The Aristocrat Pt 04

(Author's note: This is the final part of this story. It contains a scene where a person has a painful but minor accident. Hope you like it.)

During the rest of the summer, Ciara and I continued to live in the flat in the city, although she was back and forth from her dad's house, helping to sort out his affairs.

It was a better base for her as far as plumbing was concerned, while my mother made it clear that I was expected to pay for my own upkeep as long as I wasn't studying. So I learned a lot about coffee.

For the next two months, life was mostly a boring slog, a glimpse of adulthood and responsibility, without the social life of college, although my own social life soon came to revolve around the cafe where I worked.

Ciara was subdued by anyone's standards, but especially by her own. Gone was her program to learn more about her own body. She and I shared the place like... again, a fond brother and sister.

But when term started again in the autumn, and Ciara began to socialise a bit more, something like her old good humour began to return. It was a bit more mature, a bit less reckless, but she began to stay out later.

And then she began to come back to the flat with strangers who'd spend the night, and then the next day they'd be gone, never to return.

This time, I found that I was glad that she was back to something like her old self. I didn't judge her. I actually felt a kind of envy. I'd fucked everything up with Adrian, by not being cool or manly enough. Or he'd fucked it up with me; I couldn't decide. At least Ciara was getting some action.

And she started hitting the gym, and she bought a new pair of glasses that weren't quite so nerdy as her previous pair.

One night she and I were having a night in, eating pasta and watching a rom-com. She'd had someone round the previous night who'd left in late afternoon; a short, round, rather sweet-looking girl with a heavily pierced face.

We had paused the movie, and as we sat down again, I said 'How are you doing?'

'Me? I'm fine, compadre. How you doing?'

'She seemed nice. Your one today.'

'Lucy. Yeah, she's a doll. Library science.'

'Nice. You gonna see her again?'

'I'm sure she can do better than me.'

I looked at Ciara. She was sitting with her feet in enormous fluffy slippers resting on our coffee table, wearing pyjama shorts and an oversized t-shirt with a sparkly unicorn on it, with a smudge of wiped-up pasta sauce just over her heart, fiddling with the remote control in an abstracted kind of way. She was peering at it through her glasses.

'Well, she liked you last night. And today.'

'Yeahhh,' she said in a lilting tone, as if encouraged by the thought. But then she fell silent again.

'You could just ask her out on a date.'

'Maybe I will.'

'Why don't you text her now?'

'Ah. It's too soon.'

'But if you like her...'

'I just,' Ciara said loudly, interrupting me, so I shut up, and then she never finished the sentence.

'Sorry,' I said.

'Why?'

'Well, I like seeing you getting out there again. It always makes you happy.'

'Mmmm,' she said.

There was a silence.

'Shall we finish the movie?'

'Yes,' Ciara said, and pressed the remote.

*

Still, there was no denying that something had gone out of Ciara. She had not recovered her former high spirits.

Of course, I knew she was still grieving. But I wanted to find a way to cheer her up. My own love life was the stale end of a loaf of bread that I knew I needed to throw away. But I thought if I did something for her, it might cheer her up a bit, and that might also cheer me up a bit.

And then, it came to my attention that her birthday was coming up.

I decided that I would organise a party for her.

*

It occurs to me, telling this story, that I don't mention Ciara's other friends. Because I wasn't her only friend.

When she got sick, for example, she was flooded with commiserating text messages. And she occasionally hung out with people who weren't me, when she wasn't having a one-night stand.

Her friend Julie, for example, became my friend in the course of my getting to know Ciara, and she's a wise and lovely person, yet she barely appears in this story because few of the things that are to do with this story happened with her around.

Once I had had the idea of organising a surprised birthday party for Ciara, I started asking her friends if they would be able to come. Most seemed to think it was a great idea and of course they'd come.

Julie listened to the idea, sipped her coffee and said 'A surprise party?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'I think it would be nice to show her how much we all love her.'

'Yeah,' Julie said, nodding and frowning. 'I think... it might be a good idea to ask her if she wants one.'

'But it's supposed to be a surprise.'

'Yeah, I know,' she said, smiling wryly. 'But trust me on this.'

'How am I supposed to ask her if she wants a surprise party?'

'This is Ciara we're talking about,' she said. 'She'll get the point.'

