Nick's duffel was ringing. It's probably the hospital, he thought. If they expected him to pick up one more shift after working twelves the last three days, they were wrong. He was a dirty, sweaty mess after rugby league, anyway. Rounding the corner to his flat, he fished for his keys in the side pocket of his bag, using one hand to extract his phone so he could see better. Sensing movement, the screen flashed on.
New Voicemail
Charlie Spring
Nick touched the screen, then anchored the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he continued trying to locate his keys.
"Hey Nick, it's Charlie," said a slightly muffled version of a familiar voice. This is new, Nick thought. They had been messaging a lot these past few weeks, but Charlie had never called him before.
"I don't really know why I'm calling. Just needed to talk, I guess. Er, I just got some news and I'm feeling a bit... weird about it. Anyway, ring me back when you can. Okay, um. Bye."
Nick had finally gotten through the front door. He dropped his bag with a thump and sat on the floor to remove his rugby boots. Edwin trotted over to sniff his duffel, collar jingling. Nick gave him a scratch behind the ears, phone still wedged against his shoulder. Charlie's line was ringing before he had loosened his laces.
He answered. "Nick, hi."
"Hi," said Nick. "What's u-"
"Can we meet?," interrupted Charlie.
"Um, sure. Yeah. Well," he looked down at his shorts and reconsidered. "I mean, I just got home from rugby. I'm sort of... filthy."
"Oh. Yeah, of course," replied Charlie, sounding like he was feeling foolish. "Sorry. I'm sure you're busy. It was unfair of me to think - "
"Want to come round mine?" It was Nick's turn to interrupt. His heart beat faster. "I should be cleaned up by the time you get here. I can text you the address."
Charlie hesitated. "Yeah. Yeah that sounds good. Um, okay. See you soon."
"See you."
Nick scrambled to his feet. He hoped he had enough time to collect himself. Hearing that something was bothering Charlie made his nerves feel like they were on fire.
***
Nick locked eyes with himself in the mirror as he combed his wet hair. He was second-guessing this now. Was it alright that he had invited Charlie to his flat? Was Charlie okay? And why had he called Nick, and not this 'partner' of his? Nick's mind raced.
The doorbell. Edwin barked twice, then three times. Nick made his way toward the sound, his bare feet padding rhythmically on the thin, striped rug that lined the hallway. He opened the door. Charlie was standing on the brick stairs leading up to his stoop, bundled in a thick winter coat and a wool hat. Probably overkill for the warm streak they had been having, thought Nick — but then again, Charlie was always cold.
"Hi."
"Hi," Charlie replied softly, his voice coloured by an emotion Nick couldn't quite place. The two men remained fixed on each other until Edwin barked again, breaking the spell. "Oh and hi to you too, Eddie!" Charlie's voice had snapped back to its usual tenor. "You're such a good boy! Yes you are!"
"Er, come in," said Nick, moving back from the doorway so that Charlie could pass through. Nick took his coat and hat and hung them on the rack by the door. "Cuppa?," he asked as Charlie removed his shoes.
"Sure, thanks," said Charlie. Nick led him into the living area, an open-concept room that was divided by a large island into a cozy sitting area and small, black and white kitchen.
"Make yourself at home," he said. Charlie took a seat on the oversized leather couch as Nick passed behind him and busied himself in the cupboards. Edwin ambled over to lay by Charlie's feet. He greeted him gratefully, relieved for the prospect of something to do with his hands.
"Milk and one sugar?," Nick asked.
Charlie smiled. "Yes, thanks."
Nick brought the mugs to the couch on a small tray and sat down. He watched Charlie prepare his tea, and then take a sip. He ached to say something, but without knowing why Charlie was here, none of the words that came to mind felt right.
Charlie set down his cup and took a deep breath. "So. I got a phone call today. Thomas — that's my partner — called me." Nick squirmed in his seat. Charlie's partner had a name.
"I was supposed to move into his place next week," Charlie continued. "But I guess he got promoted at work, and so that has... delayed things." He took another sip of tea, followed by another deep breath. "His company is sending him to run their Edinburgh office." Charlie looked down at his stocking feet. "And he wants me to go with him."
Nick felt his heart lurch, and then sink. Why was there no air in his lungs? "Oh," was all he could manage.
In response, the floodgates opened. "Thomas has planned everything already, apparently. But I don't even — it's just — it's such a big step, even moving in, let alone jetting off to another country. I mean — we've never even shared a space together. And, I have a successful business that I've built from nothing. And, I have... friends.... here." He hesitated. "It's presumptuous to think that I would just drop everything and go. Even though — I mean — we're together. We were already taking the next step — you know — moving in. We had planned... a future." He trailed off.
Charlie's eyes finally met Nick's, pleading. "I trust you. And — I just needed to talk to somebody I trust."
Nick wondered if this was what drowning felt like.
He gulped, then forced a response. "You should go, if you want to."
He wasn't sure the words came out the way they had sounded in his head. In his defense, he didn't fully understand why Charlie had called him, of all people, to discuss this — and he sure didn't want to be responsible for ruining these 'future plans' Charlie apparently had.
"You think I should go?," Charlie asked, looking surprised.
"No, I — I didn't say that. It just — you said you had these... plans." Nick didn't understand why he couldn't form coherent sentences. He tried again. "It sounds like things are... serious? With this... Thomas?" He hated the way the name felt on his lips.
"I... yeah. I guess."
Charlie looked bewildered. Whatever Nick had just said, it clearly wasn't what Charlie had anticipated. Nick felt his eyes start to get hot, and he willed himself not to cry. Did he really come here to ask my permission to move away with another man?
A strange alchemy was taking place in Nick's body. Somewhere between the lump in his throat and his frantic brain, what went in as grief was coming out as anger. Did he come here to get my blessing or something?
"Then you should stick with your plan," Nick said simply, his voice suddenly coming out as ice.
Charlie looked taken aback. He set his cup back down on the table. "I'm sorry — did I miss something? Are you... angry with me?"
"No reason to be," said Nick, coldly. He couldn't help the words spilling out. "You came here asking me about another man. I don't know what you want me to say."
Charlie paused and then spoke, his voice low and measured. "You broke up with me almost twenty years ago, Nick. You ripped my heart out of my chest, and then left. I never heard from you again."
Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Charlie, you were the one who wanted to break up," he said, raising his voice. "I thought it was what you wanted. You told me to break up with you."
Charlie stared. "And you listened."
Nick was dumbstruck. "So what, it was some sort of test?" The world was spinning now.
"The only test," Charlie shot back, emphasizing the word, "was whether we were strong enough to make it together. And I guess we weren't."
A beat.
"After all these years, you don't get to be angry when I end up with someone else."
With that, Charlie stood and walked to the door, taking his shoes and outerwear in his hands, not even bothering to put them on before opening the front door and slamming it behind him.