The Friends We Keep(71)

“Stop treating me like I’m elderly,” said Benedict.

“You are elderly.” Topher grinned.

“Age is a state of mind.”

“That’s my point exactly. You’ve been referring to yourself as an old man for the past thirty years.”

“You haven’t known me for thirty years.”

“Close enough.”

Benedict reached out and patted Topher on the arm with an affectionate smile. “We make a good pair, don’t we?”

“We do,” said Topher, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.

“I have plans myself, as it happens,” said Benedict. “I’m meeting an old friend for a walk around the gardens at Kensington Palace, and then, while you are at your reunion, I shall be joining him and his wife for dinner at their house.”

“You’re quite sure you don’t want to come to the reunion?”

“And have everyone think I’m your grandfather? No thank you. But you have a wonderful time, and let things unfold the way they’re supposed to. You can’t force a new friendship on an old one if you’ve grown apart. Did you talk to Simon about it?”

Simon. The wonderful therapist Topher had been seeing for years. The wonderful therapist that gently led Topher back through his childhood, that encouraged Topher to drag up memories he had pushed far, far down in order to never have to think of them again. Simon, who had incorporated EMDR therapy to deal with what he termed Topher’s post-traumatic stress disorder, who made sense of why Topher hadn’t thought of himself as a sexual being, why he had “switched off” his sexuality, why he found it safe to be with men like Larry, who was happier going to bed with a cup of tea, and Dickie, who asked nothing of Topher other than companionship.

They had spent years working through it, with Simon gradually encouraging Topher to open up the side of himself he had shut down. Topher had read about Grindr on Queerty and Joe.My.God., but hadn’t been interested, until Simon helped him feel safe enough to explore.

And explore he did, much to Dickie’s quiet delight. Dickie had always had his own discreet partners, had always encouraged Topher to have the same, and it made no sense to him that Topher didn’t, until Topher wrote the memoir, and during the course of the writing, told Dickie about his greatest shame, asking him whether or not he ought to include it.

Simon was a godsend, for not only had Topher been able to fully embrace his sexuality, he had become wiser, and calmer. He seemed far more comfortable in his skin without the constant need he had carried around when younger, the desire to be seen and loved.

More recently, they had spoken about Topher’s mother, who again lived in the UK, and who Topher was planning to visit while here. His relationship with his mother had always been good, if superficial. He had never spoken to her about his childhood abuse, and she had never brought it up, not even after she phoned to congratulate him on the book, telling him how beautifully written it was and how proud she was.

It was not unusual for Dickie to ask what Simon thought, for Simon had become the third party to their relationship, even though Topher had been transitioning out of therapy, getting ready to finish and handle life on his own.

Topher arched an eyebrow at Dickie. “Of course I talked to Simon about it. I talk to Simon about everything. And you know exactly what Simon said.”

“Was it ‘don’t worry about it and take it as it comes’?”

“And that’s why you love him. Because he always parrots you. Or maybe it’s the other way around.”

“And what does Simon say about seeing your mother and the struggles you’ve had with that recently?”

Topher paused. He had always adored his mother; she was the one person in his life who could do no wrong, until therapy unlocked the memories he had been suppressing for years, and with them a growing resentment toward his mother that he didn’t know how to handle. Talking to Simon as often as he did didn’t seem to help. Simon had suggested a gentle confrontation. Topher had wept in Simon’s office saying how could she have not known, how could she have not noticed how quiet he was when he returned from his lessons, how introverted he had become.

“He has suggested gentle honesty. Keeping it in the ‘I’ sentences, as in, ‘I felt hurt and abandoned when you didn’t notice what was going on.’”

“You’re ready for this?” Dickie looked concerned.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Topher kept his voice light, even though he was dreading this conversation. But until it happened, he knew he’d never be able to fully heal.





thirty-one


- 2019 -



Evvie’s friend Sophie was out when she arrived at Sophie’s London flat, ready for the reunion that evening. Evvie found the key hiding under the potted plant and let herself in, lugging her suitcase up to the top floor. Her packing habits had never been good, and she was paying for it again. She always tended to overpack, preferring to have everything she might need, just in case.

When she was married to Lance, they had drivers and staff who would carry their bags. She never had to carry a case up four flights of stairs. If she ever forgot anything, or found they were invited to something for which she had nothing to wear, she would pop in to a local designer store and think nothing of spending thousands on the perfect outfit. It had to be said, as a former model, Evvie couldn’t help but have fun shopping. Everything looked spectacular on her, before she gained weight.