And so, that night, Ciara and I were sitting around on our phones, about to go to bed, and I looked up and said 'So your birthday is coming up.'

'Yeah.'

'I just want you to know that I know that. So that my next question doesn't ruin anything.'

Ciara looked up at me.

'Do you like surprises?' I said.

She thought about it.

'Not really, no.'

'Right.'

'I mean, I used to, but...'

'I understand. Well, I'm just letting you know that you're going to get a surprise on your birthday.'

'You're lettin' me know that I'm gonna get a surprise?'

'Yeah. So that it doesn't come as a surprise, and you can look forward to it.'

She looked at me with a puzzled half-smile, and then she nodded and her smile grew warmer.

'That's actually really sweet,' she said softly. 'Thank you.'

*

So Ciara's birthday came around, and I managed to get people to club together so we could rent a room in a pub, and we made banners, and someone made a cake.

And then Ciara and I went out one evening and met Julie and a couple of her other friends, and we argued about what pub we should go to, and eventually decided, and when we got there, Julie led us up the stairs, and we went in, and there were dozens of Ciara's friends blowing those hooting streamer things and shouting 'Happy birthday!'

What sealed it was Ciara's reaction. She played it so over the top, putting her hand to her breastbone and exclaiming 'Oh my god! A surprise party? For me?! I had literally no idea that this was happening! What a fantastic surprise! You guys! This is so out of the blue!'

Meanwhile, Adrian had apologised.

Well, sort of. He'd never actually said 'I'm sorry,' or any words resembling that. His take on our threesome was that it had 'gone sideways' and that Roger 'hadn't worked out' but I was not to worry, because he'd 'make it up to me'. He made it up with me in time for Ciara's party, and advised me on the champagne, and even made allowances for our limited budget. And he'd come to the party itself. He hovered around, smiling mysteriously and lending glamour to the proceedings.

It was a great night, with dancing and karaoke, and Ciara impressed us all with her full-tilt version of 'Total Eclipse of the Heart', which she performed at Julie with total commitment.

I was basking in the success of it all: my friend and roommate was having a great party, and my sexy boyfriend was by my side. I could have it all. It couldn't get any better than this.

Then Adrian materialised next to me, and squeezed my arm.

'Nice job, kiddo,' he said. 'You throw a good party.'

'Thanks,' I said, only slightly nettled by the 'kiddo'.

'Well...' he said after a pause.

And I resisted the urge to give a heavy sigh.

'You have to go somewhere,' I said.

'I'm so sorry,' he said. 'I wish I could get out of it. Family thing.'

'It's fine,' I said. 'Go go go.'

'You don't mind?'

'I don't mind.'

'Love you loads,' he said, kissed me on the cheek, and went off.

Half an hour later, at ten, I managed to get everyone's attention by commandeering the karaoke microphone.

'Attention, please,' I said, 'sorry to interrupt yous all, but we're gathered here to wish happy birthday to our friend, Ciara Nolan.'

'That slag?' Julie said indignantly. 'She's not my friend.' Much laughter.

'I know we all, in our various ways, know Ciara in different aspects. As a friend, as a confidante, as a roommate in my case, as perhaps someone who one or two people here have got to know on a more Biblical level...'

More laughter. Ciara looked comically outraged.

'But I come not here to slut-shame,' I went on. More laughter.

'Seriously,' I said. 'I don't. I've only known Ciara for a little over a year, but it feels like I've known her for the better part of my life, because... well, for one thing, you spend half an hour hanging out with her and it feels fucking interminable...'

'Does anyone here want to be my new roommate? Cause the one I have is a prick,' Ciara said, and that got the biggest laugh so far.

'But,' I said, 'in all seriousness, and I think in common with a lot of people, it feels to me like I've known Ciara for a long time because... I've learned a lot from her.'

The room went silent.

'I'm not exactly sure about what,' I added, which went down well. And then I looked straight at her.

'But,' I said, 'it's something about life, and what it is to try to be honest and at the same time, a good person. Which, it turns out, is a big fucking struggle. But, and I dunno, and she may disagree, but when I look at Ciara, she seems to have some of it figured out. I think I was kind of an arsehole when I met her, and now I feel like I'm like, 30% less of one.'

'Don't be hard on yourself,' Ciara said. 'Thirty one point five per cent.'

I waited for the laughing to die down.

