The Final Beat Of The Drum

By Taran Geary

email: taran.geary@btinternet.com

I’m surprised at how many people have read my ramblings about my time with Philip. Some people have even written and asked if I will write any more which is very flattering and a bit creepy really. I don’t much like the idea of dirty old gits having a wank over me and my boyfriend but I suppose when you “go public” that is one of the consequences. Still I’ll get on with it and see how it goes. Perhaps I have a future as writer. I really haven’t given it much thought but we’ll see.

     I know it’s been a while since my last dribbles appeared here. But there’s only so much you can write about your real life and keep it interesting.

     I have been waiting for developments, shall we say. How many pages of doing homework and meeting secretly for cuddles (only Cuddles, mind. We hadn’t done anything serious, yet) can you read?

     I read a bit, especially stories on the net, and I was beginning to think we were a bit slow. There was one story about a weird ginger haired kid on crutches and he was at it with another boy after he’d only known him for about an hour. I wish!

     I wanted to get down and dirty with Philip but the opportunity just didn’t seem to crop up.

     There was one major development though. Phillip had finally started to call me Nick rather than Mason. This might not sound like a big deal, but believe me, it is. Phillip and his mates never, ever call anyone by their first names. It is surnames or nick names. (Except Mark Simmonds, of course; who is always “Mark Simmonds”).

     Anyway! I’m drifting off the point. This is the proper start.

     I thought I’d start this batch of my jottings by telling you all a little bit about myself:

     I have no doubt that I’m very lucky; I have parents who love me and who want me to succeed in whatever I do. I enjoy school and although I am far from being a grade A student I do my best and my grades come in at around average or just above. My parents are proud of me. I enjoy making my parents proud.

     They married late, my parents; My Mother was nearly 40 and my Father was nearly 45. They had problems due to my Mum’s age and I ended up being conceived in a test tube, although I was born in the traditional manner. My Mum used to call me “her little miracle” but it was a long time before I understood why.

     After I was born my Mum gave up her career as a lawyer to devote herself to me. I am very grateful that I have never been a “latch key kid” and that someone was always there when I came home.

     My only regret is that I never knew my grandparents; they had all died before I was born.

     So there you are. That’s me in a nutshell.

     I suppose we are a bit old fashioned in our house. We always have our evening meal sitting around the table - I don’t have a problem with this, it’s just that whenever I’ve been to any of my friends’ houses they always balance a tray on their laps and watch the telly while they eat. I thought this was a very cool notion, so I broached it to my Mum once and straight away wished I hadn’t. So up to the table we go.

It was at this time one evening that I decided to grasp the nettle. I waited until there was a lull in the conversation and I went for it:

      “Mum, Dad. There’s something I want to tell you.” My Dad looked surprised and put his knife and fork down and looked at me expectantly. My Mum just looked worried to death as if she thought I was going to die or something.

     “Mum, Dad. I’m gay.” There was a silence that seemed to last forever during which time my Dad picked up his knife and fork and started eating again.

     “You feel sure about this?” My Dad finally asked with out a flicker of emotion. But then seeing as he’s a doctor, I guess he hears far worse things during his day.

     My Mum was less composed and I could see confusion and shock passing across her face. This set me off and I felt the salt-water droplets running down my cheeks. I left my chair and walked around to my Mum and hugged her and she hugged me. After a few minutes and a lot of tears and following some exaggerated throat clearing from my Dad, I sat back down.

      “Have you met someone, Nicky?” My Mum asked.

      “Yes, his name is Philip.” I snuffled.

      “Why don’t you bring him around for tea in the week?

      “Can I?” I brightened up.

      “Of course.”

      “We’ll have a chat later, “My Dad said. “Now let’s finish our meal.”

     My Dad came up to my room later and we talked about how I felt and he told me he had a slight suspicion because I never talked about girls or ever brought any home. He talked in some depth about various STD’s and especially HIV. He also went into, ahem, the ins and outs of anal sex in rather more depth than I was strictly comfortable with but I suppose I understood his concern.

     And that was it. No drama, no raised voices and no smashed crockery. I told Philip and he was impressed until I told him about the invitation to tea.

      “Fuck me!” he exclaimed. “Round your house? I won’t know what fucking knife to use!”

      “Don’t be daft,” I said. “We’re not that posh.”

      “We haven’t even got a fucking table, let alone eat off the fucker.” He said.

      “You will come, though, won’t you?” I almost pleaded. Philip went quiet.

      “I’ll think about, alright?” He finally said and I was treated to one of his lovely smiles.

