Second Chance(13)

“Usually things with an LGBT-plus focus.”

Jack listened while Nate talked more about his work, prompting him occasionally, but once he got going Nate had lots to say. He was clearly passionate about the writing side of things, enjoying his role as advocate and social commenter. Jack remembered Nate’s writing had always been good at school. They’d both studied Sociology for A level but Nate had been streets ahead of Jack in his ability to write a good essay. He’d given Jack a lot of help with homework. If it weren’t for Nate, Jack would probably never have got the C grade he’d needed to get into university along with his Bs in Maths and Biology. He’d always found Sociology the hardest of his three subjects.

When Nate finally ran out of things to say, they’d both finished their coffees. “I should probably get back.” Nate looked at his watch. “This has been great. But I promised Mum I’d cook tonight, and it’s roast chicken so I need to get it in the oven.”

“No worries,” Jack said, although he was disappointed that the afternoon had come to an end. He paused, heart thumping a little harder as he asked, “Would you like to meet up again?” He tensed as there was a brief pause, waiting to be knocked back. Nate had withdrawn his friendship in the past, and Jack wasn’t sure whether he’d want to meet up regularly again.

“Yeah, okay,” Nate said, and Jack felt a rush of relief. “Seems daft not to as we’re both back here at the moment. It would be nice to have a friend to hang out with occasionally.”

“Next weekend maybe?” Jack suggested.

“Sounds good.”

In the car, silence descended as Nate drove. They’d talked about so much already, Jack wasn’t sure how to get the conversation started again. He wanted to ask Nate why they’d stopped being friends, but now wasn’t the time to initiate that conversation when Nate was about to drop him back home. Instead, he asked, “Can we put some music on?”

“Sure. There are CDs in the glovebox.”

Jack popped it open and rummaged through, seeing The White Stripes, Beck, Kaiser Chiefs, and Kings of Leon. “Good selection.”

“Glad you approve.”

“Oh, but it has to be this one.” Choosing a CD, Jack opened the case, and slid the disc into the machine. He skipped until he got to the track he wanted then sat back in his seat as the familiar intro to “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” by The Smiths started.

Nate laughed. “Oh God. We listened to this over and over. Do you remember?”

“Yeah.” Jack snorted. “And it’s never been truer. It’s basically the story of my life.”

As Morrissey started singing they both burst into song, bellowing the angsty anthem out word perfect at the top of their voices. By the end of the song, Jack was grinning like a fool, feeling happy for the first time in what felt like forever. He knew he had a long way to go, but being with Nate today had chipped away the sharp edges of the cold block of stone that he’d been carrying around in his chest for far too long.



When he let himself in, Jack heard the TV in the living room, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with his parents. Afraid their attitude to Nate would bring him down, Jack wasn’t ready for them to burst his happy bubble. He wanted to cling to it a little longer, because it was ages since he’d felt positive about anything.

“That you, Jack?” his mother called. Like it was going to be anyone else when only the three of them lived there.

“Yeah.” Jack headed for the stairs, feeling like a moody teenager again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes fine, thanks. I’m going to get on with some more job applications.” That would keep her off his back.

In his room, Jack put some music on. He chose another favourite from his teen years, The Cure. Ignoring the laptop and list of jobs he was going to apply for on his desk, he opened his wardrobe and got out a battered old shoebox from the top shelf and carried it to his bed and sat down. It was full of photos from his teens. Jack had never got around to putting them in albums so they were still all in Truprint envelopes, complete with the negatives. He had put dates on the front though, so he picked out a few from the time when he was in the sixth form and started to work his way through them.

Nate—it was hard not to think of him as Nat when Jack was looking at how Nate had been back then—featured in many of them. Lying on his back in the park in the sunshine, drinking out of a bottle of lemonade down by the river, smoking a cigarette on a sofa Jack didn’t recognise. It must have been at a party somewhere. With short hair and no make-up apart from black eyeliner, Nate looked boyish. The soft curves under the T-shirt he wore were the only obvious signs of femininity. The sight of the smoke curling made Jack’s body crave the sensation of it in his lungs. There was a boy next to Nate in the picture. Looking more closely, Jack recognised him.

Stephen.

Suddenly the memory of that particular party slid into focus.

“Fuck it.” Giving in to the urge for a fag, Jack got up and picked up cigarettes and a lighter from his dressing table. He opened the window and leaned out as far as he could into the cold, damp evening air. The lighter sparked and caught, and he inhaled, pulling bitter smoke deep into his lungs as the tip glowed bright orange. It was his last vice, and he was down to one or two a day now. He’d give up completely soon.