‘I’ve had it before.’
Luis pressed for the details.
‘I’m in my school swimming pool. It’s a normal class except I see a door in the wall that wasn’t there in real life, like a prison cell door. I climb out of the pool, walk over, turn the handle and pass through. On the other side is a mirror copy of the school swimming pool except this pool is empty, no students, no teacher, no noise. The air is cold. The water is still. I notice somebody submerged in the deep end, so I dive in to rescue them only to come face to face with myself. The dead-me is fixed in a silent scream. That’s when I wake up, screaming for real.’
Luis put his hand on Danny’s leg.
‘Maybe you’ll never have that dream again.’
The observation surprised Danny. The nightmare dated back to his schooldays and recurred at times of stress. He presumed it would be with him until the day that he died. He asked why Luis thought it might stop.
‘Mine stopped. In my nightmare I was on the beach in Cádiz, on lifeguard duty, and someone out at sea was struggling so I ran into the water to save them but when I reached them, they pushed me away. They wouldn’t let me touch them. And they drowned. I returned to the beach and everyone from my town was standing there asking why I had let that man drown. And I told them – he didn’t want to be saved by me.’
Danny asked, ‘When did it stop?’
Luis replied, ‘After I met you.’
Danny had booked comfortable accommodation for their first night in Glasgow, at the Blythswood Square Hotel, an elegant row of converted Georgian townhouses. After five hours on a train Luis was keen to stretch his legs and spend the afternoon exploring the city. As a traveller, Luis’s view was that adventures were infrequent and though people often believe that one day they might return to see the sights they missed they almost never do. His go-to case study, quoted like legal precedent, described how, on histwentieth birthday, he went trekking in Nepal with his best friend from school. The pair of them reached the end of the Langtang trek where they attempted a day hike without ropes or a guide, scrambling up mountain scree to peer across the snow-capped ridge towards the Tibetan border. Halfway up, his friend felt sick, possibly from the altitude and, unable to ascend any higher, Luis escorted him back down to the trekking lodge, forgoing his chance to see over the mountain into Tibet. Safely in the lodge his friend promised that one day they would return together to complete this climb. But after Luis came out, his friend cut contact with him. All Luis could think was that he had given up a glimpse of Tibet for that guy. As a result, whenever he travelled, he drew up lists of the most important places to visit to avoid feelings of regret. ‘Imagine you’ll never come back, and there are no second chances,’ he would say. Danny was more than happy to follow Luis’s lists. Over the years they had taken them to temples, ruins and summits. On this trip he hoped Luis would realize that marriage belonged on their must-do list, that it too was one of life’s great adventures not to be missed.
First on Luis’s Glasgow itinerary was the Gothic cathedral, the oldest building in the city. Luis and Danny avoided talking about faith – like they avoided talking about their families. Afterwards they enjoyed a lecture on Scottishwhisky at a local distillery. While Luis asked smart questions Danny became tipsy drinking the free samples. That night at a restaurant recommended by the hotel for its locally sourced ingredients, including Highland deer and loch lobster, Luis spotted an omission in their itinerary.
‘On the final day of trekking it looks like we’re not climbing to the top of Ben Nevis? Is that right?’
Danny had been so fixated on the proposal he had forgotten the summit. Luis took out the map, unfolding it.
‘It seems crazy to miss the views. Don’t you think?’
Danny nodded. Luis’s finger moved across the map, illustrating a possible new route.
‘If we start early from Kinlochleven we can reach Fort William by midday. We then head to Achintee. From the Visitor Centre we follow the path to the top. An easy fix.’
Picking at his food Danny began amending his plans. He couldn’t propose at the summit of Ben Nevis, there would be hundreds of tourists. They would cheer, clap, film it on their phones, post it online under the header ‘Gay Wedding Proposal at the top of Ben Nevis!’ No, he would find a secluded spot before the climb, on the route from Kinlochleven to Fort William. In his mind the proposal had been the summit, metaphorically speaking. Now it would be overshadowed by an actual summit. Having lost his appetite, he put down his fork.
