When Karl left, Trevor had holed himself up, and the flat had become a tomb. Apart from visiting Cheryl’s place on occasion, he hadn’t felt brave enough to step out on his own.
“Sometimes,” he lied. “But I’m finally comfortable with my own company. At least you didn’t get married then get dragged through the gutters of divorce.”
“True enough.”
“All those years the gay community spent chasing marriage equality. And once we finally won the right, we totally forgot that marriage comes with that evil and twisted twin lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. We forgot that once you get the main prize, there in the wings like a vicious predator, hungry to get its fangs into anything you have and stamp on anything you ever felt, lies good old-fashioned divorce.”
“And finally Trevor’s anger raises its ugly head—”
“You think you know somebody until you’re threatening to strangle each other over throw cushions, nylon quilt covers or placemats decorated with the heads of Lenin, Mao and Che Guevara. Even a novelty penis bottle opener. I’d love to know what my replacement has made of that little gem.”
“What’s her name, by the way? This new girlfriend.”
Cheryl’s mother had asked him the same thing.
“No idea. We’ll find out tomorrow. Unless the pair of them come to their senses and decide not to show.” Trevor stared at his mug and gently shook his head. “I’m twenty-eight, Cheryl. There’s this guy the same age as me who works for one of my clients. He’s married to another man and they have a kid he walks to school each morning.”
“And your point is?”
“When am I going to grow up?”
“We, you mean. And to be honest, I hope we never do. At least you get to cross marriage off your list.” Cheryl placed the mug against her cheek and sighed deeply. “Is this trip going to be a disaster?”
“Are you giving me permission to burst into My Heart Will Go On?”
Cheryl checked her wristwatch.
“Sorry, Mac, still morning. No karaoke. Your rule, not mine.”
Once again, they grinned at each other, and Trevor felt his bravado swell through their shared humour and adversity.
“You know what, Cheryl? Your mum asked the same thing, and I’ll tell you what I told her. We’re doing this. We may not have the usual crowd, but your mum’s still serving up her amazing Christmas fare, there are plenty of rooms for privacy, and we’ll be in walking country. So if anyone starts to get on our nerves, we can find each other and go for a long walk in the glen. Or a hike to a local pub. Or go for a swim in the bloody loch for all I care.”
“I am so not packing my swimwear,” she said, horrified.
“Wimp,” he said, nudging her shoulder.
“Bloody right. But I’ll happily cheer you on as you cut a hole in the ice and dive in. I may even help you out, if you can find the hole again,” she replied with a mischievous smile. “And I am going to eat and drink whatever I want, no calorie counting and no judgement.”
“And no disagreement from me. I am with you one hundred percent.”
“God,” she said, breathing out a long sigh. “Maybe we should just get married to each other. If celebrities are alleged to be able to make marriages work, I’m sure we can. Sex isn’t everything, is it?”
Trevor took the question to be rhetorical.
“Love you as I do, Cheryl, we would only ruin a perfect friendship. We’d end up killing each other over which TV programmes to watch, acceptable toilet seat etiquette, whose turn for the karaoke machine, duvet hogging—any number of things. Besides, not only am I never getting married again, I am never falling in love. And you can quote me on that.”
“Oh, trust me, I will.”
“Now, let’s get our arses into gear. We’ve got a long road ahead. But just so you know, I’m not booking anything next year. Takes too much effort. This is definitely going to be the last.”
“Last what?”
“Last Christmas. And no, that was not your cue for a song!”
Chapter Two
2000 Miles
