The Gay Delusion

24: The Grub Delusion

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24: The Grub Delusion

'Come back soon, won't you, darling?' Mum asked, giving my shoulders a squeeze. There was conflict on her face as she almost went in for an actual embrace, but wasn't quite brave enough to go the whole way and give me one.

Leaning in and deciding that sod it, life was too short, I decided to wrap my arms around her waist and give her a hug myself, closing my eyes and breathing in her rosy, mumsy scent. 'I'll be back at Christmas, if not before,' I promised, drawing away. My head was an unusual jumble of nostalgia and hope. 'Two months, max, before you'll be seeing this glorious face again.'

'Or maybe we could come up and see you? We don't often have an excuse to head back to the city,' Mum suggested, which actually managed to astound me. It wasn't a possibility I had ever entertained before.

'I would love that,' I said earnestly, feeling my face soften from the initial expression of surprise to one of sincere joy. Turning to Alec, I gave him a swift peck on each side of his face. 'See you soon too, Al.'

'Bye love,' he said in his endearingly gruff voice. It was dark out now, nearing nine o'clock in the evening, but I imagined his cheeks would have turned a little pink at my unexpected gesture of affection - Alec was that sort of man. 'See you soon.'

'Definitely.'

I waved them back into the house as I got into my little car, insisting that it was too cold and too dark for them to be standing outside for this long without coats. Our little farewell had been longer and more emotional than perhaps any of us had anticipated, but it just added to the feeling of belonging I had suddenly, unpredictably found here over the last two days.

Checking the time on my phone one last time before setting off, I put it down on the passenger seat and slid the key into the ignition. However, I hesitated for just a split second before picking up the phone again and opening a blank text message, typing a message out in the spur of the moment.

Hey, can we meet up at some point before work tomorrow? (Draft, Saved 20:58)

If I sent the text now, given that it wasn't too late in the evening, Griffin would probably see it at some point before he went to bed. One thing I didn't have a clue about, however, was whether or not he would give me a reply. Because as much as I would have liked to see him, there was a pretty good chance that Griffin would have liked to see me fall down a hole and never come out of it.

Even though Griffin had demonstrated that he had cared for me, it was difficult to gauge how much he would care now, for a person who had lied to his face so blatantly on so many occasions. Little embers of the times we had shared still danced in my mind, lighting up memories like us going to the theater, him defending me when a wild Corinne had appeared at the work party back in August, and most prominently, The Kiss. But then I would remember the way his face contorted with anger the last time he had looked at me, full of so much hurt - all of which I had caused.

Deciding against sending the text, I simply put my phone down again.

The flat was empty when I got home a couple of hours later, calling out Nova's name and not hearing a response.

A post-it was on the kitchen counter where I usually set down my keys, a quick glimpse and read of it letting me know Nova was out and wouldn't be back tonight. A small stack of homemade cupcakes was next to the little piece of sticky orange paper, and I briefly wondered when Nova had taken up baking. It must have been something she picked up in Australia, considering she used to make cakes with things like bacon and onions in them when we were younger. Her cooking "talents" - a phrase used very loosely - were so non-existent that our Home Ec teacher had even tried to get her kicked out of the class when we were back in high school.