Not Letting Go, Page 3

  I want to stay cocooned in his presence forever, soothed by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath me. And then he breaks the spell. “My mum said to let us know when the funeral is. She'd like to come along with me.”

  My head jerks up. Funeral? Of course, that's what happens when people die. “Oh.” I settle back down against his chest, murmuring into it. “I guess it'll be… um....” I don't know when it will be. Tomorrow? Next week? Two weeks’ time? I'm not sure how it works. And can Bradley and his mum come along? Do you invite people to funerals or do they just turn up? I've only ever been to my granddad's one and I was twelve at the time. “I'll ask my mum.”

  “Okay.” The rhythmic stroking of his fingers starts again.

  At ten thirty, when I've drawn as much comfort as I can from listening to his slow, even breaths, I reluctantly wake him. We both have school tomorrow, and I can't keep him with me forever.

  When he's gone home, I check Facebook. I still have two hundred and twenty three friends, still chatting to each other, still doing homework, and playing games and watching telly.

  I don't update my status, but if I did it would say: Josh Roberts. Reached Lieutenant II. My dad died. I fell in love.

  * * * *

  I wake up at seven twenty four, six minutes before my alarm is due to go off. A tear leaks from my left eye, trickling slowly down the side of my face, and into my ear. I blink, and another one follows, silently tracing the salty track. I rub it away and poke my finger into my ear. A self-administered wet willy.

  “You sure you want to go in today?” Mum asks as I sit at the breakfast bar, chewing on the toast she's made for me. I never have much of an appetite in the mornings, and today is no exception.

  “Yeah.”

  “You don't have to, you know. I can call the school. I'm not going to work. Not for a few days. Linda said I can take as much time as I need, so I probably won't go back 'til at least after the funeral.”

  I draw the plate towards me and put my piece of toast down, my teeth marks visible in it.

  “Uh, when is it... the funeral? 'Cause Bradley was asking about it. He wants to come, and I think Bonnie wants to too. Is that okay, them coming?”

  Mum smiles. “Of course. I'm not sure when it'll be yet. I'll try and make some arrangements today, but of course they can come. You want Bradley there, don't you?”

  I nod.

  “And it's really nice of Bonnie to come along. It's not like she knew Dad that well....” She looks thoughtful. “I expect she'll want to be there for Bradley. And for you. She's very fond of you, you know? As we are of Bradley.” She stops, and takes a deep breath. “I suppose it'll be a long time before I stop saying 'we.'” I wonder how long it will be before I stop saying Mum and Dad.

  “What do I wear? For the funeral?”

  “Oh, I don't know. Your dad wouldn't have minded. Just wear whatever you feel comfortable in.” Yeah, right. “You know, you don't have to go to school today. If you like, we can stay at home together. We could watch a film or something,” she says.

  I shrug. “Well, my A levels aren't going to go away, just because of....” My voice trails off.

  She studies my face carefully. “You're an amazing young man,” she says. “You do know how proud Dad was of you, don't you? It's good for you to be focussed, but one day off won't kill your chances of getting the grades for uni. You could even use the time to do some revision if you like.” She shrugs. “It's up to you.”

  My stomach clenches. I'm not sure if she wants me to stay more for me, or for her, but I want to be with Bradley, and today I figure I'm allowed to settle for the selfish option.

  “I'm gonna go in,” I tell her.

  “Okay. Do you want a lift? I can give you one as I'm not going to work.”

  “No,” I say. “I think I'll walk.”

  * * * *

  I wish I'd taken her up on the lift. It's not a long way to school, probably not even a mile, but it's hard walking today. My legs are heavy, every step dragging. I'm pretty fit from all the sport I do, but the climb upstairs to Tutor is like scaling a mountain. I scan the room, and my eyes meet Bradley's. Instead of the usual grin I'm used to, he gives me a nod as he rises from his seat to walk over. His strong arms are holding me up, guiding me to a chair. The room is silent, the world around me stopped, if only for a few moments. And then, Bradley puts his hand on mine, threading our fingers together. We're in Tutor, holding hands, but somehow it doesn't matter. He sits forward slightly, his body providing a buffer for me against people's stares. Mia sits next to me on the other side, and lightly puts her hand on my shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she says. I look at her. She's not got her usual thick make up on. Her eyes are red. She's been crying.

