Angel and the Assassin

belly. Had Angel taken him up on that stupid,
    careless offer of money and gone to France?
    He sank down onto the bed and opened the drawer, feeling in the back for the
    wad of notes. Gone. As he felt about, he touched his leather-bound diary and
    snatched it up. God, he hoped Angel hadn‟t read the trivialities he had written
    there.
    He thumbed through the book to the last entry and saw childish, unfamiliar
    handwriting. Daddy I love you. I never loved anyone like I love you… I heard you
    telling Freddie I was temporary… I was on the stairs listening to everything…
    Shite! That was why he had withdrawn, because he heard Kael say he did not
    love him and never would. He sank his head into his hands. How could he have
    messed up so badly? The clock read 9:30. Angel could be in France by now. Would
    his mum welcome him? He‟d be heartbroken if she didn‟t.
    Suddenly he needed his own mum. He went to the bathroom to pick up his
    clothes and get his mobile from his pocket. He bought new ones regularly, always
    getting different numbers and disposing of the old ones so he could phone his mum.
    She had never seen his flat, never had a number to reach him. When he brought her
    to London, he stayed in a hotel with her. She liked that better anyway; it was a
    treat for her. He lay down on the bed on top of the duvet and pressed her number.
    “Hello?” She sounded sleepy.
    “Hello, Mum, how are you?”
    “Kael, love! You haven‟t phoned me in weeks.” The instant pleasure in her
    voice made his eyes prick with unfamiliar tears.
    “Sorry, Mum, I‟ve been busy. Were you sleeping?”
    “I‟m awake now. How are you then? You sound upset.” She always knew.
    “Yeah, I am.”
    “What‟s up?”
    “Mum, I‟m in love,” he said very quietly.
    “Awww, that‟s nice, son. So”—she paused—“is it a fella?”

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    “Of course it‟s a fella. You know I‟m gay.”
    “All right, love, don‟t get annoyed with me; I‟m just asking. You told me you
    were like that, but then you‟ve never said you were seeing anyone. So what‟s he like
    then? Tell me all about him.”
    “He‟s lovely. He‟s really sweet, and he loves me.”
    “What are you so upset about then, love?” she asked.
    “He‟s left me, Mum.”
    “Left you?” For a half a minute neither of them spoke. “Kael, don‟t take this
    the wrong way, son, but were you kind to him?”
    He sat up. “What do you mean, kind?”
    “It‟s the way you come across, Kael. You can be very”—he waited while she
    considered her words—“very stiff.”
    “I‟m not stiff.”
    “You are, Kael,” she said firmly. “You can be very distant, a bit „don‟t mess
    with me or I‟ll smack you one,‟ that sort of thing.”
    “I see.” He did see. He was beginning to see more and more what he was like.
    “Were you sweet with him and lovey-dovey? Did you make him feel special?
    Because fellas are no different than women that way. They like to feel special, like
    they‟re important to you.”
    He got up and went to the kitchen for another bottle of water. “He is important
    to me, Mum, very important. I don‟t think I was stiff and distant. Maybe I was. I
    took care of him though. I bought him lots of presents.”
    “Presents are lovely, but you know what I like from a man? Not that I‟ve got
    one right now, because I haven‟t.”
    “Mum, your record with men is not that great. Though come to think of it,
    mine‟s no better.”
    She laughed. “I don‟t need you to tell me that, love, but what I like is when a
    man holds me in bed and says, I love you because…and then he tells me all the nice
    things about me.”
    “Mum.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you because you‟re kind and
    you‟ve always loved me for who I am. You were always a great mum, even though
    we had no money and we moved around a lot. I love you because you never let any
    of your stupid, useless boyfriends say a wrong word to me.”
    He heard her sniff and blow her nose. “Kael, what‟s his name, your boyfriend?”
    “Angel.”
    “Aww, that‟s lovely. Why do you love him?”
    He walked back to the bedroom and lay down on Angel‟s side of the bed. He
    took Angel‟s pillow and sniffed it. The gentle sweet-boy smell filled his head. “I love
    him because he‟s spontaneous and affectionate. He holds my hand on the street, and
    he doesn‟t care who sees. He‟s says I‟m the hottest dude he‟s ever met.”

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    Fyn