That night Danny and Luis had sex and it was perhaps a little perfunctory but it had been a long day and Danny wouldn’t have read anything into it except for the fact that he was about to propose. What did it mean to ask someone to marry you if the best years of your sex life were in the past? Perhaps he needed to accept that this was a reality of marrying so late into a relationship and he shouldn’t make a big deal out of it. After the passion and athleticism of the first few months, the sex had become more vulnerable and emotionally intense as they began to trust each other more. Luis grew up believing fleeting anonymous encounters were the only possibility for gay men. In contrast, Danny always preferred waking up with his dates since they were often better company in the morning, the conversation was truer over cornflakes than it was over cocktails, revealing glimpses of their hopes and fears before they raised their defences and braved the world. His challenge had been that the more he wanted them to stay, the more they wanted to leave. Until he met Luis, he truly believed that he was a one-night stand and nothing more. A single-use body.
Looking back, the years after Luis and Danny moved in together were the high-water mark sexually. More than beautiful bodies and dirty talk, sex had been an expression that they were a team. They discussed everything and tried most things. The most vivid sexual memories were at the weekends in between redecorating the apartment in theirpartial shell of a bathroom or kitchen with torn-down walls and exposed wires. It felt the same way between them – torn-down barriers, simultaneously building a home and a partnership. Abiding by a conventional chronology it was the point at which they should have married. Danny wondered if marriage would create a new high-water mark or merely make them nostalgic for the one they’d missed.
While Luis slept Danny lay awake, restless in the unfamiliar hotel warmth, bothered by too many blankets, pillows and the fact that he had neglected the summit from their plans. He was about to get out of bed to open the window when Luis woke, sensing that Danny was ill at ease. Without a word, understanding what was required, he stood up, opening the window and allowing in a breeze, standing naked by the window as the temperature dropped. Once the room was cool, he returned to bed.
‘Better?’
Danny agreed.
‘Better.’
Luis lay an arm across Danny’s chest and fell back to sleep. And out of nowhere the thought occurred to Danny that the real reason he was asking Luis to marry him was to find out why he would say no.
Chapter TwelveA Fuss
On the third morning their Highlands hiking holiday hit a snag. August was peak season for midges, swarms of biting bugs Danny figured could be held at bay with insect repellent. But these midges were ferocious and for whatever reason they concentrated on Luis. The bites were so persistent they sought the guest lodge owner’s advice, who sold them an old-fashioned bottle of Avon ‘Skin So Soft’ bath oil which he claimed was used by the British Special Forces training in the Highlands. Luis had lain on the bed while Danny tended to each bite, rationing the small tube of hydrocortisone cream, carefully daubing each red dot while trying not to focus his attention on Luis’s ring finger now swollen with welts. Neither of them had slept with Luis in discomfort and Danny preoccupiedwith the question of whether he should delay or cancel the proposal.
Thankfully the oil proved to be an effective protective barrier. The sticky layer made it impossible for the midges to attack and Luis treated being greased up with good humour. Danny joked that despite being middle-aged they had discovered a new kink. With magnificent views in prospect and a clear blue sky they hoped the difficult period was behind them. The walking was magnificent, made more pleasurable by the fact they were only carrying a small backpack between them, with the day’s provisions, grilled cheese sandwiches and home-baked oat bars. Danny was paranoid about losing the engagement ring which he hid in the first-aid kit as Luis was unlikely to open it since he trusted anything medical to Danny.
After twenty miles they arrived at the Bridge of Orchy, their resting point for the night. Both were in better spirits and eager to shower, rinse the oil from their bodies and enjoy a hearty dinner, looking forward to an unbroken sleep. Adding to their improved mood, that night’s guest lodge was an ancient granite-walled farmhouse, the most charming and characterful so far. At reception a woman checked their details against her handwritten register. A note was affixed to their reservation. As she read it her mood elevated from professionally polite to exuberant. She explained that she was allocating them the most romantic room in thefarmhouse with views of Beinn Dorain. Insisting on personally escorting them to their room, she mentioned that one of her close school friends was gay and that he had stayed in this room with his boyfriend and they had found it suitable for ‘all their needs’. It was so earnest and kind-hearted that Danny stifled a laugh. As soon as they were alone Luis asked why she was behaving that way. Danny confessed, ‘I spoke to the travel agency. I let them know that we’re a gay couple. I wanted to make sure no one had an issue with it.’
Luis countered, ‘Except you made an issue out of it.’
Ordinarily Danny would defuse most disagreements; he hated arguments and rarely felt the need to be proven right, but on this subject he dug in.
