Page 136 of Pansies

After a moment, he nodded. Because, well, yeah. It was true. This forgotten, cliff-edged corner of the North East was his heart. The sea had left salt in his blood. He belonged here.

“Nora was the same.” Aidan glanced away—his gaze falling on the flowers they’d brought. “But let Fen live his life. If you’ve really changed, do something good for him and let him go.”

And that was when Fen came bouncing out of the kitchen, the dish towel still in his hands. “I’ve got the best idea,” he cried. “Let’s dig out my old SNES and playMario Kart!”

Right now, Alfie wanted to go and sit in a hole somewhere, far away from Fen and his father, from their loss and their love.

“Sounds great,” he heard himself say. “Just got to nip to the netty first like.”

“Door at the top of the stairs.”

He fled. Blundered into the bathroom. Slammed the door and locked it. Slumped on the floor, gasping like he’d just run a mile. Then he pulled out his phone, fired up his browser, and googledFen O’Donaghue.

Shit, Fen had a website. A really fancy one with all these amazing photos that streamed across the page with impossible brilliance.Beauty Is Light, it said. There was a portfolio too, of all the shows he’d worked on. He’d won awards. And there was a picture of him on his About page, so completely nerdy-hipster-gorgeous that Alfie wanted to cry with confused adoration. He was wearing his big black glasses and a bottle-green blazer that made his eyes ridiculously bright. Like at any minute he was going to laugh, and you’d wake up alone among the elf furrows or next to Hurl Stane, your memories full of magic and your hands full of dust. His hair was shorter too—he had this tousled undercut, wayward strands curling over his brow—and he looked so fucking happy.

And that was before Alfie hit social media. Then it was just an endless carousel of Happy Fen. Who, with different hair and different glasses and his dandy clothes, could almost have been a stranger sometimes. Alfie’s dad would probably have called him a reet bobby dazzler—with a faint undertone of censure. Fen certainly enjoyed his selfies. And this other bloke was everywhere. From everything Fen had said, Alfie’d been picturing David as this quiet, awkward sort of person, maybe a bit on the homely side. But, no, homely was way out. Honestly, Alfie had seen less attractive film stars.

Nothing had been updated for over a year, but it was pretty fucking obvious: Aidan was right.Thiswas Fen.Thiswas his life. These friends and these pictures, this job, that really ill-advised scarf-tie.

What he was doing in South Shields—what he was doing with Alfie—was…a mistake. A moment of grief that Alfie was trying to turn into something else. Something that said more about what Alfie needed than what Fen wanted.

And Alfie’d been hiding in here for far too long. They’d probably think he was taking an antisocially epic dump. He shoved his phone away, pissed even though he didn’t really need to, and held his hands under the cold water tap, trying to get a fucking grip. His face floated in the bathroom mirror, pale as a moon, and just as disconnected from the rest of him.

That was when he caught sight of the paper pinned to the wall. There was a message, handwritten, careful block caps, decorated here and there with flowers. It said:You are Nora Shaftoe. You have Alzheimer’s. This is your house. You live here with your partner, Aidan O’Donaghue. The young man is your son, Fen. They love you very much.5

It made Alfie start. Glance over his shoulder. Of course, there was nothing behind him, the empty room already reflected in the mirror. But he could remember her so clearly suddenly, with her yellow braids, and the deep dimples that made her look always on the verge of smiling. He didn’t know her well enough to miss her or grieve her in any sense beyond the general, but just then, he felt the shape of her absence. The way the world had softly shifted around the people she had left behind.

In their place, he didn’t think he would have taken her note down either.

When he got back downstairs, he found Aidan and Fen on the floor by the television, trailing wires everywhere. Fen was laughing and teasing his dad about the SNES being the gateway drug to console gaming. Alfie had no idea how he was supposed to pretend to be normal now, but then Fen glanced up and beamedat him, and that was all it took. Alfie’s swirl of pain and worry and vicarious sorrow didn’t seem important in the face of such rare and uncomplicated joy. Besides, the second the game came on, with that ridiculously cheerful, bleepy music, Alfie was right back in the early nineties. Saturday afternoon at Kev’s house.

“Oh my God.” Fen seemed equally captivated by nostalgia and excitement. He was sitting cross-legged, now, and staring at the screen like a kid at story time. Except he didn’t look remotely like a kid. “O’Donaghue House Rules: winner stays on, no screen blocking or controller grabbing, though inducing distractionary laughter is permitted. And you can’t be Yoshi.”

Alfie wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. If he started avoiding Fen for no apparent reason, it would look completely suss. Also he didn’t want to. So he stretched out next to him and began unwinding one of the controller wires. “Why not?”

“Because,” Aidan explained, “he’s Fen’s favourite. But you should be whoever you like.”

Fen lowered his eyes, all contrition. “Yes, he’s right. You should play whoever you like. Just be aware, I’ll dump you if you choose to be Yoshi.”

“Why are you so into him?” Alfie gazed helplessly at the character-select screen, trying to remember who was who and if they were any good in a go-kart. “He’s just this weird dragon-dinosaur-turtle-hybrid thing.”

Fen gasped. “Are you kidding me? He’s a queer icon.”

“Yoshi? Yoshi’s gay?”

“I don’t think,” said Aidan dryly, “he’s a dragon-dinosaur-turtle-hybrid thing who chooses to be limited by labels.”

“Also,” added Fen, “I like his cute little boots.”

“Okay. Fine.” Alfie selected Princess Peach.

Aidan lifted a curious brow. “Interesting choice.”

“What?” Alfie bristled. “I just thought she might like to go for a spin in a go-kart instead of being kidnapped all the time.”

“No, I just meant it’ll be an interesting match. Both she and Yoshi have high acceleration and good handling, but low overall top speeds.”

“Oh.” Alfie blushed. Kev would have totally taken the piss out of him for choosing to play a girl. “And how the blummin’ heck do you remember that?”

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