Page 42 of Open Water

[email protected]

FROM [email protected]

RE: Privacy

Dude. WTF? I have no idea what you are on about. See you for Queer Group on Tuesday.

Matteo

LUKAS: Tom, can we talk? When you have a minute? I understand my behaviour was completely and inexcusably out of order last night and I just want to apologise and make sure we are fine. Can we please forget that yesterday happened? Delete and forget?

TOM: We seem to be doing a lot of that lately, apologising. Nothing to apologise for. You were drunk, and you made me laugh. It’s fine, Lukas. That’s what friends do.

Lukas should be replying with his usual crap. It’s just that he can’t bring himself to do it. He just sits there. Staring at the phone like it’s supposed to tell him what to do. He doesn’t know why he did it. Maybe he was angry, and it had probably seemed like a good idea at the time. Something to make Tom feel small and pathetic. Unsure of himself. Embarrassed.

Instead he picks up the phone when it rings, not even realising who is calling until the voice rings out in his ear.

“Lukas?” It’s Tom. Of course, it is.

“Hi,” he croaks out. Pathetic Lukas. Fucking. Pathetic.

“How’s your head?”

“You’re the doctor. You can picture the state of me.” Lukas doesn’t know why he is being honest. Why his heart is beating so fast in his chest.

“Take two Ipren tablets and drink a litre of water, then go back to sleep for an hour. Top tip from Doctor Tom.”

Lukas smiles. He doesn’t want to, but Tom is a funny bastard. Sometimes. When he’s not an arse.

“Yeah,” he says. Good conversation.

“Good conversation.” Tom smiles. He can hear it in his voice. The laughter.

“Look. Tom. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to send that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I think you did, but I told you, it’s fine.”

“Can you please delete the picture, and kind of forget that last night ever happened?”

“It’s a nice picture.” Tom is fucking taunting him. He’s obviously enjoying this. A lot.

“Tom,” Lukas whines.

“Lukas,” Tom states. Firmly.

And Lukas feels very small. Tiny. Childish and stupid.

“Lukas, I start work at 8 tonight. I’m at the Sergel Emergency room this week, down town. You know the one. Just come down there and ask for me at the reception, and I will hand you my phone. You can delete the picture and check my photo albums and make sure it is gone. Would that make you feel better?”

“Maybe?” Lukas is hopeless. Lukas needs to stop stalling and start talking. “Thank you. If it’s okay with you, that would make me feel better. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have sent it. I know that and it was wrong. Totally wrong.”

“Yeah… Good,” Tom says, “So… I will see you tonight? Any time after 8. If I am not busy, I will come out and see you straight away. If I’m busy, just take a seat and I will be with you as soon as I can. Okay?”

“Thank you,” Lukas whispers. He is relieved. He hopes. Even though his gut feeling is punching him in the stomach, screaming that he shouldn’t fucking trust Tom Andersson Björklund. That he can’t be relied on. That Tom Andersson Björklund is a lying backstabbing homophobic bastard whose life should have gone to shit.

Karma is a beautiful thing. Fuck Karma.

TOM

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