This Doesn't Look Good

It's my brother Will's birthday. I'm sure I can forget that without a shred of guilt.

I came home, last night, to Mark W. sitting in my lounge room with Shane sobbing, inconsolably, in his lap.

Hello, I thought, as I struggled through the back door with my bags. This doesn't look good.

Shane had split up from Matt. Mark W. looked scared, and as smart and as beautiful as he is, was completely useless. Shane had been crying for hours, with Mark W. sitting by silent. (No, it's not enough just to turn up, Mark, I thought.)

I took Shane's hand and told him that that was a bastard. Poor baby. "What a fuck!"

Shane cried and cried, as though he was never going to stop. I rubbed his hand. Jesus, what do I say? You know the drill, luv, when in doubt, just keep talking. So I did.

"Well, there is only one thing that will fix this now?" I said.

"Vodka," sobbed Shane questioningly.

"I think by the look of it, Mr Vodka has already come to visit," I said.

"Valium," Shane questioned further.

When you are unsure of what to do, it's always best to go back to the classics. That's what I've always said.

"No, luv. What you need is a good cup of tea."

Shane laughed through his tears and looked up for the first time. "You might be right." He sat up and wiped his eyes. He looked up at me and tried to focus.

"How many valium are we up to?" I asked.

"Two," said Shane. "Three."

"I see."

"Oh my head," he said. "Actually, it's good to sit up." He tried to focus. He smiled crookedly, looking like a ten year old boy, who's just fallen off his bike. "Yes, tea would be good. Thanks."

Mark W. continued to look angelic in the far corner of the couch. Silent, but angelic.

Well, he'd stopped crying and was sitting up and taking notice.

"Tea Mark?"

"Yes, please," said Mark. He didn't look scared any more. In fact, he kind of looked impressed.

Shane went to the toilet. I pushed the button on the kettle.

"I didn't know what to say," said Mark. "For hours." He smiled brittlely. "I would never have thought of tea."

"Wing and I prayer, mate," I said. "Wing and a prayer."