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Thirty-four
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House of Sighs Thirty-three
THIRTY-THREEDanny, too, was in transit.He took a swig from a water bottle that didn’t contain water.Fiery gin. Its safe warmth.The tuk-tuk pulled up by the curb, engine purring. Danny stepped onto the street. Hot sunshine against his neck. Nausea thrummed as he paid the driver. He didn’t bother with the change, nor did he care that he’d been overcharged. The cart puttered away, merged with traffic rocketing by at three times its pace, motorcycles swarming, some toting four people to a seat. That was Thailand for you, he thought and almost immediately forgot.He spun around and faced Wat Pho, the Buddhist temple complex in the Phra Nakhon District on Rattanakosin Island, just south of the Grand Palace. Danny had come here on his first trip to Bangkok over twenty years ago, and dressed now in a pair of culturally appropriate trousers, he entered the grounds again, this time at the age of forty-two.Pigeons took to the air. Twirling feathers. Stray dogs lounged in the shadows of
House of Sighs Thirty-two
THIRTY-TWODanny explored the temple grounds. He hadn’t eaten in the end.The old woman’s licorice-scented words followed him down every avenue, into every gold-gilded tabernacle.Eat the part that hurts.His nausea returned as he looped around to stand before the reclining Buddha, surrounded by twenty tourists taking photographs, a tangle of selfie-sticks and shawls given to them at the front gate to cover the parts of their bodies considered undignified to reveal in such a place. Languages volleyed back and forth.Snapping camera lenses.Wailing children.They’re like seagulls, Danny thought with a dash of contemptuousness. Their feathers bristled against him as he tried to wiggle free, beaks stabbing. Not around him. At him. He couldn’t tell if it was the gin or the heat or the fact that he was a wreck of his former self, but something was wrong.The temple began to revolve. Colors greased together. Earbuds slipped free and squawks and bell chimes slipped through. The air tu
House of Sighs Thirty-one
THIRTY-ONE“No! No! No! No!” screamed the stranger.Danny’s unfocussed eyes bounced from face to face. They were crowded over him. A woman fanned him with a map. Another person offered water from a plastic drink bottle. He noticed his reflection distorted and pale in the curve of their sunglasses as they bent to help. Anxiety twisted, chest tightening.“No,” shouted the stranger again, this time slapping Danny’s hand away.“G-get o-ooooff m-me,” he said. “DON’T.”Danny glanced at his fingers almost by accident, still reeling from having been touched in such a way by someone he didn’t know, and saw the bloody gum of torn skin under his nails. He stopped, still as the city that no longer was. In that part of him where the light flickered to reveal smiles before, there now issued a second spark, only the light was blue this time. Cold, and burning.The light was pain.Danny had been scratching at his scars.
House of Sighs Thirty
THIRTYAiden stood when keys turned in the door, as ready as he imagined he ever could be for the confrontation to come. He’d played the scene in his head of course, knew how it might go down, maybe even mustering a bit of self-pride along the way as his under-the-breath rehearsals hatched into realities. A man could hope, after all—even if Aiden didn’t recognize said man in the end.Bloody hell, here we go.The door unhinged from the lock, painted wood catching the light. Opening slow, the quiet entry of someone who didn’t want to be seen. Well, too bad, mate. I’m here. Waiting.Always fucking waiting.Danny stumbled into the room.Aiden’s anger derailed at the sight of bandages protruding from beneath the collar of his partner’s loose-fitting shirt. Red splotches on the fabric between his breasts.“What happened?” Aiden asked.He was desperate to hug the man—he was hurt, damn it—but knew he had to stand his ground. For a bit longer, at least. Long enough for Danny to know tha
House of Sighs Twenty-nine
TWENTY-NINEDanny listened to Aiden’s breathing change some hours later.Asleep at last.He was certain, if given a choice, Aiden would have remained awake to spite him, as though to say, ‘Look at the toll this is taking on me—I’ve got to work tomorrow!’ This was one of his partner’s most passive-aggressive traits. Still, Danny couldn’t blame him. Not now. Not on this particular night.Not after what he’d done.The snores came just the same.Danny contemplated slipping out of the apartment altogether. Running. It would be so easy. As to where he would end up, there was no way to know. Or maybe he didn’t care. Were Bangkok’s jaws to part and swallow him alive, who would notice?I’m not worth it.He thought back to the vision of the empty city. It had been good to be alone. Invisible. Assimilate with that nothingness. This was his challenge. Where there was nothingness there was no aching.I can’t go on this way. It’s not—Danny deliberated. It was important he get the next wor
House of Sighs Twenty-eight
TWENTY-EIGHTTie knotted. Or strangled. Shirt tucked in. Or forced. Suit blazer slipped on, and this Aiden did with a sigh.Morning had finally come and he strode out of the bedroom to find Danny at the kitchen table, sitting on one of the chairs that came with the apartment, staring into nowhere. He stole a breath and found the air clammy with the richness of unwashed, sweaty skin. The smell of yesterday.“Enough is enough,” Aiden said and walked to the living room window. “I’m sick and tired of this place being in complete bloody lock-down.”He yanked the shutters open and slid the window into its recess. The fly screen mesh gasped as humid, but at least fresher, oxygen rushed into the space. Light cast their shadows over the opposite wall; Aiden’s stretched from floor to ceiling, whilst Danny’s doubled over.No response from the breeze, from the sun, or from his words. This didn’t surprise Aiden much. That wouldn’t stop him—it couldn’t. After waking to find the bed empty, he’d
House of Sighs Twenty-seven
TWENTY-SEVEN“Michael?”They sat on kitchen chairs, only there was no table. No kitchen, either. No apartment. The clearing was surrounded by trees, a mesh of branches curving up and sideways like the miss-matched teeth of wolves; and as a wolf howls, so too did the wind. It blew and the trees applauded, perhaps amused by this tableau, their bone-dry clapping making Michael chill all over. It was an awful, dead sound, both there and not there, here, in this place of unease and hush. Rain petered, cool against Michael’s skin. The clouds bloated, almost infected looking swirls of grey and green that admitted little in the way of light.He lifted his head.It wasn’t Aiden sitting across from him. It was her.This failed to shock him. Of course, it was going to end like this. All those days and months and years of mending. Even the toughest threads fray, given time.It’s. Not. Your. Fault.Yes, he’d heard Aiden, but it didn’t make sense until he saw the woman. She was propped up in
House of Sighs Twenty-six
TWENTY-SIXAiden jolted. Danny screamed at his touch.He felt his partner quivering. Fear through and through. Primal. All Aiden could think to do was hold him tighter than ever before.Wrong move.Danny snapped around and drove his fist into Aiden’s throat. Winded, he stumbled backwards, ass thudding the couch a few yards from the table. He couldn’t tell if it was shock or anger or a hurricane of both but Aiden charged. It was like he was on the football field in the Lismore Under 22s again. Earth churning beneath his boots. Ball in hand.He tackled Danny to the ground, chair clapping the floorboards.
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