Date: Sat, 24 Sep 2016 16:13:59 +0100
From: Secret Writer <secret_writer@outlook.com>
Subject: Connor - 01

*----- Connor - 01

Hi

This is, a you probably know, a story. Fiction, not reality, and so no,
it's not about you, whatever you might believe. As usual, if you shouldn't
be reading this for whatever reason, or you don't like the idea of guys
being gay and falling in love, then don't stay here and read this.

If you enjoy this story, or anything else on this site, please donate at
http://www.nifty.org/donate.html

And finally, your (constructive) feedback is always welcome, you can
contact me at secret_writer@outlook.com

There's now a mailing list for (occasional) updates and new stories from
me, you can subscribe at http://eepurl.com/b1EzqL

-----*

"Honestly darling, my life was *literally* changed forever.  Forever!"

People say things like `my life turned upside-down' or `everything changed'
all the time, and every time I hear it I can't help thinking that they have
absolutely no fucking clue what they're talking about.  OK, OK, so maybe
for them it felt like it did, but really, did it?  Or do you mean that you
had to drive an extra five minutes to get to a Waitrose?  Mostly I'm a kind
and understanding human being, honestly, but every so often I just have
enough of hearing people say stupid shit, it annoys me.  A lot.

"You're so full of crap.  I bet you don't even remember his name.  And stop
walking around, Max is trying to focus and that's kind of hard if you keep
walking off your spot."

"True, I think it began with a G, Gino, or something.  Oh I'm sorry Max
dear, wherever you are."

Miles looked around the theatre, but probably couldn't see anything because
the only light was focussed on him.  He turned back towards me, sat in the
third row, and carried on talking.

"Is he the one with the blonde hair?  He's very... well, you know."

"Yes he is the one with blonde hair, and you should leave him alone!"

"Oh Con, darling, he know's I'm only teasing.  Don't you Max."

"And I've told you just as many times that he's straight, and even if he
wasn't you wouldn't know what do do with him, or be able to keep up.  He's
at least half your age.  OK Max, that's great, last one, can we have 339
up?"

The bright pale blue sharp edged spot was replaced by a soft orange glow
from the same direction.

"Miles, for fuck sake, just fucking stand there will you?"

"Connor, sweety, are you not getting any?  Is that why you're so touchy?"

"It's past midnight and I've been here for fifteen hours.  I'll be a lot
less `touchy' after tomorrow when we're open, and I get some proper sleep."

"But who with?  Some lucky, studly thing undoubtedly."

"You're a born romantic Miles.  OK, that's great, thanks everyone, now go
home.  Curtain is 7pm tomorrow so be here by 4 for last minute technical
notes, but there's no major changes that I know of.  And thank you!"

Any air of magic or mystery disappears as soon as the floodlights come on,
washing the entire place in their flat but functional light.  I can hear
Max climbing down from the grid somewhere as Miles walked down to the front
of the stage.

"Are you coming for a drink Con?"

"Yeah, maybe just one.  Thanks for staying Miles, it's really helpful to
have you here for this."

"And why would I pass up the opportunity to spend time with such a hunk?
With those lovely strong arms, and such a beautiful face.  I just wish
you'd tidy up your hair."

"Ha ha ha - you know that I'm just the designer, I can't get you a better
part, you need to sleep with the Director for that.  And I've told you a
hundred times, it's supposed to look like this.  Bitch."

"With Helen?  Ohhhhhh, I'll manage just as I am thank you."

"I'll meet you there then, I'll be a few minutes closing up here."

"OK sweety, see you there."

Miles wandered off stage and I heard the stage door closing a few minutes
later.  He's a nice guy, I've worked with him a lot of times, and he's
always been a camp drama queen, but a thoroughly nice guy underneath that.
I suspect he's also desperately lonely and sad.  I still remember the look
on his face when he realised I was gay, not that there was ever any
possibility of anything happening between us, he's older than my Dad, but I
guess the idea was still an enjoyable one for him.  We've become sort of
friends since then.  I say sort-of, because this is the theatre, real
friends are incredibly rare, but sort-of friends, the one's with whom the
last thing you said to each other was "yes we must keep in touch, I've had
a great time working with you" but that was now months or years ago, they
are commonplace.  I took one last look around, paranoid that I had
overlooked something in these last few days.  There was still a hundred
things I wanted to change, or just tweak a little to make them perfect, but
I didn't have time.  Time - it always wins, there's never enough, so
ultimately my perfectionist tendencies have to give up.  After all, it's
true what they say, the show must go on.  My OCD about the precise angle of
the light coming through that doorway or the arrangement of the fruit in
the bowl on the sideboard can remain unsatisfied.  Probably.  I swapped the
grapes with the apples.  That was better.