  “Thanks,” I say, and Bradley gives my hand a gentle squeeze. The others either ignore me, or say sorry, offering their condolences with soft, sad voices. And all the while Bradley stays there, holding my hand. Not letting go.

  * * * *

  I answer the door to Mike. He looks weird without his usual polo shirt and jeans. He's even shaved off his stubble. “Where's Julie?” I ask, and he smiles at me.

  “Don't worry,” he says. “She's in the car, just texting Lauren, she'll be here in a minute.” It pisses me off. I'm not worried.

  “How you doing?”

  “Fine,” I say. “I'm good.”

  “You look smart.”

  I don't. I look like a dick in my dark wash jeans and old school shoes, but they're the only black shoes I've got, except my football boots, and I can't very well wear them, can I?

  Julie walks up the driveway, and joins Mike, slipping her hand into his. “Hey,” she says. “How you doing?”

  I'm just fucking fine. I wiggle my toes around. They're sore already. I swear my feet must have grown since I last wore these shoes.

  The strong, warm scent of Mum's rose perfume drifts into the hallway. It's no longer competing with the disinfectant smell I've got used to. She gives Julie and Mike a gentle kiss each. “We'd better get going,” she says.

  I hover around Mum's car, waiting for the bleep of the central locking, but Mum touches my shoulder. “Josh sweetie, we're not going in my car.” She grabs my hand and we walk out the front.

  And there they are—two fuck off great big, black limos. I had no idea. I don't want to go in a limo, with people peering in at us. What are we going to do in there—drink champagne? There's a guy standing in front of the first car, in coat tails and a top hat. I almost snigger, he looks so absurd, dressed like someone off Oliver, the funeral director or something. And then it hits me, knocking the breath from my lungs. He is a funeral director, because we're going to a funeral. And that first car isn't a limo, it's a hearse, and in the back of it is my dad. My dad.

  I want to back out. I want to toe off these stupid school shoes and put my trainers on, and run. “Come on, love,” Mum says. “We need to go.”

  * * * *

  Julie pushes a packet of tissues into my hand as we go in. “I didn't think you'd have any,” she says, and of course, she's right. Bradley and Bonnie look up at me from the back row of seats. I want to mirror the soft smile Bradley gives me, but my face has other ideas, my muscles arranging themselves into an uncomfortable grimace. I'm vaguely aware of classical music playing in the background, but the room might as well be silent. For me, it's a moment frozen in time, everyone staring and wondering why I'm grinning like a maniac at my own father's funeral.

  We walk down the aisle together and sit at the front, with me squeezing in next to Granny on the hard wooden pew. She doesn't look at me, just reaches out her hand and grabs mine. Mum warned me that of all of us, Dad's death would be hardest for Granny. “I don't think she ever really accepted just how ill he was,” she told me. “Nobody expects to lose a child. Our children are always our children, no matter if they're grown up with families of their own. And with Dad being an only child, he was all she had left.” The bench vibrates with Granny's sobs. I'm absorbing her grief throu
gh our joined hands, and I pull mine away with the pretence of getting the tissues from my pocket. I take one out the packet, and pass it to her, even though she's already clutching one. I make sure to push my hand straight back into my pocket. Out of reach.

  When the service has finished, Bradley waits for me outside, with his mum. Bonnie's make-up is all smudged under her eyes. “It was a lovely service, Josh,” she says.

  “Mum....” Bradley gives her a warning look, and she takes the hint graciously.

  “I'll leave you boys to talk. Bradley, I'll be waiting in the car. Don't keep Josh talking too long though. His mum will want him at home.”

  “Okay, okay.” He waves her away. “You all right?” he asks.

  “Uh huh.”

  “It was nice. Really nice. I liked the way that vicar guy, or whatever he was, called you Joshua. I had to figure out who they were talking about.” He gives me an affectionate prod in the belly.

  “I know, I know. Joshua's not really me, is it?”

