Finding Home Box Set

Chapter 2: Lavender and Canoes

Chapter 2: Lavender and CanoesOswald looked at the room Aiden had set up as his treatment room. It was beautiful—smaller than his last, but the energy was more relaxing.

“Looks really nice, Aid.”

“But?” Aiden tilted his head to the side as he watched him.

“But…I don’t know if I’m fit to work.” He would have to, though. The money he’d lived on for the last two hundred and seventy-three days was the money he’d saved for a down-p*****t on a house. He’d wanted him and Guy to live in a house, to maybe have a family one day…or a dog. Perhaps a dog would be better than children—Oswald didn’t know what to do with children.

It had taken years to scrape together; that Guy hadn’t put anything away should’ve been his first warning. But there would be no house, and unless he started working soon, there would be no Oswald either.

“Are you sick? Oh, babe, you’re not, are you? Please say you’re not.”

Oswald winced at the ‘babe’ but tried to hide it. “No, just not fit mentally.” He tapped his thumb seven times against his thigh, then curled his toes seven times inside his shoes.

Aiden shook his head. “What happened, Ox?”

He shrugged. “It’s all right, I’ll…I don’t have much money.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Aiden reached out and squeezed his arm, and Oswald tried not to flinch. Aiden was touchy-feely, and it was fine. It wasn’t that he didn’t like touch. He wasn’t a germophobe or anything, it was…How should he react? Should he touch back? Should he just stand there? What did the touches mean?

When Guy touched him, he wanted s*x, and there was safety in that—a hand on his shoulder and he could just as well drop to his knees on the spot. It was easy; he knew his role and what was expected of him.

Growing up, he could never remember anyone hugging him or having him sit on their lap or other things he saw parents do with their kids. He guessed being shuffled around guaranteed no one took the time to bond with him.

“If it doesn’t work out, I can ask someone else.” Aiden gave him a guarded look. “I don’t know…are you still in contact with anyone from school?”

Oswald blinked at him. It had been years since they’d met at the Bodywork Institute. He remembered their names, but that was all. “No, sorry.”

“You know what?” Aiden grinned, his green eyes sparkling. “I don’t want anyone else. I know we haven’t worked together before, and we haven’t been the closest of friends, but I think we could be great. So, if you want to try it out, perhaps work a day or two a week to see if it’s possible, you can do it rent free.”

“Aid, I know you dragged me here because you needed money. I can’t let you pay for me.”

“No, but hear me out, okay? I have this—” he gestured around “—and I’m only using one room because I can only have one client at a time so whether you use it or not, the room is still here. And yes, I need someone to split the rent with, I need to be able to take a day off now and then, and I can’t afford it at the moment. But I’m willing to lend you the room for free for, say, a month or two and you can see if it works for you.”

“That’s very kind, Aiden, but—”

“So, we’ll do it like that, yes?”

Oswald breathed in, allowed the scent of lavender to loosen some of his muscles and nodded. He’d come here, hadn’t he? “Okay, but I won’t start next week. I need a week to…to land.”

Aiden flung himself at him, arms closing around his neck. “It’ll be awesome, Ox! Where are you staying? Do you need to come live with Tristan and me? You can, you know. There isn’t much room, but we’ll manage.”

Oswald’s heart was pounding in his ears. “No, that’s all right. I’m…erm…I’m staying at the hotel.”

Aiden frowned. “In…Northfield?”

There wasn’t one in town? Oswald nodded. “Yeah, in Northfield.”

* * * *

Oswald drove and drove, and then he drove some more. Going off the main road might not have been his smartest decision, but the narrow gravel roads had begged for him to come. All around there were trees, one more colourful than the other, and for the first time since Aiden had managed to get hold of him, he could fill his lungs with ease—well, maybe not ease, but it was easier.

It would be easy to lose himself in the woods. Give up. Fade away. No one would miss him if he weren’t to be anymore. He’d held on for two hundred and seventy-three days; maybe it was all right to let go. It was fitting, decomposing together with the leaves falling off the trees.

Frowning, he drummed his thumb seven times against the steering wheel. He needed out of the car. Needed to think away from the sad reality of the mattress and the pile with a few sets of clothes that were all he owned.

He’d walked out of Guy’s apartment without taking a single thing of what they’d bought together, without a single souvenir. Since he was a kid, he’d learnt not to get attached to things; fewer items made it quicker to pack.

The forest cleared a little up ahead, and Oswald was surprised to see a sign. Had he perhaps found Northfield? He should check on a map where that was and get his sweet arse over there so he could find the hotel Aiden had mentioned.

The sign was red and white, flaking paint revealing dark-grey wood underneath. ‘Canoe Rentals’, it said.

Canoes? It couldn’t be too hard, could it? He’d get some fresh air and exercise and wouldn’t have to think about his pitiful life trapped in a rusty Toyota. Stopping by the road, he drummed his finger against the window seven times and jumped out. On the way over to the cottage, he pressed his forefinger against his thumb—he only made it to five before a man came out to meet him. After having said hello, he started over and managed seven uninterrupted taps.

* * * *

Joshua sighed as he walked into his cabin. There was craft paper on the floor, cords and s**t that the electrician had cut off and left lying around, not to mention the dirty footprints. He guessed it was his job to clean up—not that he would do much. He was painting the living room this weekend so the protective plastic and paper might as well stay where they were.

There was nothing he’d rather do than have a quick shower—the layer of sweat and sawdust clung to him—but this s**t would still be here when he got back. Better get it over with now than get grimy again.

It wasn’t sparkly clean, but an hour later he’d swept the living room, so there weren’t any loose parts on the floor, and cleaned the kitchen and bedroom so he could be there without feeling like he was walking into a construction site. There was nothing he could do about the smell—it had that new touch to it that he hated. Maybe it would be better once he’d cooked something, though he doubted it because the stove was new too. But soon, it would feel like home again.

A quick shower and then he was out the door. Having breathed in sawdust all week, he needed some fresh air, and the river was calling him.

Throwing his fly-fishing rod in the car, he drove off into the forest. The gravel roads on his land snaked their way to the river, and then, when he couldn’t drive any farther, it was about a thirty-minute walk before he was at his fishing place.

It took longer for him to get there than it normally did so he couldn’t stay long. The nights were getting darker fast, but he needed the quiet, needed to breathe the fresh air, hear the water. Soon, the leaves would fall off the trees, but it only made it more beautiful. Nature was clinging onto life for as long as it could, the abundance of colour as it went out like fireworks only to wake up in a few months again. He loved autumn. All seasons had their charm, but not like autumn.

He sighed and let the week go. The knowledge that he’d go home soon, have a beer, and then sleep for as long as he wanted did wonders for his sanity.

And then an empty canoe came floating down the river.