I picked up my bag and sorted around in it until I found a can of
deodorant, that was as close to freshening up as I could manage.  It was
only going to be a quick pint or two anyway.  Flicking off the last
lightswitch, enjoying the disproportionate power of one tiny ordinary
looking switch plunging the whole space into blackness.  It was only a few
minutes walk to the nearest bar, which I knew would be where Miles and
Helen were.  It was busy when I walked in, lots of theatre types, and
plenty that I knew.  And also a couple that I 'knew' quite well.  So it
took me a few minutes to walk through as I looked for Helen.  Those
superficial `hey', hi', `yeah good to see you' things, they all take time.
I spotted Miles, already ensconced, and that's not a word I would usually
use but it fits him well, sat at the bar and hitting on some young kid who
seemed to be happy enough with the attention.  And when I say young, he was
definitely younger than me.  I saw Helen sat further back with a woman I
didn't recognise, but headed over anyway, getting a pint on the way.  Helen
was up on her feet as soon as she saw me, we exchanged sarcastic double air
kisses and she introduced me to her friend.

"Theresa, this is Connor, my designer I was telling you about."

Theresa was a similar age to Helen, early forties, definitely a theatre
type from the way she was dressed, held herself, and spoke, probably
another director or producer.  She transformed in front of my eyes from
slightly drunk women probably bitching about her ex-husband(s) to
professional power-broker, which was slightly disconcerting, but never one
to pass up potential employment I gave her my full attention, for a moment
anyway.  I know, but it's like that when you're self-employed, you can't
afford to miss stuff, or piss off the wrong people, it's a small world.

"Hello, Theresa Van-Bright."

"Hey Thereas, Connor Featherstone."

We exchanged cards almost automatically.

"Van-Bright?  You do the beach festival right?"

"Oh, yes, how sweet of you.  Helen was telling me you freelance?"

"You know, here and there."

"That's bollocks Theresa!"  Helen cut in, my unofficial champion.

"He's got a show opening in the West End next month, I'm trying my best to
hold on to him for as long as I can before he moves to Broadway and I can
no longer afford him."

"He doesn't look old enough."

"I know, terrifying isn't it.  We're all going to be usurped by
twenty-somethings!"

We all laughed politely and I sat down, making a mental note to remember to
expect a call from Theresa next week.

"So how's it looking Connor?  All OK?"

"Yeah Helen, looking good.  Just a few tiny things to finish in the
morning."

"Actual things, or just things that you notice and everyone else will
miss?"

The three of us talked work for a while, swapping stories and rumours of
stories about people we all knew, it's the way of things.  I went to the
bar for another round of drinks - which meant a pint of lager for me , and
a bottle of wine for the two of them.  Theresa launched straight into
conversation before I had even sat down again.

"So Connor, Helen was telling me you're single, is that right?"

Wow, she was drunker than I had thought.

"That is not at all what I said!"

"Oh, OK?"

"Theresa, we've been friends for what?  Over forty years.  Trust me.  You.
Up. Barking.  Tree.  The. Wrong.  Are."

"Really?  Fucking hell, I'm surrounded by them!"

"Yeah, we were going to mount a coup but too many people were worried about
breaking a nail.  But thanks for the compliment."

We laughed and joked, and talked for a while longer, until I'd finished my
second pint.  It was all pleasant enough, I was reasonably hopeful of
getting some work from Theresa, but I needed some sleep.  I said my
goodbyes to Theresa and Helen, and headed out of the bar.  Miles was still
talking to the young kid, and it looks like there was only one way that was
going to end.  Still, at least Miles would be happy tomorrow.

