Page 24 of Rewrite the Stars
‘Tom, you said you thought there was more on Matthew’s mind than some petty jealousy between you and him, or me and him or me and you or whatever—’
I don’t sound like myself. I am breathy and panicky. I need to slow down. There is a pause. A very long pause.
‘I had my suspicions, but I could never say to him, Charlie. Did he tell you? Did he tell you what it was?’
I’m so unbearably hot right now. A glare of winter sun scorches through the floor-to-ceiling windows beside me and I try and catch my breath to keep calm.
‘Tom, did you ever think that Matthew might be gay?’ I ask him. ‘Do you think that all the fuss and over-the-top reaction over you and your popularity with women was becausehewanted to be with you?’
Tom doesn’t pause this time. He just comes straight out with it without giving it a second thought and his voice is one of relief.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I did think that, but he would never admit it to me, Charlie.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘I couldn’t ask him,’ says Tom. ‘I was so afraid in case I’d got it wrong! I’ve wondered about this for years, torturing myself, but all I did was watch him break up everything that meant so much to him. Did I do the wrong thing by not asking? I should have asked him.’
I shake my head as if Tom is here to see me now. I want to scream at my brother for being so unnecessarily secretive for all these years, yet I want to cry for him at the confusion he must have been feeling. He’s thirty-two years old! Why on earth has he been hiding this for so long, living a lie and not telling me or Emily or Mam or Dad how he really was? We would only have loved him more, but this? This is an awful mess now.
‘I think he was going to tell me earlier today in the village pub,’ I explain to Tom as it all clicks into place. ‘He was in such high spirits. He told me he’d met someone and he’d lots of good stuff coming up, but then when I mentioned your name he freaked a bit, then stormed out into the car and had a really bad accident. He’s in hospital, Tom.’
‘Ah, Jesus.’
‘He’s critically ill and we’re waiting to hear from the doctors just how bad things are. I just can’t believe this is all happening.’
I hear Tom gasp and allow him a moment for this to sink in. Matthew let his feelings for Tom ruin a record deal with the band they’d all worked so hard for, his own mental health suffered immensely and the whole thing kept me and Tom apart when we both were thinking the same thing all along. We wanted to be together. We wanted to give it a try. But Matthew wanted him too. I wasn’t the only one who fell in love with Tom Farley all those years ago.
‘What a mess,’ Tom whispers. ‘Imagine the pain of hiding who you really are all your life, living a lie and pretending to be someone you’re not, Charlie. I feel so sorry for him but he’s going to pull through this, isn’t he? Matthew’s a strong spirit, he won’t let this beat him. He’s going to be OK, I just know it.’
I think of my mother clutching her rosary beads in that busy corridor, believing they hold some sort of magic that will make Matthew survive this, and maybe they do? I’d turn to anything now if it meant my brother was going to be up and alive and healthy, living the life he always wanted to. Oh, how could I have been so blind, so naïve not to have known this all along? How did he keep this to himself and, more to the point, why? And the most ironic thing of all is that he left Dublin, a cosmopolitan, diverse city where anything goes, to find himself back in Loughisland where the chances of him meeting someone were very, very slim – and yet he met Martin and was on the road to happiness. All until I mentioned Tom. What the hell?
‘I’d better go back to my family to see if there’s any more news,’ I say to Tom, not wanting to end our conversation but knowing there should be some updates by now. ‘God, I wish you were here with me. I could be doing with one of your hugs.’
I realize as I say it that it’s very unlikely to happen, and Tom’s response isn’t as enthusiastic as I’d hoped it would be either.
‘I think I’m the last person your family needs around them right now, Charlie,’ he says to me. I hear his voice quiver. ‘I shouldn’t have gone looking for you like I did, stirring up old feelings and trouble. What on earth was I thinking? I’m so, so sorry for all the mess I’ve caused you all.’
‘No, Tom, please don’t say that!’ I plead with him. ‘It’s not your fault! And I don’t want to give up on us now. Not after yesterday. Please don’t say that.’
But in my gut, I know that he’s right of course. If Matthew’s feelings for Tom awakened his sexuality, drove him into a dark depression that caused him to lose his beloved band and almost his mind, how could he ever watch me and Tom together? It’s never going to work, no matter how much we want it to.
‘We can’t just leave it like this, can we?’ I say to him. ‘I don’t want to leave it like this. You know we’ve something special, you even said it yourself.’
Tears are streaming down my face now and my throat feels like it’s closing in panic. This is all too much to process. Yesterday we were so happy, we knew it was all meant to be, and I had so much hope in going home to tell my brother once and for all he couldn’t control other people’s feelings … but this? This is more than any of us could ever have imagined.
Life can take a turn for the better in the flick of a switch like it did when I found a second chance with Tom, but then just like my dad said, in one day it can all change for the worst. It’s cruel and unkind, but maybe a blessing in disguise that tomorrow is blind and we don’t have any idea what’s coming our way.
Tom Farley is a thorn in Matthew’s side for all his tomorrows and also his yesterdays – a reminder of an old him, a wake-up call that came to him in an unrequited love, that it seems he just isn’t quite over yet, no matter how long has passed. Out of sight, out of mind, was working for him but if this is what the mention of Tom’s name can do to him, imagine what it would be like if he had to see him with me. It feels like everything is slipping away from Tom and me, and it’s totally out of our control.
‘Do you think we’ll ever be able to make this work between us?’ I ask him, knowing in the pit of my stomach that we won’t.
‘I guess we don’t have to make any decisions just yet, Charlie,’ Tom says to me. ‘Let’s not panic, and please don’t cry or you’ll start me off. I’m parked outside a really posh apartment in Dublin where I’ve to show some Kardashian-type sisters round and try to make a sale, so red, puffy eyes won’t get me off on the best foot.’
He’s trying to make me laugh but all I can do is imagine him in his suit, shirt and tie, his tousled hair all tidied, and I just want to run to him even more.
‘I’m not crying,’ I lie, losing my breath into a deep sob. ‘I don’t know if I can take this all in. This will ruin us. I fear it already has.’
And now I can tell that he is crying too. I know it by his voice, his gorgeous, gravelly voice, the way it cracks when he speaks to me. I’ve a feeling this is the start of a long goodbye and he knows it is, too.
