Fly By Night. Narrelle M Harris
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him-’ Kevin faltered; stopped. He took a deep, trembling breath and Frank knew he was close to tears again. ‘David wasn’t so satisfying a… project… for him. He’s terribly wilful, and he doesn’t have your depth.’
‘Not all of Steven’s “projects” were worth his time.’
‘That’s why he was so proud of you. You’d really achieved something. It may not be international fame, but you moved on. You made your own choices and you did something you wanted to do with your life. You didn’t take advantage of him, like some of the others did.’
‘He-’ Frank caught his breath, ‘Kevin, I’m sorry, but I can’t, I’m not-’
‘Oh, I know, love, I know. You and I got the best of him. It’s hard. I know you would have been here if you’d been able to.’
Frank nodded miserably. He’d have been here if he hadn’t been such a shit-scared little coward. How come Cinderella never had to live through her fairy godmother being taken apart, a piece at a time, like a disintegrating rag-doll?
‘Anyway,’ Kevin continued, ‘In part I wanted… Did you know the terms of Steven’s will? No? Well, the house and everything, I have a life interest in that. He’s left a bequest for you – ten thousand. He wanted you to make a record with it, or CD, or whatever it is these days.’
‘Wh-? Jesus, you mean… Did he mean with Milo?’
‘It’ll take a while to finalise – I’ve never been an executor before – but that’s what he wanted.’
Frank nodded, stunned, feeling unworthy.
‘And after I die, you get the house.’
Frank blinked. ‘But you’re-’
‘A life interest. Mine for my lifetime. Then it goes to you. I said you were his favourite.’
No wonder David’s so pissed off with me, thought Frank. And I was too gutless to come back for him.
The long pause was broken at last by Kevin. ‘I like your boyfriend.’ He smiled indulgently. ‘He’s charming. Very attractive.’
This brought an answering smile. ‘Yeah. Most talented musician I ever met too. He can play anything with strings on it.’
‘Steven would have liked him.’
‘I’m sorry they didn’t get a chance to meet. We always meant to come back, then Steve-’
‘You’ve been with Milo for, what, a year now, is it?’
‘Nearly a year and a half.’
‘That’s a record for you, isn’t it?’
‘You make me sound like a slut.’
‘That’s right, yours tended to be few and far between, didn’t they?’
Frank cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘You’re fishing for something, Kev, and I’m not sure what it is.’
Kevin laughed. ‘I just wondered. Steven and I were very happy for twenty-five years, and I thought-’
‘I don’t know.’ Actually, Frank could see it. Milo was – well, not perfection, but damned nearly. He felt comfortable with himself when they were together – just the right amount of togetherness, just the right amount of freedom. They made a good team, musically, sexually, in their personalities. The idea of being with Milo a quarter of a century from now was appealing, but he didn’t know how Milo felt about that. He realised he’d been silent too long, and with a wry smile said, ‘It’s not only up to me, you know.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ Kevin patted him on the shoulder. ‘I should get back to the others. I wanted to tell you about the will. I’ll talk to you later about it.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And, Frank?’
‘Kev?’
‘He knew why you didn’t come back. He missed you, and when he was afraid he got mad. But you didn’t forget him – all the calls and letters. A lot of others disappeared. He understood that you were frightened too. He wanted me to tell you that it was okay.’
Frank’s heart was hammering, and the view through the window was an indecipherable blur. The effort of holding back the tears made his lungs burn. ‘It wasn’t okay. I should have come back. I let him down. And you.’
‘It wasn’t a good thing to see him die, Frank. It’s not a good way to remember him. In the end he was glad you hadn’t come back.’ Kevin kissed him on the cheek, brushed a stray hair back, and let his hand smooth down Frank’s hair to the nape of his neck. Frank shuddered, but he wouldn’t let the tears go.
‘You’d better take him home.’ Kevin stood aside as Milo appeared beside him, a bottle of scotch in one hand.
‘Sure. Mind if we take this?’
‘Be my guest. Come back later, tomorrow or the day after. We can have a quiet chat then.’
‘If you like. We’re staying at the Norfolk in Fremantle if you need to call. Or we’ll call you.’
Frank let Milo guide him away from the window, back through the house and out to the car.
Neither registered the presence of a dark blue sedan parked down the street, unremarkable amidst all the other cars there.
It wasn’t until halfway back to Fremantle that Frank spoke. ‘I’m an ungrateful, cowardly shit.’ Then he opened the scotch, drank a long gulp of it and no longer cared if he cried.
Back at the hotel, Milo helped him to their room and put him to bed. He prised the bottle out of Frank’s hands and tried to tuck him in.
‘I’m not such a shit, am I?’ Frank asked, pleading in his brown eyes.
‘Of course you’re not.’
‘Kevin says that Steve understood. That it was okay. I wrote every fortnight, I phoned him every week, right to the end. I didn’t ignore him. Why do I feel like such a little shit?’
‘Because you’re a nice guy. And you’re pissed out of your brain. Go to sleep.’
‘You’ll think I’m…’ The rest of the sentence dissolved into a mumble.
‘No, I won’t.’
‘Yes, you will.’
‘Frank, I don’t think you’re a shit. I think you were scared and sad and you didn’t want to watch your best friend waste away when you couldn’t do anything about it.’
Frank turned an adoring gaze up to Milo. ‘You’re my best friend.’
‘I’ll be your worst nightmare if you don’t shut up and go to sleep.’
‘Sure.’ Frank grinned drunkenly and snuggled down into the bed. ‘Anything you say.’
‘You bet. Daft bastard.’
Frank sensed Milo’s presence as the blankets were tugged up around his shoulders, started feeling less awful about himself, and finally fell asleep.
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