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It Was The Death Of Something [Death]
And all the while, him and me make daisy chains as my mistakes die quietly under breath.
He picks another daisy, twirling it in his fingers briefly before passing it over to me. I smile at him, a bright, broad smile that comes as a relief to me. It’s been too long since we last did this and I feel a bit guilty about that. But then I just generally feel a bit guilty at the moment. I am the screw-up, the disappointment, the embarrassment. Or at least, that’s what I thought they’d tell me. But they didn’t say that. Oh Gaz gave me a lecture, don’t you worry. Howard...well, he’s a bit more of a teddy bear than Gaz. To look at them you’d think it would be the other way around but it’s really not. Gaz is principled see, he’s so very good. I don’t just mean nice good either. More like; to do anything mean or stupid would probably physically hurt him. Didn’t always used to be that way, of course he’s made mistakes – haven’t we all? But he grew up...something I’ve always struggled with. Then with Howard all the lines are a bit blurrier. He is a firm believer in grey areas and loopholes. I still thought he’d be more mad than he was though. But even Gaz, for all the disapproving arches of his eyebrow, gave me a hug and a hand to hold. He’s actually amazing Gaz is; how he can be angry and supportive at once is a mystery to me. And then there’s Jay. Looking at him now as he sits on the grass with me, you’d think he thought it was still the 90s; my halo still intact, the world still a crazy-beautiful place. But then, to Jay the world will always be crazy-beautiful. Jay sees the beauty in anything and everything. It was hard to take, seeing disappointment in his eyes, because of all the people I know I’ve let down, he’s the one who, when the rest of the world put up their brollies, will pause a moment and point to that one little sunbeam on the horizon, notice the unique little rainbow it makes. Yet, there were storm clouds in his eyes in that moment. Still, for some reason that is quite beyond me, Jason Orange can’t quite bring himself to imagine his crazy-beautiful world without me.
The past few weeks have been...odd. Odd is the only word for them. But I’ve finally got through those first few steps and today is my three best mates’ way of throwing me a rope, pulling me up the uphill slope that makes the rest of my path. I’m so lucky. When you consider what a tit I am, I’m even luckier. Jay has been sat here with me for a good half hour now, letting me enjoy an easy silence. I think he’s trying to let me be a kid again; that’s one way of trying to restore my innocence I suppose. The sunlight is a good match against his warm skin and, although he’s squinting, I can still see those two glimmering blue eyes. The sparkling oceans of his eyes are criss-crossed with whipping waves and sprays that cast shadows and rainbows across his vision and show him the world in a light that I doubt anyone else sees. I wonder maybe if I saw the world the way he did I wouldn’t get myself into so many scrapes and scrambles. He leans back idly, his fingertips digging into the prickle of the grass as he watches me threading my daisy chain. Whether it’s concern or gladness to see me which marks his face is hard to say but he lets the silence go on. The death of every mistake lies under his breath. My world isn’t quite back on its axis yet but Jay steadies it with a wry smile.
“You know what I think?” he asks me, flopping down onto his back, closing his eyes a moment to savour the feeling of the grass and the sunlight pressing softly on his skin. His shirt rides up a little and an impish grin touches my lips. For a moment I forget that the weight of the world is on my shoulders and I lean across, mischievously tickling him with an unthreaded daisy.
“What do you think?” I ask him playfully as he yelps slightly, squirming away before trying to hide his laughter with a look of teasing determination. I laugh when he lightly grabs my arm, tugging me down against the grass.
“I’m not telling you now!” he grins as I flop down next to him, enjoying our little patch of sunlight, my hair swishing all over the place. There’s places I ought to be more than this, important issues to work through you might think, but this is good for me. Maybe this even has the edge on anything any professional can do. I turn my head and I look at him, pouting slightly as he refuses to meet my gaze. My eyes twinkle slightly with a shine I think they’d maybe lost before and I can see a smile lingering in his face. I shuffle myself across the grass so that we’re lying closer, creeping my arms out to hug his arm, resting my cheek against his shoulder and looking up to try and meet his gaze again.
“Please?” I ask and he tilts his head, pretending to take great consideration. I enjoy the game. He’s treating me like I’m one of his young cousins or nephews. Or maybe he’s treating me the same way he treats my own son. He keeps the atmosphere light although his eyes are thoughtful, he finds airy ways in which to give you little pieces of his own world view. Little pieces of the world in a way you’d never dreamed it could be seen. Like I said; crazy-beautiful. He’s crazy-beautiful too. His smile whispers to me that he thinks I’m crazy beautiful. I think I’m just crazy, to be honest with you. But Jay has faith in me – for some obscure reason, Jay has faith in me.
