Chapter 21

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Chapter 21: Rally

I walked to King's Cross station and got on the Piccadilly line to go back home.  As the train pulled into Leicester Square, however, I jumped up and exited, suddenly realizing that home was the last place I wanted to be.  Ashok would be waiting for me, wanting to hear what happened, and how could I confess that I still hadn't told H. anything and still had no answer for what our relationship would be going forward?  He saw me as his hero, his protector.  I couldn't bear to have him see me as the weak, pathetic bastard I really was. Before I could even think about going home I needed something to dull my pain, and I knew I could find it in liquid form in any number of SoHo pubs.

I walked aimlessly, trying to avoid places where I might meet someone I knew.  I wanted to drown my sorrows without having to provide any explanations or accepting anyone's pity.  I finally settled on Admiral Duncan, and sat myself at one end of the front bar, away from other patrons.  The barman poured the pint of lager I requested. I downed it in several big gulps and told him to keep them coming. The second went down almost as quickly.  Since I'd skipped lunch to get to the Grimmauld house on time, the alcohol hit me fast and halfway into my third pint I began to feel light headed. Undaunted, I propped up my head with my hand and continued drinking, although at a slower pace. The bar wasn't crowded and most guys were wise enough to read my body language and leave me alone.  A couple tried to offer me other ways to forget my problems, but I sent them both away with a scowl and a barked, "Fuck off."  I was having a grand time at my pity party of one, and needed no additional company.

It was a couple of hours and countless pints later that I heard the ring of my mobile. I glanced at the display, the characters swimming in front of my eyes for a moment before I could make out Greg's name.  I gave the phone a wry smile, wondering how my best mate always seemed to know when I needed him most.  I drained the last of the beer in my glass, and picked up the phone.  

                     

"Yeah?" I answered, my voice thick. 

"Where are you?"   

"Admiral Duncan," I told him because at this point I was pissed enough there was little point in hiding. 

"Why are you at Admiral Duncan?"   

"Because I didn't want to run into anyone I knew while I got pissed up," I explained, speaking slowly and thinking that this should have been obvious.

"Sounds like you're well on your way," he commented 

"Then there's one thing I did well tonight," I proclaimed, emptying the contents of my pint glass. 

"Safe to conclude things did not go so well with H., then?"

"Could say that," I acknowledged. No wonder he was a fucking journalist.

"And would you say that?"  

"I did say that," I was starting to feel offended at the trick questions. 

"What happened?"  

I chuckled.  This was not a trick question.  This one was easy to answer. "I was going to talk to him.  I wanted to talk to him, but I just, I really needed him, you know?"  

"I know," he sounded as disappointed in me as I felt.  I gulped down some beer to make me feel better. 

"I got there half past twelve.  It was a bitch of a day at work and I was running late, but I still made it there on time.  I skipped lunch," I hiccupped.  

"That explains a lot," he murmured. I wasn't sure if that bit as intended for me, so I ignored it.  

"I waited for him.  I waited and waited.  At half past four, I finally decided to go," I continued. 

"Four hours!" in his voice I heard a reflection of my outrage and it made me a little weepy and sentimental. Greg was such a good mate.  I could always count on him to understand and amplify my righteous indignation. 

"I know!  I imagined the worst.  I finally decided to go home, have dinner, and then do a tour of London hospitals to look for him, or call Ginny, or something.  I don't remember now," I let out a small belch. "But when I walked out the door, there he was, coming up the street, sweet as you please.  Briefcase over his shoulder.  Necktie loose the way he does.  Sexy as fuck," I relayed, picturing it in my mind.  Circumstances aside, it was a nice picture.  If only it could have ended with the two of us falling into each other's arms, right there on the pavement in front of the house, locking lips in a passionate kiss... 

"Where had he been?" Greg's voice brought me out of my fantasy. 

"That's what I asked him.  Got caught up at work, he said." 

"And he couldn't call in all that time?" Greg asked. 

"Exactly what I said. He opened the door and motioned for me to go inside, but I stood my ground. I told him I waited all afternoon for him.  My whole bloody life is nothing but waiting for him. He told me to get in the house so we could talk in private.  He didn't want to row in front of God and everyone, you see.  He didn't want the neighbors to see us together at all.  Fancy that!  He'd be happiest if he could get me some invisibility cloak or shield or something, so no one would ever fucking see me near him." 

"I'm sorry, Rick."