Fifteen minutes later and I'm walking in to my flat, out towards the edge
of the city centre.  Two bedrooms but it's hardly big, just the best I
could afford when I first moved down here.  I was 18, determined to prove
my parents wrong so not asking them for financial help, and only just
starting to get regular work.  Four years on I could afford somewhere much
nicer, but the area was good, and I kind of liked the place.  I threw my
clothes in the laundry basket as I took them off and headed for a shower, I
sleep better when I'm feeling clean.  The alarm was set for 10am, and sleep
was quick in coming.  Unfortunately, so was 10am.

I got dressed, black jeans and red T-shirt, and picked up a smarter shirt
for later.  It's difficult to have any kind of professional credibility if
you don't look the part.  Heading straight out, I stopped for breakfast on
the way.  A quintessential `great little place I know' which was more or
less on my way to the theatre.

"Hey Georgio."

"Connor, hi!"  His hands held up in the air as if greeting a long lost
friend.

"So what's good for breakfast?"

"Green tea and a full stack bagel, how's that?"

"Sounds great.  Thanks Georgio."

Which was just as well, it's what I ate every morning.  It was only the
fact that my work was relatively physical that I stayed anywhere close to
in shape.  Things went well at the theatre, within a few hours I'd been
able to change all of the tiny things I wanted to change, and then change a
few of them back.  Some last minute cue alterations with Helen and everyone
was set.  Both the best and worst part for me, my work being over now, all
I could do was wait, sit back, and watch the show.  Trusting that everyone
else would execute my plans perfectly.  It's a tough job for a control
freak.

Helen and I had a tradition of watching first nights in one of the control
rooms, away from everyone else, in our own sound-proofed room, mostly so
that no-one else could hear us shouting and swearing when things went
wrong.  More often than not we did this with a bottle of wine and the
back-stage intercom on speaker.  We could talk to people if we really
needed to, but unless things were catastrophic, we didn't intervene.  It
also gave us plenty of time to talk, because after all, we'd already seen
the show enough times.

"You look tired Connor, are you OK?"

"Yeah, you know how it is, could do with some time off."

"Anything planned?"

"No, but I'm almost done with the West End job, so I'm going to go on
holiday after that, a few weeks away somewhere hot."

"On your own?  Or with someone special?  What happened to that dancer one?
I haven't seen him around recently?"

"Helen, I wish there was someone special to take!  And no, he hasn't been
around.  But hopefully there's be plenty of fit guys on holiday, looking
for some fun.  I seriously need to get laid."

"Do you?"

"Hell yeah, all I've done is work here for three weeks now!"

"No, not that, you always want that.  Do you really wish there was someone
special?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on.  You're like a walking definition of `work hard, play hard'.
I've known you long enough, you're not the settling down type are you?"

"Maybe not, I dunno.  It would be nice to have the opportunity though."

"Bollocks."

"It would!"

"Yeah it would, but you could if you wanted to.  You're a good looking guy,
and I know you have no problems meeting interested guys, so don't give me
that."

"That's different.  And don't say it like that, you make me sound like I
sleep around."

"Whereas actually you only ever sleep with them at your place?"

"Fuck off, pour me some more wine."

We paused our conversation briefly to watch one of the more critical
moments of the production, hoping it would go smoothly.  It did.

"I've just never met someone, you know, that would be settling down
material.  It's tough, doing this as well, the stupid hours, I only ever
meet people in the same tiny world as me."

"So there's no technical wizard type waiting to sweep you off your feet
huh?"

"Are you joking?  Have you *seen* the tech guys we work with?  Most of them
are at least twice the weight they should be and wearing band t-shirts at
least ten years too late."

"Fair point.  I just think you should be happy."

"I'm happy!"

"Whatever, I mean properly happy."

"Helen, I am, seriously, I have a good life.  Settling down can wait, you
know, until I'm old, like 25 or something!"

"Fine.  It's nearly the interval, you coming to the bar?  We need more wine
to get through the second half."

"Sure, just let me change my shirt."

I stripped off my T-shirt and was still buttoning up my smarter option,
long sleeves and a silver/grey colour.

