Page 63 of Everything That Kills Me
He looked at him for as long as he could and Jack stared at Zeph just as intently, though he made no move to acknowledge him. Zeph needed to face forwards or there’d be a collision, but it was hard turning his face away from someone he’d spent so much time thinking about. All those hours lying in bed. Hours that added up to weeks… how much of his life had he spent hoping for this moment?
All the way back to Magdalene, he thought he’d see Jack waiting when he got there. But he wasn’t. If common sense hadn’t told him that Jack would be long gone if Zeph walked out of his job mid-shift and ran to Clare Bridge, that’s exactly what he would have done. Instead, he thanked his passengers for thetips they gave him, stroked the well-behaved, waggy-tailed dog, and tidied the punt ready for the next load.
He suspected that the tours after seeing Jack were not the best he’d done. He gave the same spiel but his mind was racing. Was it really Jack? Had he come to Cambridge to see him? Did Zephwantto see him?
Jack had broken his heart. Even if he’d had no choice about leaving, he’d had a choice about keeping in touch. Zeph wasn’t hard to find. But as damaged as his heart had been, it had been bandaged by moments of joy. When he’d been offered a place at Cambridge, when he’d achieved four A*s that ensured he’d be going there, when he’d earned distinction in grade eight on the piano never having taken a piano exam before, and the happiness he’d seen on the faces of Martin and Paulo, the unflinching, generous support they’d given him, the pride they felt in his achievements… Sometimes Zeph could fool himself into thinking that his heart had never cracked at all. Only when he was in bed, drowning in a sea of loneliness, only then did he let himself remember how Jack had made him feel.
But he’d stopped longing for Jack and pushed away his hope, only allowing it out for occasional excursions into self-pity. Instead, he’d just longed for someone to care for, someone to care for him. Cambridge hadn’t provided that someone—yet. But there was still time. How dare Jack come back into his life now? What did he want?
He swallowed hard as he realised how quickly he’d shifted from excitement to annoyance.
Zeph’s was the last boat back as the business shut down for the night. He was relieved to get his tipsy passengers to shore without incident. He sorted out the punt and moved the bottles to the recycling bin.
“They drank all that?” Richard asked.
“They ran out and were really upset I wouldn’t stop to let them buy more.”
He put his waistcoat and hat back in the shed and retrieved his backpack. It was chilly now, so he took out his sweater and pulled it on.
“See you tomorrow,” Richard called.
Zeph nodded. He had another three-hour shift tomorrow afternoon, then nothing until next week. He told himself not to even think about walking to Clare Bridge. It wasn’t on his way home. Jack wouldn’t be there and why should Zeph be chasing after him?
He was frustrated with himself that he headed that way. As he’d worked, he’d kept thinking of what he’d say to Jack if he saw him and had come up with nothing. Well, no, he’d come up with plenty, he just wasn’t sure which way his mouth would take him, how much power his heart had over his head. But there was no sign of him. Of course, there fucking wasn’t. Maybe he’d never been on the bridge and Zeph had been seeing things.
Instead of going straight back to his digs, he went to the pub. He felt like getting drunk. It wouldn’t take much.
He bought a glass of red wine and spotted a group from Downing College in the corner. Giles, a theology student, caught his eye and beckoned him over. The table was full of empty glasses.
“Exams done?” Giles asked.
“Finished today.” Zeph pulled over a stool and sat down.
“Four to six weeks of either not thinking about whether you passed or doing so constantly.” Bernard laughed. He studied history.
Not many failed the second year at Cambridge in any subject, but some did.
Zeph sat and listened to the conversation, chipping in occasionally. At one point, Giles slung his arm over Zeph’sshoulder and Zeph shrugged it off. Giles was drunk and Zeph doubted he meant anything by the gesture, but he didn’t welcome it. He’d learned that the longer you wait before reacting to something you’re uncomfortable with, the worse the other person took it.
He changed his mind about getting drunk when Giles edged his stool closer and their knees touched. Zeph pushed to his feet, made an excuse about meeting someone and headed out of the pub. He really needed food. Cheese on toast when he got back. Something quick and filling. He had a tiny bedsit just off Parker’s Piece. Next year, he’d be back in college again.
As he walked into the quieter part of town, he felt as if someone was watching him. He turned a couple of times but there was no sign of anyone. Wishful thinking that Jack might be there? Zeph walked more quickly. He was irritated with himself for still thinking about him.
“Hey, hang on,” someone called and Zeph spun round.
Not Jack, but Giles and Bernard.
“You going to Devlin’s party?” Giles had his arm slung over Bernard’s shoulder.
Maybe any shoulder would do.“No.” Though he’d been invited.
“Come with us. I’ve bought a bottle.” Bernard brandished a bottle of champagne.
As they reached Zeph’s side, Giles put his arm over his shoulder too.
“Are we keeping you upright?” Zeph asked.
“Maybe I don’t want either of you to escape.”
