It was for the best that Bruce wasn’t there.
Then why did each step drag as he trailed behind Angela?
She yammered about this and that, about how divine it was all looking, how Sofia would be proud, how it had just enough of her taste to be considered her work, how the theatre would honour her in the program, but it was all so much noise.
‘This way.’ She guided him through the foyer and into the theatre rather than to the left and down the corridor to wardrobe.
She held the door for him and his gaze swept up from the carpet to the lit stage. He stopped, his breath catching high in his throat. Mannequins dotted the stage, each dressed in the best pieces of his designs. Behind them hung the set from the final act, the most glamorous and complex one they’d designed. His heart thudded inside his chest as he struggled to breathe, to understand. He stumbled towards the magnificent sight.
To see it all come to life.
To see it all in reality.
What a gift Sofia had given him in asking for his help.
His hands covered his mouth and tears stung his eyes; his breath quavered as he looked around. He swivelled to thank Angela but she wasn’t there. He turned back to the stage, hoping for some explanation.
‘What do you think?’ Bruce came out from the wings.
His heart stuttered at seeing the redheaded handyman.
Bruce crouched, vaulted off the stage, and walked towards him. Gabriel wanted to run but in which direction? Bruce closed the distance before he could make up his mind. He stared up at the giant, bit his bottom lip, and itched to stroke the scar on the side of his head. He cleared his throat but didn’t know what to say.
‘It looks good, doesn’t it?’ Bruce said.
‘Even if it was based on a lie?’ The fanged question sprang from his mouth, and Bruce winced like he’d been struck.
‘I’m sorry.’ Bruce’s hands opened and closed. ‘I had no right to judge what you and Sofia were doing. After hearing your eulogy, I know how much you cared for her and why you did it.’
Bruce might have been bitten but Gabriel was twice shy. To know he’d been there but they’d hurt each other so much, that Bruce didn’t come talk to him … He could have used a friend, if not a lover.
‘It would have been nice of you to say that then,’ Gabriel said. ‘I looked for you at the funeral.’
I missed you.
‘I know. I should have said something but I felt so useless. After the fight, I thought I’d make it worse.’
‘But now?’
Bruce held out his hand. ‘Come with me. You should see what you’ve created.’
Gabriel could already see what he’d created. Fancy costumes and a lumbering set and a whole lot of pain. He didn’t want to see it anymore. He wanted to get out of Brachen and never look back. But Bruce’s open palm beckoned, a magnet that was too strong to resist. He took Bruce’s hand and a shock zapped his hand.
No! Bruce still thought him a liar. He snatched his hand back and crossed his arms.
‘I’ll follow you.’
Bruce’s tentative smile vanished as he turned and they walked up and onto the stage, Gabriel remaining a couple of steps behind. Bruce led him around the costumes so he could get a better look. Angela and Magda had done an excellent job with the sewing and turning two-dimensional sketches into three-dimensional reality. He touched the satin fabric and the rough linens, the amalgamation of the two worlds—dark and light, real and fake. That’s what he felt when he was standing there with Bruce. Bruce was real, but did that mean whatever Gabriel felt was fake? He examined Ron de Vue’s military uniform closely. He had no interest in the costumes right now but he needed to focus on something other than the aching in his heart.
‘I want to apologise for everything I said to you,’ Bruce said.
The uniform’s coarse wool against his fingers wasn’t enough to scour Bruce’s attention from the back of his neck. But if Bruce wanted to talk, then he owed it to them both to strip away the last of the lies. Then maybe he could leave Brachen with a lighter heart.
If there was anything left of it.
‘Why?’ He faced Bruce. ‘It was true. I did lie to you. Many times. And I did work on those designs.’
‘I know, but with all that’s happened lately, I’ve realised that there are lies and then there are lies.’
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Moral relativism? From Bruce?
‘What I’m saying is that I understand now that you did what you did to protect me and everyone else.’
It would be easy to let Bruce believe that. Too easy.
He shook his head. ‘No, I was afraid of the consequences. I didn’t want to hurt Mum for fear of losing her. I didn’t tell you about Jason for fear of losing you. I’m a coward, that’s all there is to it.’
His heart squeezed when he spoke those words, all the goodness seeping out of it to drip onto a cold and damp stone floor. Wasn’t he supposed to feel better from telling the truth?
‘Jeez, and you said I lived in a black-and-white world.’ Bruce took a couple of steps towards him, but Gabriel dodged around a mannequin.
‘It’s true, you were spot-on. Some things can’t be made right.’
Especially not now I know what you really think of me.
‘Do you believe that?’ Bruce asked.
The grand gesture of rallying the community had been misguided. He’d helped Bruce but it hadn’t changed anything between them. It couldn’t.
‘What does it matter? I slept with Jason. I didn’t tell you the truth about us, or about him. I created those designs for the architect, I drew all this. All I am is lies