“I think I’m the only member of this band anyone can trust anymore,” he says at last, shaking his head, rolling his eyes with over-dramatic despair for the rest of us. I pull an exaggerated face of outrage, shaking my head slightly, hair flopping this way and that, falling across my forehead in a lighter form of dishevelment than I’ve been used to recently.
“Oh really – since when were you ever the acceptable face of Take That?” I demand.
“Oi, you! When it’s the choice between the dancer, the drunk, the druggie or, most disgustingly, David Cameron’s new best mate, the general public start looking on the neurotic dancer bloke in a very positive light,” he replies, his tease is blunt and serious yet flippant and sunny at the same time and it makes me laugh despite myself.
“You’re seriously telling me people are more disgusted by Gary’s politics than your partying?” I ask him. God knows why I think I have room to talk about partying but Jason seems to let that slide. The press did always think it was him doing the drinking after all, in some ways I’ve done him a favour. Don’t tell anyone who’s worried about me I said that though – I get that I’ve screwed up, I swear.
“Oh absolutely. I’m packing him off to rehab any second for treatment for his tragic delusion that a pop star has the same right to an opinion as the rest of the country. That is, of course, presuming our drug-addled DJ friend over there doesn’t use up all my money on dope,” Jason retorts and I laugh, giving his arm a very grateful squeeze. He gives me a wink; it’s light-hearted but I understand its meaning. He dusts a few of the cobwebs off my smile and puts it back in its place.
Silently he hands me another daisy and I beam up at him, pushing myself back to sit up and grabbing my growing collection of daisy chains. He sits up too then and I glance at him, leaning across just enough to place one of my daisy chains on his head, a halo for my own personal guardian angel. He pulls a face at me but he doesn’t move it so I grin and shrug, offering him one of my two half-finished daisy chains, ever-hopeful. He pauses a moment, laughing softly and shaking his head.
“Fine – but if the press find out you’ve led me astray like this, you’ll never live it down,” he chides me and I smile at him. We turn our attention to our daisy chains for a while and that easy silence descends once more. I smile gratefully to myself as we play at being carefree. After a while I stop and I look at him as he continues to thread his daisy chain, pretending he doesn’t see my stare.
“Thank you,” I tell him earnestly and he looks up. He thinks a moment then simply smiles quietly, giving me one more wink before going back to what he’s doing. I blink, a little surprised, but I soon find my smile, looking back down once more as the afternoon sun pours out across the grass. It’s like the death of something awful, the fall of some spirit-crushing wall, and all it takes is a smile and a handful of daisies. Gary stands by Howard at the BBQ, singing at some joking pitch whilst Howard burns the organic sausages to Jason’s utter disdain. And all the while, him and me make daisy chains as my mistakes die quietly under breath.
And all the while I let him smile as anger dies softly beneath my fingertips.
I pick another daisy, pausing briefly to study its petals, as if waiting for it to lurch from my fingers and bite me. I hand it to him and his grateful smile somewhat cools my suspicion of the world. His honey-scratched laugh is something I’d forgotten in my hasty rise to disgruntlement. I’d venture as far as anger but I know that anger would be too much of a burden to face him with right now. I was angry, I know I was. It’s always the same; the ones with the world at their feet are the ones who stamp all over it. He didn’t stamp though, I can tell myself that now, having reasoned it out and calmed myself down. He didn’t stamp, he stumbled. Anyone can stumble. Even him. Even him with his voice like a crackly old record, his eyes a-glitter with all the mischief of an April shower, his smile so broad it clutters his face. But the daisy doesn’t bite me, and neither does he burn me – I remind myself silently.
