brother. Your parents must be devastated.”

“Well, umm, yeah. Thanks.”

“Awful, just awful.” She went back and got a tray for herself.

“I am going to bed with my book now, and will leave you in peace. Have a nice visit, Boys. It’s lovely to meet you, Ashton and I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Thank you and thanks for the great food. Nice to meet you too. Goodnight, Mrs. de Groot.”

“Goodnight, Boys. Lock the door after Ashton leaves, Peter. Perhaps he’d like to take some food when he goes?”

“No, Mother, he wouldn’t. Thanks anyway. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my Lovely Son.” She went into the other room.

Ashton looked up at the grandmother clock on the mantelpiece above the fire. “It’s early to be going to bed, isn’t it?”

“It’s early, but she’ll read for an hour or two. She’s not really going to bed, she’s just getting out of the way so we can talk.”

“That’s nice of her, but she shouldn’t have worried. We could go to your room, couldn’t we?”

“Ashton, this is my room.”

“Oh.” He looked around. “That explains the bed then. So you sleep in the living-room?”

“Yes, I always have. There’s only one bedroom. Mother and Father sleep in there. I like sleeping by the fire.”

“Yes, that would be pretty cool – or warm really. You have an interesting life, Peter. It’s so different to mine.”

“We are different. We’re two extremes – the richest kid in town and the poorest one.”

“I think you’re right, but it’s not the way people think it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the rich boy is you, Peter, not me.”

“Me? Oh, no. To be rich you’d have to have money and I don’t have any. Look around you, Ashton. You live in a palace, I live in a shack.”

“No you don’t! You live in a warm and comfortable home with parents who love you. I live in a cold art gallery with parents who don’t love anyone but themselves. You’re the rich one, Peter. I’d swap places with you anyday.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“It’s worse. I hate my life. Damian hated it so much. He killed himself to escape from it.”

“That’s so sad, but it’s no escape. Damian was being stupid.”

“He was. He snapped and he lashed out, but the only person he really hurt was himself. They don’t care. Neither of them has shed a single tear. They’re pissed at him for embarrassing them but they don’t care about him. No-one cares about Damian.”

“That’s not true. You care about him.”

“Oh, sure! Now I do – now that it’s too late. Doesn’t do him any good though, does it?” He swung around and sat staring into the fire. “He was my little brother; I should’ve been there for him and I wasn’t!”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should have known! I knew the shit he was going through and I did nothing.”

“Ashton, what could you do? You were in the same place and your life was no better than his.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Well, I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m done with playing their games. Fuck ‘em!”

“Now you’re talking. You’ve got rights, stand up for them.”

“Yeah.” Ashton turned to look at Peter. “You know, that’s the exact same thing that William said.”

“William?”

“William Scott. He was Damian’s best friend – his only friend really. He said that I should demand what I’m entitled to.”

“William knew what your life was like?”

“He knows; he said that Damian showed him. William and his cousin, Dylan, came down to Christchurch to see Damian. They were too late, he died before they got there.”

“So now William is crying for him too?”

“I guess. Yeah, he was crying. He was bloody angry too.”

“That’s understandable, he’s lost his friend, poor kid.”

“Yeah, poor William. At least he’s got Dylan to hold him while he cries. Know who I’ve got? Nobody!” Ashton dropped his head, covered his face in his hands and cried, sobbing and shaking.

Peter cried as he watched him. He wasn’t sure what he should do, but he had to do something. This aching boy was the boy he’d been in love with forever. He dropped out of his chair, knelt on the floor next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Ashton?”

“Oh, Peter!” Ashton grabbed hold of him and slid out of his chair. “Hold me! Please hold me,” he sobbed.

Peter wrapped him in his arms and they knelt together, crying together.

“Okay.” Ashton pushed away as he recovered his composure. “That was so not cool.”

“You don’t have to be cool around me, I never believed it anyway. Of course you need to cry for your brother. You cry all you want to.”

“Thanks, Peter. You’re a good guy, you’d be a great friend.”

“Ashton, I’d be your friend anytime you wanted me to.”

“Oh, I do; I really do. I need a friend.’