     Over the next few days I felt like I was walking on air. I, of course wanted to shout from the rooftops that I was in love with a wonderful guy. But Phillip still wanted to keep it well under wraps. This caused one or two sticky moments especially in the school canteen when I went strolling in whistling a merry tune and was confronted by my old friends sitting at one table and Phillip and his two remaining friends sitting at another. I skidded to a halt and my whistle died a tuneless death as I just stood there paralysed desperately trying to decide where to sit. But a glare from Phillip made it plain and I sat with my old friends-although I wanted desperately to be sitting with my boyfriend. Occasionally our eyes would meet across the room and I could see that Phillip felt exactly the same. I would bide my time; our chance would come, I felt sure.

     But in the meantime, the frustration was driving me mad!

     We did walk home together, however. On alternate nights we would walk to each others houses. Phillip never invited me into his house and in many ways I was quite glad about it. His house was a typical sink council estate house. There was the wrecked car in the front garden, The huge satellite dish stuck right on the front of the house, the dirty windows and even dirtier curtains, the big dog on a chain growling at anything that moved.

     I could see Phillip was embarrassed and as we stood and chatted outside he told me that all he wanted to do was to get out of that house.

I asked why he didn’t. He would soon be sixteen and then he could live where he wanted.

      “Can’t go,” he said. “I ain’t leaving my little sisters. If he ain’t got me to kick around he might start on them. An’ I ain’t having it.”

     I wanted to just hug him but his body language told me to stay away.

     Another time when he had walked me to my house and I had pointed out the window of my room, I said to him “We’ll be together in there one day.”

     Phillip just blushed and smiled. He touched my hand and said simply “Yeh”

     When I went in the house, my Mum asked “Was that Phillip I saw you with outside?”

      “Are you spying on me?”

      “No, I just happened to be looking out of the window.” My Mum could never lie even if her life depended on it and she knew it.

      “Yes Mum”, I said. “That’s him.”

      “He’s a nice looking boy” she said. “Why don’t you invite him in?”

     I fairly glowed at my Mum’s approval. “He won’t come in. He’s very shy.”

      “Oh well, he’ll come round eventually,” She said breezily.

     Then she spoiled it:

     “It’s a shame about his nose, though.”

     I felt the hackles rising. Usually me and my Mum get on great. But I felt this was an unnecessary criticism of my boyfriend and I shouted at her.

     “HIS STEP DAD BEATS HIM UP! IS THAT OK FOR YOU?”

     I stormed out and slammed the door. My Mum called after me but I ignored her and ran up to my room and slammed that door as well. All the frustration of Philips reticence and the stress of living a secret poured out of me. I shouted and screamed at no one and kicked my pillow around the room. I then threw myself on my bed and cried my self to sleep.

     I was woken up by someone knocking on the door. I had calmed down by this time and called “Come In”. My Mum came in with a cup of tea and she sat down on my bed next to me.

     “I’m so sorry, Nicky. I just wasn’t thinking. It was an awful thing to say and I’m really looking forward to meeting Philip.”

     “It’s ok, Mum. I’m sorry I shouted and slammed the door.” I smiled thinly and my Mum hugged me and rocked me in her arms.

     “Everything will be all right”, she said “Just give him time.”

     After she’d left, I thought about recent events. I just wished Philip would admit who he was and “come out”. Although, I mused, I hadn’t told anyone except my parents either.

     It was a couple of days later when I woken up in the middle of the night by a strange sound. There it was again, a rattling scraping sound. I sat up in bed and put the light on. There it was again! I got up and went to the window and saw Philip and his sisters standing in the front garden; he had been throwing gravel at my bedroom window. He motioned for me to come down. I pulled on some clothes and ran down the stairs to the front door. I was shocked at what I saw: Philip was covered in blood and as he spoke he spat out a great bloody lumps of phlegm.

      “Joe’s gone mad”, He said between spits. “He’s smashed the house up and I think he’s set it on fire!”.

     The girls were crying and were clinging tight to Philip.

      “Come in,” I said. I took them through to the kitchen. There was a noise upstairs and my dad’s voice saying “What on earth is going on?” He came into the kitchen and said. “Good heavens! What’s happened?”

     I made the introductions and explained briefly what Philip had told me. My Dad immediately switched to doctor mode and examined everyone. He declared the girls unharmed but wasn’t too happy about Philip’s injuries. He called my Mum down and she went straight into “Mum” mode. Drinks and snacks appeared out of nowhere and she soon had the girls calmed down.

      “I’m going to have to take Philip to hospital.” My Dad said. I think Frank’s on duty in A&E tonight so I’ll ring him and get us straight in”.

      “Ain’t goin’ to no ‘ospital.” Philip grunted

      “You’ll do what you’re told!,” my Dad said firmly. “You could have concussion or a haemorrhage, so none of the nonsense, understand!”

     Frank was indeed on duty and we sailed past the queues and straight to a cubicle where a nurse dressed Philips wounds.