"Jesus Connor, could that be any tighter?"

"What?  It looks good doesn't it?"

"It looks great, meeting someone?"

"Not that I know of, but you never know.  Come on, I need alcohol if I'm
going to mingle."

And mingle we did, professionally.  It's a useful skill to have.  Of course
most people want to talk to Helen and don't know who I am, which suits me
fine.  Even when they assume I'm some sort of toy-boy.  That's just funny.

Back in the safety of the control room we continued chatting as we watched
the show.  It was going well.

"So you want to do lunch next week?"

"Yeah Helen, sure, what day?"

"Wednesday?  How's that?"

I took out my iPhone to check my diary.

"Errrrrrr, no, can't sorry, I'm still up in London, but Thursday?"

"Sure, where do you want to go?"

"Some place nice, just text me where."

The rest of the show went without major incident, and the after-show party
was as you'd expect, lively, and with too much alcohol.  I made my excuses
fairly early and headed home.  I spent most of Sunday reminding myself of
what I was doing on the London work, or rather, what I was waiting for
other people to do.  I decided to stay over up there for a few days, it was
just easier than getting the train every day, or driving, and half decent
hotels were cheap enough, and could go on my expenses.  Unfortunately there
was more work than I had hoped and I didn't even get the chance to go out
in London, so lunch back in Brighton with Helen was my first `down time'.
She had chosen a new place I hadn't been to before, but nice enough, good
food, great wine list.  It would be good for a date, I made a note to
remember it.  After finishing the second bottle we decided to move on to
another bar.  We were sat there chatting, getting drunk, laughing, having a
good time.  Things couldn't really have been more normal.

My phone rang, and area code I didn't recognise.  I internally debated if I
was too drunk to answer it.  I use the same phone for work and for life,
but it wasn't anyone I knew otherwise their name would have been displayed.
So it could be work.  Yeah, I was probably OK to take the call.

"Hello, Connor Featherstone."

"Sorry, who?"

"I don't know anyone..."

"Who?"

"Wait, is this some kind of joke?"

"Fuck."

"No, I mean, maybe.  It's possible.  I don't know."

"Well it was four years ago!"

"OK, yeah, OK.  On this number?"

"Sorry, just tell me again."

"No, I understand."

"Sure, I'll erm... I'll call you back in a bit."

I ended the call and put my phone back in my pocket, feeling much less
together than I did five minutes earlier.

"Connor?  Is everything OK?"

"I have no idea.  Maybe not.  Look, sorry Helen, I've got to go sort this
out, I'll catch up with you later yeah?"

"Who was that on the phone?"

"I don't know.  I have to go Helen, I'll fill you in later."

"Sure, give me a call."

I left the bar, my head spinning, and not from the alcohol.

I went home and made some green tea before siting on the sofa and pulling
out my mobile.  I've had the same phone number, email, and online accounts
forever, so it was easy enough to scroll back through my calendar.
Although I wasn't usually scrolling back years.  I got that Simply Red song
stuck in my head, Scrolling Back the Years.  Nervousness can often lead me
to inappropriate humour.  Fuck, I couldn't work out if it was possible or
not.  I hit the recent caller list and waited as it rang, as that sinking
feeling developed in the bottom of my stomach.  Much like I imagine the
mouse must feel as someone turns the crank, I can't work out exactly how,
and it looks long and complicated, but somehow, this is going to end badly
for me.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, it's Connor Featherstone."

"OK, so tell me again."

I listened, and drank my green tea.

"Fine, yeah, that's me."

"Leanne?  No, I don't think so."

"Definitely not!"

"No, there's no way..."

"When?  That's years ago."

"Of course I'm fucking sure."

"Yes, of course it's serious, but..."

"A warehouse party?  Oh fuck...  You mean Alena?"

"I don't know. It's possible."

Suddenly the green tea wasn't enough.  Can you buy diazepam tea?

"Yeah, yeah, no I realise that."

"A meeting?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow the fuck down.  I can't do that."

"You want a list?  I don't even know him.  This is crazy."

"How urgent?"

"Fucking hell lady.  Do you have any idea how much of a head-fuck this is?"

