Keep Calm and Carry On

In a blinding flash of clarity I remembered. And my comfortable insulation from the tragedy in America was ripped away

Steve is in New York. Steve, whom I've been in love with since I was 16.

Steve, whom I have always relied on to be there when I needed him. As I would be there for him. Steve, who I want to kiss until he can't breathe every time I see him.

And now I don't even know if he's OK.

I don't have a contact for him in the States - he's there for an eight week training stint before returning here to take up a new job. I didn't want to phone his mum tonight - in case they haven't heard yet. I don't want to make their anguish any worse.

There are so many things I want to say to him and now may never be able to. Not just the fact that I love him (which I will probably never say. Some things are too difficult to say to a straight friend. I'm sure he knows, though). Just things like 'Steve - I'm finally doing something constructive with my life. You can tell your mother to stop nagging me to go back to university now!"

We may never again have the opportunity to set the world to rights over a pint (or several). We may never have a time where we laugh like drains at something we've said/done.

But I'm still hoping. Hoping he's alright.

I don't know what I'd do if he weren't.