“You’ve got one. Please don’t go back to the top of the cliff again.”

“Why not? That’s where I go.’

“I know, and you never look happy when you’re up there. If someone was to jump off there, they’d smash into the rocks and die horribly.”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“I know you have. Please don’t go back there.”

“Would you cry if I did it?”

“You know that I would.”

“Yes, I think you would. I’d better get back to my cold and loveless house now.”

“You don’t have to. Stay the night here if you like.”

“Could I? But where would I sleep?”

“You can have my bed, I’ll go and sleep in the bus.”

“You would do that? But it’s cold and dark out there.”

“I’ll take a candle.”

“No. You can’t do that. I’m not putting you out of your bed. I’ll sleep in the bus.”

“You’re not sleeping in the bus. We haven’t got the power on out there yet.”

“Okay, we’ll both sleep in here then.”

“All right, we’ll sleep in here. You can have the bed and I’ll sleep in a chair.”

“You will not! We’ll both sleep in the bed.”

“There’s not a lot of room in there. It’s only a small bed.”

“So we’ll get close.”

“No, sorry. I can’t do that.”

“You can’t? Why not? I thought you liked me. I thought that we were friends. I’m not putting the moves on you, I’d just like you to hold me some more.”

“Ashton, I’m sorry. I can’t. It’d be too hard – I’d be too hard. I’m gay you know.’

“You’re gay? Really? Peter, I think you’re just about perfect actually. Being gay would not be a problem, believe me.”

“Not a problem? Damm. Ashton, are you saying that there might be a chance?”

“There’s a very good chance, My Friend. Sometime, we’re going to talk about that, but not tonight. Tonight I just want you to hold me. Please?”

“Okay, of course. I’d love to hold you. We’ll do that. Do you want to shower before we go to bed?”

“You’ve got a shower?”

“Yes. Father put one in over the bath. The bathroom is over there, next to the kitchen.”

“I don’t want a shower, I don’t think I’m too smelly. Maybe in the morning? I do need to use the toilet though. Is that in the bathroom?”

“No, it’s outside the back-door. Don’t worry, it’s not a long drop; we’ve got a flush toilet, it’s just outside.”

“Good! I’m pleased about that. I’ll find it then.”

When he came back inside, Peter went to use it as well. “There’s some pjamas on the chair by the fire. They should fit you; you’re taller than me but you’re no bigger.”

“Thanks. I’ll try them.”

Peter went outside, carrying pj’s for himself. When he returned, he was wearing them and carrying his clothes. He locked the door and turned the light off.

The room was still well-lit by the open fire.

“You get into bed, Ashton. I’ll fix the fire.”

Ashton lay in bed and watched the very blond boy load the fire up with big chunks of wood. He put the spark-guard up in front of it. (“So we don’t burn the house down.”)

He came over and climbed into bed with Ashton. It was a small and narrow bed, so they were pressed up against each other, which neither of them minded.

“We are just going to go to sleep, but I have to tell you – I’ve dreamed of this, so many times! I can’t believe that you might be gay too.”

“I don’t know if I am or not. Let’s just say that I’m interested, okay? From now on, I’m going to live my life the way I want to. But, not now. For now all I can think about is Damian.”

“Of course it is.”

“He looked so small and sad lying in that box; and now he’s in the ground!” Ashton cried.

They clung together and cried together until they went to sleep.

He woke once during the night and sat bolt upright, sweating and shaking. Damm! What a weird dream. He was back at the top of the cliffs, in his rental suit, and there was an open, empty, coffin on the rocks below him. Damian appeared, suspended in the air in front of him, swinging on the rope around his neck. He was beckoning and calling to him, telling him to come with him.

It was just a dream. A horrible, vivid dream. Now he was awake.

He hadn’t been asleep long, the fire was still burning brightly, it was crackling softly. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked. This was a nice warm room, so much better than his own.

He looked down at the beautiful blond boy sleeping beside him. Peter was gorgeous and he wasn’t a dream. He was real, warm and alive. Beautiful. He kissed him softly on his sleeping lips, and then lay back down, snuggled into him and went to sleep with a smile on his face.