"Yeah, me too. And I wasn't going to play his game anymore, except then he said we had a half hour and what was the point in wasting it?  And I needed to talk to him, you know I did, and you know what about," I babbled.

"I know," Greg confirmed.

"So, like the good little lap dog I am, I went back inside," I reported with a defeated sigh. 

"And?"

"He shoved me against the door and tried to kiss me. Maybe I should have let him.  I wanted to kiss him.  When I first got there I imagined him kissing me exactly like that!  But by the time he arrived I was so upset..."  

"Sounds like you still are," he noted. 

"I am.  It's true.  It's been four weeks.  A bloody month!  I get so little of him anyway, and lately I haven't even gotten that!  He said it would be different.  He promised!  And nothing is different," I slurred my complaints.  "Nothing except Ashy." 

"You deserve so much more, Rick. You deserve someone like Ashok. What happened with H.?"   

"I said, hang on a minute.  I've been here all bloody afternoon.  This is really important to me and I wished like bloody hell it was important to you too.  I mean, him too.  I said you too, to him," despite my efforts, words were not cooperating as they spilled from my lips, tripping me up in the process. 

"I got that.  Go on," Greg urged. 

"He said that our meetings are important to him and I said if that was true he would have called.  The one time I couldn't get away from work, I bloody damn well called, didn't I?  But he just ignored me and asked if I wanted him in my mouth or my arse!" I recalled.  

"Oh, no," Greg was understanding. 

"Right.  I told him to go home and plug up one of his wife's holes," I snickered, and then immediately stopped when I realized that this was no joke, but my reality.

"What did he say to that?"  

"He said he wouldn't apologize for wanting to be with me and needing me.  And I said I had needs too.  I needed to be held, and I needed him to make love to me, and I needed to hear that he loves me.  Instead I get treated like some cheap, meaningless rent boy," tears filled my eyes as I spoke.  

  

"Rick, I am so sorry." The pity I heard in Greg's voice only made me feel worse. 

"Not half as sorry as I was, am, fuck!" I exclaimed as my brain muddled up again. "What was I saying?"

"You were telling H. you had needs too," he prompted.

"Yeah," the clouds in my mind cleared for a moment, "but I could see he didn't want to hear it, so instead of pounding my head against a brick wall, I left."

"And he let you go?"

"He said he wouldn't chase after me anymore.  But he will.  You know he will," I lamented.  "He'll lie in wait somewhere, and just when I've finally convinced myself that it's truly over, he'll pounce again.  That's what he does.  It's like a fucking game for him.  I'm tired, Greg.  I'm so damn tired of being the fucking mouse."

"You don't have to be, Rick. Take control," he urged. "The next time he tries to contact you, just ignore him."

"Oh, that's bloody brilliant! So glad I have you to make that suggestion.  It's not like I've ever tried that before," bitter sarcasm flowed easily out of my mouth.

"I know you've tried before, but just because it didn't work then, doesn't mean it won't work now.  Things are different.  You know they are." 

I gulped down the rest of my beer.  "I know, and I'm sorry for snapping at you.  It's not your fault I'm so bloody weak.  You have always been a good friend.  I love you, mate."

"I love you too.  You know we all do.  But, Rick, what are you doing at Admiral Duncan?  Why didn't you go home?" Greg asked. 

"I don't want to go home," I said firmly. 

"Why not?  Ashok is waiting for you." 

"Precisely because Ashok is waiting for me," I confessed.  "I can't face him after what happened today."

"You're going to have to face him sooner or later," he pointed out.  I cursed, but couldn't deny he had the right of it.

"I was supposed to tell H. about us today, to have a decision.  He'll want to know one way or another, and what can I do?  I can't tell him what happened."

"Why not?  You told me easily enough.  He's a compassionate kid.  He'll understand."

"Yeah, I know he will," I agreed morosely.

"Rick, what am I missing?" Greg probed.

"Nothing.  It's just..." I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. "Right now he looks at me the way Vik looks at you or Vince looks at Dré, like I'm the bee's bollocks, I mean the dog's knees, I mean..." 

"I know what you mean," Greg cut in. "Why do you think that will change if you tell him what happened?"

"Because then he'll see me for the whipped arsehole I am, and he'll start looking at me the way you all do.  Don't you think I know that every time any of you look at me you think 'that poor, miserable bastard'?" I challenged.  "It'll kill me to see that look in his eyes."