Gary risks a glance our way, his brows knitting together with a peculiar mix of reproach and affection. Howard looks up from his cooking to follow Gary’s gaze but as Gary takes a thoughtful sip of his lemonade, Howard can only roll his eyes. He barely sees the fuss, can’t even rise to a note of frustration in his voice. He passes the odd comment on the things that Gary and I now look back on with disappointment. Not in Mark but in ourselves. We knew, somewhere, deep down. And that’s what bothers us. Part of us knew but we just shrugged our shoulders, gave such instincts scant regard. Howard doesn’t seem to think about it, doesn’t seem to have to hesitate with guilt every time a moment of clarity springs to mind. But me, I’m still slightly angry. Not with Mark so much anymore. The anger is at myself for dismissing little warnings, not Mark for letting me dismiss them. Gary fishes an insect from his drink and Howard prods the BBQ tentatively. Our shared, collective moment of concern has been and gone. Now it’s back to being my time to worry. And I do worry about him. God knows why because I don’t think he worries about a thing. Even now, with that weight of the world sitting there, square between his shoulders, he doesn’t seem to have a a single worry to shadow his brow. That’s the beauty of our Markie. He’s like a shooting star; a unique shimmer of light, sparkling brilliantly, even as he falls. He could make an art out of mishaps if he chose to, but I admit I hope he doesn’t. Shaken, rattled, beaten, broken. I’ve seen those shades in his smile of late and I don’t want to see them there anymore. They don’t belong to his smile. I want him to smile his daisy-chain-smile. I’ve been sat here with him at least half an hour now, letting the tensionless silence and the grass at my fingertips dissipate all lingering resentment from my heart. I just want to keep that daisy-chain-smile intact that little bit longer, sustain it, fix it there. In my heart I want him to keep that boyish innocence that my head assures me has been forever lost. For a moment the flash of sunlight in his eyes convinces me that all is right with the world, and I lean back idly, digging my fingertips into the grass as I watch him thread his daisy chain, the death of all anger for his actions can be found in our easy silence and I can feel my gaze of concern turn gently into a gaze of affection. I can feel a wry smile twisting at my lips as I lick them thoughtfully, taking a quiet breath before I speak.
“You know what I think?” I ask him, letting myself fall onto my back and enjoying the feeling of sunbeams washing over my skin. I close my eyes, appreciate the prickle of grass at my back, cooling me just enough. I should have known he would take my stretch of peace as an invitation and I can just picture the impish grin he wears as he reaches over to tickle me with an unthreaded daisy. I’m fairly sure I yelp as I squirm away from him, squinting against the sunlight to try and make him out, a boyish grin spreading across my face as I finally grab hold of his arm, forcing a giddy laugh from his lips as I pull him down to join me on the ground. I try to hide my amusement with my determination for revenge but he sees right through it and I cannot find a single cell in my body that can stay mad at him for any of this. He screwed up, so what?! He’s human. And I love him for how human he is.
“What do you think?” he asks me during the course of the struggle but I don’t think to reply until I hear the dull thud of his body against the grass.
“I’m not telling you now!” I retort with a grin as his hair falls all over the place, catching the sunlight. For a moment something crosses his face. Some thought, some guilt, some realisation that there is indeed a gaping problem in his world that he should be doing something about, a large hole in the fabric of his life that he ought to be making some effort to darn. But I can tell by his eyes, glowing gold again after such a long time spent faded, that this is good for him. A distant smile is hiding somewhere in my face and I think it reassures him as he moves to bring our bodies closer, shuffling over to me across the grass. He hugs my arm slightly and I can feel him shifting against me, pleading silently for me to meet his gaze once more. I think it’s a lifeline for him.
“Please?” he asks me and I tilt my head a little, making sure he can see the playful manner with which I take my consideration. There’s a grin in his eyes. See, this is what the four of us do; this is our friendship – this game, this laugh, this understanding. I can’t help but want to look after him though, so I don’t risk the game too long. I make sure the air stays light and whilst I can’t hold back the swimming thoughts of my head, I let my heart shine through. I think he can see that in my eyes. I try and whip up my thoughts into something more bearable for him. I try to whisper assurances in my smile, try to instil in him that confidence that I know who he really is, I know the beautiful individual that lives behind the shabby facade of his mistakes. I don’t think he can understand my faith in him. The logical part of me tells me that there is no reason for me to hold such faith and I guess that’s why he’s struggling to understand it for himself. But I think that’s part of faith, is it not? I have faith in him and I can’t shake it. We all do. Gary has wanted to throttle him on more than one occasion of late. I’ve hardly wanted to look at him. Howard...well, Howard’s just Howard. We’ve all felt it though, that stab of doubt. That ‘what if?’ of broken trust. But we know who he really is, we know who he can be if he just thinks a bit more and we have faith in him throughout. I think that’s why I choose to tease instead of broach any of the real issues, I think it’s the best way to convince him that things between us really are just the same, my anger lies dead and broken between the blades of grass which I stroke against my fingertips.
