Camp Echo - Chapter 1 (part two)

“I met this guy.”

Geoffrey did not appear to be paying much attention. He nodded, but didn’t reply.

“Hey! Geoffrey. Geoffrey, are you listening?”

“Yes my dear. You were telling me you met someone.”

“Only... you seem distracted.”

“Mother was thinking about her trip.”

“Why do you talk like that?”

“Excuse me!”

“In the third person... why?”

“Well, you must have heard the Queen?”

“What!”

“The Queen. Her Royal Highness,”

“No man, you’ve lost me.”

“Her Majesty always uses the Royal we.”

“Are you stoned?”

 

Max scrutinised Geoffrey, trying to discern if he was high on something. In the dim light, with the blinds half closed he couldn't clearly see his eyes.

 

“Just continue dear. I was contemplating my voyage.”

“Alright. When are you going?”

Geoffrey smiled, “Quite soon, quite soon. Then you will be alone for three whole months, whilst I enjoy myself in Brazil.”

Max thought about that for a moment, but only registered the going away bit and not the three months. He continued his story. “I met this friend of Reuben’s. Tall, slim, blond, very nice. His name is Jonathan.”

“You flirt.”

“Well, we are going to meet up on Saturday. At a gay pub he knows. Not far from where he lives.”

“So now you have forgotten your Jewish man. Is this because he is imminently decamping to the other side of the Atlantic?” Geoffrey pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.

“No Geoffrey. It’s because he’s into leather, and handcuffs, and... It’s not my thing.”

 

Max didn't really know what Reuben was into, he simply made that up to provoke Geoffrey. Nevertheless, by an odd twist of fate, he would later find out that he was probably right.

 

“Mmm. Are you sure? I could picture you stripped and strung up," Geoffrey teased.

“You’re depraved!”

“Ah huh. And you aren't?”

Max ignored the question. He didn’t think it merited a response.

“Oh, don’t sulk. Tell me all about Jonathan, he sounds super.”

“I’ll tell you next Sunday, if you’re still here.”

“I will be," Geoffrey assured him. "My last weekend, so make sure you do,”

Max glanced around the room as he stood up to leave. “Why don’t you tidy up a bit and open the blinds?”

“It was a long night. That answer your question?”

Max turned and left, but he’d be back next Sunday. He knew it, and so did Geoffrey, although he pretended not to care.

 

Finding the pub was easy. You wouldn’t even need to know the name, but he did. Jonathan had specified the time and place. The crowd of early evening drinkers spread outside onto the pavement. Under any other circumstances Max would have ignored them and walked on by. But he very much wanted to meet Jonathan, he was banking on getting invited back. Jonathan said the pub was near to where he lived. Max squeezed his way through the crowd as one or two heads turned his way, but he was mostly ignored. Still he was careful not to bump anyone or spill anyone’s drink. He thought about Reuben as he found the front door and went inside, it seemed distinctly full of leather men. Somewhat daunting, but he was a boy with a mission.

 

Jonathan saw Max before Max could find him amongst the crowd. “You found it?”

Stupid greeting, Max thought. Of course I bloody found it. I’m not stupid am I? But you could have said it was a leather bar.

Jonathan was saying something, “...Arlo, and this is Patrick.”

“Hi,” Max didn’t feel like being very enthusiastic. For one thing, he felt out of place; second, he had the impression he was looking up at everybody. Even Jonathan, who was taller than him looked dwarfed. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Jonathan asked.

He knew Jonathan was being nice, but at the same time he got the distinct impression that he never expected him to come. That in some way he was intruding on Jonathan’s Saturday night out. But he couldn't believe Jonathan was looking to pick up one of these hunks. 

“Beer please,” Max finally answered. 

 

He looked up and half smiled at Arlo and Patrick as Jonathan pushed his way to the bar. 

“You're a friend of Jonathan's?” Arlo was smiling at him.

Are all these people completely inane? Max asked himself. “Yeah, we just met.” 

That statement seemed to throw Arlo. Max looked around as far as he could, but only saw leather and people’s backs. He did notice two things: there were some leather caps, and Arlo’s personality didn't seem to match his macho look. 

 

Jonathan reappeared, miraculously without spilling any beer. Quite a feat given the crowd. Conversation, of sorts, followed, but Max paid little attention. He kept thinking about how soon he could get out of there and how he’d work his way into Jonathan's bed. The thought made him hard. Maybe Geoffrey was right, he was a slut. By the time it got late and the crowd had actually thinned out, it became obvious Jonathan was out of luck if he wanted to get off with someone. Which of course Max was pleased about. 

 

“You know it’s a long way back home for me,” Max almost whimpered like a lost puppy. 

Jonathan smiled but didn’t respond, still he was too nice to ignore Max. 

“Maybe I could stay over at your place?” Max suggested.

Jonathan took a moment to pause before answering. “Well, the thing is...”

“Please, Jonathan. I won’t be any trouble. Just to sleep.” 

That’s what he said, but his plan was to do more than sleep.

“Max I’d like to be able to, but...”

Again Max interrupted, “please.”

And Jonathan relented. 

“Okay, but so it’s clear. There’s only one bed. We can share, but NO sex. I insist on that.” Jonathan looked at him, trying to make certain he got the message. 

“Let’s go then.” Max smiled.

After saying their goodbyes, Jonathan led the way home.

 

“I’m all ears," Geoffrey said, and he did look like he was paying attention. For once the blinds were up, the sun shone in illuminating the room with shards of light. It was incredibly tidy, everything seemed put away and in its place. 

 

Max had arrived early. He wanted to make sure not to miss Geoffrey, because he had the follow up episode about meeting Jonathan to recount. “Jonathan made it clear I could sleep in his bed, but no sex. How was that gonna work?” Max asked Geoffrey.

“I don’t know my dear. I simply can’t imagine.” 

 

Was Geoffrey taking the piss? Mocking him? “Well, anyhow. We went into his bedroom and he began to undress.”

“You did what?” Geoffrey asked, with feigned astonishment.

“What do you think?” There was a silent pause. “I looked.”

“And?”

“And, he didn’t react. Just slipped under the covers. He said, ‘You sleep on that side, okay.’ It wasn’t okay, but...”

“So did something happen?” 

“Nothing.”

“You know what Max.”

“What?”

“Your tall, slim, blond boy is into men, not boys.”

“I figured that out. He was me, only older.” Max admitted.

“What now?”

“I don’t know. It’s frustrating.”

 

“And Aeriol, things okay there?” Geoffrey asked, changing the subject

“No change. Except he’s seeing Alex.” Max told him.

“Alex?”

“Yeah. A black boy. I wonder what it’s like, I’ve never been with a black boy. He is kinda cute.” Max admitted.

“And black boys are like Jewish men with big noses.” Geoffrey loved his provocative quips, they seemed to slide off his tongue. Max burst out laughing, and Geoffrey chuckled. “That's what they say. Of course I wouldn’t know.” Geoffrey added.

“You’re shocking.”

“I know. So Max, you'll be all alone, I won’t be here," he reminded him.

“I guess so.”