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It’s always the little things that come back first.
Happily sated, lying in bed. Too tired from their lovemaking to move. Danny’s long, lean fingers tracing random patterns on Martin’s sweat slicked skin.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Counting your freckles.’
‘I don’t have any freckles.’
‘Martin, trust the words from someone who has worshipped every inch of your skin. You have freckles.’
‘Fine, if you say so.
‘I say so.’
The curve of his lips when he smiled that little crooked grin of his.
‘Danny. What?’
‘What what?’
‘You know what.’
‘Well, Martin, obviously I don’t because then I wouldn’t be asking you.’
‘Why were you grinning like that?’
‘I was grinning?’
‘Yes, and there it is again. What? Is there something on my face?’
‘As a matter of fact, there is.’
‘Oh great, God knows how long I’ve been walking around with a smudge on my face. Where is it?’
‘Right here.’
A soft finger caressing his cheek.
‘What is it?’
‘Beauty, Fitzie. Sheer beauty.’
An adoring gaze settling upon him and making him feel so incredibly special.
‘My God.’
‘What?’
‘If only people knew about this. Danny Taylor, cool Latin macho man, is actually the biggest sap ever. You do know that you’re a sap, right?’
‘Yeah, but that’s okay. I don’t mind if people think of me as a sap from now on. Just as long as I’m your sap.’
‘My sap, huh? I like that. I like that very much.’
The warmth in Danny’s dark eyes when they found a missing person alive and well. And the intolerable sadness those same eyes radiated when the call came that a body had been found.
How Martin had struggled and fought to erase that sadness from Danny’s eyes by grabbing him and kissing him roughly. Shoving him up against a wall. Harsh breathing and tugging at clothes. Frantic coupling. Forgotten words whispered in receiving ears. Holding and rocking Danny afterwards, when heaving sobs tore him apart.
Holding that same body, broken, bloodied and silent, so unlike the ball of energy that Danny once was. Eyes seeing the image, but unable to match it to the picture in his head. His mind not believing that this is his Danny.
Danny who had disappeared all those months ago. Never showing up for their date. Perfectly good restaurant reservation going to waste. Martin pissed off and not calling Danny until the next morning when he woke up alone and it suddenly dawned on him that Danny would never have willingly stood him up on their three year anniversary.
‘Don’t forget, Danny. Friday night at eight at ‘Café Bruxelles’. I’ll come straight to the restaurant after the meeting. Don’t be late.’
‘Martin, don’t worry. Not even a herd of ill-tempered Jack Malones could stop me from showing up. It’s been three years now since you finally succumbed to my charms and I wouldn’t miss that anniversary for anything.’
‘Good.’
‘Oh no, it’s not good. I make a joke about my amazing ability to charm you of your feet and you don’t react with your usual loving sarcasm. And what’s up with the look?’
‘What look?’
‘That look you have right now. As if someone told you to make out with Sam.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘It isn’t nothing Martin, or you wouldn’t be looking at me like that.’
‘It’s just that--’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, three years is a long time and you know how, in the beginning, we made a deal that if one of us wanted out, the other one wouldn’t make a fuss?’
‘Yeah, what about it? Is this your subtle attempt of telling me that you’re tired of me Martin?’
Tense little grin. Fear, uncertainty and hurt lurking around the edges of expressive eyes.
‘No, no …Danny, I could never get tired of you. I was only wondering if you were tired of me yet.’
Relief flooding in as a body relaxes again and all pent up frustration is released by expelling a deep, audible sigh.
‘God, Martin. That’s what all this is about?’
‘Well, yeah..’
‘Fitzie, you are an idiot. Do you know that?’
‘Danny--’
‘No, shut up for a moment and look at me.’
Soft hands settling in the crook of his neck, tugging him close until foreheads touch and breaths mingle.
‘Me getting tired of you? Never.’
A reassuring tender kiss laid upon his lips.
Seconds, minutes, hours, months of Martin following leads that lead him nowhere. All encompassing guilt consuming him.
‘Why didn’t I check up on Danny sooner?’
‘Martin, you couldn’t have possible stopped this. According to the eye-witness, both men were waiting for Danny to exit the building. The moment he showed himself, they jumped out of their van and pulled Danny inside. There’s nothing he or you could have done to stop this.’