  “Nah, you're Joshy through and through.”

  “Only to you. To everyone else I'm Josh.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Well no one else is allowed to call you Joshy. Joshy's mine. And mine alone.”

  I shrug. “Okay, I can live with that.”

  “Good.” He puts his hand up to my cheek and rubs the back of his fingers against it. “Didn't you cry?” he asks.

  I have to think about it for a moment. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Oh,” he says. “Well, I think me and my mum made up for it.” He rubs under his eyes. “Shit, I cried all the way through. I must look like a right div.”

  “You look great,” I tell him. And he does. He's wearing the same suit he wore to his cousin's wedding. She got married only a couple of weeks after Bradley and I officially started going out together—too soon for me to be his 'plus one.' There's one photo in particular of him at the wedding that I love. It's not one of the official ones, just an ordinary picture of him talking to one of his other cousins in the churchyard. When we were first together I'd look at that photo, of how relaxed and handsome he looked, and it would take my breath away. I couldn't believe how lucky I was that someone so amazing could want to be with me.

  And now, standing on the wet grass of the crematorium, I look at him, in a suit that no longer quite fits, his face streaked with tears, and I still can't believe it.

  * * * *

  Bradley sits back on my bed, his folder propped on his knees. He squeezes the pen he's got in his hands so hard, I think it's going to snap. “I'm never gonna get a B,” he says. “What's the fucking point?”

  “The fucking point is, if you get a B, then we both get into the same uni. And we get to spend the next three years living together.”

  “And if I don't?”

  I shake my head. It's not allowed to be a possibility. “You will. But if you don't, then, I dunno, we rethink. I can put off my course for a year maybe, or we can both go somewhere else. Go through clearing or something? I don't know if I'll get my grades either.”

  “You so will, though. You only need C's, you'll easily get them.” He's right. I'm predicted straight A's. “You can't put off your course. You've worked hard for it. Basically, if I don't get a B, then we're shafted.”

  I settle next to him on the bed, and rest my hand on his chest, my fingers tracing soft circles against his T-shirt. “We'll figure it out,” I say. His nipples harden under my touch.

  He smiles at me. “I love you,” he says.

  “I love you, too.” My hand slips lower, onto his stomach, and I push up his top, brushing my fingers against the warm skin there, sending a shiver through him. I love touching him. I get as much pleasure watching his reaction as I do when he returns the favour. The way his eyes close, and his teeth bite lightly against his lower lip. I love to hear his soft breaths coming quicker and quicker, until he's panting. How can something so predictable be so exciting? Sometimes I seal my mouth to his at just the right moment, feeling him choke out a harsh 'Joshy,' against my lips. At that time, when he's lost the power of thought, all he can say is my name. My name.

  We haven't had sex yet, although I guess we've come pretty close. It's not that we're too young or anything. I know other people are doing it—at least three girls at school have had babies—but we've talked about it and decided not to cross that line just yet. It'll happen, but when it does we'll be in our room at uni together. With the door closed.

  I dip my fingers under the waistband of his jeans, stroking at the trail of hair there that excites me so much. But when I attempt to pull open the buttons of his fly, he grabs my hands and holds them tightly. “Joshy, not now,” he says. I think he's messing about, joking that he doesn't want it as much as I do, so I rear up and pounce, straddling him and wrestling him against the bed.

  “What the fuck?” He shoves me and wriggles away, bumping the bedside table. His elbow catches my alarm clock and it topples over, landing with a thud on the carpet. “Shit! Sorry.”

  “Don't worry about it,” I tell him. “It didn't break.”

  He picks it up and puts it back on the table without looking at me.

  “What's the matter?” I ask.

  He still doesn't turn to me, but I see the shrug in his back. “Nothing. Nothing's the matter.”

  “So what was all that about?”

  “Nothing,” he says again. The tone of his voice is weird. It doesn't even sound like Bradley. “I just don't like you pushing me. That's all.”

  I'm gobsmacked. “Pushing you? I wasn't pushing you. When was I pushing you? What are you talking about?” I pause, trying to get it straight in my head. “Jesus, is this about... y'know... what happened before, when we... when you stayed over? Are we talking about sex here, because last time wasn't exactly my fault, was it?”

