I wanted to remind Jennifer of that e-mail she sent me only a week ago, in which she kicked me out of the house. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and give her a good shake. But I realised that, most of all, she was probably angry at herself. I was an easy target, her verbal punching bag. I left her in the kitchen and went up to my old room. Tiger was sleeping on my bed, as ever. I lay down next to him and said, “I will miss you most of all, little bugger.” I scratched behind his ears and he stretched his neck to give me better access. “Why don’t you come with me, silly ginger?” I kissed him on the head. “There are lesbians in my new house as well, and I promise not to make such a mess this time.” He just purred. Then settled on my chest, his whiskers almost touching my chin. I closed my eyes and let the memories roll over me, like a high wave on the beach. This had been a good home. It was exactly what I had needed at the time. A safe haven, nice people, a couple to look up to, a gay to hang out with, furry animals to pet. It had felt wholesome, like a home is supposed to feel. And then it had all gone to hell.

I stayed in my room a little bit longer, generally feeling sorry for myself. I still didn’t have a lot of stuff, moving should be easy enough. I’d get some boxes, Andrew would come by with his car and we would transport my life from Shoreditch to Kensington, by all means, a step up the area ladder. I wondered if I would ever have made the first move, if Jennifer hadn’t. Did it matter? It did if Jennifer was suddenly accusing me of ruining her life. I reckoned it probably wasn’t a good idea to leave her to stew on her own downstairs for much longer. I was about to get up, when she appeared in the doorframe. She had that look in her eyes, that look she had when she came up to my room for the first time, that smouldering glance that stripped me of everything, my defences, my sanity, my clothes. Time for make-up sex. If she couldn’t say it with words, she would give me an orgasm to make me understand, that was Jen’s way of saying sorry. I accepted.

Later, basking in the afterglow, we were giggling at how Tiger had remained at the edge of the bed for a bit, with a dumb stare, as if he was trying to tell us something. Then we heard noises downstairs. We both froze. I prayed it was Jack, I could handle him. But we heard fragments of conversation, there were two of them. Kim was home. We rushed to get our clothes back on, Jennifer led the way down the stairs. My blood pulsed hard in my veins, my heart went nuts. This was it. I hadn’t seen Kim in weeks, since she had found out I had stolen her girlfriend. I was worried and frightened, what the hell would I say to her? Sorry? Talk about inadequate. How would I approach this? We entered the kitchen and I knew there was no easy way out. And it’s not as if I didn’t have it coming. Still, I would have given a lot for a back door exit. We only had a front door though. I was stuck in a trap of my own making.

To be continued…