Watch him pass a tenner and the barmaid take. Laughing together. Skitting I’d call it. She knows him and knows him better than me. I see that all over them. And the devil shifts. Don’t say it. Don’t say. But the drink running through me has its own vocation so when he comes back, I ask straightaway Was it her? Peanuts down. No. Pints too. You have though, haven’t you? Why are you asking that? You know those things about me, what do I know about? Alright, once, ages ago, happy now? And the girl at the National? His frown goes scowl. Come on, let’s not start this. I’m only asking. His narrow eyes Okay I did, now let’s leave it at that. But the drink has grips that make questions of their own How many people have you slept with? He Jesus Fucking Christ! quite loud. I shrink from his temper and he’s immediately calm Sorry I didn’t mean it’s just. He opens and empties the peanuts out, lining them up one by one. Time crucifying me on the mark I’ve hit. Stupid girl stupid fucking eejit. Ignore me, I say It’s not my business and. The answer is a lot, he says. Sliver. More than twenty? Not this year, but it’s been unusually quiet for me so Trail of it trailing off and I watch him, cool-mouthed but his eyes at the edge. Sorry, I mutter. Don’t be, he says What does it matter? It’s not something I’m proud of but it is what it is. Then he sits back. Lights up. Shifts himself. Shifts again to find more comfort but can’t. And I know in this moment he would make me laugh but I am not funny or clever enough to prise this weird weight off. Unprompted then, and into this Friday night, he says It’s just there was a time in my life when I didn’t behave very well that way. What that sort of thing makes you isn’t great so I try not to be it any more. Problem is was it gets like a game like everyone’s possible, like nothing will ever stay and, once you’ve got that knack it’s so fucking easy to do which is not a good thing to know. His face, so silent with these words coming out, becoming completely strange to me now and, although I still don’t ask, he goes on There was this time No I was killing time, in town, when this woman in a shop asked me to reach something down but the way she said it it was just like I could see inside and I knew exactly what it would take. Not much but the right thing and five minutes later we were up in the Ladies in the Lamb and Flag. Twenty minutes after that I was walking down the Strand and couldn’t even remember her face Sorry I don’t know why I’ve told you that it’s horrible. Not really, I say Not if she wanted to. She did, he says I’ve never done anything I wasn’t let. I wouldn’t want you to think it’s like that but Fuck — he shakes his head — The things people let you do. And there’s something in this story I’ve not understood, I know, but don’t know how to get to it. He though just lights a cigarette then swipes the peanuts onto the floor. And I’m left swimming and drowning here. Nowhere for feet. Too far from shore. Seems I can only hold onto him now and go wherever he goes. So I stand up. Are you leaving? he says. No, and wrap my arms around his neck. I’m sorry for all those things I asked. It’s okay, he says — taken aback — Hang on, you’re strangling me. I don’t stop either, so he gives in. Puts his arms around me too and I’m so glad to see you, I say kissing him with all the weeks of waiting rising. And too bad too if the barmaid’s watching — until I see she is. Is she jealous? I whisper. Married, he says. Was she then? Enough, he begs — shovelling me back onto my chair — I could do with a real drink now.
So the rest of the evening goes into the drink. Him smiling and fooling my fingertips. Talk now kept to decent amounts of Why’s there greasepaint in your hair? or How do you find working out dialogue? or My friend’s boyfriend’s getting married because. Spin and chat and flickering lights by the time he asks Coming back to mine? Depends, are you behaving badly with me? I am yes, he nods Absolutely, but not at all in that way. I’ll come, I say though langer-kneed. Him getting hold of me Right then drunk arse, let’s us two go home.
*
Coat and coat. Shirt shoes caught hem. Rolling in under the weight of him. Back bare to the grit on his rug. Gas fire scorching my thigh a little as he kneels up to unlace my boots. Laughing Those were a mission. Belly flat to the curve of mine. Long fingers encouraging half-taken breaths. Mingle struggle the last of underwear off while he kisses me, that way he does, til we are only mouths. Then all over each other in this red dark. Salt of his skin. Bruise on his neck. Did she do that? I don’t know, I suppose. Did you bring her back here? No. Where did you go? Leave it, he says — tearing open the condom — I don’t want to talk about her. So defer to the body, unlocked from shy. Falling together. Ready? I am. And he climbs me. Goes to go inside. Goes. Doesn’t. Tries. Can’t. Tries again. Fuck! Sits back. Fuck! What’s wrong? Jameson’s mixed with the twenty questions, he says. Can I? No, leave it. And I’m disappointed. I thought tonight would be the one. Instead I’m lying in all my new-found want, watching him peel the condom off. Right, he says Time for you know what. No! Yes, and don’t bother being squeamish about it. I stare at the stains on his ceiling and suffer but the twirl of his fingers. Let me, I really want to. I really want to too, so I do. And he does. Soft first. Kissing it. Opening it up. Touching. All gently. Then he opens his mouth and I I understand what all the fuss is about if I let it I let it. And my body corrupts. Pangs of it going to every part. Don’t do that! Really? No actually, do. Or Or Where did you just put your tongue? His barely raised eyebrows. You’re filthy, I complain. Yeah, that’s one advantage, he says. And whatever he is, he’s so complete with me now. His tongue finding feeling until I cannot avoid where I am. Late restraint ebbing. Him saying Go on. I try to not but, in the work and rise, in the mad of it then, I do. Shame biting my lip down to blood and all the pleasure rushing through.
Straight after. Jesus. I cover my face. Sift through surprise for the way my blood beats. Fragile in the wither. How should I be as he — tidily — wipes his mouth on me and asks So how was that? It was it was good — trying to arrange back into a body that only wants his close. Then let’s go to bed, he says Before you get cross. Why do you say that? I’ve met you before, he laughs Vulnerability isn’t your thing. So I let him lead. Lie with him in his bed and whisper in his ear Don’t say that, I won’t be cross. Good, he says and strokes my hair til he sleeps. I should but can’t and for the vaulting night listen to the city outside.
*
City sound makes morning too. Post hitting the floor downstairs. He moans I should never drink whiskey, then crawls over me out of bed. Where’re you going? Shower, it’s the only way. So alone I lie reliving events and solving how I’ll ever look him in the face again.
He faces me though, saying Get in before the hordes, without a trace of strange. And when I don’t move, pulls the covers off laughing Go on, this is all the time we have, lazy bones.