Greg took a long time to reply. "If he looks at you like that tonight, it will be because of what you've done to yourself, not because of what happened with H.  And my guess is he won't even do that.  He'll be too worried about you and too eager to make you better to bother judging you.  He cares about you, Rick, a lot, and nothing that happened today is going to change that.  He's already frantic with worry.  He made dinner for you and grew concerned when you didn't get home when you said you would.  He finally called me because he didn't know what else to do."   

"Oh, shit.  I forgot about that," I admitted, chagrined that I had just done to Ashok what H. had done to me earlier today.  "I didn't mean to make him worry.  So sweet, Ashok is.  And kind, and so beautiful."  

"Then what are you doing crying into your beer?" he demanded. 

"You have to ask?  It tears me up, Greg.  Ashy is so sexy and sweet, all I want is to show him all the different ways I can make him feel good.  But I still love H. and I don't want to be unfaithful to him, at least not any more than I already have been, not without telling him," I corrected. "I owe it to him to let him know, give him a chance..."  

"A chance for what?" he asked rhetorically. "You know how I feel about that, Rick.  H is certainly not faithful to you.  You didn't bear his children.  And it isn't like he even feels badly about it.  Just expects you to tolerate it, doesn't he?"

  

"That's my life right there.  The man I love treats me like something he stepped in and the guy staying with me treats me like a bloody king when I have nothing to offer him.  I don't know what to do, Greg." I rubbed my head, which hurt from my attempts to think logically through the alcohol induced haze.  

"Rick, go home!  Let Ashok take care of you.  You know he wants to.  Wait a minute.  How pissed are you?"   

"I’m pretty arseholed, mate," I admitted. 

"If I were in the country I would collect you myself," Greg said, sounding distressed. 

"Bloody Hell!  I completely forgot.  How is Viktor?" I asked when it finally dawned on me that Greg was calling from Austria. 

"He feels good all over," my friend leered.  I could hear in his voice how happy he was to finally be with his husband after their long training camp separation. 

"Ha!" I slapped the bar with my open palm.  "I'll just bet he does.  You are so funny, Greg." 

"Rick, I'm going to call Vince.  Will you stay there until he comes to collect you?" he asked. 

"The only way I'm getting off this stool by myself now is if I fall off," I admitted.  Even sitting in one place, the bar was beginning to spin. 

"Right then.  I'll ring you right back," he said as he ended the call.  I put the phone on the bar again and lowered my head to rest my face on the cool wooden surface.

"How're you doing, mate?" I heard a low, sexy voice above me.  I opened one eye to see the barman.  He was sexy enough, but I wasn't looking and he hadn't shown any particular interest either.

"Smashing!" I told him. "Couldn't be better."

"Right.  Might be time to think about heading home," he advised.

"I was just discussing that with my friend," I said, lifting my head and pointing to the phone. "Only, you see, I may have some trouble walking."

"Shall I call you a cab?" 

"I think my friend is taking care of that," I remembered.  Just then the phone rang again. "Oh, there he is," I said, noting Greg's number and picking up the phone to answer. 

"Greg!  It's nice here.  I wish you could come have a drink with me," I told him. 

"Rick, listen.  Vince is coming to collect you.  He'll be there in just a few minutes." 

"That's fine then.  Gives me time for one more." 

"Rick, is the barman nearby?  Could I possibly have a word with him?" Greg asked. 

"Ere!  Oy!" I called to get the barman's attention.  He had walked off when I took Greg's call. "Hi," I gave him a sexy smile when he walked over. "Could I get another pint, please?  And this is my very good friend Greg.  He would like to speak to you," I said, handing him my mobile.

The barman seemed suspicious, but he took the phone.  "Yes?...This is Drake."

I tried to pay attention as he and Greg conversed, but hearing only one side of the conversation and having to guess at the other soon exhausted me and I tuned him out until he was pushing the phone back into my hand. 

"He seems nice," I told Greg.  

"He does rather," my friend agreed.  

"I'm just going to wait for Vince, right?"  

"You do that, Rick.  Would you like me to stay on the phone until he gets there?"

"No," I said as I pulled forward a cup of coffee that Drake placed in front of me.  "Thanks, Drake.  Hang on a minute.  He gave me a coffee.  Did you do that?" I asked Greg.

"I did," Greg confirmed.  "Might be the best thing for you just now."  

"S'okay.  Got more at home.  God, I could do with a piddle.  Ashok's waiting for me at home, you know.  Sweet little Ashok.  I need to get something in my stomach."  

"There's food waiting for you at home too, Rick," he pointed out. 