‘You don’t have to remind me of the facts. I know them by heart by now. I know. I know. But Viv, I-I-I am so fucking scared. What if … Fuck! I can’t even think it, let alone say it out loud. I’m just so completely out of my mind scared. I’m afraid to pick up the phone because every phone call could be that call. I’m afraid to sleep, just in case Danny would show up at the door of our apartment and I wouldn’t hear him. And I’m tired Viv. So tired of being scared all the time.’
‘I know Martin. So am I. So am I.’
Forced visits to the Bureau’s shrink. Dozens of prescriptions for sleeping pills and anti depressants. Fleeting moments of bursting hope, that leave him high afterwards, whenever he spots Danny in a crowd, only to be disappointed again because the man in question has longer hair, lighter eyes or just isn’t tall enough.
‘Martin, it’s time for you to let go now.’
‘No.’
Frantic sobbing. Holding on to dreams. Jack talking to him as if he is a child.
‘Martin, I’m so sorry.’
‘Shut up.’
Sam crying. Looking at him with pity in her eyes. And why the fuck should she pity him. Martin doesn’t need pity. He doesn’t need any of this. He just needs someone to tell him that this is a dream. A nightmare. It isn’t Danny in that coffin, even though the headstone on the grave carries his name. Danny is still out there somewhere. Happy, vibrant and very much alive. This is all just a cruel joke. This isn’t right. It can’t be.
Viv standing by, understanding, but unable to stop him from self-destructing.
‘Martin, Danny would never have wanted you to do this. You need to come outside again. Face the world. He loved you too much to see you like this.’
‘How the fuck do you know what he would have wanted!? What do you know about us anyway?’
‘Hey, I’ve had just about enough of that attitude of yours! There’s no need to take this out on me or anyone else! We loved him too and miss him. I know I do. I miss him Martin. I miss him so much that I sometimes find myself waking up in the middle of the night, crying for the incredible friend I lost. So, don’t you dare think for even a moment that you have the sole possession of grieving for him. Because we all know what it feels like and we’re all there with you. I realise that this hits you the hardest. I know this because I asked him once why he chose you. What was so special about you. He just looked at me, gave me that little trade-mark smirk of his and said:
“He’s Martin.”
As if that was all the explanation I needed. So, I don’t pretend to understand completely what you’re going through right now. But I can’t help you if you don’t let me in. And I want to help you Martin. I really do.’
‘It’s just that--’
‘Talk to me.’
‘He had all of me Viv. He had me. And now he’s gone and I feel like all the things that were good in my life have now vanished with him. All I’m left with is Martin Fitzgerald, the prick I was before Danny stepped into my life. And I don’t want to be that guy again. I just want Danny to walk through that door, kiss me and tell me that everything is going to be all right. Tell me it was all just a bad dream and I can go on living again.’
‘That’s not going to happen Martin.’
‘I know. Don’t you think I know? I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m just drifting without any direction. I’m lost.’
At the end of the day Martin likes to spread all of these fractured fragments out in front of him. A million pieces that make up the puzzle that was Danny Taylor. Every night Martin’s mind conjures up all the little Danny-facts and stares at them in wonder. He studies and rearranges them, attempts to put them back together until he can almost reach a vague image of the man they once formed. The man that owned his world. Almost succeeding, but never completely, ‘cause with every passing night more pieces go missing and no matter how hard he tries to recall them, he can’t. Lost forever in the pitfalls of time.
And then, when sunset happens and the morning comes, the created image starts to fade again. And Martin carefully stores the pieces away before he goes to work. One by one they are carefully wrapped up and returned to the right places in his mind and heart. The process always leaves him strangely contented, because he knows that he carries all these memories within him and by nightfall the cycle will reset and the puzzling will commence again.
And people still worry--
‘Martin, you have to let this unhealthy obsession for Danny go. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re clinging to someone that has been dead for 5 years now. It’s time to move on.’
‘I can’t. I tried. God knows I tried. But every damn time I feel like I’m losing a part of me that I can never get back. I’m forgetting him Viv. I’m slowly forgetting him and I can’t let that happen. I once made a promise that I’d be there for him, always. And as long as there is a breath in my body I will hold myself to that promise.’
--but Martin just couldn’t care less anymore.
So years go by and life goes on, but Martin doesn’t. He’s stuck in that endless loop of night and day that never lets him forget. Always remembering that beautiful, crazy, funny, infuriating, passionate, lovable man that adored him once.
Remembering his own love for him.
Remembering life.
Remembering Danny.
FIN