The Beat by Simon Payne Page A

all she knew of his private life. He was expected to share every twist and turn of her wedding plans, while his lover was to remain an unknown to her. They got through the afternoon’s work somehow. Wilson came through once and smiled weakly. Gerry just wanted to get away from the whole damned place. He felt tired and drained. He wished he hadn’t promised to go for a drink and tried to think of a way to wangle out of it. He didn’t want to offend Steve but he was hardly in the mood for a drink with the boys. Sitting there like a male spinster pretending not to understand the jokes and innuendoes. He had found in the past the most infuriating thing to do with sexist jokes was to pretend not to get them. The joker would in turn then have to explain the joke. This inevitably made it fall flat. If all else failed, he would reduce it with a statement like, “You mean she didn’t want to fuck with him” or “Oh, the guy was sterile was he?” The straight guys at work had given up on Gerry ages ago, assuming he had no sense of humour. In reality it was often aimed at them.
     
    Steve made the unprecedented step of coming to get Gerry after work. He seemed scared Gerry would shoot through without the drink. He was right; it had been on the cards. Things were a bit awkward at first but they went across the the pub together and settled in the front bar. Steve looked pleased with himself but still had the same nervous air. He sat on his high seat looking at his beer and not knowing what to say. Gerry had a beer before him too. His was decorative; he hated beer.
    “Well here’s to the two of you,” he said bravely. He still didn’t have the faintest idea why he was there but it had seemed important to Steve.
    “Thanks,” came the reply. They sat in awkward silence. They hardly knew each other. It seemed doomed to be a failure.
    “I never do this,” said Gerry. Why pretend he was unaware of his inadequacy?
    “I’m not one of the boys, you know. I was told so in no uncertain terms today.”
    “What?” Steve wasn’t following.
    “Never mind.”
    “No, what did you say?”
    “Nothing. Where are the others?” Gerry asked. Steve looked back at his beer. “There aren’t any others. I only invited you.” He played with a water mark on the table. Searching for the words, he asked, “I want to tell you something, alright?”
    “What?” Gerry waited. There was a long pause while Steve assembled the words. At last he articulated simply, “I don’t want to marry her.”
    “What?”
    “I don’t want to marry her. I thought you might understand. I just don’t want to.” Again they sat in silence and looked at the table. Gerry studied the boy.
    “You’d better tell her,” he said softly.
    “I can’t.” He thought Steve was going to cry.
    “How can I tell her? Everyone’s expecting it now.” “The sooner you tell her the better.”
    “Yeah,” he said and gulped at his beer.
    “Why?” Gerry asked. Steve said nothing for a while, then looked up: “What do you reckon?” Their eyes met. The kid was really upset. Gerry was still unsure what he was trying to get at. He felt a coward. He reached for his drink, sipped it and tried to avoid pulling a face at the stale taste. Steve was still waiting for an answer. None came. He went on, “Reckon I must be a poofter.” And again it looked as if he was going to cry there in the front bar. Gerry said nothing. Then when Steve rubbed his hand across his face to wipe his eyes, Gerry said softly, “Only drunks cry in bars. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He hoped the fresh air would do them good. Outside he was unsure what to do next.
    “Let’s walk. Then you can come back to my place for coffee,” he suggested in desperation. Steve looked bewildered. Gerry couldn’t help it — he laughed. The kid thought he had been propositioned.
    “No,” Gerry said quickly, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Let’s walk up to get the car.” They were