"Yeah, I know, sorry, I'm trying to but this is real messed up."

"And what happens then?  If I don't?"

"Awww fuck, no."

"OK, OK.  Look, I'll think about it."

"But that's today!  You can't be serious."

"No way, I live in Brighton, that's a two hour drive, I've been
out. There's no way I can."

"Because it's my first fucking day off in three weeks, alright?"

"No, it's the same on the train, I just can't be there that quickly."

"Well I'm not the one suggesting this am I?"

"Tomorrow, jesus, yeah OK, I can do that."

"No, it's fine, I can be there for 9.  Can you text me the address?"

"Questions?  You're joking right?  I need to get my head around this
first."

"Yeah, tomorrow then.  Bye."

I poured myself a large vodka and tonic, heavy on the vodka and easy on the
tonic.  This was going to be weird.  Then I remembered that I'd already had
way too much to drink and was now out for an early start driving tomorrow,
and poured it all down the sink.  Water would have to do.  I slept badly.

The drive took longer than I had hoped due to it being the morning rush
hour, so I only had five minutes to spare as I walked in the front doors.
It was a particularly austere building, presumably from the 60's.  I spoke
to the woman on the only desk I could see and she directed me down a
corridor to wait.  For a receptionist, she lacked charm.  She was the kind
of receptionist that probably trained new door supervisors in her spare
time.  There was no-one waiting for me, no-one to talk to me about what the
fuck was going on.  Eventually someone, the woman I had been speaking to,
arrived and told me to follow her into the meeting room.  I regretted being
on my own, feeling outnumbered and out of my depth.

What followed was two week of lots of meetings.  And I mean, a lot.  Things
were moving quickly, and were also beyond my immediate control.  I was
constantly feeling like I didn't know enough, having to learn things that I
never, ever imagined I would need to know.  And then, it reached a
premature crescendo, the moment that has forever changed my life, all
finally decided by my signature and the opinions of half a dozen people I'd
only just met.  This is a really shitty system.

*****

"Helen, it's Connor."

"Yeah I know, sorry, things have been fuc... really crazy.  Look, are you
busy?"

"Great, I need to see you, and your help."

"Now?"

"No, I mean, literally, now.  I'm just coming in to town now.  Can you?"

"No, it's nothing like that.  But it's too complicated to explain on the
phone."

"Honestly, it's not something you're going to guess."

"Thank you.  Seriously."

"Yeah, and don't drink, I need you to drive."

"For a few hours maybe?  I know, I wouldn't ask..."

"Great, thanks, I'll see you soon."

We were meeting at one of the cafe's on the beach front.  Predictably,
Helen was later than she said, but I didn't really have any choice but
wait.  We were sat outside, enjoying the warm weather, and I was too
distracted to see her walking over.

"Con, sweety, what the hell is going on?  And why are we here?  Connor?
Who's this?"

"Hi Helen, thanks for coming.  This is Leon."

Leon was sitting at the table next to me, drawing with some crayons.

"OK?"

"He's, well, he's my son."

He know's we're talking about him, he looks over at me, but doesn't speak.

"Come again?"

"Yeah."

Helen crouches down so she's on Leon's level.

"Hi Leon, what are you drawing?"

He just looks at her for a few seconds, and then carries on drawing.

"He's three, but he doesn't say much.  I'll fill you in on that later."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I didn't know."

"And where's his Mu..."

I was shaking my head, she got the message.

"Leon is living with me now, so I need you to come help us with some
shopping and stuff."

"Is that why I have to drive?  What's wrong with your car?"

"Nothing, but it only has two seats."

"Oh, of course.  OK then, I need a coffee first, then we'll go.  What do
you need to buy?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"We got here about ten minutes before you did, this is all I got."

"Con, this is crazy, what are you going to do?  And why are you doing
this?"

"I promise we'll talk later, please Helen, I just need to get things sorted
right now."

Helen finished her coffee and I collected up the few things that Leon had
with him, which amounted to worryingly little.  I picked him up and he
clung on to me like I imagine an astronaut might cling to the last cylinder
of breathable air in a doomed spaceship. It was a few minutes walk to the
car, but he was hardly heavy.

