Written in Scars(9)

“I’m happy to listen,” Logan said. He pointed at Sam’s empty glass. “Let me get you another.”

“No,” Sam said. “I’m starving. I can’t drink anymore on an empty stomach. Haven’t eaten since lunch time.”

“Me neither,” Logan admitted.

“There’s a café around the corner. A twenty-four-hour place. Want to get a late bite?”

“Love to,” Logan smiled, not wanting the evening to end.

****

The café was like any greasy-spoon; cheap, basic, and unpretentious. Logan felt more at home here than in the swanky cocktail bar. They ordered at the counter, a ham and mushroom pizza to share, and found a table near the window where they could watch the street traffic.

“I’ve always loved this place,” Sam said, gazing around at the Formica topped counters and plastic seats. “The very first time I came on the scene, we ended the night in here. Ordering bacon sandwiches at four in the morning, surrounded by drunks and staff from the bars closing around us. The atmosphere was amazing.”

“I haven’t really experience the gay scene,” Logan admitted.

Sam’s eyes widened. “What? Never?”

“I’ve been in a few places, usually while working away, but can’t say they hold a lot of appeal. One gay bar seems much like another, whether it’s in Newcastle, New York, or Berlin. Too crowded, too noisy, too gay,” he laughed. “By the time I’d sorted out my life and was in a place that allowed me to go out, I was too old for it. Had no interest.”

“You’re not old.”

“Trust me. When it comes to banging dance beats and a crowd of sweaty men dancing with their shirts off, I’m too old.”

“You’re funny,” Sam said, fixing him with wide, earnest eyes, that were no longer red from crying. “I do know what you mean though. I’ve grown out of that stuff too. I did it all when I was young and moved on.”

“I’m jealous of you, that’s all,” Logan said wryly. “I wish I’d done it all when I was younger too. But I was trapped firmly in the closest. Did you always know you liked boys?”

“Always. I first came on the scene when I was sixteen with my fake ID. I loved it. I grew up in a small town and knew no other gay guys until I came out. It was a whole new life.”

The pizza arrived. They opened the box between them and took a huge slice each. Logan was ravenous and devoured it without a pause. Sam seemed to share his hunger, eating enthusiastically.

“It happened down there,” Sam said, finishing a slice, and pointing at the street. “About a hundred yards along the road.”

Logan looked at him quizzically before realising he meant the night he was stabbed.

“About one in the morning. We’d been having the best night. It was a Saturday, there was a big group of us out. I didn’t smoke but most of my friends did, so when they came outside for a cigarette, I joined them like I always did. It was dry and there were a lot of people smoking that night. Nothing out of the ordinary until this guy walking along the pavement, suddenly veered towards us. I didn’t even know I’d been stabbed. It happened so quickly, it took a while for the pain to register.”

“What was the motive? Homophobia?”

“Partly. Roy Lynn had a lot of mental health problems too. Paranoia, psychosis. He was on probation at the time for another assault but hadn’t been attending his appointments. He just slipped through the net until the night he turned up here with a knife.”

“You’re incredible,” Logan said at last. “To go through some much and still be so positive.”

He shrugged. “I have to be. No point dwelling and being miserable. I survived. My friend Benjamin wasn’t so lucky. The paramedics and doctors did all they could for him, but he lost too much blood. When I recovered from my injuries, I realised I had a lot to be grateful for. It wouldn’t be right to wallow in misery. I owed it to Benjamin to keep going.”

They continued talking as they finished the food. Conversation flowed easily as Sam asked him about his life, his work, his books. Logan told him everything, no topic was off limits. How it took so long for him to accept his sexuality. How he married a woman despite knowing he was gay.

“So how come you’re single now?” Sam asked. “You’ve got yourself straightened out. Got a great career. A house. How come there’s no boyfriend?”

Logan shrugged. “I often ask the same question. I hope it’s not because there’s anything freakishly wrong with me. I like to think it’s just because I haven’t met the right guy yet.”

“I know what that’s like,” Sam said, looking at the ring on his finger.

Once again silence sat between them.

Logan looked at Sam, wanting him with every part of his body, his spirit, and fighting it, knowing it would be wrong. Sam was married–in a bad place. Even if he finished with his fucked-up husband, he was vulnerable. Logan wouldn’t take advantage.

“Do you fancy me?” Sam asked at last.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Can I come home with you?”

Oh, God, don’t do this to me. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Sam leaned across the table, fixing him with those tiger eyes. “I want to.”