“I think I’m the only member of this band anyone can trust anymore,” I tell him finally, a shake of my head and a roll of my eyes enough to show him the mocking note to my despair with the lot of them. I only wish I’d been sharp enough to whip out my camera and take a picture of his exaggerated face of outrage, his head shaking in faintly amused disbelief, his hair swishing this way and that. But then I would only want to capture every moment of him, he hold me so fascinated.
“Oh really – since when were you ever the acceptable face of Take That?” he questions, narrowing his eyes at me in a retort he has hardly earned the right to make.
“Oi, you! When it’s the choice between the dancer, the drunk, the druggie or, most disgustingly, David Cameron’s new best mate, the general public start looking on the neurotic dancer bloke in a very positive light,” I inform him, trying to keep the bluntness of my remark as warm as possible. I know he can hear the note of sunshine in my direct comment and I can see him fight against his instinctive shame to laugh that rippling laugh of his.
“You’re seriously telling me people are more disgusted by Gary’s politics than your partying?” he asks. For the tiniest of seconds I worry that the anger has returned. But no. I let the comment slide. He has no room to talk and I know it. But I know he knows it too, I can see it in his face. So instead I pretend I know nothing of his indiscretions, give off the impression of lightness that our friendship earns him. Besides, his actions mean I’m finally not looked upon as the renegade one. It’s a tall price to pay for respite from press mockery but I’m pretty sure we could all use a bright side right now.
“Oh absolutely. I’m packing him off to rehab any second for treatment for his tragic delusion that a pop star has the same right to an opinion as the rest of the country. That is, of course, presuming our drug-addled DJ friend over there doesn’t use up all my money on dope,” I shoot back quickly, prompting another bright laugh to escape his lips. I can feel the small yet infinitely grateful squeeze he gives my arm and I let him in on a conspiratorial wink; flippant and meaningful all at once. I’m determined now. Where anger was, resolution makes itself at home, pushing me onwards in the hope of polishing up that smile of his and putting it back where it belongs.
Without a word I hand him another daisy chain, letting him beam back at me, watching as he sits up with renewed energy to gather together his growing collection of daisy chains. I sit up as well, trying to stop myself squinting against the sun in order to get a better view of his smile, checking up on him, letting him beam away all trouble. Looking at him now I can hardly believe I was angry at all. I know he knows he could have – should have – come to us. And I realise now it wasn’t a case of not trusting us, it was more a case of hardly realising the damage before he was confronted with it. As I think this to myself I notice him glance at me and before I can focus on what he’s up to, he’s reached across to place a daisy chain on top of my head. Why he chooses to crown me of all people I shall never know. Gary’s the one who’s looked after him the most, took care of him whilst I was busy thinking and sulking and then thinking some more. Howard’s the one whose love and support has been as constant as it has been unquestioning. But no, it’s me he looks at with those thankful eyes. I pull a face at him and he grins, shrugging idly before offering out an unfinished daisy chain. There he is again; the ever-hopeful Markie I know and love. This is the man I can forgive anything of. Not the man I was so angry with. He died with the anger, left and lost amidst the grass at my fingertips, smoothed over by smiles. I laugh softly and shake my head, my decision made almost on instinct as I take the daisy chain in my hand.
“Fine – but if the press find out you’ve led me astray like this, you’ll never live it down,” I scold him and it’s as close to a telling off as I’m going to give him today. I deliver it with a smile before we turn to our daisy chains, easy silence returning swiftly. Out of the corner of my eyes I can see a peace in his face that I’d like to think I put there and I let him smile because it seems to have the power to dissipate all of the events of the past few weeks. We pretend the world is really like this, just for a little while. I hardly notice when he stops, looking over at me threading quietly my daisy chain. Even when I do notice I pretend I haven’t seen. I don’t want him to think I expect an apology. I don’t even expect any thanks. We’re friends. Letting him smile is my job, I don’t need words in return unless he wants to give them to me.
“Thank you,” he eventually tells me in a soft, earnest voice that forces me to look up. I pause a moment to wonder if I should respond before smiling at him gently. We’re ok again now. The anger dead, the smile in place. This is all I needed. And, at a guess, all he needed really. I tap my fingertips at the grass before giving him one more wink. He blinks slightly as I simply return to my daisy chain but I can see him smile out of the corner of my eye. Gary is singing now, joining in with the radio in some comic parody of song whilst Howard continues to cook with scant regard for the burning smell emanating from the sausages. And all the while I let him smile as the anger dies softly beneath my fingertips.
