Page 12 of Rhymes with Metaphor

T he combination of jet lag and mono laid Joel flat, and he hadn’t emerged from his bedroom since they’d arrived. Juliet had gone in to check on him again while Reg and Martin set up the badminton net on the lawn.

“We both know why she’s really here,” said Reg.

“To enjoy my company,” said Martin.

“ I expect it’s because she’s found a boyfriend of dubious provenance, and she wants to do a background check of his pedigree and credentials.”

“I’ve been trying to convince her to go riding with me this afternoon,” said Martin. “But she won’t bloody well leave Joel alone.”

“Here it comes.”

“You don’t even like riding, Reg.”

“I have plans for this afternoon, which don’t include riding or babysitting, thanks.”

Juliet emerged through the back door. “He won’t come out of his room. He’s missing a beautiful day.”

“Well, since we haven’t got enough people for doubles,” said Reg, “I’ll leave you to play singles. I’m going out.”

“Where?” said Martin.

“I’ve got errands to run. I’ll see you later.”

Martin followed him to the garage. “So, you’re sticking me with New Bug all afternoon?”

“You do realize that if you become serious with Juliet, you’ll be stuck with New Bug for a lot longer than an afternoon.”

“Don’t be out overly long is all I’m saying,” said Martin. “I know how you lose track of time.”

“I’ll take as long as I take.”

And he took his sweet time. Partly, to remind Martin that Reg was doing him a favour letting Juliet stay, and therefore, he didn’t owe Martin anything, and partly, in the case of one errand in particular, on Joel’s behalf.

When Reg got back, Martin was in a better temper. Reg found him on the lawn with Juliet, sipping shandies and sitting much closer together than was strictly necessary.

“Been shopping, Reg?” said Juliet, looking at the bag Reg was carrying.

“I thought we could go to dinner at the Prince of Wales pub,” said Reg.

“Someone will have to stay behind,” said Martin. “Unless you can get Joel out of bed.”

“Why me, specifically?” said Reg.

“You’re the Joel whisperer, aren’t you? You seem to have a way with god’s difficult creatures. Remember that rancorous bitch of a cat your grandfather used to have?” Martin said to Juliet, “Reg was the only one who could touch it without getting mangled.”

“Hazel,” said Reg.

“Maybe you can coax Joel out of his room,” said Martin.

“Would you try, Reg?” said Juliet. “Please? He’s never been outside Canada before, and he’s wasting this opportunity.”

Reg went upstairs and tapped on Joel’s door. “It’s Reg.”

After a moment, he was granted leave to come in. Joel’s room was a repurposed office, which normally afforded a view of the lawn through its stained glass windows, but currently, the curtains were closed and the lights were off. Joel was in bed.

Reg drew the curtains and opened the windows. “We’re having dinner at the pub up the road.”

“Have fun.”

“The idea is for you to come with us,” said Reg. He set the shopping bag he was carrying on the bed.

“What’s that?” said Joel.

“Some clothes I’d like you to try on. Stand up, and take that top off.”

“Why?” said Joel.

“Everything I’ve ever seen you wear has been drab. Something colourful could cheer you up. Or are you colourblind, and everything looks the same to you?”

“I’m not colourblind,” said Joel.

Reg emptied the bag onto the bed.

“Those are brand new,” said Joel, looking at the cellophane-wrapped packages.

“I went shopping this afternoon.”

Reg convinced Joel to divest himself of his scrub top, but Joel insisted on keeping on the white T-shirt he wore underneath.

Reg unwrapped a sapphire blue silk shirt and handed it to Joel.

“There’s a mirror on the back of the wardrobe,” said Reg.

He watched Joel put it on, buttoning it right to the top.

“It’s too bright,” said Joel.

“Try this one.” Reg handed him a grasshopper green one.

“That’s even brighter.”

“You can’t know you don’t like it unless you’ve tried it on.”

Joel laboriously took off the blue shirt and put on and buttoned up the green one. A blackbird sang in the tree outside.

“Well?” said Reg.

“It’s too bright. I told you.”

Joel tried and rejected, in succession, the raspberry red, the aquamarine, the lemon, the amethyst, the lilac, and the lime, by which time, he’d acquired a very put-upon demeanour.

By the eighth shirt, Joel had to sit on the bed because, as he admitted, he was too weary to keep standing.

He needed jollying along, but Reg’s generous patience was wearing thin.

Reg picked out a tangerine orange shirt, one that had made him think of Joel particularly when he’d purchased it. “This one.”

“No, Reg, it’s—”

“It’ll suit you. Trust me.”

