Page 48 of Maybe
He pulled himself together when a nurse stepped in to change the neb and to take another blood gas. Jonty hardly stirred. Neither did Ezra, clinging onto me even as the nurse quizzed him about Jonty’s favourite foods and which school he attended and wrote down the name of his GP. I, on the other hand, could barely look her in the eye. Surely, she must see what was happening, how this wasn’t an ordinary sibling interaction. But as she walked out, she commented how lovely it was that we were so close, that she wished her sister hadn’t moved five hours away up north.
After she left, Ezra stayed where he was. We shuffled around, the armchair barely wide enough for his skinny arse alongside mine. He still clung to me, though, and my arms never moved from their hold around him. Can’t lie, it was like cradling anangle poise lamp. When he closed his eyes and his thumping pulse slowed, wetness, like morning dew, still glistened on his long dark eye lashes. I didn’t think I’d ever tear my own eyes away. But I guess my week of arduous night shifts caught up with me. Somehow, I nodded off.
A sound at the door jerked me from a half-doze. Jonty’s next round of arterial bloods was due. Ezra didn’t move, his ruffling breath slow and steady, in counterpoint to the rapid rise and fall of Jonty’s thin chest.
“Hey.”
Hovering in the doorway, Alaric raised his chin towards Ezra, who was very clearly occupying my lap. “Your brother, right?”
“Yeah. Ezra.”
“Cool.”
Before I even had a chance to groggily motion him inside, Alaric’s sharp eyes and nimble brain made a few calculations. Brothers didn’t sleep with their arms wrapped around each other. Brothers didn’t rest their head on the other brother’s chest, either. His eyes said everything as he silently assessed the monitors dwarfing the small child asleep in the bed.
“How is he?”
“Better,” I murmured. “We’ve probably avoided him being intubated if his gases continue to improve.”
Alaric scanned the monitors again before his eyes drifted back to me and the beautiful man conked out in my arms. The little room was stifling hot. At some point in the night, Ezra had discarded his sweater and his black T-shirt had parted ways with the low waistband of his black jeans, to reveal a pale expanse of hard white belly. “Very tasty,” Alaric commented, humourlessly. “Is he always so monochrome, or does he come in a range of colours?”
“Probably just a creamy-white like the rest of us.” I wasn’t in the mood for games. “You’re the urologist, not me. Do you want me to wake him up and ask?”
“The way you two are entwined around each other, you’ve already found out. Canteen’s still open. Time for a coffee and a little chat?”
Caffeine. I could never say no to that, even though the stuff in the canteen had been obviously filtered through a used jock strap. Ezra would need something too, when he woke. Carefully, I peeled myself away, whispering I’d be back soon. He nodded, hardly stirring. A fierce desire to smooth back his hair and kiss him gripped me.
Instead, I took a last peek at him and trailed after my friend. Picking up our takeaway drinks, we then rode a lift to the surgical wards. Alaric swiped us through a door markedno entry.With practised ease, he pushed open a fire exit and I found myself on a small flat roof with no safety rail, overlooking a plain brick wall. Cigarette stubs littered the ground.
“Smoker’s corner.” He reached for his own cigarettes. “I got the code from one of the porters in exchange for um… a favour.”
If I didn’t ask, I wouldn’t know. I stayed silent as he lit up, letting the cool dawn air wash over me.
“So,” Alaric began, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. “Talk me through the hot goth you were using as a blanket down there.”
Where did I start? That he was the love of my life? That he always had been and always would be? Or could I persuade Alaric that, because there was only one chair in Jonty’s hospital room, we were awkwardly sharing it? From the expression on Alaric’s face, I wasn’t entirely confident I’d get away with it. Love, like a wheezy chest, was difficult to conceal.
“He’s Ezra. It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, you said that before. But I just passed my MRCS exams first time and with flying colours. I think I can probably keep up.”
“He’s also my brother.” I dry swallowed, not sure where to go from there. What was the relationship status for ‘I don’t know what’s going on’?
Surprising Alaric was a perennial challenge, but on this occasion, I overcame it with ease. By the time I finished, and clarified a few details without gabbling so much, his eyebrows were in his hairline and a grey worm of ash teetered from his forgotten cigarette.
“Fuck,” he managed eventually. “They didn’t put all that in the obit, did they? Now give me the abridged version. The one that says you’re not genetically related, because, if you are, then that is some seriously fucked up shit you and that black-and-white streak of piss have got going back there. I mean, it’s fucked up whatever, but… Christ. No wonder you’re such a stress merchant.”
“He’s not my genetic brother. My dad adopted him when he married his first wife; my mum was wife number two. His was number one.”
“Thank heavens for that. Nothing to worry about, then.” Alaric’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
“Ezra isn’t in a relationship with Jonty’s mum, though. He… he’s only into men now. Always has been, really.”
“All men, or men specifically related to him?”
“We… we haven’t done anything about… so far. He… um… well, okay, we have a bit. But I told him we shouldn’t rush into anything.”
Alaric smoked some more. “Isaac, sweetie,” he said eventually, holding me with his firm gaze and thumbing behind him. “If that’s your jam, plenty of other guys out there rockthe Marilyn Manson-Jesus vibe. I could even introduce you to a couple. Why the hell couldn’t you go for one of them?”
