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Ever since he returned from New York, Thomas has been getting letters. Too many of them, in Jimmy’s opinion. The first time it happened, Thomas received a thick envelope in the morning post. His eyes went all bright and a corner of his lips lifted a little. Not that anyone but Jimmy noticed. Thomas didn’t open it, he just tucked it into his breast pocket and carried on with his breakfast.
Jimmy watched him the whole day. He was less unpleasant to everyone, sometimes even smiling. Jimmy was sure that whatever was in that letter must be some good news if it has Thomas behaving like that. He couldn’t imagine who was it from though. Did Thomas have a sweetheart? Was it a long-lost relative? Had Thomas bet on something and won? Did O’Brien die? Was his cousin from Bombay coming to visit?
“What was in the letter then?” Jimmy said when they were finally alone in the servants’ hall. “Must be some good news if it’s got you smiling so.”
“I haven’t opened it yet, I just saw the return address, it brought some great memories,” Thomas answered.
“Who is it from then?”
“A friend. From America.”
“You never told me much about it. How did you meet?”
“In a club for gentlemen,” Thomas said carefully.
“Gentlemen like you?” Jimmy asked.
“Yes. Gentlemen like me. He is the owner.”
“Oh. How did you even get in that place? I had no idea there were clubs like that,” Jimmy said, and it was true. He was curious though.
“Neither did I. I was in a pub one evening, sitting in a bar, when this man comes over and sits next to me. His name was Patrick Keats. We start talking and there’s this way he looks at me. Like he’s trying to figure me out. And I recognized that he was, you know, my sort. It’s just the way he was, I don’t know. He asked if I’m in New York for the first time and I said yes. He said that I must not know the city well yet and that he knows a place I might like. So, I went with him.”
“That was stupid of you. What if he was a murderer or something?” Jimmy said, enraged at his friend’s carelessness.
“I knew he wasn’t, trust me. So, we came to this house looking just like an ordinary house where a family might live. For a second, I thought he was taking me home. But no. When we came in, it was like nothing I’ve seen before. There were men everywhere and they were affectionate with each other. Dancing, holding hands, things like that. We went to the bar and he introduced me to Alexander, the owner, and his partner. We started talking and he promised he’d write.”
“Did you go home with him?”
“Alexander? No. I told you he was in a relationship with Patrick.”
“But you did go home with someone, didn’t you?” He was sure of the answer. Thomas had been happier when he came back, and Jimmy was sure this was why.
“I did, yes,” Thomas said, not meeting Jimmy’s eyes. And it hurt. He needed to show Thomas that he didn’t mind talking about this.
“Well? Who was he?”
“His name is Charlie. He’s a professor. Is a few years older than me I think. And a brilliant dancer,” Thomas smiled.
“Why doesn’t he write to you then?”
“I don’t think he has my address. And it’s not like he’s in love with me, you know.”
“Why don’t you just open the letter?” Jimmy asked, not wanting to speculate about men who might or might not love Thomas.
“Alright,” Thomas said and broke the seal on the envelope. He took out several papers. Thomas unfolded one and started to read. His lips formed a smile that looked very good on him, Jimmy decided.
“So? What does he say?”
“He says that he told the gentlemen that he was going to write to me and that if somebody else wants to include a letter he can. He then collected it all and put it into one envelope to keep it cheaper. Quite smart of him if you ask me.”
“Hm. Who else wrote?”
“Let’s see,” Thomas went through the other papers. “Patrick, Charlie, and Jonathan, the barman.”
“Oh.”
“You see, Jimmy, I’ve never had a friend who was like me. I had lovers, yes, but never friends.”
“Well, I’m happy for you,” Jimmy said, and he meant it. He was happy that Thomas was happy though he couldn’t help but wonder if Alexander or Charlie were going to replace him as Thomas’s best friend. He couldn’t offer him what they could, after all.
The letters kept coming, though they were usually just from Charlie. And every time they did, there would be a smile on Thomas’s handsome face. Jimmy started to hate that smile. It wasn’t his smile. It was Charlie’s. Jimmy used to have a smile too, but it was much rarer now. And it hurt, it did.
Sometimes when they were together, Thomas would get a faraway look. When Jimmy asked him what he was thinking about, it was always “something that Charlie wrote” or “something reminded me of something Charlie did”.
“Don’t you think people will get suspicious if you keep it up with the letters?”
“Suspicious of what? It’s not against the law to have friends. And that’s what Charlie and I are.”
“If you say so.”
It was unfair, really. Charlie wasn’t even here and yet Thomas thought of him all the time and was smiling about it. Jimmy was here. Next to Thomas, every single day and yet Jimmy’s smile was nowhere to be seen. One day Thomas asked Jimmy to come with him to the village. Jimmy was happy, of course.
“You sure you’d not rather go alone and think of Charlie on the way?” Jimmy asked, not meaning to sound so bitter.
“Course not,” said Thomas. “Why would you say that?”
“It’s just that you think of him so often.”
“No, I don’t.”
“But you do. You always get that smile, you know.”
“Well, I told you, he’s my friend. Now let’s go.”
“Yes, but so am I,” Jimmy said but Thomas was out of the door and didn’t hear him.
Jimmy enjoyed his time with Thomas so much, it was almost like before Thomas left for America. He wished to prolong it when they came back to the abbey and asked Thomas to play cards with him.
“Sorry Jimmy. I want to finish a letter to Charlie so I can post it tomorrow morning.”
Jimmy felt tears in his eyes and without saying anything he ran to his room, where he curled on his bed and cried. He cried for needing Thomas so much and for not giving back enough. Was he just a bad friend to Thomas? Did Thomas spend time with him just because there was no one better around? Thomas used to love him. Where did all that love go? Because Jimmy wanted – needed – it back. He would do anything to get it. He would be a better friend to Thomas, if only he knew how. He wished he could show him how much he cared.
And then it hit him like a lighting out of clear sky. He loved Thomas. He was in love with a man and that man was Thomas. And Jimmy cried because he was afraid it was too late. He fell asleep the most unhappy he ever remembered being.
The next morning, he woke up not knowing what to do. He ended up going through all his duties and not much else.
“What’s going on with you?” asked Thomas during a smoke break.
“Why should you care?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just that you only care about that Charlie. You always go on about him. You don’t talk to me as often as you used to and don’t spend that much time with me either. And you’re always thinking about him.” Jimmy didn’t mean to say that much, especially not in a tone that sounded like a whiny child.
“Wait, are you jealous?” Thomas asked with suspicion. And he was, wasn’t he. He was jealous of a man he had never met in his life. It was absurd.
“Yes,” he said even though he meant to deny it.
“Why?”
“Because you like him more than me.” Jimmy couldn’t meet Thomas’s eyes.
“Well, shouldn’t you be relieved? That I have finally moved on from you?”
“No!” Jimmy almost shouted.
“Good. Because I haven’t. And Charlie is a friend and a confidant, but no one can ever replace you, Jimmy. No one.”
“So, do you still…?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes Jimmy, I still love you,” now it was Thomas who wouldn’t look at him. Jimmy stepped in front of him, right into his personal space.
“I’m glad,” he said, “because I love you too.”
“You do?” Thomas finally looked at him and his face was so vulnerable.
“I do. I love you, Thomas Barrow.” And there it was. His smile. It was beautiful, so much more than the one for Charlie. Because there was love in Thomas’s eyes when he smiled Jimmy’s smile.