Page 52 of Open Water

“You told him that you want to suck his cock?”

Tom rolls his eyes. It’s not even funny. Not anymore. Max just chuckles softly.

“Maybe I should just apologise. Promise never to contact him again.”

“Dad, you can’t give up now. I mean, what do I know? But, if I were you, I would send him some epic shit and say that you will love him till the day you die. That’s some totally romantic stuff right there.”

“It’s not his thing. He’s embarrassed and freaked out.” Tom snivels. He fucked up. He fucked up so badly, it’s not even funny. Not even the tiniest bit.

“Then Dad, he needs a hug. You two need to hug it out until things are better.”

Max looks serious as well. Like he knows this. Like he’s not a freaking hopeless seventeen-year-old kid who has barely figured out how to tie his shoelaces and brush his teeth. And the jumper he is wearing seriously needs a wash.

“I can’t just go find him and hug him to death. That would be classed as assault.” Tom sighs. “It’s hopeless.”

“Yes, you can, if you ask permission. Say. ‘Lukas. Dude. I need a hug’.”

“Never works with you. I ask for hugs all the time and you just walk off.”

Max actually looks a little guilty. Like he has touched a nerve.

“Sorry,” he whispers. Then he does it. Sits up and crawls over. Curls into a little ball between Tom’s legs. Leans that messy mop of hair against Tom’s chest. It’s not a hug. But it’s something. And Tom sobs quietly.

He sobs little embarrassing hiccupped spasms, trying to control himself when he honestly can’t. He’s not even sure that it matters anymore. That life hasn’t just kicked him in the balls and laughingly chucked a whole bucket of karma in his face.

He deserves it. He does. There is no denying it. He deserves to be lonely and sad and pathetic for the rest of his life. At least, he has this. The familiar comforting smell of his darling baby son against his chest. His lips kissing the top of his head. Nuzzling his nose into the strands of hair that are almost back to dark blond. Streaks of faded highlights shining through again, like little specks of sunlight.

“Thanks,” he hiccups out.

“I was just thinking,” Max almost whispers out. “I was thinking if Matteo came through the door right this minute, I wouldn’t even be embarrassed. And do you know what he would do? He wouldn’t even hesitate. He would come down here and lie on the floor with his head on my lap and tell me about something totally irrelevant. You know like a TV show or some new line he has come up with for Drama, and it would be okay. I think that is love. When you just feel so comfortable and safe with each other that it doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter what stupid shit I say, he just laughs at me and I kind of know, that he still loves me. I mean it’s barely been a week or so, but fuck, Dad, he makes me feel all kinds of fucked up.”

“That’s good. That’s really good, kiddo.” Tom snuffles into Max’s hair. It is. It sounds bloody perfect. How come his son has everything figured out and Tom can’t even figure out how to say sorry and make it sound like he means it?

“So that’s what you need to do. You need to go to Lukas and hug him. Say you know you are an idiot but that you love him and that everything will be okay and that the two of you will figure things out.”

Tom wishes things were that simple. That words can just put things right. That he can just do that. Curl into Lukas’s arms and let him stroke his hair and tell him that things will work out. That everything isn’t lost. When Tom knows deep down in his heart that it is. Because he lost this years ago.

“It’s not always that easy,” he says.

“Sometimes, Dad, itisjust that easy”

He wishes he believed it. With all the gusto and confidence of youth.

* * *

TOM: Hi Lukas.

TOM: Before you delete this and block me, unless you already have, please just let me tell you something.

TOM: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being me. I’m sorry for being a pathetic arsehole who ruined your life during school, a time when you should have been happy and free and not lived in fear of me. I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.

But there were a couple of hours, when you and I were happy. When we were bloody fucking perfect, Lukas, and that is what I need you to remember. Yes, you were a little drunk. Yes, I was a little stupid. But I got to hug you. Hold you in my arms and kiss you, and for a little tiny while, our little world was amazing. You kissed me and for the first time in my life, I felt like I had come home.

TOM: Yeah, you can laugh all you want, but it was pivotal for me. You made me feel like everything had finally fallen into place, and I never wanted it to end. I kissed you, and you kissed me back. We just existed in this little bubble on the deck of an abandoned beach hut on a summer’s night many years ago, and I can still smell the grass on your overalls. Taste the salt on your lips. Feel the dampness of the sea in your hair.

TOM: I know it was years ago and it’s pathetic that I haven’t moved on, but I am me. I don’t fall easily, and nobody has made me feel anything like the way you made me feel.

Go ahead Lukas. Laugh at me. But maybe you can understand why I am pushing so hard. Why I can’t stop myself from trying. Because we were perfect once. Once for a pathetic two or three hours, when time stood still and for the first time in my life, I was truly me.

---