1: Adam

The autumn night was mild and damp, fine drizzle falling through the sodium streetlamps' orange glare. Yellow leaves choked the car-lined gutters along the suburban avenues that led from the tube station to his lover's home. Adam's mind was elsewhere, impatient and distracted.

The day had gone on for what seemed like his whole life. Every piece of work had to be done over time and again. Lunchtime had been filled to the exclusion of lunch by stupid petty errands, telephone calls with officious bureaucrats, a pointlessly panicky dash to shops not stocking what he needed. The endless afternoon had drifted unstoppably into evening and now all he wanted was to be home and fed and cradled to sleep in the arms of someone to whom he was something other than an incompetent menial.

As he turned off the main road, a growling taxi swerved past, throwing a spray of filthy water over him, drenching his trousers and his plastic carrier bags of groceries. Hour and a half commute almost over, just five minutes trudge remaining, at that moment he felt like he would never make it, was almost ready to stop and surrender, drop everything, die.

Then the hooded teenager stepped out in front of him.

"Hey, poofter."

Adam didn't have the time or energy for this. He gazed at the boy for a moment with weary disdain, then tried to continue on his way. Pushing past, he quickly saw that his assailant was not alone. Five, maybe six others materialized from between the parked cars. One of them shoved him from behind, trying to be rough but lacking conviction.

"We're talking to you."

Adam knew this scene. He'd been through it before, and was strong enough to deal. He turned on the first lad, who looked about fifteen and seemed to be in charge, or at least trying to be.

"What?"

"You're queer, aren't you?"

"Give me a break."

"Aren't you?"

"What the fuck is it to you?"

"We know you are. We know what you do with that bum-chum of yours."

"Really."

"Yes. It's disgusting."

"For Christ's sake. How old are you?"

"Too old for you, you fucking child molester."

The others were shifting around uneasily, muttering half-hearted insults, but the leader was just getting warmed up. There was something bright and scary about him, a malevolence glistening from his rain-wet skin, a disconnection. It dawned on Adam that there might actually be some danger in this situation, something beyond aggravation and delay. He began to be a little afraid.

"We don't want your kind around here. Touching up little boys, spreading your filthy diseases. It's not right. This is a nice neighbourhood."

Adam couldn't stop a nervous bark of laughter. He knew it was stupid but he said it anyway: "What are you doing here, then?"

With no hint of hesitation, the boy punched him in the face. The impact knocked Adam's head back and he was seeing stars before he even noticed the shocking, bewildering pain.

"Shit, Pete! What the fuck are you doing?"

Adam dropped the shopping bags, fruit rolling out across the wet pavement and into the street. A car drove past, its occupants not noticing, or choosing not to notice, the scene outside their windows. An orange exploded beneath their tyres.

"What has to be done, fucker. Or are you turning queer all of a sudden?"

"It's not like that. Jesus!"

"Fucking sounds like it."

Adam tasted blood in his mouth and decided this might be his only chance. Shoving the leader out of the way, he ran. It almost worked.

They caught up with him in moments, and any doubts they might have been entertaining vanished in the heat of the chase. There was a blow to his legs, and to the back of his head, and then Adam found himself on the ground. He didn't remember quite how he'd got there. The boy, Pete, stood over him.

"You shouldn't have done that, poofter."

Adam blinked up at him. A streetlight blazed directly behind his head, creating a kind of halo in the fine rain, and it occurred fuzzily to Adam that Pete would have loved that if he knew. His self-righteousness was so clear. So incandescent.

Then the kicking started.
Posted by matt at November 1, 2004 08:42 PM