Page 20 of Crying in the Rain
A chuckle slipped its way past Ade’s hopelessness and escaped as a snotty bubble into his palm. He lowered his hands but kept his eyes closed, listening to Mary pootling around. They’d been neighbours since he moved here twelve years ago, so she’d witnessed a lot of what Ade had been through with Fergus, or heard it at least, and called the police so often it was a wonder they hadn’t blocked her number. They’d turn up, tell Ade and Ferg to tone it down and leave again because the few times when Ade was visibly injured and they’d charged Fergus, Ade had refused to testify and the magistrates had had to let him go.
“Here you are.” Mary squashed a clump of toilet paper into his hands and set a glass down on the table beside him.
“Thanks.” He blew his nose and dried his eyes, still sniffling. “Sorry about this.”
“Eh, no need for a brave face here, lad, Sometimes we just need to let go, get it all out. Did he hurt you again? The other night?”
Ade couldn’t bring himself to answer, not consciously, but to his horror, he felt his head move up and down in a nod. Cat out of the bag, he touched his jaw.
Mary bent in front of him, squinting through her glasses. “Oh, Ade.” She straightened up and tottered off again, returning with an ancient-looking brown jar.
“What’s that?”
“Muscle balm. Smashing stuff, this. Takes the swelling down in no time.” She unscrewed the lid and held out the jar. “Scoop some up with your fingers, rub it on.”
Reluctantly, Ade poked a fingertip into the greasy gloop.
“That’s it. Get a good dollop,” Mary encouraged. Ade complied and rubbed the balm over the bruises, catching a whiff of mentholand eucalyptus. It would all be stuck in his stubble, but he wasn’t sure it mattered.
“Thanks, Mary.” He wiped the residue on the toilet paper and looked around for a bin.
“Here.” Mary took it from him and handed him the glass of water, watching him drink as if she expected him to refuse or choke on it. He swallowed and smiled glibly. She sighed and sat next to him. “What are you going to do, lovey?”
“I…I don’t know.” He felt so defeated. Admittedly, his hope that Fergus would be gone by now had been a long shot, but he really hadn’t expected this. At worst, he’d thought he’d have to lie, say he needed to go back to work but could drop Fergus at home first, which was why he’d suggested meeting Kris near where he lived. Fergus had followed him out before and caused an almighty scene in a restaurant. In retrospect, it was almost comical, as the chef had come out of the kitchen, wielding his cleaver and yelling in Cantonese until Fergus left the premises.
That was the last time Ade had tried dating, nearly four years ago, because it had been easier to cope with living half a life if he ignored the missing other half. But that connection he’d felt with Kris, sharing a drink, chatting…it had him remembering and hoping and wanting. And it gave him courage.
Ade wiped his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision.
“I’m going to talk to him,” he told Mary and stepped past her, out onto the balcony, where he had a clear line of sight.
“Fergus.”
He had his back to Ade, but he’d have heard him.Ignorant bastard.
“Fergus!”
He lifted the wine bottle to his lips and swigged. Ade’s hair bristled with anger.How dare you drink MY wine!
“I’ll be at the front door in thirty seconds. You need to go and open it.”
The response was delayed by Fergus’s state of inebriation, but he did finally twist to look in Ade’s direction, his head wobblingas he tried to focus. He looked like a haggard old drunk, a life gone unrecoverably wrong.
“I’m coming now,” Ade said, his voice calm and emotionless. It was hard reining in his anger, but any love he’d been clinging to had been crushed with this morning’s cigarette. “Did you hear me, Fergus?”
“Fuck you,” Fergus spat and turned away again.
“You will open the door.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll call the police.”
That seemed to get through, as Fergus leaned both hands on the patio table and swayed up onto his feet then swung, almost gorilla-like, to the doorjamb and flung himself inside the apartment.
Ade turned back and saw Mary’s worried expression. “He won’t start anything,” he assured her. “He’s too drunk.”
“Even still,” she said, not at all reassured. She followed Ade to the front door. “I’ll wait here.”