     I should tell you that “Uncle Frank” and his family are probably my Mum and Dad’s best friends. I love Uncle Frank. He is the calmest, kindest, funniest man I have ever met and he’s the perfect man to run a busy A&E department. Nothing ever ruffles him.

     We went to have an x ray and when the results came back Frank said “You’re very lucky. No haemorrhage or concussion, in fact your step father might have done you a favour. He’s broken your nose in such a way that we can probably straighten it up a bit for you.”

     He shoved a load of packing up Philip’s nose. I could see that it was hurting him; but he didn’t flinch. I felt so proud of him.

     As we were going out, Frank touched my shoulder. “You take care of him, Nicky. You’ve got a good one there.” He gave me a wink and I turned bright red.

     How did he know? But then I should have known that he’d know; Uncle Frank knows everything. I smiled and said “I know and I will”.

     When we got back Mum had put the girls to bed in the spare room and she was waiting for us with a pot of tea and some sandwiches.

     We sat around the table and ate and drunk tea. Dad was deep in thought for a long time before he spoke.

      “We’ll have to contact your mother”, he spoke to Philip. “, Do you know where she is?"

     Philip told him and then the question of where Philip was going to sleep came up.

     Well, naturally I wanted him to sleep with me. But I didn’t know whether he or my parents would wear it. There was much discussion about his sleeping in my bed while I slept on the sofa and all variations on that theme.

     “Philip can sleep with me”

     The room went very quiet and my Mum said “Well, I don’t really think-“

      “Philip can sleep with me” I repeated.

     Now, you have to understand that I have never, ever defied my parents. The atmosphere was so highly charged I could feel the hair on back of my neck beginning to prickle.

      “I don’t think that is a good idea.” My Mum finished. My Dad raised his hand.

      “Very well”, he said slowly. My Mother shot him a look that would have killed a lesser man stone dead. “Philip can sleep with you tonight-providing that is what he wants- I trust you, Nicky and I believe that you will heed the things I have told you recently. Philip, is that what you want?”

     Philip grunted and nodded. And so we went to bed!

     Up in my room I felt so charged up I didn’t know what to do. Do I leap on him and smother him with kisses or do I play it cool? I decided on the latter.

     As we both undressed the tension in the room was unbearable.  Philip had shown me some of the bruises that Joe had given him in the past, but as he pulled his top off I was horrified. He looked at me disapprovingly and I tried to avert my eyes, he slipped off his jeans and my eyes shot immediately to his threadbare boxers.

     I felt a bit disappointed because there was no sign of any action there at all-unlike my own nether regions which seemed to have developed a will of their own!

      “Which side?” I asked pointing at the bed. A shrug of the shoulders was the only reply. I climbed into my usual side and Philip followed.

     I lay on my back staring resolutely at the ceiling not daring to put out an exploratory hand.

     I put out the light I heard Philip wince quietly as he moved.

     “Nick?”

     “Yeh?”

     “Hold me, please”

     I needed no second bidding, as you can imagine. I gently embraced him doing my best to avoid the sore places. I felt his breathing on my face and his lips on my lips.

     Then it happened!

     We didn’t shag or bonk or fuck.

     We made LOVE!

     And it was a wonderful, gentle love.

     We only did it once that night although I was up for it nearly all night. But Philip was exhausted and in pain. I understood and respected his needs, after all I loved him. And I still do.

     We did it again in the morning and we nearly got caught by Mum knocking on the door and bringing us in some tea. She looked as embarrassed as we did but nothing was said. Then my Mum shocked me to the very core of my soul by saying the words I never thought I would ever hear her say:

      “Don’t worry about getting up. You don’t have to go to school this morning.”

     I must have looked completely gobsmacked because she struggled not to laugh as she walked out of the room.

     Philip and I snuggled up together drank our tea and we giggled and played about for a bit before we did eventually get up and face the world.

     My lovely Dad had been on the phone all morning sorting things out.

     Philips Mum was leaving the hospital later in the day and coming to see her children. His Nan had cut short her holiday and was coming home as well.

     Joe Caffrey was under arrest in hospital with severe burns and alcohol poisoning.

     Philip and I just dossed around the house doing nothing much; just enjoying each other until his family came.

     When they did arrive along with Social Services and some other people I didn’t know; a big conference started to thrash out the future.

     Philips Mum and his sisters were going to live at his Nan’s. But best of all, Philip was staying with us!!!!

     My Dad insisted that he have his own room “Teenagers need private space”. Sometimes we sleep in his room, sometimes we sleep in mine and sometimes we sleep apart. It’s perfect.

     Philips nose was straightened up properly and he is now more handsome than ever.

     And I am just SO happy!

Love Nick  xxx

Reproduced with the kind permission of Taran Geary © Taran Geary