Following the most surreal couple of hours shopping I've ever experienced,
we were done, at least, I just wanted to get home.  Leon had refused to let
go of me or walk anywhere in any of the shops - I'm no expert but he seemed
pretty scared of being around so many people.  So I'd been carrying him
everywhere, at least he's small.  Helen helped me get everything inside,
and for the first time Leon seemed happy to be left alone, albeit with the
TV remote. He definitely knows how that works.  I decided that we needed
some time on our own so Helen agreed to drop by later to see how I was
getting on.

To be honest, it was all stupidly difficult and depressing.  When I finally
sat down having put Leon to bed and reading to him, reality hit me.  I
wanted a drink, but thought I probably shouldn't.  I wanted to go out and
see people, but I couldn't.  And I wanted to find a fit guy on Grindr for a
few hours of meaningless fun, and couldn't do that either.  I didn't even
have my own bed because I was sharing it with Leon until his arrived.
Helen ignored my pity party and poured herself a glass of wine.  We spoke
quietly, I didn't want to disturb him, or for him to hear what we were
talking about.

"I want to ask where his Mum is, but then I'm thinking, what the fuck is
going on here?  The super-gay guy has a baby?"

"Yeah, well, I used to think I was bi, and I used to drink a lot, take
drugs a lot, and go to parties a lot.  Usually all on the same night."

"So?"

"It was a very short relationship, she was too crazy, even for me.  And no,
I had no idea about Leon."

"And now he's living with you?"

"Yeah, Leanne, or Alena, I don't even know now, his Mum, she had been
having some problems, Social Services got involved but she didn't really do
anything to help.  They started talking about putting him in care, which is
when she decided to tell them about me, so they have to ask me about doing
stuff like that, apparently.  But then she went totally fucking off the
chart and they had to move faster, so it was either me or some temporary
foster home."

"And you chose this?  I don't want to sound mean Con but are you sure this
is best?"

"Of course it is, I'm his Dad!  I can't just leave him in the system, who
knows what the fuck would happen then?"



*****

Six months later, and things are sort of stable for me and Leon.  He talks
to me now, which is sweet, and I got him in to school.  It's the nearest
school to where we live, which is convenient, but also means it's not the
`best' school.  But he seems to be doing OK there.  His teacher has been
really helpful and understanding, and it's very reassuring to see that Leon
is actually pretty confident and sociable, with other children at least.
With adults, it feels like it's me or no-one.  It's flattering that my son
think's I'm both Superman, and the only adult he ever needs, but it's also
really hard work and terrifying.  I know enough that he's seen and been in
some broadly unsafe and scary situations with his Mum previously, so I
guess that's going to have had a big impact on him.  He's even got a best
friend at school, a boy called Andre who seems nice enough when I see him
in the playground.  A few of the mum's have started to talk to me as if I'm
a normal human being, although most still regard me with either pity or
suspicion.  A single Dad still seems to stand out, even in Brighton.
Presumably a gay one even more so.  Not that I've actively told any of them
that, I'm not sure how to talk about it with Leon yet.  But my life, well
it's not quite so good as his is.  Professionally, I'm having to turn down
a lot of work, which isn't really sustainable.  But I can't just go off
somewhere for a few weeks anymore.  I've hired an assistant, and with his
help and a lot of video calling between us I've been able to finish all of
the stuff I had committed myself too previously, but I'm not taking very
much new work on.  And my love life, or more accurately my sex life,
because love has never really come in to it, that's at absolute zero.
Apparently having a kid is a big turn-off for other guys.

Leon and I were sat in the kitchen, which is really just one end of the
lounge because it's open plan, like we did most mornings.  He was eating
dry cereal with his hands.  I should probably try and get him to stop doing
that.  He uses a knife and fork like any other kid, but usually refuses to
use a spoon to eat cereal.

"Daddy?"

A word which I'm still getting used to being meant for me.  And also, a
warning.  Already I've learnt that I'm usually just called `Dad', but when
he wants something, I magically get transformed into `Daddy'.  Smart kid,
it works every time, well almost.  As much as I try and maintain sensible
boundaries, he's the centre of my world, and he knows it.  I try and make
sure he knows it.

