Page 60 of Drink Up, Darling
There were just a few more things they needed to clear out.
And it was as if Dariel and Athens thought it together, right then, in that moment.
The fire cracked. Athens tapped his foot. Dariel rubbed his hands against the chair.
“I think it’s probably time I get this thing off my chest. Since we’re all sticking together now, for however long we want. You all deserve to know the man you take to bed each night. I apologise it took this long for me to bring it up.” Athens spoke first, taking a sip of wine.
Dariel knew immediately. Maybe it was time.
It is.
Athens placed his glass down. “I met my maker in the early nineties, not long after I started to medically transition. He found me, charmed me with his words and actions—making me believe he was the only one on planet earth who would truly understand me. Of course I know now it was all lies. I was in my mid-twenties, but still barely felt like a man, and hadn’t even been my true self for long, not in society at least. He preyed upon that.” Athens absently grimaced at the memory. “We dated for years. Everything felt right, and normal… until it wasn’t. I’m not sure I noticed when things shifted, because I forced myself to believe it should have been obvious from the start, but it doesn’t really matter, he was inside my head without me having any power to stop it.” He looked away, distracted by the thoughts before turning his attention back to Dariel and Godwin.
“I should never have introduced him to Sophie. Should have never brought him to our home. I was with him for five years, and I never even guessed what sort of monster he was. And I’m not talking about being a vampire, no, he was rotten to the core. Foul, foul man. There’s not really much else to it. He came to our home one night in a fit of rage, never explaining why, and attacked me all because I tried to calm him down. He threw me into the coffee table, knocking me almost unconscious. Then I watched, dizzied and in pain as he stabbed Sophie with our own kitchen knife,” he pointed at his chest with a sharp nail three times. “She was pulling him away fromme.Tried to stop him from hurting me,and all I could do was watch her eyes glaze over as she lay in a pool of her own blood—my hands too far to reach for her. He staggered back after that, humanity taking over or whatever, then he looked at me, knife still in hand. It would have been a lot easier if he’d let me go with her, but oh no, he wouldn’t let his precious little boyfriend die, so naturally he turned me.I’m glad I at least fell unconscious quickly, I didn’t put up a fight.”
It was harrowing to picture, Dariel clutched his shirt tight in his fist. He wasn’t the only one carrying the pain of death.
“I woke up alone in the field behind the apartment complex as the sun rose the next morning, the sound of sirens and paramedics waking me fully. He’d just left me. Turned me and left me. Got scared and ran off, probably. Ha. Well, there was only one thing I could do—I went to track him down.”
“I hope you killed him.” This was Godwin, fist almost crushing the stem of the wine glass in his hand.
Athens raised a brow in surprise. “Oh, I did. I watched the life leave his eyes. Made it slow and agonising. I bled his confession to me; what he’d done to me, why he killed Sophie. He begged me to spare him, promising he would change, claiming he never wanted me to leave his life. It changed nothing. He’d taken my best friend from me, who was to say he hadn’t done it countless times before through countless lives? What would stop him from doing it again? So I slit his throat and held his head back as his life soaked the grass beneath us. Beautiful image, sorry if I put you off your wine, Godwin.”
Godwin shook his head. “You did the right thing.”
“Glad we’re on the same page then, would have been terribly awkward if you were against a little murder.”
“Self-defence.” Godwin shrugged passively—something Dariel noted he’d started doing a lot as he grew more comfortable with their company—finding himself again. Dariel smiled, nodding.
“The fire. My wife and… my unborn child died in a fire,” he said. It was only right he shared this properly now—itfeltright. All attention turned to Dariel. “I got home from work to see our house fully ablaze. I ran inside, no care if it burned me, and I screamed her name. I cried out for Annette, and it’s been so longnow, I don’t even remember if she ever called back. I told myself she did for a long time, to blame myself. To prove I could have saved her, that it wasn’t too late. I know now there was truly nothing I could have done. I’ll never know who saved me, my dreams show me faces, play out all the false memories I created, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m here, I’m alive, and, well… life has to go on, doesn’t it?”
“Life goes on…” Athens agreed.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I understand it means nothing saying this, but I mean it… You’re both here now. Strong and alive andhumanand… well, my life sounds rather simple in comparison, doesn’t it? What a fool that makes me,” Godwin said.
“It isn’t a competition.” Athens shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what has happened in your life, how good or bad you might think it was… we all hold things differently, our experiences and emotions are just as valid, no matter what. What happened to Dariel and I, it was horrific, something no one should ever have to go through. You didn’t experience that, but you lived through something different, and it sat with you all the same.” Athens patted Godwin’s leg. “Though there were some similarities, I’ll never feel what Dariel felt, he’ll never feel whatIfelt. Neither of us went through what you did, though we can all still empathise with each other, can still listen, and learn and… well now we can all grow from it. Together. Isn’t that right, Dariel?”
Dariel emptied his lungs. “John. My name is John.”
Both men looked at him, a million questions in their eyes, until there remained only one.
“I was born John Farlan in Sheffield 1942. Married Annette Everett in 1962. I’m sixty-four years old.”
‘Well hello, John. It’s nice to finally meet you.’Athens smiled then he clapped his hands, sitting back. “Don’t expect my birth name any time soon, that’s well and truly deadand buried, along with my ability to die, it seems. Funny how life turns out.”
Godwin was the first to laugh, before they all joined in.
“You wondered weeks ago if I’d ever had to remake myself. I said no, but that wasn’t quite the full truth.” Athens wove in a hint of seriousness as his laughter died down, addressing Dariel—John. “I did, choosing a new name, a new way to live. Becoming Athens was a rebirth, and whilst I always knewwhoI was, I was able to start again, entirely from scratch, as the man I am now.”
‘It’s an honour to meet you, Athens.’
“To life! And living in this palace of a home with two delightful men for company. Forever.” Athens raised his glass, winking at them both.
“To life.” They both joined in, clinking glasses.
The body of Dariel Hale, or what was officially confirmed as his body, washed up in the Thames a week later. (No living humans were harmed in the process, they promised Godwin.) The wildest thing about the story was the fact it was front page news. It wasn’t hard to forge, Athens helped with the plan—immortal manipulation goes a long way. But everyone now knew he was dead, which was the main thing. Such a tragic affair. Alcohol, they said. Such a shame. A true talent, gone too soon.
“Ohnowthey want my jackets, look at the price of that,” he said, reading the news from Godwin’s computer.
