Idiopathy

with the shopping bags, have at some stage in their lives had sex.
    He was, he had to admit, worried. There was a sense of events and people descending; a flurry of unbidden arrivals. He could, of course, have refused to have anything to do with them, but doing so would have run contra to his sense of doing the right thing, and would have made him feel guilty, and it hadn’t seemed worth it. He remembered other times Nathan had visited: always faintly awkward, a little disappointing, but also, in light of Daniel and Katherine’s increasing isolation, so needed. Daniel spent most of those evenings trying not to look too out of it while at the same time wanting to get completely out of it, usually leading to an early retreat to the comparative safety of the bedroom in order to focus more closely on the elliptical nature of the ceiling’s orbit. Nathan never openly teased, but the judgement was clearly there. Daniel couldn’t hold his substances, and where Nathan was concerned, that was something of a barrier to true empathy.
    Poor Nathan. Daniel couldn’t help thinking it, and wanted to think it a few times before Nathan arrived in the hope that he might be able to get it out of his system.
Poor Nathan
. Daniel supposed that with anyone else there would be the usual questions, the hows and whys and wherefores, but with Nathan such uncertainties seemed somewhat moot. Of course what had happened had happened. It was, Daniel thought, part of the reason that being around him had been exciting: the sense of borrowed time; of upcoming inevitability. You couldn’t live as Nathan lived indefinitely. Everyone knew that. Everyone could see it. More than likely Nathan could see it too. It was probably why he did it. But still. Poor guy.
    There would, Daniel thought, be a proper way of handling this. He would have liked very much to know what it was.

    B efore ringing the doorbell Nathan spent roughly four minutes standing in Daniel’s small front garden going through a series of checks not dissimilar to the ritualised switch-throwing of a pilot preparing for takeoff. He smoothed the front of his jacket; tugged his cuffs free of his sleeves; ate a mint; took three deep breaths; rolled his shoulders; straightened his stance and pressed the small round button for the bell with a slow, deliberate motion that he hoped would lead to a strong, confident ring from the doorbell. Sadly, Daniel’s doorbell appeared to be playing up and what resulted was more along the lines of a computerised glitch or synthesised approximation of a chime, giving his arrival exactly the sort of hesitancy he’d hoped to avoid and necessitating a further press of the button out of concern that the strangled sound had not been audible, which as it turned out it had, because Daniel opened the door just as Nathan was removing his finger from the second press, catching him standing rather too close to the door with his finger raised and throwing him off guard just enough to lead to his hello being slightly too loud and an uncomfortable failed exchange whereby Daniel and Nathan fell into an awkward and momentarily unbreakable sync.
    ‘Hi,’ they both said. ‘How are you? Good. I’m good. How are you? Good.’
    Then Daniel reached for Nathan’s bag, which Nathan misinterpreted as Daniel stepping aside to usher him in, leading to a mutually baffling moment where Nathan advanced towards Daniel, who then appeared to block his passage.
    ‘Sorry,’ they chorused. ‘No, it’s OK.’
    ‘Come in,’ said Daniel firmly.
    The front room smelled deeply of incense, as if joss sticks were lit so frequently that their scent had impregnated the wooden floors. Judging by the inch or so of visible leather, the two generous sofas were expensive, but both were covered with heavy knitted throws in patchworked rainbow colours, on top of which perched a variety of cushions in a range of sizes and fabrics. A large mirror on the wall was trimmed with intricate beading.
    ‘Very nice,’ said Nathan.
    ‘Hi,’ said Daniel, spreading his arms. ‘Thanks.’
    They hugged awkwardly. Daniel seemed reluctant to exert any pressure.
    ‘You look well,’ said Daniel as they both stepped back.
    ‘You too,’ said Nathan. ‘This place suits you.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Daniel, with a cursory wave of his hand. ‘It’s all Angelica.’
    Nathan smiled. ‘Anyway,’ he said.
    Daniel pointed at Nathan’s bag. ‘You’re in the spare room,’ he said. ‘Do you want to take that up?