He picks another daisy, twirling it in his fingers briefly before passing it over to me. I smile at him, a bright, broad smile that comes as a relief to me. It’s been too long since we last did this and I feel a bit guilty about that. But then I just generally feel a bit guilty at the moment. I am the screw-up, the disappointment, the embarrassment. Or at least, that’s what I thought they’d tell me. But they didn’t say that. Oh Gaz gave me a lecture, don’t you worry. Howard...well, he’s a bit more of a teddy bear than Gaz. To look at them you’d think it would be the other way around but it’s really not. Gaz is principled see, he’s so very good. I don’t just mean nice good either. More like; to do anything mean or stupid would probably physically hurt him. Didn’t always used to be that way, of course he’s made mistakes – haven’t we all? But he grew up...something I’ve always struggled with. Then with Howard all the lines are a bit blurrier. He is a firm believer in grey areas and loopholes. I still thought he’d be more mad than he was though. But even Gaz, for all the disapproving arches of his eyebrow, gave me a hug and a hand to hold. He’s actually amazing Gaz is; how he can be angry and supportive at once is a mystery to me. And then there’s Jay. Looking at him now as he sits on the grass with me, you’d think he thought it was still the 90s; my halo still intact, the world still a crazy-beautiful place. But then, to Jay the world will always be crazy-beautiful. Jay sees the beauty in anything and everything. It was hard to take, seeing disappointment in his eyes, because of all the people I know I’ve let down, he’s the one who, when the rest of the world put up their brollies, will pause a moment and point to that one little sunbeam on the horizon, notice the unique little rainbow it makes. Yet, there were storm clouds in his eyes in that moment. Still, for some reason that is quite beyond me, Jason Orange can’t quite bring himself to imagine his crazy-beautiful world without me.
The past few weeks have been...odd. Odd is the only word for them. But I’ve finally got through those first few steps and today is my three best mates’ way of throwing me a rope, pulling me up the uphill slope that makes the rest of my path. I’m so lucky. When you consider what a tit I am, I’m even luckier. Jay has been sat here with me for a good half hour now, letting me enjoy an easy silence. I think he’s trying to let me be a kid again; that’s one way of trying to restore my innocence I suppose. The sunlight is a good match against his warm skin and, although he’s squinting, I can still see those two glimmering blue eyes. The sparkling oceans of his eyes are criss-crossed with whipping waves and sprays that cast shadows and rainbows across his vision and show him the world in a light that I doubt anyone else sees. I wonder maybe if I saw the world the way he did I wouldn’t get myself into so many scrapes and scrambles. He leans back idly, his fingertips digging into the prickle of the grass as he watches me threading my daisy chain. Whether it’s concern or gladness to see me which marks his face is hard to say but he lets the silence go on. The death of every mistake lies under his breath. My world isn’t quite back on its axis yet but Jay steadies it with a wry smile.
“You know what I think?” he asks me, flopping down onto his back, closing his eyes a moment to savour the feeling of the grass and the sunlight pressing softly on his skin. His shirt rides up a little and an impish grin touches my lips. For a moment I forget that the weight of the world is on my shoulders and I lean across, mischievously tickling him with an unthreaded daisy.
“What do you think?” I ask him playfully as he yelps slightly, squirming away before trying to hide his laughter with a look of teasing determination. I laugh when he lightly grabs my arm, tugging me down against the grass.
“I’m not telling you now!” he grins as I flop down next to him, enjoying our little patch of sunlight, my hair swishing all over the place. There’s places I ought to be more than this, important issues to work through you might think, but this is good for me. Maybe this even has the edge on anything any professional can do. I turn my head and I look at him, pouting slightly as he refuses to meet my gaze. My eyes twinkle slightly with a shine I think they’d maybe lost before and I can see a smile lingering in his face. I shuffle myself across the grass so that we’re lying closer, creeping my arms out to hug his arm, resting my cheek against his shoulder and looking up to try and meet his gaze again.
“Please?” I ask and he tilts his head, pretending to take great consideration. I enjoy the game. He’s treating me like I’m one of his young cousins or nephews. Or maybe he’s treating me the same way he treats my own son. He keeps the atmosphere light although his eyes are thoughtful, he finds airy ways in which to give you little pieces of his own world view. Little pieces of the world in a way you’d never dreamed it could be seen. Like I said; crazy-beautiful. He’s crazy-beautiful too. His smile whispers to me that he thinks I’m crazy beautiful. I think I’m just crazy, to be honest with you. But Jay has faith in me – for some obscure reason, Jay has faith in me.