"Yeah?"

"Can Andre come and play after school one day?"

This is big news in my now tiny world.  Leon has never, ever wanted to go
to anyone else's house when he's been asked, and hasn't even hinted that he
wants anyone to come here either.  I've often asked him, but he's always
said no.

"Sure Leon, I'll ask his Mum or Dad about it when we get to school."

It seemed to vary as to who did the school run with Andre, but I knew his
parents at least well enough to recognise them in the playground.  When we
got there Leon gave me a hug and a kiss before running off to play with his
friends.  Like everyone else I waited around until he was safely inside
school before leaving, so I had a few minutes to find whichever of Andre's
parents was there.  It was an easy task, he was the only other guy there.

"Hi, I'm Connor, Leon's Dad."  As if I had lost any sense of my own
identity, I'm now identified only as Leon's Dad.

"Yeah, Hi, I've seen you around.  I'm Joel."

"Leon wanted to know if Andre could come around to our house and play some
time?  They seem to be friends."

"Sure do, Andre talks about him all the time."

"So what do you think, would that be OK?"

"Erm... yeah, sure."

"You can come with him, I know you and his Mum don't really know me so..."

"Oh, no, it's not that, it's just, well honestly, Andre doesn't get asked
to go play very often, so it's a little surprising."

"Well you or his Mum are welcome to come as well anyway."

We chatted for a bit and swapped mobile numbers after finally agreeing on
Friday that week after school.  When I picked him up after school Joel was
there again, and both Leon and Andre were really excited abut the whole
thing.  And honestly, I was kind of excited too.  Partly, because it was
really great that Leon was socialising with his friends, and partly because
I might get some normal-ish adult contact that isn't all about work.  And
also, because Joel was more than OK to look at.  With my complete lack of
grown-up fun, looking at and spending some time with a cute looking guy for
a couple of hours was the best I could hope for.

 I spent all day Friday cleaning and tidying the flat, not that things were
that bad, but I was paranoid about having people come over.  My office, now
successfully transformed into Leon's bedroom always seemed to need tidying.
Considering six months ago we walked in with basically nothing, he
definitely has more toys that I remember growing up with, and definitely
way better Lego.  A couple of notice boards and a desk have made one corner
of the lounge (because my bedroom is actually smaller than Leon's) my work
space, and the rest of the main areas is sofa's, TV, games consoles, and
the usual stuff.  Leon doesn't have a TV in his room, because I wanted us
to spend time together when he first moved here, which is working out
really well.  It also means I can keep an eye on what game's he's playing
on my Xbox and Playstation.

We all walked together after school on Friday, or rather, Andre and Leon
ran ahead of us as Joel and I walked.  It's about ten minutes from school
to our flat, during which Joel and I chatted easily about nothing in
particular, but he seemed like a nice enough guy.  As soon as we were
inside the boys disappeared into Leon's room and some massively complicated
game involving dinosaurs, space ships and pirates was underway.  I didn't
understand the rules, but then I rarely did whenever I was playing one of
Leon's made up games, and if it seemed like I was getting close, he would
change them anyway.  The grown-ups went through to the lounge where I
started to make us coffee.

"So are you some sort of artist?"

Joel was stood by my work desk looking at some drawings I still had pinned
up.

"Sort of, I'm a designer, or at least I used to be."

"Used to?"

"I did a lot of freelance work, but that's not really been possible since
Leon came here."

I could see Joel trying to suppress further questions.

"It's OK, you can ask, I know I get talked about on the playground and
you'll get bonus points on Monday if you have any actual news I'm sure."

I was smiling, but was partly serious.  I've seen how some of the other
parents look at me.

"Sorry, I won't be reporting back, I promise, but I suppose you just kind
of stand out."

I wasn't totally sure what he meant, but thought it was probably better
that way.

"Yeah, maybe.  Well anyway, Leon used to live with his Mum, but that wasn't
going so well, so he ended up living here with me instead."

"Just you two? Are you and his Mum divorced or something?"

"Ha ha - no, not exactly."

"Sorry, I'm asking too many questions."

"It's OK, you'll get serious playground credibility when you know what
really happened."