'I talked to most people here about what we all appreciate about Ciara,' I said, 'and the words that came up most regularly, were, variously, "mad as a boot", "tall", "sexy motherfucker", "smart", "really good at plumbing", and also, "kind", "warm" and "loyal".'

Ciara was silent. She was watching me with a peculiar crooked smile on her face.

'We all know she's had a shit year,' I said. 'I never met her mum, and now I'm sorry I won't, because I've heard stories about how great she was. All I can say is that if she were here, I think she'd be very proud to see how much her daughter has carried that on. I know her dad is, cause he told me.'

'Hear hear,' said Julie and clapped. There was a little ripple of applause.

'So if there is one thing that unites us all about Ciara,' I said, 'apart from the fact that I suspect rather a lot of us have seen her without her clothes on...'

A laugh.

'Hey, Ciara said, pointing her finger around the room, 'I could say the same about most of you arseholes as well. Especially you, ya prick,' she added to me.

'The main thing that unites us,' I said patiently, 'is how much we all very much love her, and how we value her genius for making friends, and for keeping them. And so I ask you to raise your glasses, and wish her a happy birthday.'

There was a roar of Happy Birthday, and then Ciara rose to her feet.

'I'd like to thank Sandy for his very nice words,' she said, 'and all I would say is that I think it's a testament to what an amazing person I am, that when I met him, he was fuckin' rubbish, and now look at what a good speech he can make. And that's all me, by the way.'

She smiled calmly at the laughter in the room.

'But,' she said, 'to be serious... yes. It has been a shit year. But the thing that makes it worthwhile is having friends like you lot.'

She looked around the room and swallowed and paused.

A long moment passed.

'Because,' she finally said, 'whenever things seem too hard, haply I think on thee, and then, my state, like to the lark, et cetera et cetera. That's Shakespeare, by the way. I know none of yous cunts read books, but I do. Em...'

She let the laughs died down.

'So, anyway, I love yous all, and yous mean the world to me. And if I talk anymore I'll start bawlin'. But thank you. Thank you all.'

She abruptly sat down and took off her glasses and wiped her eyes, and Julie, who was sat next to her, hugged her.

Ciara put her glasses back on and hugged Julie back, and when they disengaged, she looked over at me and smiled, and her lips mouthed the words Thank You.

*

Adrian took to calling at my place late at night after he'd been out and wanted a shag.

I didn't mind, particularly, not at first, anyway, since I was generally up for sex with him. But even when he passed out immediately after coming, and I would contentedly fall asleep next to him, I would wake up and he wouldn't be there. There would be a message on my phone -- 'Had to run sorry bye! Xxx a' -- and that would be it.

Plus there was the little matter of how monotonous the sex got.

I am, by nature, a bottom when it comes to guys; I prefer to be the fuckee than the fucker, but whereas Adrian prided himself on his sexual ninja skills, he was the opposite of versatile. I existed to service his cock. He would kiss me enough to turn me into a squirming, eager sex-toy, and then he would focus relentlessly on getting himself to orgasm.

Had I been anyone else, that might have suited me very well, but after all, I'm bi, not gay, and now and again, I longed to mix things up a bit; maybe have him suck me for a change. But whenever I made moves like that he would firmly put me in my place, and I would relent.

And so it was that I began to feel, rather guiltily, that maybe I could do a bit better than him.

Not someone handsomer or richer or more assertive, just someone who I... actually liked hanging out with, who would stay after the sex was over and talk to me. Someone I could have an actual life with.

Sometimes, a few times, we did do that. And at those times, Adrian generally dropped his scheming and fronting and was honest. Or seemed so. I appreciated that. Even if I didn't always love what I heard.

We were lying there one night, when we'd actually done something mutual that had worked: we'd 69'd. So perhaps he was feeling more relaxed than usual.

'Tell me,' he murmured, 'I mean, you're bi.'

'Mm-hmm.'

'Do you ever fancy your flatmate?'

'What, Ciara? No.'

'You sure?'

'I'm sure. I mean, I love her to bits, but she's so irritating sometimes.'

'In what way?'

'I mean, she does things, and I feel like: Why do you do that? I dunno. It's hard to explain.'

'Sounds like you have a little crush on her.'

'I really don't.'

'I can understand if you did. I mean, apart from the face, she is rather fuckable, objectively speaking.'

