THIRTY-SIXJuly 11, 2018“What in the buggery is going on over there?” asked Danny’s mother. She leaned close enough to the camera for her face to fill the entire Skype screen, which sometimes froze and kaleidoscoped into squares. “You’ve lost so much weight!”“It’s t-t-the he-heat, Mum.”“Humidity’s a killer over here, Bev,” Aiden added. “All you do is sweat day in, day out.”“Don’t go getting heatstroke, boys,” Danny’s father said, fighting for airtime. “It happened to me once on Chinaman’s Beach. Thought my head was going to explode. I came over all shivery, too. It knocks you about, for sure.”“I’m b-b-be-being s-safe,” Danny said, the last annunciation coming out pained. His words were more barbed than usual today, not that Aiden blamed him. There was something about these two old people that churned their anxieties. It was odd, too, Aiden thought, that he considered them as being more advanced in years than they were. Something about the way they fussed and contorted their
THIRTY-FIVEAiden didn’t tell Danny about that stabbing sensation.Not then.He kept this information to himself and crawled into bed fifteen minutes later, shame-faced, clutching the novel he’d been attempting to get through since arriving in Thailand. Not that he was reading it, mind you. His thoughts were a jumble of diagnoses and rationalizations.If it’s a urinary tract infection, I’ll bloody scream.Wait ’til tomorrow. It could be a one-off kind of thing. That happens.What if it’s a kidney stone?Mate, just stop.Aiden placed the book down on the bedside table and rolled over to spoon Danny, who was still playing on his phone with his back to him. “Tell me how much I should be worrying about you,” Aiden whispered. “Please, just tell me.”The phone clicked off.“I’m j-just guh-going through a r-rough patch is all.” Danny’s stutter, as was always the case post-beer, was less pronounced.“I want to keep you safe.”“I know. I ap-preciate it.” A gecko sounded from somewhe
THIRTY-FOURJuly 19, 2018“Sir, you have tested positive to chlamydia,” said the nurse on the phone.Aiden imagined her face glancing up from her clipboard, the curve of her cheek catching the afternoon light seeping through the windows of the sexual health clinic he’d been sitting in eight days earlier, a place the doctor at the hospital referred him to, ‘just in case it’s not a UTI’. Aiden couldn’t tell if the woman on the phone was the same person who had run the procedure, although she sounded familiar.Green eyes. A deadpan tone.He sat back in his office chair, the imitation leather creaking. Aiden blinked, leaned forward again, volume dropping. “I don’t really know how that could be.”“Excuse me, sir? I don’t—”“I mean, are you sure?”Aiden laughed.“Sure? Yes, sir.”“Right then.”“Treatment is easy. I’ll prescribe you a course of antibiotics. Take two pills a day for three weeks. It’s a bigger course because you have tested positive in your penis and in your throat.
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
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
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.
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
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