The machine beeped and I made us both coffee before sitting down at one end
of the sofa, Joel at the other.  I regretted my last comments and so tried
to move the conversation away from me.

"Do you and Andre's Mum live near here?"

"Rachel, yeah, she does, not far at all actually, I live out by the
marina."

"Oh, right, sorry I didn't realise."

"It's OK, she's my sister, it would be strange if I did live with her!"

"Yeah maybe.  And I should know better than make stupid assumptions,
sorry."

"Don't worry about it.  She finds it hard being a single parent so I help
her out when I can, but I guess you know all about how difficult it can
be."

"You have no idea!  Six months ago I didn't even know I *was* a parent."

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely, my life is basically unrecognisable."

"Well for what it's worth, I think you're doing great."

We chatted plenty more, mostly about work and living in Brighton.  I found
out that Joel is an engineer, but the kind that mostly wears a suit.  It
didn't seem very long before both Leon and Andre were running in to the
lounge to find us.

"Dad, can Andre stay and have dinner with us?  Please Daddy? Huh?"

I looked at Andre, and then to Joel.  The two of us politely argued about
whether or not this was an imposition and finally agreed that it was
totally fine.  The boys disappeared as soon as it was confirmed.  I
mentally chastised myself for planning to eat crappy processed chicken for
dinner as I sought out enough real ingredients to make some pasta sauce and
garlic bread.  It's not so much that I can't cook - it's one of the few
things I'm actually grateful to my Mum for, but for the most part I can't
be bothered.  This has improved significantly since having Leon with me,
although there's not been any sort of overnight transformation into
domestic god.  But a halfway decent pasta sauce and some garlic ciabatta
are easy enough to throw together.

As I stood up, still holding a bag of flour, I was met with Joel being ever
so slightly too close to me.

"Anything I can do to help?"

Frankly, at least the first thirty seven answers that ran through my mind
were completely inappropriate.  I settled on a much more respectable
option.

"Thanks, but I'm all good.  Do you want a beer?"

"I guess just one would be OK."

I was pleased, because that's what I'd been thinking, but also didn't want
to look like a crap Dad who drinks when he should be taking care of his
son.  I opened a couple of bottles from the fridge and he stood there
watching me make dinner and chatting.

The whole thing was good, dinner was good, Andre and Leon were obviously
good friends, and Joel and I got on really well too.  And that was the
problem.  Exactly how well were we getting on?  Come on Con, it's only been
six months, you're gaydar can't have broken through lack of use, can it?
But I couldn't get a handle on what was going on.  On the one hand, all
perfectly ordinary, two guys just passing time with each other perfectly
politely whilst their nephew and son respectively played together.  Nothing
at all remarkable.  So why didn't that feel like an adequate explanation?
It didn't cover those moments where I caught Joel and I just looking at
each other, not speaking.  Or the feeling I had on more than one occasion
that something might be about to happen, not that it did.  You know the
feeling, when you meet a guy for sex but he needs to pretend theres
something more social happening so you go for a beer first and then take
him back to your place.  It's that moment immediately before you start
kissing him and undressing him, even though you both know that's the only
reason you ever met, there's still a very tiny pause.

By the end of the night I'd convinced myself that this really was just in
my 'obviously too horny for my own good' head.  Joel and Andre left,
leaving Leon feeling tired and me feeling confused.  I put Leon to bed,
making story time slightly shorter than usual because he was trying really
hard to not fall asleep, not even managing to keep his eyes open for as
long as took me to stand up and walk to the doorway.  Like I've done so
many times I crept back in to is room a little later and just sat there
watching him sleep.  Wondering and worrying in equal measure.  Had I done
the right thing?  Was I getting it right?  Was he really better off with
me?  I was brought back to reality by the silent vibrating of my phone in
my pocket.  It was a message.

`Thanks for a great time, Andre enjoyed it too.'

Shit.  That did nothing to help me.

*-----

This is a brand new story, with new characters, so you feedback is extra
appreciated.

If you haven't done it already, you can now subscribe for (occasional)
updates and new stories from me, just go to http://eepurl.com/b1EzqL

-----*