"Did Ashok make something?  I think he said he would.  Yeah, I remember now.  He's a bloody good cook, isn't he?  He takes such good care of me.  All I want to do is take care of him, but he takes care of me too.  I want to go to all of Viktor's matches this year.  I don't want to miss even one and I don't bloody care if H comes or not.  He probably won't, anyway. His wife never lets him out of the house, does she?  Wanker.  He can just bugger off.  Christ I need a piss," I spoke my thoughts as they occurred to me, unedited.  Greg just let me talk, interjecting a word here and there, more to remind me that he was still listening than to say anything meaningful.  I finished the first cup of coffee, settled my bill, and was nearly done with the second when I felt a hand on my shoulder.   

"Rick, mate, pissed up, are we?" Vince said from where he stood beside me. 

"Hey!  It's Vince!" I told Greg.  I set the phone down and wrapped my arms around my big friend, pressing my face into his chest. 

"Happy to see you too, mate," he said as he rubbed my back.  The embrace felt better than I would ever admit.  I'd needed someone to hold me all evening.  Vince wasn't my first choice, but his hug was warm and comforting.  "Are we settled up?" I heard him ask. 

"All set," the barman confirmed. 

"Oh, this is my good friend Drake," I said, pulling back and slapping my hand to Vince's chest before shaking my head. "I mean, this is my good friend Vince, and this is my good friend Drake." 

"That's right, Ricky boy," Vince reached beyond me to pick up my phone from where I put it when he arrived.  "Greg?... I've got him.  He's done himself in alright.  I'll pour his pissed arse home," he kept rubbing my back and let me lean against him as he spoke.  "I'd do it for any one of you and I know you'd do it for me.  Night, Greg.  Give Viktor a smack on his arse."

"Ha! They'll both love that!" I chortled at Vince's suggestion, patting his chest.

Vince pocketed my phone and helped me get up. "C'mon then, mate.  Let's get you home."

"Hold up," the room began to spin and I swayed into his solid form.  I swallowed and closed my eyes.  Without the visual input, I became acutely aware of the pressure in my bladder.  "I need to point Percy something terrible." 

"Let's make a quick stop in the loo then," Vince kept his arm around me and steered me to the toilets, guiding me to stand in front of the urinal and keeping his hands on my hips. 

"Can you get Percy out yourself?" He asked.  I giggled at the thought of Vince pulling my dick out.   

"Wouldn't Dré love you helping me with that? I think I can manage," I said as I unzipped and did my thing.  Between all the beer and coffee, we stood there for quite some time. 

"Jesus, mate, you did have to meet the pan," Vince commented as I shook off and zipped up again.   

"I feel so much better," I said with a sigh, leaning on Vince again. 

"Time to get on home, then." 

True to my earlier assessment, I could barely stay on my feet.  Were it not for Vince's support, I would have never made it out of the pub, much less to where he parked his car down the street. He helped me slide into the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt when he noticed I was having trouble matching up the two parts of the clasp.  

"I think I had one too many," I opined. "You smell good!  Is that fried rice?  I'm starving!" I commented as an aroma wafted up my nose.

"I think one too many is a vast understatement, mate," Vince stood and closed the car door before walking around and getting behind the wheel on the other side.  "I thought you were going to end it with H.?" he said, his expression serious. "Why do you let him keep doing this to you?" 

"That is a brilliant question, Vince," I said, leaning back against the headrest. "Brilliant question!" 

Thankfully, Vince didn't press me for an answer, just told me to let him know if I started feeling sick.  I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them when I felt his hands on both my shoulders, trying to lift me out of the car.

"What happened?" I asked, disoriented.

"We're at your flat, just have to get you upstairs. You fell asleep on the way. Come on, now, Ashok's waiting for us upstairs."

I frowned. "I don't know if I can make it up.  Maybe I can just stay down here, or sleep in the park." I didn't want Ashok to see me in the state I was in.

"Don't be daft.  I'm not leaving you in the park, not when you have a comfortable bed upstairs and a bloke waiting to take care of you.  Just help me as much as you can, and I'll do the heavy lifting."

He propped me up against the car as he closed the door.  I noted he was double parked, his hazard lights flashing.

"You'll get a ticket," I pointed out.

"If I do, you'll be paying for it," he said, unfazed.  He put his arms around my waist and pulled me alongside him, all but hauling me up the stairs to the building's front door, where he waited for me to find my keys.  When I fished them out, he wisely took them out of my hand and unlocked the front door himself, guiding me inside.  But this time I was sufficiently awake to be less of a dead-weight as we slowly made our way up to the flat.  Ashok stood in the wide open door, awaiting our arrival.  His face was etched with concern, making me feel like a total shit for causing him to worry.

