The reason is, I believed this were simple: My night with the gorgeous French boy less than a week earlier had been an unmitigated disaster. Arriving in the early hours at the hotel he was staying in the city, I had allowed him to lead me to his bed utterly convinced that this amazing boy with his gorgeous look and body would blot out everything from my doomed pursuit of the-right-kind-of-boy through. But half an hour later, as the French boy quietly at my side, I knew two things for sure: I no longer had the will or the inclination to lead this type of life and I missed Lawrence more than ever.
I start to hatch a plan: on the following Saturday morning I would get up as early as humanly possible, stake out the newsagent’s where I had first met Lawrence and attempt to engineer an accidental meeting and then... I didn’t know what exactly would happen after that. But Lawrence made me want to be a better person and that meant more to me than anything else in the world.
Waiting until he had walked past and into the shop, I leaped out myself and avoiding being seen, I walked straight into the newsagent’s, picked up the Star newspaper and made my way to the cashier at which there was a four person-long queue. Lawrence’s in number two and a balding guy with grey hair was number three. I tried to work out what my next move should be: the most straight forward thing would be to say hello to him on the spot but that would have given the lie to the casual nature of everything I was trying to engineer. No he would have to discover me himself... or even better we would discover each other at the same time... and everything else would follow naturally. I took a deep breath, the queue was getting shorter. Lawrence was second from the front. The woman in front of him paid for her shopping. Lawrence was next. From behind the grey hair guy, I could just about to see him handling over the money for the paper. I prepared my face for our encounter: a casual smile and raised eyebrows of surprise (but not too raised).
Lawrence turned away from, his eyes fixed on the headlines of his newspaper. I wanted to yell: ‘Look up! Look up and see me!’ but remained in mute despair as he walked past me and out of the shop. I couldn’t believe it. All those hours spent in a lobby and my mission was about to be thwarted by an absorbing headline! This is wrong, so wrong that it hurt. I looked at the headline, something to do with the number of people estimated to have died in a war on the other side of the world. I shook my head in disbelief. Why give a toss about people dying in a war halfway across the globe when none of it was affecting him? It wasn’t as if there was anything he could do about it. Why couldn’t he just be like normal people who wanted to read stuff about celebrities. I watched him walk down the road.
My heart could not have felt any heavier. I handed the cashier a dollar and fifty for my Star newspaper, and turned to walk away. Only I couldn’t. Lawrence was blocking my exit holding his newspaper and brandishing a loaf of wholemeal bread that he had clearly forgotten the first time. He glanced up and saw me. He looked both shocked and surprised.
‘George! How are you? Were you here all the time? I didn’t even see you standing there!’
‘I was... er... just getting my newspaper.’ I waved the newspaper in the air. ‘So how have you been? Are you well?’
‘I am good actually.’ He replied. ‘Work had been a bit busy but that’s fine. How about yourself? Everything OK with work?’
‘Work is great’. I replied.
There was a long pause and I wondered whether this going to be the end of the conversation. Then, ‘I got your card.’ He said quietly. ‘It was really nice of you to send it. I am actually quite fond of Rothko.’
‘It was nothing.’ I said. I thought about saying something more in reference to the card’s message but then thought better of it and make a joke instead. ‘Truth is you came pretty close to getting a card with a cartoon of Garfield.’
He laughed. ‘Now that would have been really strange because the only thing I like more than Rothko is a nice Garfield cartoon!’
Once again the conversation seemed to be drawing to close. I looked at the bread in Lawrence’s hands. An idea popped into my head and I decided to let it run free. ‘Can I pay for that?’
Lawrence looked confused. ‘What? The bread? Why would you do that?’
‘Think of it as a small act of penance on my part. Think of this loaf of...’ I paused to read the label, ‘Gardenia chocolate raisin’ as our bread of peace. My way of apologizing for several years of teasing at school and for any other misdemeanours that might have taken place since.’
‘Really.’ Smiled Lawrence. ‘There’s no need for symbolic bread-based gesture. You can consider yourself absolved.’
‘Really?’
I decided it was time to seize the moments. ‘Well in that case I was sort of wondering if you’d like to go out sometime?’
The look on Lawrence’s face (acute embarrassment set off with a heavy frown) said it all but just to drive the point home he added. ‘I appreciated the thought, I really do, George, but if I am being truthful I don’t think that would be a great idea.’
‘I mean as friends.’ I said quickly as I recalled the fact that I remained officially ‘not his type’. You know, mates who hang out together and that sort of thing.’
‘Still not a great idea.’ Lawrence shook his head in a regretful manner that made me feel thoroughly dejected.
I wanted to be somewhere else as quickly as possible and yet couldn’t leave until a decent amount of time had passed in case he jumped to the conclusion that I had taken offence at being rebuffed.
I counted to ten as quickly as I could and said: ‘So I suppose I’ll see you around then?’
‘And more likely than not it’ll be in here.’ With a half nod and an awkward smile in my direction, he walked past me to the cashier to make his purchase...
What’s wrong with me here..?
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