Naked Hero - The Journey Away

order they’d be worn in – but now that had become complex as well. Instead of simplicity – each one the same – he had a whole variety to chose from, all different styles and designs. Oddly enough though, it helped to settle his mind, looking and deciding – coming up with a choice.
    But with the bag almost packed, there was a last minute change. A break in the ritual! That could be dangerous if superstition was allowed to play its mischievous head-messing game. Yet somehow it seemed right when he added the last item – a sealed envelope, inside which was a photograph of a perfect man. Once installed in its place of honour at the top of the bag, he went back to his wardrobe and took out another shirt which was placed at the bottom of the bag.
    Routines and ritual – but what about superstition? Was Macleod totally immune to such nonsense? Of course not! Just for luck and to cover his odds, Lewis said a quick prayer to a God he no longer believed in, crossing himself like a good Catholic at the end... And that as they say, was that!
    Another ritual was required at Melbourne Park before Lewis was able to get on with business and take to the court in the Rod Laver Arena. Within the stadium complex a room had been set aside and a small party of supporters and good-wishers had gathered, combating nerves with complimentary drinks and an array of nibbles. Lewis joined them for a few minutes before heading to the locker room, after which it would be down to him and the crowd, and any superstition he cared to take with him. There were plenty of handshakes and slaps on the back, even a few hugs and a couple of kisses. Advice was given that he’d heard before and good wishes came at him from all directions – only two men in the throng seemed a little detached, standing at opposite corners of the room.
    Lewis went to Scott first. A hand shake was offered – all very formal, all very straight.
    “This is a little awkward,” said Lewis with a smile as they shook.
    “Yeah, sorry... How are you? You didn’t seem too comfortable earlier,” Scott asked, anxiety written all over his handsome freckly face.
    “Best to get those sorts of shots out of the way with,” Lewis answered. “I think I’m all right now. How are you?”
    “Worried,” was the American’s response, “Worried about a lot of things - mainly that I might have blown it for you tonight. I was stupid – I shouldn’t have...”
    Still gripping his hand, Lewis pulled his American idol forward and wrapped his left arm round his back. “ Don’t worry about a thing, Scott,” he whispered into his ear. “Whatever is meant to be will be. We’ll have a chat later. And thank you – thank you for everything.”
    T hen he let him go.
    Like everyone else, Lee had watched all this, wondering exactly what was being said - and making his assumptions, he had to force a smile when Lewis next came to him. “Do I get a hug as well?” he cheekily asked.
    “Of course you do.”
    No need for appearances here – these men were openly queer , so it was a full embrace that they gave each other – arms round backs and cheek to cheek. “You know,” whispered Lee as he held him, “you don’t need to wear the shirt, Lewis, or win the match. He’s proud of you anyway. How could he not be?”
    “Thank you... for that; and for everything you’ve done.”
    “Good luck, mate!”
    Then he let him go as well. But Lee Porter wasn’t finished.
    “Oh Lewis! I almost forgot. I’m sure you won’t need it – but I got you this just in case.”
    He produced a small box from his jacket pocket – part of another suit which he’d bought earlier for the occasion. Lewis opened it to find a piece of lucky heather held on a silver badge, in the centre of which was a burning sun with a face on it, around which in a circle was some Latin wording.
    “I recognise this as well – it’s the same as on my dad’s kilt pin,” said Lewis on examining it.
    “The Macleod crest badge,” Lee explained. “It’s amazing what you can find in the shops in this town. A golden sun in splendour is what I was told – it seems appropriate.”
    Lewis sheepishly smiled “Thank you... And what about this: I BIRN QUHIL I SE? I suppose that’s the clan motto. Jim knows Latin...”
    “It means ‘I burn but am not consumed’,” interrupted Lee. “I looked it up. So off you go and burn up the final – shine like the golden son in splendour.”
    Routines, rituals, and most of al l