"He's pretty far gone," Vince said to the boy. "Want me to help you get him in bed and strip him down?"

"No," Ashok shook his head. "Greg said to give him water and toast and to keep him awake for a while so he doesn't get too sick."

"All right, let me deposit him on the sofa, then," Vince agreed. 

"I'm not deaf, you know," I complained, put out at not even being consulted about my own fate.

"No, just dumb, as in stupid," Vince said, though his tone was good-natured.  "You're in no position to make any decisions tonight, so just sit and do as Ashok tells you.  And don't give him any trouble, or you'll have me to answer to, right?...Right?" He asked again with his finger in my face, when I didn't answer his first question.

"Right," I mumbled. "Can't I lie down, though?"

"No!" Vince said sternly. With a sigh, he sat down beside me. "I can't stay long, but I'll keep him awake while you get the water and toast.  He mentioned earlier that he was starving. Let's hope he can keep it down."

Ashok scurried into the kitchen and came back almost immediately with a glass of water and a plate of toast.  

"All right, down the hatch.  Pretend it's a lager, Ricky boy," Vince instructed, handing me the glass.  I started drinking and grimaced at the tasteless liquid.  

"Not thirsty," I said as I tried to hand the glass back.  

"You mistake me for someone who cares," Vince said. "Eat your toast."

I picked up a piece of toast and eyed it suspiciously.  It looked normal enough, but I felt absolutely no desire to eat it. 

"What about the fried rice?" I inquired.

"We don't have any fried rice," Ashok said apologetically.

"And he doesn't need any," Vince was dismissive. "What did I tell you?  Eat your toast."

I took a bite of the bread and chewed it a moment before swallowing.  Deciding it wasn't half bad, I took another bite, and then another.  Before long I'd devoured both pieces.

"I'll get more!"  Ashok disappeared into the kitchen again while Vince forced me to drink more water. He stood when Ashok returned.

"All right, mate, you'll have to take it from here.  I'd best go before they ticket or tow the car.  Call me if he gives you any trouble or if you need anything, right?"

"I won't give him any trouble," I grumbled petulantly.  

"See that you don't!" Vince ordered, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "You'll be suffering for this tomorrow, I'd wager. Hopefully the lesson will stick this time."

Ashok set the plate of toast beside me and followed to lock the door behind Vince.  By the time he returned, I'd finished both pieces.

"You make the best toast in the world!" I told him, grabbing his hand and lifting the palm to my lips. "I don't deserve you taking care of me like this.  You'd have every right to be so angry with me."

"I am not angry.  I was worried, and I did not know what to do, so I called Greg.  I hope you are not angry with me," Ashok said, sitting down beside me.

"How could I be angry with you?  All you've ever done is take care of me.  I'm the one who was a selfish arsehole tonight.  Forgive me for not calling and worrying you?" I implored. "I promise it'll never happen again." 

"There is nothing to forgive. I am only sorry I could not be there for you earlier."

"Not your fault.  I know you would have been if I'd let you. I was just too cowardly to come home and tell you..." I paused, still reluctant to make my confession.  I wished there was a way to avoid him seeing what a weakling I truly was.

"Did he say no?" Ashok asked quietly, his face full of deep disappointment. "Did he say I had to move out when you told him about me?  About what we did?  Did you tell him I understand how much you love him and would never interfere with that or try to stop you from being with him? That I only ask for the time when he can't be with you?"

I shook my head.  "No, Ashy. I didn't tell him any of these things and he didn't say no."

"Oh!" he stopped to consider my response. "Are you upset because he did not say no?  Was that what you wanted him to say?" It was obvious that this possibility was just as painful for him, if not more so.  The notion that I was hurting him, however inadvertently, was quickly sobering me up.

I turned towards him, apparently too rapidly, and felt the room spin and my head throb painfully.  

"Here, drink," he said, thrusting the glass of water into my hand. "I will get more, and an aspirin."

"I don't deserve you," I muttered.  Closing my eyes was only mildly helpful in reducing the vertigo. Not wanting to disappoint him more, I put the glass to my lips and drank until it was drained.  It was immediately removed from my hands and replaced by two capsules, which I popped into my mouth and swallowed with water from a second glass. I drained that glass too, and then finally opened my eyes.  Setting the glass aside, I reached for both of Ashok's hands.

