Martin’s presence had been a reminder that Opal was a woman with a husband, one she lived with, in the house she owned. Meanwhile Noah was still living at home, still occasionally having to share his bedroom with his older brother whenever he came home for the weekend.
When Martin had been caught out and Opal had remained stonily calm as he stormed out the room, it occurred to Noah how much there was about adult relationships that he still could not fathom. It was obvious that their marriage was complicated, but if he was being honest with himself, Noah wasn’t even sure what that meant, let alone what it felt like. Did she love him? Did he love her? If the answer to thosequestions was so unclear why did they continue to live together and pretend otherwise?
In that moment Noah had realised that he was out of his depth, and although their flirty conversations had felt harmless, it was now undeniable that Noah had also been flirting with a dangerously pent-up powder keg of complex emotions.
Adam had found Noah gnawing at his fingernails and lingering at the bottom of the stairs. They had gone out into the night together and walked across the grounds. They had taken their shoes and socks off, to feel the dew between their toes.
‘It’s important to ground yourself,’ was all Adam had said as he unlaced his shiny Oxfords. Noah found himself wondering where Adam got the money to buy such fancy clothes. The soles of Noah’s boots were wearing thin and the leather was scuffed to matte.
They’d not spoken much as they wandered at first aimlessly and then towards the glowing rectangle of emerald light that was the swimming pool. Adam rolled up his trousers and splashed his feet in the water. Noah found it strange to watch him do something so childish, and he noticed how his heart had started beating faster. He followed suit, and then they were sitting on the edge, hands splayed so that their little fingers were only an agonising inch from each other.
Adam had asked about his family, and Noah told him all about his mother. How stylish and funny and loving she was. Noah had long ago stopped trying to hide the fact that he was a mummy’s boy, although he did not go as far as to admit that he considered his mother his best friend.
Noah tended to get lost in the sound of his own voicesometimes, and it took him longer than it should to notice that Adam’s mood had turned. It wasn’t obvious. His attentive expression certainly didn’t give it away, but Noah could sense the cool of sadness emanating from Adam.
‘Sorry, I’ve been told I go on a bit.’ Noah was a little embarrassed, which was unusual for him, and he felt genuinely curious about Adam’s reaction, which was also unusual.
‘Don’t apologise, Noah. It is lovely how much your family means to you.’
‘What’s your family like?’ Noah had momentarily forgotten the art of conversation, as he often did. When there are two people it should be a dialogue, not a monologue!That’s what his father would say, and then his mother would giggle and scold him. Noah missed his parents, he missed his sister Nadia, he even missed Ishmail, which was the oddest of all.
‘If you mean myrealfamily, then I don’t really know anymore.’ Adam was looking down at the ripples fanning from his feet.
Noah was confused, but he knew that there was pain there, and he noticed that it made his own chest twinge with sympathy. ‘What happened?’
‘They kicked me out, I suppose, or maybe I ran away. It’s hard to remember these days – isn’t that funny?’
Adam didn’t sound like he thought it was funny at all, and Noah instinctively reached for his hand. Adam watched as Noah’s mind caught up with him and he withdrew his hand sheepishly.
Adam left his hand where it was and smiled sadly.
Noah crossed his arms in front of him.
They both stared ahead in silence for a moment.
‘I was sixteen then, and I felt so grown up, so ready to face the world and escape that house.ThatI remember. But it’s as though my brain has blanked that particular day out. One moment I was getting another hiding from the man who called himself my father and the next I was getting off the train at Waterloo.’
Noah watched the green-tinged light from the pool dance across Adam’s face in rippling shadows, and he felt something like honour. Adam was a man of few words, and he’d decided to share a precious few with Noah.
‘These days I find it hard to even remember my mother’s face.’ Adam’s expression was etched with sorrow.
Noah wanted to ask why he’d run away, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer and it seemed cruel to make Adam verbalise it, just for the sake of having something to say. Again he felt the urge to touch Adam. This time he resisted.
‘Where did you go?’ Noah said eventually.
‘I went to find my uncle. He was notorious in my household.’ Adam smiled at the memory. ‘I think they hoped it would somehow turn me back; that if they detailed his debauchery in enough detail I would see the light and repent for my own wayward thoughts. But it had the opposite effect.’
Adam turned to Noah. ‘I thought:if that’s what the life of a sinner looks like, sign me up!’ They both laughed, Adam more heartily than Noah.
At some point they’d headed back into the house, walking side by side, but close enough to each other that their hands occasionally brushed. They’d parted at the top of the stairs, and Noah was taken aback by Adam drawing him into a hug. Adam was tall, so Noah found his chin resting close to thenape of Adam’s neck. He couldn’t help but breathe him in, cedarwood, a hint of grapefruit, something sweet like cardamom and that intoxicating hit of the unidentifiable. The Adam of it. Body and sweat and hot blood flowing beneath panting skin.
Noah thought about that smell now, as he watched Adam strut over to the cassette player and hit play, the clash of the cymbal announcing the opening brass intro of ‘Jungle Boogie’.
‘This is the song that was playing when I was reborn,’ Adam called over the music as he positioned himself back in the middle of the room and began to tap his foot to the beat. ‘My father Joshua gave birth to me in Stallions, if you’re wondering …’ he added before dropping into the splits.
Noah was by no means a seasoned theatre goer. His formative associations with it were the pantomimes he’d been to as a child at the Birmingham Hippodrome, but he was pretty sure that what they were watching escaped the bounds of genre.
Adam’s toned limbs moved sometimes in long languid motions. At other times they beat and punched the air and ground with meticulous yet off-kilter rhythm. His dancing was in partnership with the music, and then all at once it was in conflict. The result was a performance that inspired a sense of awe, but also sparked something like infuriation, a desire for Adam to conform, to stick to one style, one shape, one digestible version of himself.
