Believing the Lie

Kaveh surprised him then. They were coming up to a lay-by, and he pulled into it and crushed the brake with his foot. The morning traffic was heavy. Someone honked and gave Kaveh two fingers, but he either didn’t notice or he didn’t care.

“What,” Kaveh asked him, “are you talking about?”

“Dad, dead, and good for you, you mean?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. What are you talking about?”

Tim looked out of the window. There was little enough to see. Next to the car was a drystone wall, and the wall grew ferns like the plumes on ladies’ hats. There were probably sheep somewhere behind that wall, but he couldn’t see them. He could only see the rise of one of the fells in the distance and a wispy crown of cloud encircling its summit.

“I asked you a question,” Kaveh said. “Answer it please.”

“I don’t have to answer questions,” Tim said. “Not from you and not from anyone.”

“You do when you make an accusation,” Kaveh told him. “And that’s what you’ve done. You can try to pretend you haven’t, but that’s not going to work. So why don’t you tell me what you mean.”

“Why don’t you keep driving?”

“Because, like you, I don’t have to.”

Tim had desired this confrontation, but now he wasn’t sure he really did want it after all. There he was in an enclosed car with the man for whom his father had destroyed their entire family and wasn’t there a sense of menace here? Wasn’t the case that if Kaveh Mehran had been capable of walking into Tim’s birthday party and laying down the bald facts like a hand of cards, he was capable of pretty much anything?

No. Tim told himself he would not be afraid because if anyone was going to be afraid, it was Kaveh Mehran. Liar, cheat, rotter, and everything else.

He said, “So when’s the wedding, Kaveh? And what’re you planning to tell the bride? ’S she going to be brought into the picture of what you’ve been up to in this part of the world? Or is that why you’re getting rid of me and Gracie? I don’t s’pose we’ll be invited to the wedding. Guess that’d be a bit much. Gracie’d like to be a bridesmaid, though.”

Kaveh said nothing. Tim had to credit him for thinking a bit instead of blurting out something like his plans being none of Tim’s business. He was probably madly going through responses since the one thing he didn’t know was how Tim had managed to winkle out the truth.

Tim added, “Did you give Mum the news? Let me tell you, that’s not exactly going to make her day.”

What surprised Tim was what he was feeling as he spoke. He didn’t know what to call it. It was filling him up inside and making him want to do something to make it go away, but he couldn’t name what the feeling was, and he didn’t want to. He hated it when he felt something as a result of what other people did. He hated that he reacted to things. He wanted to be like a sheet of glass with everything rolling off him like rain and the fact that he wasn’t, that he hadn’t managed it yet, that there was no indication that he’d ever manage it …This knowledge was just as bad as feeling something in the first place. It spoke of a kind of condemnation: an eternal hell of being at the mercy of everyone else and no one being at the mercy of him.

“You and Gracie belong with your mother,” Kaveh said, choosing what was the easiest route for their conversation. “I’ve been happy to have you with me. I’d continue to be happy to have you with me, but — ”

“But the wife might not be so happy about that,” Tim sneered. “And with the parents as well, I guess the place would start getting a little crowded, wouldn’t it? Man, this worked out perfect for you, didn’t it? Like you even had it planned.”

Kaveh went perfectly still. Only his lips moved. They formed words and the words were, “What exactly are you talking about?”

There was something behind those words that was unexpected, that sounded like anger but more than anger. Tim thought in that instant that danger was anger with a d in front of it and maybe that’s where danger came from, born out of anger and what people did when anger came upon them, people like Kaveh. But he didn’t care. Let the bloke do anything and what difference did it make? He’d already done his worst.

“I’m talking,” Tim said, “about the fact that you’re getting married, having decided — I s’pose — that taking it up the shoot from a bloke got you what you’d wanted from the first and now that you have it, you’re ready to move on. You reckoned the farm is a good enough payment for what you had to do to get it, so you can bring on the wife and the kiddies now. Only, of course, there’s the problem of me and what I might say in front of the wife and in front of the parents, like ‘What about you and blokes, Kaveh? What about you and my dad? Why’d you change over to ladies, then? Arsehole getting stretched out of shape or something?’”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kaveh said. He glanced over his shoulder at the coming traffic. He signaled his intention to rejoin the stream of cars.

“I’m talking about you taking it from my dad,” Tim said. “Up the arse, night after night. You think some woman’s going to want to marry you if she knows what you’ve been up to, Kaveh?”

“‘Night after night,’” Kaveh said, his brow furrowing. “‘Taking it’ from your dad. What are you talking about, Tim?” He began to move the car to the edge of the lay- by.

Tim reached over and killed the engine with a twist of the key. “You and my dad fucking each other,” Tim said. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Kaveh’s jaw actually dropped. “Fucking… What’s wrong with your head? What’ve you been thinking? That your father and I…?” Kaveh made an adjustment to his seat, as if with the intention of settling in for a proper natter with Tim. He went on. “Your father was dear to me, Tim, a close and dear friend. I held him in the highest esteem, and we loved each other as close friends do. But that there might have been more than that… That he and I were… Are you thinking we were homosexual lovers? How could you have come to think that? I had a room in his house, only as his lodger. You know that.”

Tim stared at the man. His face was perfectly serious. He was lying with such skill and such grace that for a moment Tim could actually almost quite nearly be poised on the edge of believing that everyone including himself had been completely wrong about Kaveh and about Tim’s father and most of all about what they’d been to each other. Except Tim had been there the night his father had declared his love for Kaveh Mehran in front of his wife and his children. And Tim had seen his father with Kaveh. So he knew the truth.

“I watched you,” he said. “Through the door. Didn’t know that, did you? Makes your situation a bit different, doesn’t it? You up on your hands and knees and Dad giving it to you in the arse and both of you liking it just fine. I watched you. Okay? I watched you.”

Kaveh looked away from him for a moment. Then he sighed. Tim thought he was going to say something along the lines of being caught out and Tim needing to keep mum on the subject round Kaveh’s family please. But Kaveh, it seemed, was full of surprises. He brought out another for Tim’s entertainment. He said, “I used to have the same sort of dreams when I was your age. They’re very real, aren’t they? They’re called waking dreams. They generally happen at the moment your body is making the transition from waking to sleeping and they seem so real that one actually thinks what’s happening in them is life itself. People believe all sorts of things because of waking dreams: they’ve been abducted by aliens, they’ve seen someone in the bedroom with them, they’ve had a sexual experience with a parent or a teacher or even a mate, and on and on. But all the time they’re merely asleep. As you were, of course, when you saw what you think you saw between your father and myself.”

Tim’s eyes widened. He wet his lips to respond but Kaveh went first.

“The fact that what you dreamed you saw between us was sexual in nature comes from the age you are, Tim. At fourteen a boy is all hormones and desire. And this is due to how his body’s changing. He has dreams of sex, often. Often he ejaculates during them. And this could be — and probably is — an embarrassment to him if no one has explained it’s perfectly normal. Your dad did explain this, didn’t he? He ought to have done. Or perhaps your mum?”

Tim’s next breath felt like a stab, not only in the lungs but in the brain and right to the centre of who he knew he was and not to the centre of whoever Kaveh was making him out to be. He said, “You fucking liar,” and to his horror, he felt tears rising and God how he knew that Kaveh would use them. He could even see the endgame now, how it would all play out no matter which way he turned or what he threatened or what, indeed, he said to anyone, but especially what he said or might say to Kaveh’s parents