"Ashy, he didn't say anything about us, one way or another, because I never had time to tell him. I didn't come home because I didn't know how to tell you.  I told you I would have an answer today, and then..."

"Rick, it is okay," he interrupted.  To my surprise, he looked relieved instead of disappointed. "It has been a long time since you saw him, so I understand why you may not have had time to talk about this."

He didn't get it.  He thought I hadn't said anything to H. because we were too busy having a grand reunion fuck.  Anyone else would have been furious, or at the very least hurt and jealous, but Ashok seemed happier somehow.  It took me a little time to work out that he had meant what he'd told me about being willing to share me, and that to him, no answer was better than a negative answer. It was tempting to let him continue in his misperception.  After all, I'd only told him the truth.  It wasn't my fault that he jumped to the wrong conclusion. The guilt I felt, however, would not let me perpetuate the lie, however convenient it may have been for me.  

"That's not what happened. H. and I did not have a happy meeting.  We rowed about something else, and I left before I could even bring you up."

He stared at me in disbelief.  

"I'm sorry, Ashok.  I know I should have stayed and told him everything, but I was so upset..."

He leaned forward and kissed me, interrupting my speech.  His lips were too sweet to resist, and without thinking I pulled him close to me, responding hungrily.  I fell back on the sofa, pulling him with me so that he was sprawled on top of me, our lips locked together.  I moved my hands to his back, slipping them beneath his shirt to make contact with his hot skin.  My head was spinning again, but this time it wasn't the alcohol. I could feel him growing harder and reaching between us to rub me, but considering how much I drank, I doubted that would yield the desired result.  I broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. 

"I don't think I'm going to be much use to you tonight, Ashy," I told him regretfully. "Is it okay if we just kiss and cuddle?"

"I would like that," he said. "Should we go to bed?"

"That's probably a good idea."

I was a good deal more sober now, so it was easier to stand.  With Ashok's help and using the wall for partial support I made my way to the toilet.  I insisted that I would be fine by myself and he reluctantly left me to take the dishes back to the kitchen. I managed to drain my bladder again and brush my teeth before stumbling into the bedroom and falling onto the bed.  I decided to rest for a moment and must have fallen asleep, because next I became aware of Ashok pulling off my socks and tugging down my trousers.

"You should have woken me," I complained, propping myself up on my elbows and taking note of his nudity. Ashok smiled a little secretive smile as he emptied the content of my trouser pockets onto the top of the chest, hung up the trousers and turned back to reach for the waistband of my underpants.  

"I probably would have when I needed to take off your shirt," he shrugged as he pulled the underpants off me. "Before that, there was no need."

I shook my head and sat up to take off my dress shirt, which Ashok placed in the laundry basket, along with my underpants.  I shifted on the bed enough to pull back the covers and slide beneath, while he turned off the light and joined me from the other side of the bed.  

"I set a glass of water and more aspirin on your nightstand," he said as he snuggled up to me, "in case you need them in the night."

"You are too good to me," I told him groggily, with a kiss to his forehead. 

I closed my eyes and was drifting off again when I heard him say, "H. is a fool." He placed an emphasis on the word is, as if he was indicating his agreement with someone.

"Why do you think that?" I asked.

"Oh, you were not supposed to hear that!" he was alarmed.  "I know you love him. I am so sorry!"

"It's okay. You're entitled to your opinion.  I just wonder why you feel the way you do." I suspected his impression was based on comments he overheard at Dré and Vince's.

"He could be with you all the time if he wanted, but he chooses not to.  And when he does see you after such a long time, he rows instead of loving you.  He is a fool. That is what Pankaj would say." 

"Were you talking to Pankaj just now?" I asked, remembering his tone.  Suddenly I was as uncomfortable as if the third man was actually in the bed with us.

"I do talk to him sometimes, when I am alone," Ashok admitted. "He was always a good listener, and gave good advice. I talk to him about you."

Knowing that he wasn't in bed pining for his dead lover made me feel a little better. "And you think Pankaj would say H. is a fool?"

"I know he would say this," Ashok affirmed.

"What if I told you that I started the row, not him?"

Ashok thought for a moment, before shaking his head. "It would not matter. I know how much you missed him and wanted to be with him.  You would not have started a row without a good reason.  If he gave you reason to do that, he is just as big a fool as if he started the row himself."  

"I don't know if I deserve the kind of faith you put in me," I told him.

"You do," Ashok stated firmly. "Pankaj would agree."