“I think I’m the only member of this band anyone can trust anymore,” he says at last, shaking his head, rolling his eyes with over-dramatic despair for the rest of us. I pull an exaggerated face of outrage, shaking my head slightly, hair flopping this way and that, falling across my forehead in a lighter form of dishevelment than I’ve been used to recently.
“Oh really – since when were you ever the acceptable face of Take That?” I demand.
“Oi, you! When it’s the choice between the dancer, the drunk, the druggie or, most disgustingly, David Cameron’s new best mate, the general public start looking on the neurotic dancer bloke in a very positive light,” he replies, his tease is blunt and serious yet flippant and sunny at the same time and it makes me laugh despite myself.
“You’re seriously telling me people are more disgusted by Gary’s politics than your partying?” I ask him. God knows why I think I have room to talk about partying but Jason seems to let that slide. The press did always think it was him doing the drinking after all, in some ways I’ve done him a favour. Don’t tell anyone who’s worried about me I said that though – I get that I’ve screwed up, I swear.
“Oh absolutely. I’m packing him off to rehab any second for treatment for his tragic delusion that a pop star has the same right to an opinion as the rest of the country. That is, of course, presuming our drug-addled DJ friend over there doesn’t use up all my money on dope,” Jason retorts and I laugh, giving his arm a very grateful squeeze. He gives me a wink; it’s light-hearted but I understand its meaning. He dusts a few of the cobwebs off my smile and puts it back in its place.
Silently he hands me another daisy and I beam up at him, pushing myself back to sit up and grabbing my growing collection of daisy chains. He sits up too then and I glance at him, leaning across just enough to place one of my daisy chains on his head, a halo for my own personal guardian angel. He pulls a face at me but he doesn’t move it so I grin and shrug, offering him one of my two half-finished daisy chains, ever-hopeful. He pauses a moment, laughing softly and shaking his head.
“Fine – but if the press find out you’ve led me astray like this, you’ll never live it down,” he chides me and I smile at him. We turn our attention to our daisy chains for a while and that easy silence descends once more. I smile gratefully to myself as we play at being carefree. After a while I stop and I look at him as he continues to thread his daisy chain, pretending he doesn’t see my stare.
“Thank you,” I tell him earnestly and he looks up. He thinks a moment then simply smiles quietly, giving me one more wink before going back to what he’s doing. I blink, a little surprised, but I soon find my smile, looking back down once more as the afternoon sun pours out across the grass. It’s like the death of something awful, the fall of some spirit-crushing wall, and all it takes is a smile and a handful of daisies. Gary stands by Howard at the BBQ, singing at some joking pitch whilst Howard burns the organic sausages to Jason’s utter disdain. And all the while, him and me make daisy chains as my mistakes die quietly under breath.
And all the while I let him smile as anger dies softly beneath my fingertips.
I pick another daisy, pausing briefly to study its petals, as if waiting for it to lurch from my fingers and bite me. I hand it to him and his grateful smile somewhat cools my suspicion of the world. His honey-scratched laugh is something I’d forgotten in my hasty rise to disgruntlement. I’d venture as far as anger but I know that anger would be too much of a burden to face him with right now. I was angry, I know I was. It’s always the same; the ones with the world at their feet are the ones who stamp all over it. He didn’t stamp though, I can tell myself that now, having reasoned it out and calmed myself down. He didn’t stamp, he stumbled. Anyone can stumble. Even him. Even him with his voice like a crackly old record, his eyes a-glitter with all the mischief of an April shower, his smile so broad it clutters his face. But the daisy doesn’t bite me, and neither does he burn me – I remind myself silently.