  “It doesn't matter.”

  “It matters to me. When was I pushing you? Just now? I've never heard you complaining before!”

  “For fuck sake,” he hisses, waving his arm at the open door. “Your mum is at home, you know.”

  I'm really confused now. We've messed about tons of times before and he's never cared that anyone's been in the house. “She's downstairs! It's not like she's standing in the bloody doorway, is it?”

  He lets out a huge sigh. “That's not the point.”

  “So what is the point?”

  “The point is....” He shakes his head. “I dunno. The point is, that all this studying is doing my head in, and I just don't think you get it. If you want us to spend our study time fooling around in bed, then fine. That's okay for you, 'cause you're top of the class. You could pass your exams with your eyes closed. But I'm not gonna breeze through like you. I'll be lucky to get a C in Maths, which means there's no way I'm getting into Leicester. You do know we're not gonna be together next year, don't you?”

  “We will! You'll get the grades and we'll both go. Together. Just like we planned.”

  “For fuck sake, Joshy! Listen to yourself. It's not gonna happen. All this talk about next year, it's a joke.” He lets out a little huff of exasperation. He sounds really pissed off with me. “You just don't get it.” He's fiddling about with the alarm clock, and he checks the time against his watch. “It's getting late,” he says. “I should probably go.”

  “Uh huh.” I bite down hard on my lip, willing away the tears that are pricking at my eyes.

  He unzips his rucksack and shoves his folder into it. “I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

  It's my turn to shrug. “I guess.”

  * * * *

  It's too early to sleep, but I don't do any more studying once he's gone. What's the point? To get a place at Leicester and then turn it down because my boyfriend can't come with me? I'd do it too. He's more important to me than any bloody course. Doesn't he realise that? If it were the other way round, would he go without me?

  I strip down to my boxers, catching a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror on the back of the door. I've not seen my bod
y like this in a long while. I had no idea I'd lost so much weight. I suck my stomach in. Some of the definition has gone too, especially around my abs, leaving my belly concave. It doesn't look that great, and I'm kind of glad Bradley didn't get to see it this evening. Not much left of the six pack he used to love trailing his fingers over. Used to. He hasn't done that in a long while. Not since the last time he stayed over, when he wanted me so much, his arms were shaking as they held me.

  He was so desperate for me then, that the moment my parents' bedroom door had closed, he had grabbed my hand. “Fuck, Joshy,” he said, “I've wanted to be with you all day.”

  I gave him a gentle prod in the stomach. “Duh! You have been with me all day, you dick,” I told him.

  He smiled at me, a true Bradley grin. “Yeah, I meant, I've wanted to be alone with you all day.” He climbed into bed with me, and planted a hot kiss against my lips, pulling me so firmly into his arms I could feel the fast beat of his heart against my chest. “I want you so much. Why are we waiting? What for?” He nipped at my lower lip gently with his teeth.

  “You don't want to wait anymore?” I asked.

  His nibbles reached my jaw, and he murmured into it. “Do you?”

  No. Yes. He sucked hard on the crook of my neck, drawing a shiver from me. No.

  “Why are we waiting? We might not be together next year, and….”

  “Don't say that!”

  “I know... but....”

  “What about the door?” I asked. “It's open.”

  He leaned right over and pushed it shut. “Not anymore, it's not.”

  I took a deep breath, my heart racing. “Okay,” I said. We were really going to do this.

  We hurriedly shed our T-shirts, desperate for nothing between us. The feel of being tangled with him, his skin pressed against mine was truly exhilarating. His body was so familiar to me—the curve of his back as I ran my fingers over it, the light smell of washing powder that clung to his skin. But every breath, every movement we made was charged with something new. Our kisses had an edge to them—hasty, demanding, out of control. We were pushing each other's limits, the need for us to be closer heading us towards freefall. As my fingers caught at the waistband of his boxers, trying to push them down his thighs, his head jerked up suddenly. “Fuck, did you hear something?” he rasped out. We stilled, our breaths harsh in the dark room.