Page 40 of Freddie

“Fucks your face like that for? Looks like someone took away your toys,” my Da tells me without so much as a greeting.

“Cheers, Da. Was hoping you pointing out my blotchy face would make me feel better,” I say while rolling my eyes.

“Let me see, move your arse over. Zoom out. No, that’s in. Aw fucking bloody, give it here,” my Ma moans as she sorts out the FaceTime call so I can see them both. They’re basically on top of one another on the living room couch. It’s raining outside the window behind them, and the light is making it hard to see their actual faces, but I don’t have the energy to sort them out so I don’t mention it.

“Right, what’s happened? You look fucking awful, son,” my Ma says with a sympathetic smile.

“Met a guy. He’s a dick,” I whine as I plop down on the sofa.

“Why’s he a dick? Want me to fly over there and kick his wee backside in?” I actually huff a laugh at that. My Da would fight anyone for me. Despite being a tiny fifty something year old skinny guy with a potbelly.

“No one needs battered. Unless they do, Freddie, and then I’ll come too,” my Ma says with a wink.

“No, please don’t come batter him. We just argued, and I kicked him out. Raging too, cause he made food and now it’s gone to waste and I’m starving,” I groan, rubbing the stubble on my chin as I think about whether the chicken salad will still be okay to have later.

“Well, what was the argument about? If you love him, you’ll set it straight. We didn’t raise an arsehole, so apologise when you see him next.”

“Hey, it was him that was the arsehole!”

“And why was he being an arsehole?” My Ma asks as she gives me that look. The one that tells me she can spot when someone is bullshitting her.

“Fine. We argued because he saw me come home with boxes and thought I was moving back to Scotland, and then I kicked him out because he said some horrible things about me.”

My Ma and Da just look at me then at one another. A wee nod in some telepathic conversation that only ancient married couples can do with one another, and then they’re turning back to me.

“Freddie. Did you tell this boy that you’re coming home? Is that why he was raging?”

“No, Da,” I say, knowing what’s coming next.

“Right. So how is he to know then?”

“Ugh. Good point. But I actually don’t know if I’m coming home. I can’t lead him on then ditch him when I decide.”

“Right, but what are you coming home for?”

I open then close my mouth several times as my parents wait on an answer from me.

Why would I go home? Huh.

Well, I guess I miss my family. I was super lonely when I got here. But I suppose that’s not the case now. I have Simmons. Then there’s Jamie, Arnie, Craig from the pool. Kody and some others from Nyctra. How had I ended up with an entire community around me and not realised that I had found a home in each of them?

“Freddie. You’re awful smart, son, but you’re sitting there catching flies with your mouth open like that. We love you, but you’re a grown boy. We aren’t saying you can’t come home, but you have to do what’s right for you. And if we are honest, your sisters are enough bother without you coming home and adding to it. Decision is yours, but with all this techno-oncology now, we can see you every day if we want,” Ma tells me.

It’s clear they both love me and want what’s right for me, even if their version of it is a little unconventional, but I get it. I’ve always needed to fly the nest and carve my own path. Why not stay and do that here? It’s got everything and everyone I want. Nodding, and finally closing my mouth, I smile at the two people I love the most in the world.

“You both make good arguments. Let me see what my big boyfriend says if we even get back together, and I’ll update you both. What were you phoning for, anyway?”

“Och, mind that boy we told you about that Benji was seeing? Well, his Ma was in the shop the other day and was telling me he’s run off! I’m assuming you know he and Benji split up, but wasn’t sure you knew that the boy he was seeing had packed up and run off somewhere. No one knows where, but rumour has it he was a wee shite and something bad has come back to bite him. Hope your Benji is alright. Lovely boy. Used to help us when you were travelling. Haven’t seen him in ages now.”

As my Ma rambles on, I take stock of what she’s telling me. I haven’t heard from Benji in weeks. Before that, it’s been one-word answers, and he had stopped taking my calls. I had assumed he was in loved up paradise with his beau, but the creeping feeling sinking into my skin is telling me I maybe should have checked in with him more.

After some more local town gossip, we hang up, and I immediately dial Benji. No answer. After four missed calls, I leave a voicemail asking him his whereabouts, if he is safe, and that I’ll fly home if I have to if he’s not okay.

What a mess of a day. Plans to confess my love to Simmons have fallen through, and now my best friend might be in trouble because I was too busy being selfish, like Simmons said, and not paying attention to what Benji might have been going through. After messaging a couple of old school friends online who also haven’t heard from Benji, I consider reaching out to some of his regular clients but with confidentiality and me not knowing if Benji is even still working in that line of work after him telling me it was disgusting last time I was home; I decide to call it a night and eat the salad. It’s still delicious, and I curse Simmons for being so perfect.

Just as I grab a bottle of water and start turning off lights for the night, a small rapt on the door gets my attention. It happens again, but it’s so light that I at first think a mouse is scratching up my door, but then it happens a third time and I hear a mumbled voice. Who would be here if not Simmons at this time? Jamie and Arnie are on some sex vacation and all my other friends would have texted first. Maybe it’s the front desk?

But as I pull open the heavy door and come face to face with my best friend, I think of how bad my day was and how ridiculous it all seems now when Benji is standing in front of me with his face almost unrecognisable from the bruises, cuts and tears.