Gary risks a glance our way, his brows knitting together with a peculiar mix of reproach and affection. Howard looks up from his cooking to follow Gary’s gaze but as Gary takes a thoughtful sip of his lemonade, Howard can only roll his eyes. He barely sees the fuss, can’t even rise to a note of frustration in his voice. He passes the odd comment on the things that Gary and I now look back on with disappointment. Not in Mark but in ourselves. We knew, somewhere, deep down. And that’s what bothers us. Part of us knew but we just shrugged our shoulders, gave such instincts scant regard. Howard doesn’t seem to think about it, doesn’t seem to have to hesitate with guilt every time a moment of clarity springs to mind. But me, I’m still slightly angry. Not with Mark so much anymore. The anger is at myself for dismissing little warnings, not Mark for letting me dismiss them. Gary fishes an insect from his drink and Howard prods the BBQ tentatively. Our shared, collective moment of concern has been and gone. Now it’s back to being my time to worry. And I do worry about him. God knows why because I don’t think he worries about a thing. Even now, with that weight of the world sitting there, square between his shoulders, he doesn’t seem to have a a single worry to shadow his brow. That’s the beauty of our Markie. He’s like a shooting star; a unique shimmer of light, sparkling brilliantly, even as he falls. He could make an art out of mishaps if he chose to, but I admit I hope he doesn’t. Shaken, rattled, beaten, broken. I’ve seen those shades in his smile of late and I don’t want to see them there anymore. They don’t belong to his smile. I want him to smile his daisy-chain-smile. I’ve been sat here with him at least half an hour now, letting the tensionless silence and the grass at my fingertips dissipate all lingering resentment from my heart. I just want to keep that daisy-chain-smile intact that little bit longer, sustain it, fix it there. In my heart I want him to keep that boyish innocence that my head assures me has been forever lost. For a moment the flash of sunlight in his eyes convinces me that all is right with the world, and I lean back idly, digging my fingertips into the grass as I watch him thread his daisy chain, the death of all anger for his actions can be found in our easy silence and I can feel my gaze of concern turn gently into a gaze of affection. I can feel a wry smile twisting at my lips as I lick them thoughtfully, taking a quiet breath before I speak.
“You know what I think?” I ask him, letting myself fall onto my back and enjoying the feeling of sunbeams washing over my skin. I close my eyes, appreciate the prickle of grass at my back, cooling me just enough. I should have known he would take my stretch of peace as an invitation and I can just picture the impish grin he wears as he reaches over to tickle me with an unthreaded daisy. I’m fairly sure I yelp as I squirm away from him, squinting against the sunlight to try and make him out, a boyish grin spreading across my face as I finally grab hold of his arm, forcing a giddy laugh from his lips as I pull him down to join me on the ground. I try to hide my amusement with my determination for revenge but he sees right through it and I cannot find a single cell in my body that can stay mad at him for any of this. He screwed up, so what?! He’s human. And I love him for how human he is.
“What do you think?” he asks me during the course of the struggle but I don’t think to reply until I hear the dull thud of his body against the grass.
“I’m not telling you now!” I retort with a grin as his hair falls all over the place, catching the sunlight. For a moment something crosses his face. Some thought, some guilt, some realisation that there is indeed a gaping problem in his world that he should be doing something about, a large hole in the fabric of his life that he ought to be making some effort to darn. But I can tell by his eyes, glowing gold again after such a long time spent faded, that this is good for him. A distant smile is hiding somewhere in my face and I think it reassures him as he moves to bring our bodies closer, shuffling over to me across the grass. He hugs my arm slightly and I can feel him shifting against me, pleading silently for me to meet his gaze once more. I think it’s a lifeline for him.
“Please?” he asks me and I tilt my head a little, making sure he can see the playful manner with which I take my consideration. There’s a grin in his eyes. See, this is what the four of us do; this is our friendship – this game, this laugh, this understanding. I can’t help but want to look after him though, so I don’t risk the game too long. I make sure the air stays light and whilst I can’t hold back the swimming thoughts of my head, I let my heart shine through. I think he can see that in my eyes. I try and whip up my thoughts into something more bearable for him. I try to whisper assurances in my smile, try to instil in him that confidence that I know who he really is, I know the beautiful individual that lives behind the shabby facade of his mistakes. I don’t think he can understand my faith in him. The logical part of me tells me that there is no reason for me to hold such faith and I guess that’s why he’s struggling to understand it for himself. But I think that’s part of faith, is it not? I have faith in him and I can’t shake it. We all do. Gary has wanted to throttle him on more than one occasion of late. I’ve hardly wanted to look at him. Howard...well, Howard’s just Howard. We’ve all felt it though, that stab of doubt. That ‘what if?’ of broken trust. But we know who he really is, we know who he can be if he just thinks a bit more and we have faith in him throughout. I think that’s why I choose to tease instead of broach any of the real issues, I think it’s the best way to convince him that things between us really are just the same, my anger lies dead and broken between the blades of grass which I stroke against my fingertips.
