Page 34 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“Yeah, I’ll do the washing up.”
“You’re a good boy, sausage.” She ran her hand through his hair, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. He watched as she wrapped her bathrobe tighter around her body, then shuffled out of the kitchen and upstairs to her bedroom.
Jonah stared at the dirty dishes stacked by the edge of the sink, then added the empty wineglasses to the pile and got to cleaning them. The window in the kitchen looked out over the garden, and the moon shone down over the sea, creating a silver mirror from the water, a sight he’d missed since being in London. He pretended he was eighteen again, readying himself to leave his home, imagining all the wonderful things awaiting him in the capital. He had dreamed of being in the West End, something he’d achieved; he even dreamed of an Olivier, and holy shit, he’d actually achieved that too. Where else could he go from there? He’d reached the top level. He could win more awards, sure, but would he be happy? Were awards enough?
His phone vibrated on the kitchen table, and he glanced over his shoulder at it before grabbing a tea towel to dry his hands. He squinted at the screen to see two messages come through together—the signal on the coast of St. Ives leaving something to be desired—and felt his stomach drop as he read the names. The first, Dexter; the second, Edward. He ignored Edward and went straight for the message from Dexter.
The Penis Destroyer:Sorry I’ve been MIA. Been super ill :( I’m okay now, can we meet for a drink? Dex x
Jonah scowled at the mention of illness and half wondered if Dexter should have told him earlier, given they made out. But he’d been fine, so he reluctantly let it slide, mostly because Dexter had put a kiss at the end of the message.
Jonah:Sorry you’ve been sick. I’m in Cornwall till Tuesday but can meet when I get back? x
He deleted, then replaced the kiss eight times before settling on sending it.
The Penis Destroyer:Cornwall? Impromptu holiday? I’m free Thursday, can meet after the show or get a coffee in the morning if that works with you? Also, I need to do some social media damage control after the whole tripping thing... any ideas before Colbie kills me? x
Jonah:Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to trip me in the first place, then you wouldn’t be needing to maintain yoursqueaky cleanimage? x
The Penis Destroyer:Avoiding holiday and drink question? Fine, I guess I deserve that. Groveling at your feet. x
Jonah:I’m visiting my parents. Thursday morning is good. Don’t grovel, it doesn’t suit you. x
The Penis Destroyer:Duly noted. Though, I’ve been thinking about getting on my knees for you since that kiss x
Jonah covered his face with his hand and slipped his phone into his pocket. He couldn’t have this type of conversation in his parents’ kitchen. He switched off the lights and headed upstairs, where he lingered outside of the room his dad slept in, listening for the soft sounds of his snores, smiling knowing he was asleep and safe. His own bedroom was farther down the hall, the last door on the left, and he opened it to see the baghe had brought with him and dumped on the bed unpacked neatly on the mattress, courtesy of his mum. Unlike some people who spoke about their childhood rooms remaining the same since they left home, Jonah’s parents completely overhauled his room and turned it into a cozy guest room. Yellow curtains hung from the rail at the window, and a plush beige carpet stretched across the floorboards, which hosted a king-size bed. It was a far cry from the navy-blue-walled and emerald-green-carpeted room Jonah once called his own.
The Penis Destroyer:Sorry, was that a step too far?
Jonah grinned at the message. He pictured Dexter sitting in his home on Lawford Road, phone in hand, eagerly awaiting Jonah’s response.
Jonah:Just recovering from the shock of you thinking about me in a way that doesn’t end with me covered in vomit or with your foot in my crotch x
The Penis Destroyer:FYI, I genuinely didn’t mean to do that.
Jonah:SureJan gif.
The Penis Destroyer:I don’t know what that means. x
Jonah:Urgh, stop messaging me and brush yourself up on memes before we can no longer be friends.
The Penis Destroyer:Is that what we are now? Friends? x
Jonah: Depends.I’m still mad at you. x
The Penis Destroyer:Understandable. I’m sorry, again. Seriously. x
Jonah smiled at the message. Truth be told, he still didn’t fully trust him; he could forgive the string of unfortunate incidents culminating in the vomiting, but he couldn’t yet forget the tripping attempt at the Oliviers. He didn’t think he ever would. But he could allow himself to flirt, kiss, maybe more; Dexter was attractive, he could never deny that, and now that he’d experienced a more honest and vulnerable side of him he could see him for more than the massive dickhead he masqueraded as. Jonah put the phone down on his bedside table and ignored the unread message from Edward while also choosing not to reply to Dexter. He could sweat for a response; it was Jonah’s turn to hold the cards.
Sixteen
“Turning tables, the sun burns on thehorizonand we ride to our deaths.”
—“The Battle,”The Wooden Horse, Act One
The wails from Jonah’s father haunted him the entire journey home. The image of him slumped on the floor of his new room, body contorted at odd angles as he cried out to Jonah and his mum, replayed over and over again in his head. His father couldn’t understand the space, his mind reeling at the change, a change Jonah didn’t think he would even notice; but he underestimated the power of the mind and the pitfalls of the disease plaguing his father. The nurses at the home were brilliant. They knew exactly what to do and how to calm his mum, who cried hysterically outside the bedroom door, overcome completely with guilt and remorse.
“It’s for the best, Mum,” he told her, but even he didn’t believe his words. He replayed the day as he stared at the vacant seat opposite him on the train and contemplated the idea that maybe he shouldn’t have intervened in his parents’ lives; he’d caused an untold amount of distress, something he would never forgive himself for.