Joel accepted it and buttoned it up. Clothed in this new plumage, he looked exceptional, putting Reg in mind of an oriole, handsome, fine-boned, and elegant.

Joel looked at himself, and for once, a ripple of a hopeful expression crossed his face, though it was gone a moment later. “It’s too much.”

Reg had conceded to buying a pearlescent white silk shirt, but before he surrendered that to Joel, he pulled out a mulberry-coloured one.

“One last time,” said Reg. “Indulge me.”

Joel sighed and put it on. In that moment, Reg remembered the bowl of mouldy mulberries he’d found on the day they cleaned out his grandmother’s house after she died.

She’d probably been planning to eat them for tea in a bowl with cream but never had the chance to enjoy them.

But with this shirt, the shining gleam of the fabric, black in shadow, red in the sun, hint of colour in darkness, Reg felt like he had halted Joel on the cusp of losing himself.

Reg felt a lump in his throat. Mulberries always gave him that bittersweet feeling.

“I like it,” said Joel.

Reg felt a rush of elation. “It’s yours, then.”

Joel looked at it, felt the soft material between his finger and thumb. “It’s expensive. I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

“Rather ask what wonderful thing that shirt has done to deserve you inside it,” said Reg.

“But...” Joel looked at him, and for the first time, Reg sensed he was silent not out of his usual reticence but because he didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve got trousers for you as well. Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to undress in front of me. You shouldn’t find them too bright as they’re cream.” And opaque. Reg had checked.

Reg gave him privacy to change, and when Joel emerged from his room a few minutes later, Reg presented him with a pair of boat shoes. “Don’t you dare wear socks with them.”

When Joel came downstairs with Reg, Martin and Juliet were in the kitchen.

“You’re up at last!” said Juliet.

“Aren’t you looking smart, Joel,” said Martin.

“I got him some clothes,” said Reg.

“That shirt’s too flamboyant for Joel,” said Juliet.

“Let Joel decide,” said Reg.

“You’re spoiling him,” said Juliet.

“He doesn’t look spoilt,” said Reg. “He looks splendid.”

“In contrast to you,” said Martin. “You look like Sebastian Flyte when he let himself go.”

“Perhaps someone didn’t catch him,” said Reg, looking at Martin.

“Shall we go now?” said Martin.

The pub was a short walk up the road. Joel walked slowly, lagging behind. Reg walked beside him to keep him company. Martin and Juliet walked ahead, casually brushing against each other. Martin reached for Juliet’s hand, and Juliet clasped it.

Reg wondered if Joel shared his sense of exclusion just then.

“Do the shoes fit all right?” said Reg.

“They’re fine, thanks,” said Joel. “I’m just tired.”

“That’s the jet lag. You should be over it by tomorrow.”

They ate on the patio at the pub, sitting on wicker chairs at a glass-topped table, Juliet beside Joel.

At Reg’s suggestion they had the fish and chips. Joel ate slowly, without obvious appetite. His eyes, which had looked an ordinary brown before, had a soft mahogany glow, owing to his mulberry shirt.

Martin talked about the sights he wanted to show Juliet over the next two weeks. Juliet kept glancing at Joel and asking him if he was all right.

“Do both of you still have family here?” said Juliet.

“My mother’s family are from England and Scotland,” said Martin. “Reg’s mum’s family hail from the other place.”

“Hell?” said Juliet.

“Wales,” said Reg. “I’ve got a semi-detached house overlooking the channel. Vacant most of the year.”

“Situated in the most boring tourist town on Earth,” said Martin. “But Reg is too sentimental to sell. Why don’t we visit Sherlock Holmes’s place?”

“He’s not a real person,” said Reg.

“He was based on an actual doctor,” said Juliet. “Someone who taught Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at medical school.”

“Hmm,” said Reg. “I expect he scored a thousand on his QDOG.”

“His what?” said Juliet.

“MCAT, then,” said Reg.

“You can’t score a thousand on the MCAT,” said Juliet. “The highest you can get is five hundred and twenty-eight.”

“I see,” said Reg. “So, five hundred and twenty-six is quite good, then?”

“Five hundred and twenty-six would get you into Harvard,” said Juliet.

Joel quietly mashed a piece of fish batter with his fork.

“My uncle’s got a country cottage where we can stay for a few days,” said Martin. “You and me, Juliet. You could meet my family, and they could meet you.”

“How well does Juliet know you, Martin?” said Reg. “Have you told her the Christmas pudding story?”

“Don’t!” said Martin.

“What Christmas pudding story?” said Juliet.