'What's wrong with her face?'

'Well... she's just...'

'You're biased because you're a golden god and you think the rest of us mortals are lucky to know you.'

He chuckled.

'Yes, well, that's true.'

'You have to get to know her. I mean, she is annoying, I admit.'

'I don't find her annoying,' Adrian said.

'Don't you?'

'"Annoying" would imply I care about her one way or the other,' he yawned. 'I just don't get it. I know she's got all these friends, and everything. And is supposedly so charming. All I see is this... manic pixie dream plumber that everyone thinks is so fucking cool. It's a mystery to me. She's so... suburban.'

I was silent for a moment.

'I'm from the suburbs.'

'From them, yes,' he said. 'But they're behind you. You've moved on. I just find all that shit very boring.'

I lay there for some time, trying to think of a devastating retort, but then I realised Adrian had fallen asleep.

So I remained silent.

*

In spite of that conversation, I still stayed with Adrian.

Because... he was really, really good at making me cum. He had this way of completely dominating me that always turned me on: of turning me into a helpless, whimpering slut.

Or at least, it always turned me on, until one night, it didn't.

It began as one of those nights when he had me round to his place. He had bought ready meals and wine and we ate and drank and then made out.

And just as I was getting ready to take it to his bed, he broke out of kissing me and, his eyes gleaming, he said 'I've got a great idea.'

'What?'

'Let's take this to the next level.'

'In what way?'

'I've always wanted to have sex outside.'

'Outside... where?'

'Just, in the open air. Let's find somewhere.'

'What, now?'

'Yeah! Come on!' he said, getting off the sofa and going out into the hall to put his shoes on.

It was a warm night and I thought, well, after all, it is kind of exciting, although off the top of my head I couldn't think of anywhere near his place that was both in the open air and secluded enough that passers-by wouldn't see us coupling energetically and call the police.

So I got my shoes on too, and he practically dragged me out of the flat and down the stairs and out into the street.

The first place he took us to was the private gardens in the square he lived in, to which, naturally enough, he had a key. They were tidy and pretty and had some trees and some benches, but it was only half past ten, and there were people sitting on the benches, and the bushes and hedges were either impenetrably thick or didn't provide enough cover.

'We can't go here,' I said, looking around.

'Why not?'

'Because there are people,' I said, gesturing. He sighed.

'I suppose you're right. Okay, come on.'

And so went off on what turned out to be a long and increasingly frustrating walk through the evening streets.

There were a lot of people about, because it was the weekend, and there really weren't many green places which looked both comfortable enough to have sex in, and private enough that it was just slightly spicy but not actually a risk of being arrested. Adrian peered into building sites, but I sharply told him that I wasn't going to have sex in a building site, which made him scowl.

On we walked, heading out of the city centre into the suburbs, where the green spaces were mostly people's own gardens. Gradually we fell silent.

I wondered: why am I doing this? Why does he want to have sex in the open air, anyway? Am I too boring otherwise?

Then I reflected that that was not a healthy way to think. But as we kept going on and on, I got more and more impatient and just wanted to go back to his place and his bed.

'Couldn't we just go back to your place?' I said.

'No! We've started now, we're going to find somewhere.'

After about forty-five minutes, we were going down a steep path between two high walls when we passed a door which was ajar. Adrian pushed it, and it opened into an overgrown garden.

In the middle of the garden was a dark and empty-looking house.

'Oh wow,' Adrian muttered, and went forward. I wasn't particularly overjoyed.

'This is great,' he said, running his hand up and down my arm. I took out my phone and turned on the torch and shone it on the ground.

The place was heaving with nettles.

'I'm not having sex on them,' I said.

'Oh,' he said, his face falling. He looked at the house and went towards it, and I followed.

It was, for whatever reason, empty, and the door was slightly open. Why nobody had bought the place and renovated it, I had no idea, but Adrian went inside and I followed.

It smelled of rodents and their waste. We used our phone torches to see. The floorboards were half-up and there were some dusty old bits of furniture.

We entered what seemed to be a dining room. The streetlights were on the other side of the high wall, but there was a table in the middle of the room and the moonlight shone on it.

'Here,' he said.

'Here?'

I looked at him. He was grinning.

'Strip,' he ordered me.

'Completely?'

'Completely. I want you naked. I want to photograph you.'