Second Chance(4)

“Fine thanks. Tiring though.” Nate’s mum worked as a part-time receptionist at the local primary school where Nate had learned to read and write, and kick a football, and stick up for himself. He’d also learned that girls and boys were different, and that he had to line up with the girls at the end of every playtime. Of course back then, he hadn’t understood why that felt wrong. The injustice of it had stung; the first of many wounds life dealt him because his body didn’t match his sense of self.

Stirring the tea, Nate said idly, “I saw Jack today—Jack Redford. He didn’t recognise me.”

“That must have been strange. Did you explain?”

“No.” Nate fished out the teabags. “I probably should have done. I guess he’ll hear about my transition on the local grapevine at some point. His parents must know.”

“Maybe not. They don’t socialise in the village much.”

Jack’s parents lived in a rambling old farmhouse a little outside Hedbury. Neither of them had ever been involved in village committees or clubs like many other parents had been. They’d always socialised with colleagues in the city as far as Nate remembered, and were involved with a church in Marlham, the nearest town.

“He’s living back here again.”

“Oh.” She paused, her knife motionless over some carrots for a moment before she carried on chopping. “That’s a coincidence.”

“Yeah.” Nate’s mind was still blown by the fact that they were both back living in Hedbury after all these years.

“You used to be so close when you were younger. Maybe you should try and reconnect? You could use some friends.”

“I have friends.”

“But not here.”

It was true. Nate’s friends were either in London, or spread around the globe. Social media and modern technology meant it was easy to connect with people all over the world. But he missed the face-to-face contact of his London friends. It was the thing he’d found hardest about moving back here.

Nate grunted noncommittally. His mum didn’t understand exactly why Nate had dropped contact with Jack. Maybe she’d guessed he had a crush, but she hadn’t realised the extent of it, or the depth of Nate’s pain at seeing Jack with other guys when Nate could never be one of those guys—or so he believed. Yet the idea of reconnecting was appealing. Surely Nate could handle being friends with Jack again now this much time had passed. “Here’s your tea.” He put the mug down by the chopping board. “What’s for dinner?”

“Soup. I’m using up the leftover chicken from the roast yesterday.”

“Let me help. I’ll chop, you finish peeling those potatoes.”

“Thanks.”

They worked side-by-side in companionable silence for a while. The sky outside the kitchen window was dark, and Nate glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was almost 5 p.m. “Cass should be home soon.”

As though conjured by his words, there was the sound of a key in the front door, followed the slam as it closed and heavy footsteps going straight upstairs.

“Hi, Cass,” Nate called loudly. “Good day?”

“No.” His teenage daughter’s tone was typically belligerent as she yelled back, but at least she’d answered. Monosyllables were the best Nate could hope for, especially as she was grounded this week. The crash of her bedroom door put an end to any conversation.

Nate sighed. “She’s such a joy.”

Glancing sideways at him, Nate’s mum smiled sympathetically. “It gets better.”

Nate held her gaze, looking at the warmth in her expression. Their relationship hadn’t always been as easy as it was now. If someone had told Nate five years ago that he’d be back living at home he’d have thought they were crazy. “Yeah. Thanks for the reminder, Mum.”





Two





Jack pulled his hood up as he lurked outside the Tesco in Marlham on Friday evening. He’d reluctantly agreed to meet his mum here to help her with the grocery shopping after her yoga class. But he knew it was a manufactured excuse to get him out of the house. Still unemployed, it was too easy to waste the day binge watching stuff on his parents’ Netflix account. When he was watching TV he didn’t have to think. Being lost in other worlds was preferable to facing the reality of his own situation.

One of his goals each day was to get out of the house. His doctor had persuaded him with the benefits of fresh air, daylight, and exercise. Jack knew she was right, but making himself do it sometimes felt as difficult as scaling a mountain. Given that he didn’t drive at the moment, getting from the small village of Hedbury to Marlham, the local market town, involved a bus journey—or a very long walk. Jack had chosen the bus as the lesser of two evils.

Pulling out his phone, Jack checked it to give himself something to do. He replied to a message from a concerned friend with a brief: Yes, I’m fine. Feeling a bit better. Thanks. It wasn’t true but Jack didn’t want to talk about how he was really feeling.

“Hi, darling.” It set Jack’s teeth on edge when she called him that. Terms of endearment meant nothing unless you backed them up with actions. “Sorry I’m a bit late. The class ran over.” His mother was a little breathless as she hurried over to him. “Can you grab a trolley?”