Page 18 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
Stop it.
‘You’re quiet,’ he said.
She snapped out of her reverie. ‘I was just thinking about Oscar. On how attitudes have changed. It wasn’t so long ago, really, that he had to lead a double life. Pretend to be someone he wasn’t. At first, anyway.’
She left it there, open, waiting for his response.
‘I wish he could see how things are now,’ he said. ‘Men marrying men, women marrying women, no one batting an eyelid. At least, unless you’re from a super-conservative religion.’
Did he mean himself? Had he been brought up as a fundamental Christian, or maybe even a Muslim? Chloe ran her eyes over his fair hair, his pale skin. Most likely Christian, but then again, people converted to Islam. Cat Stevens. The late, great Sinead O’Connor.
‘My parents are very conventional, old-fashioned,’ she said, carefully. ‘Suburban. My mum’s a real curtain twitcher; it’s all about appearances. She loved Dan, mostly because his family’s rich and he had “good prospects”. Would you believe, she told me I should go ahead with the wedding, that women – what were her words? Ah yes, “We can’t expect men to behave like saints. Sometimes we have to turn a blind eye.” I think she might even have said, “Boys will be boys.”And shedefinitelysaid, “Dan’s a good catch, you won’t get another like him.”’
‘What is he, a fuckin’ trout?’
She laughed. ‘No, my mum’s the old trout.’
He grinned, and she was glad to see the smile back on his face. Then his expression grew serious again. ‘My parents are the same, especially my dad. Haven’t quite caught up with modern times. They’d both disapprove of Oscar, even now. Definitely of Jim.’
I see. No wonder Joel can’t admit he’s gay. Or bi. Whatever.
It was time to stop skirting around the subject. ‘I think I understand. Joel … are you getting married because you’re …tired? Of trying to be something you’re maybe not?’
‘What?’
‘Do you really love … what was her name? Zara? Do you want to spend the rest of your life with her? As a data analyst? In Sheffield?’ That was a bit mean. ‘Or maybe you should do something else, first. You know, like rent your new house out and go travelling for a year? I can recommend escaping overseas.’
‘I thought you said you had no friends and never went out.’
Chloe pressed her lips together. ‘Okay. But you didn’t answer my question.’
Joel looked away, staring at Oscar’s grave. Then he rested his free arm on top of the glass barrier and laid his head on it. ‘Shit yes, I’m tired. Can’t remember when I last had a good night’s sleep.’
His hair flopped across his forehead as he closed his eyes for a moment. She lifted her hand, then stopped herself, fighting the urge to brush it away from his eyes.
He opened them again. ‘I’m sorry, Chloe, about today. About throwing up on you, and Rohan nicking your phone. Getting us stuck in here. But for what it’s worth, visiting Oscar with someone who isn’t an idiot, who understands, and having him all to ourselves, well … I’m actually pretty happy this shit-show happened.’
Chloe could touch him now, because she understood, and he understood that she understood. She lifted her free hand and stroked back his hair. ‘You’re all right, Joel. You’re more than all right. I hope after this we can be friends. You can come stay with me in Paris sometime.’
‘You mean …’ He frowned. ‘Or did you mean with the wife?’
‘You’re going to go through with it?’
He gave her a long look. ‘It’s complicated. But it’s the right thing to do. Hey … can we give the personal histories a rest? Look – there’s a bench. I really am tired. Can we just sit quietly with Oscar for a while?’
They made their way over and sat down, their shackled wrists between them.
‘Yeees,’ he breathed, then he shut his eyes and bowed his head.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
She took stock. It was her un-wedding anniversary; she was locked in a cemetery; it would soon be dark and the air was getting chilly. She was shackled to a beautiful man she fancied to bits, wanted to kiss (deeply), touch (everywhere), hold tight … a man she was, in some strange way, falling for, but who was on his stag do and therefore off limits. By this time next week he’d probably be married. But in fact he was almost certainly gay and about to marry someone because it was expected of him, because it was ‘the right thing to do’.
He was either in denial about his sexuality, or not brave enough to come out, identifying with Oscar Wilde because he too had married a woman for the sake of appearances. Oscar may have come out eventually, but that hadn’t gone well.
Chloe started as Joel’s head jerked forward and he opened his eyes, looking around him in confusion. ‘Sorry, nodded off. Do you mind if I …’ he gazed longingly at her shoulder.
What the heck. They had an understanding now.
