Page 94 of Boyfriend Material
“Yeah.”
“It’s, um. Loud.”
“Yeah, he was loud in the ’80s. In the ’70s, it was all trees and tambourines.”
Another interlude of cynical growling and heavy guitars.
“Forgive my ignorance,” said Oliver, “but what’s it even about?”
“According to Mum—and we can double-check on Wikipedia if you like, because it didn’t exist when I last listened to this album—it’s about Thatcherite Britain. Y’know, because everything in the ’80s in this country was about Thatcherite Britain.”
“Does it have anything to do with Hobbes’sLeviathan?”
“Um. Probably? I mean, unless we’re talking about the cartoon tiger, in which case, still maybe, I have no idea.”
Oliver gave one of his little chuckles. “Well, he called his band ‘Rights of Man.’ So I assume he had some interest in the philosophy of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.”
“Oh fuck.” I thunked back against the headrest. “Does everybody know more about my dad than I do?”
“I don’t know more about your father. I just know more about the Enlightenment.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m finding that very comforting. It just means you know more about my dadandmore about history.”
“You know”—another swift look—“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I do. But I enjoy poking your middle-class guilt.”
“In which case, you should be pleased to hear I’m feeling at the very least ambivalent right now for encouraging you to reach out to him.”
“You’re right. This was a disaster and it’s all your fault.”
He flinched. “Lucien, I—”
“I’m joking, Oliver. None of this is on you. It’s on Jon Fucking Fleming. And”—uh, why did he keep making me say this stuff—“I’m glad you were there. It would have been way worse without you.”
The next track was gentler and flutey-er. “Livingstone Road” I could annoyingly still remember.
“I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment, “it didn’t go better.”
“It was never going to.”
“And you aren’t…too hurt?”
If anyone else had asked me, or if Oliver had asked two weeks ago, I’d probably have said something likeJon Fleming stopped being able to hurt me a long time ago.“Not too hurt but…yeah.”
“It’s hard for me to understand why anyone wouldn’t want you in their life.”
I snorted. “Have you met me?”
“Please don’t laugh this off. I mean it.”
“I know. It’s just easier to push people away than watch them leave.” The words hung there, and I wished I could suck them back into my mouth. “Anyway,” I went on quickly, “you were still right. If I hadn’t tried, I’d have spent my whole life as the bastard who abandoned his dying father.”
“You wouldn’t have been. It might still have felt that way, but you wouldn’t have been.” A pause. “What will you do next?”
“Fuck knows. See what happens when he calls.”
“You’ve done all the right things, Lucien. It’s down to him now. Although, frankly, I don’t think he deserves you.”
