Big Dump

El Greco

Part 6 (yup, it's still continuing)

..::..
“Your boyfriend,” a bald man said, poking his finger into Colin’s chest, “Is a wanker!”

Toby was laughing into his hand quietly and Colin was blushing furiously, looking away from the penetrating eyes. The man was on the small side – I tackled him easily a couple of days before, and although he struggled viciously, he was one of the easier ones.

“He’s known me for how long? Five years? How long does it take one to remember someone’s face?”

“Look,” Toby interrupted, “Thom pointed you out, we grabbed you, we put you to sleep, and that’s it. We had to be fast. I didn’t have time to think who you were.”

“Thom must’ve confused you with someone,” Colin added quickly, stepping back, “Sorry. Did they treat you badly at the station?”

“Well, first they checked me against every ongoing investigation,” the man sighed, rubbing his neck, “Then they performed the whole fucking bertillonage on me. Got my fingerprints and all,” the man tongued the inside of his cheek, “Got my saliva sample as well.”

Toby chuckled, getting up and patting him on the back, “Pardon us, Stanley, we’ll be careful next time. You can understand Thom, he had to remember all those faces, surely he was bound to make a mistake.”

“He didn’t,” the man shrugged, looking at me for the first time, “I was attending that club.”

Colin frowned and Toby chuckled again, retreating to refill his cup.

“Why?”

“Good music, free display of human character out of bounds,” Stanley shrugged, “A pity it was closed. Now I have nothing to do on my Friday nights.”

“You could dedicate those to your dear friends,” Toby raised one eyebrow.

“No,” Colin shook his head putting his hand out, “You’ve caused too much trouble already. I don’t want to see Stan getting dragged into this. Besides, the script for the new book is ready and he needs to read it and start with the illustrations. If he is willing to spend his free time here, it is going to be in the shop.”

Toby clenched his jaw, twisting his hands together, obviously struggling with himself while Colin looked stern, his eyes unblinking. After a few excruciating seconds Toby shrugged.

“Alright.”

“Thomas too.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a big assignment. And I’ve wanted to integrate Thomas into routine for quite a while. If Stanley likes his music, maybe…maybe it could inspire him for the drawings.”

“That,” Stan interjected, “Would be nice.”

“No,” Toby shook his head, “I need Thom and to hell with books. Colin, don’t you understand, we are actually doing something. We are not hiding behind the book covers.”

“I would not call my activities hiding.”

“Look…You have no right to hold him.”

“Well, I am his employer and a landlord. That should give me some rights.”

Toby was furious then, his eyes sparkling, the knuckles on his hands white.

“Leave as alone,” he said, not moving his eyes from Colin’s face, “Now.”

Stanley hesitated for a bit, however when Colin turned his softened gaze toward him he grabbed his coat and exited, and then it was my turn to creep quietly out, upstairs, and under my blanket.

…::…

I woke up in the middle of the night, the moon shining through the big window. The house was quiet and my head was so clear, with the sleep washed away completely, that I had to get up and shuffle downstairs, listening to the creaking floorboards.

I lingered in the hallway for a second when I realized that the light in the small kitchen was on; I didn’t hear any voices, so I stepped in carefully to be greeted with Colin smoking a cigarette next to the filled ash tray, an unfinished cup next to him, as well as a towel spotted with red.

He raised his eyes to me and I noticed a bruise forming on his cheek, reddish and already turning purple against the pale sunken skin, and his eyes were full of sad irony.

“Well,” he said, stubbing out the cigarette and folding his hands in front him on the table.
“How terribly trivial,” he laughed at my astonished look, then gestured to the chair, “Sit, let’s not go into awkward formality, let’s stay as we are. I’m alright.”

I sat, looking at him and he traced his fingers over the bruise lightly, “I fell in love with an idealistic and passionate boy, what else did you expect? I should’ve known better than to get involved with a nihilist, but nothing matters now.”

“You should’ve asked me to stay.”

“Ah, that would only prolong the inevitable. Conservative rats like me, spineless worms with nothing but theories behind them always get this.”

“Now you are quoting him.”

He laughed, “You are right. Let’s forget this,” he leaned back in his chair, stretching luxuriously, “Have I ever told you about my brother?”

“No.”

“Shame. I love talking about my brother. It makes me calm,” he made a pause and I waited, “His name is Jonathan. Jonathan Richard Guy Greenwood. I was thinking of him when I was writing my first book.”

“He is deaf?”

Colin laughed and I smiled, glad.

“Quite on the opposite.”

“Where is he now?”

“Let’s see…France perhaps? On his way to Germany.”

“Ah. A traveling salesman.”

Colin chuckled again.

“He plays cello,” he got up, disappearing for a second and coming back with a monochrome photo, “…among other things.”

He laid the photo on the table, looking at it with a discreet smile. I followed his gaze, my eyes landing on the long stretch of pale fingers lying on strings, veins protruding slightly. I traveled my eyes up, where the young man’s head was bowed in concentration, hair obscuring the face, the line of a strong jaw rising sharply as the string on the instrument.

“Jonny,” Colin whispered, slightly in awe, slightly fondly, before rubbing his eyes and shaking his head, “I must go now.”

Some time later I picked up the photo and returned to my room, quietly.