Page 33 of Waiting for a Prince
“Don’t you think it’s time we discussed the elephant in the room?”
Sam frowned. “I don’t think Wetherspoons could afford the insurance to have an elephant in here. Plus, they’d have to take out so many tables to accommodate it, it’d slash their profit margin.”
Mark wasn’t about to be steered away from the subject by humour.
“I remember this coming up in an English class. Luke Pennington—I think it was Luke—said the elephant was a person or an issue. Mrs Brophy said that wasn’t true. What created an elephant in the room was avoidance.”
Sam was suddenly very still.
“She said it was our aversion to addressing something, or doing nothing to resolve something, that gave the elephant life.” Mark took a long drink from his glass, then looked Sam in the eye. “So let’s talk about what you’re avoiding.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam’s voice was barely audible above the noise of the pub.
“I’m talking about why you’re with Rebecca. I know it’s none of my business, but?—”
“You’re right, it isn’t.” Sam set his jaw.
Mark tried another tack. “Sam, mate, it’s obvious you’re not happy with her. You never mention her. If I bring her up, you change the subject. So why do you stay with her? You two haven’t been going out for that long. If it isn’t working out…”
Sam froze, and Mark gave himself a mental kick.
Subtle, Mark, really subtle. About as subtle as a sledgehammer.
Sam wouldn’t meet his gaze but stared resolutely into his pint glass. “Look, I really don’t want to talk about this right now, okay?”
Mark wasn’t backing down though, not this time. The alcohol might have had something to do with that.
He stuck out his chin. “See, yousaythat, but I keep getting this weird feeling you want to tell me something. And I think it has something to do with Rebecca.” He levelled a forthright stare at Sam. “So tell me I’m wrong.”
It was as though Sam folded in on himself, making himself smaller. His breathing was shallow, his eyes wide. His hands were clenched.
Mark could almost taste his panic.
Back off. Right now.
He held up his hands. “All right, all right, I’m sorry. Let’s change the subject.”
“Good idea,” Sam mumbled as he got up from his seat in the corner of the crowded bar. “It’s my turn to get the drinks in. Same again?”
Mark nodded and watched as Sam edged his way through the tightly packed crowd which had gathered at the bar. It was a warm night and the huge bifold front window of the bar had been opened up to let in the night air.
Mark stared glumly at the table, where the empty bowl stood from the chips they’d shared earlier.
Way to go, Mark.Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?
He cursed himself for putting his foot in it.
Make it right.
Once Sam returned to the table, Mark was going to bring the conversation back to lighter topics. He only hoped his outburst hadn’t soured the mood for the rest of their evening together.
That feeling of something hovering out of view didn’t dissipate, however.
`“So when did you first know you were gay?”
Mark blinked. “Huh?”
Sam’s words were less distinct. That probably had something to do with the number of beers he’d consumed in the last three hours. He wasn’t at the slurring stage yet, but Mark could tell he was definitely trying to speak more deliberately. His earlier mood appeared to have been forgotten, much to Mark’s relief.