“I think I’m the only member of this band anyone can trust anymore,” I tell him finally, a shake of my head and a roll of my eyes enough to show him the mocking note to my despair with the lot of them. I only wish I’d been sharp enough to whip out my camera and take a picture of his exaggerated face of outrage, his head shaking in faintly amused disbelief, his hair swishing this way and that. But then I would only want to capture every moment of him, he hold me so fascinated.
“Oh really – since when were you ever the acceptable face of Take That?” he questions, narrowing his eyes at me in a retort he has hardly earned the right to make.
“Oi, you! When it’s the choice between the dancer, the drunk, the druggie or, most disgustingly, David Cameron’s new best mate, the general public start looking on the neurotic dancer bloke in a very positive light,” I inform him, trying to keep the bluntness of my remark as warm as possible. I know he can hear the note of sunshine in my direct comment and I can see him fight against his instinctive shame to laugh that rippling laugh of his.
“You’re seriously telling me people are more disgusted by Gary’s politics than your partying?” he asks. For the tiniest of seconds I worry that the anger has returned. But no. I let the comment slide. He has no room to talk and I know it. But I know he knows it too, I can see it in his face. So instead I pretend I know nothing of his indiscretions, give off the impression of lightness that our friendship earns him. Besides, his actions mean I’m finally not looked upon as the renegade one. It’s a tall price to pay for respite from press mockery but I’m pretty sure we could all use a bright side right now.
“Oh absolutely. I’m packing him off to rehab any second for treatment for his tragic delusion that a pop star has the same right to an opinion as the rest of the country. That is, of course, presuming our drug-addled DJ friend over there doesn’t use up all my money on dope,” I shoot back quickly, prompting another bright laugh to escape his lips. I can feel the small yet infinitely grateful squeeze he gives my arm and I let him in on a conspiratorial wink; flippant and meaningful all at once. I’m determined now. Where anger was, resolution makes itself at home, pushing me onwards in the hope of polishing up that smile of his and putting it back where it belongs.
Without a word I hand him another daisy chain, letting him beam back at me, watching as he sits up with renewed energy to gather together his growing collection of daisy chains. I sit up as well, trying to stop myself squinting against the sun in order to get a better view of his smile, checking up on him, letting him beam away all trouble. Looking at him now I can hardly believe I was angry at all. I know he knows he could have – should have – come to us. And I realise now it wasn’t a case of not trusting us, it was more a case of hardly realising the damage before he was confronted with it. As I think this to myself I notice him glance at me and before I can focus on what he’s up to, he’s reached across to place a daisy chain on top of my head. Why he chooses to crown me of all people I shall never know. Gary’s the one who’s looked after him the most, took care of him whilst I was busy thinking and sulking and then thinking some more. Howard’s the one whose love and support has been as constant as it has been unquestioning. But no, it’s me he looks at with those thankful eyes. I pull a face at him and he grins, shrugging idly before offering out an unfinished daisy chain. There he is again; the ever-hopeful Markie I know and love. This is the man I can forgive anything of. Not the man I was so angry with. He died with the anger, left and lost amidst the grass at my fingertips, smoothed over by smiles. I laugh softly and shake my head, my decision made almost on instinct as I take the daisy chain in my hand.
“Fine – but if the press find out you’ve led me astray like this, you’ll never live it down,” I scold him and it’s as close to a telling off as I’m going to give him today. I deliver it with a smile before we turn to our daisy chains, easy silence returning swiftly. Out of the corner of my eyes I can see a peace in his face that I’d like to think I put there and I let him smile because it seems to have the power to dissipate all of the events of the past few weeks. We pretend the world is really like this, just for a little while. I hardly notice when he stops, looking over at me threading quietly my daisy chain. Even when I do notice I pretend I haven’t seen. I don’t want him to think I expect an apology. I don’t even expect any thanks. We’re friends. Letting him smile is my job, I don’t need words in return unless he wants to give them to me.
“Thank you,” he eventually tells me in a soft, earnest voice that forces me to look up. I pause a moment to wonder if I should respond before smiling at him gently. We’re ok again now. The anger dead, the smile in place. This is all I needed. And, at a guess, all he needed really. I tap my fingertips at the grass before giving him one more wink. He blinks slightly as I simply return to my daisy chain but I can see him smile out of the corner of my eye. Gary is singing now, joining in with the radio in some comic parody of song whilst Howard continues to cook with scant regard for the burning smell emanating from the sausages. And all the while I let him smile as the anger dies softly beneath my fingertips.