Bollocks. Cup of tea. Pizza. Spliff. That’s what you need so you’re in luck, the Missus brought all the leftovers from her work. I’m tired. Every part of me is broke. You’ve been in this bed for a week and if you don’t quit skiving they’ll turf you out so come on, we’re all in the sitting room. Blast of Withnail will do you good.
Key. Key. I do see it but don’t care about making it turn.
Lazy bint, get up! I made you a coffee. Thanks I just. Drink it. Hop in the shower. There’s toast if you want and in half an hour you can walk in with me.
Work.
Work work work work work.
Look out at Camden from a bus and the Oh God oh god ohmygodthefuckingpainofthis
Three minutes.
We are only on the first.
Why didn’t you tell me? How late is late? Late enough. Too late, aren’t all lates that? And I’m always late so it’s just to check. You should’ve gone on the pill. I know I should but You should go on it now. I will. Imagine if you were though, she says Pregnant with a famous actor’s child, how romantic would that be? making moustaches with her hair.
Second minute.
Would you tell him? I’d have to. He’d have to pay for the operation. So, you wouldn’t have it? How could I have it? Yeah, you’re probably right. Plus he doesn’t want any more children himself.
Third minute.
Well he should have thought of that first. It was an accident, so. Happens to everyone I suppose. Does it? Yes, how could it not, is this really your first ever test? Ever. I had mine at fifteen. Positive but negative on the next three, thank God! Beginner’s luck, I say. And may it extend to thee now. Thanks. So, she says Want to have a look?
Yes.
Check it.
And again.
All hooks offed.
Oh
No blue.
Pill. I say Good girl, to myself. That’s the spirit. When there’s war be ready for it. Have it. But I don’t start it. I might though. I will though, soon.
Black ceiling above. Somewhere there’s stars. Music soaks down. The first coming up and rolling out. Feeling the love? Flatmate laughs, ducking around me Come on! Let’s dance! Giddy and led so, I give to the trance. Where the bodies are greeting, beckoning mine. Where the heat is. Joy lives. Swapped smiles and mixed hands. Inside me opening as the room begins to go. All turned to heartbeat and all I am is all hope. You’re beautiful, he says. You too, I shout. Kiss like we’re meant. Memory wiped. This night the finest yet. Freer than I’ve ever been and we’re all here dancing so free. Dancing in the absence of my body. Weight or look or pain. As though I am perfection moving against the sweat of strange men. Him. Her. The strange sweat of women. I find and lose, the very same. I relinquish my best self to them. Sometimes he dances where I am. What he offers, I take from him. And who wants my love has it, for we’re a unit of life. More. In this dark we are a unit of light.
Great night. Another night. One more dance? One more pill. And the night bus. Grand. Feeling any better these days? I am. I really love you man. I really love you back. And laugh into each other as London gallivants in its circus of lights.
I really feel like shit. Me too, he on my bed Missus? Hey! Missus? Make us a brew? which she actually does What time back? Five or so. Her hairy boyfriend, in her dressing gown, smirking asides. She translates You are together now? No. He was cheering me up. Your broken heart? Stays broken but I am up for the odd chemical whirl. Pure selfishness on my part, Flatmate says Couldn’t stomach another month of her lying in bed!
I’m glad that month is over too. In it I thought I’d die. I thought about you every day. I think about you all the time. Missing more as the bruises greened — which wasn’t long because they were gripping not hitting — and when they faded I started burning again. It didn’t work. It didn’t hurt enough. And I should hate you for what you were. And I do want to hurt you but can’t manage either, for how’s that done to the closed-over door? Look for ways though, sleeping beside your Black Snow. Just so much feeling left behind. It wishes you’d tell me you want me again and tells itself it would turn you down.
’Nother? Please. Lounge between the flatmate’s legs. He pours over my shoulder Coming out tomorrow night? Where? Camden. Few drinks with mates — men — you should come. Okay.
Skite over the hours until we’re drunk. Last glugs of vermouth. Mound of fag butts with gall-guts and gall-eyes from watching Reservoir Dogs. After that Bound and Gagged. After that Your Missus is nice. Isn’t she though? After that How’s married life treating you? Brilliant. So tell me what upsets men? What, like Spurs losing? No like your ex what would she have to do? She couldn’t, I don’t fancy her any more. But if you did? Seeing her with someone else I suppose. And cat out on the carpet to ponder that. Low to play jealousy but I’m all tats and Would you ever give me a love bite? Why? Just because. So he, too trashed for incompliance, does. Ow! Me kicking That fucking hurts! Yep, you’ll need a load of toothpaste on that, he showboats. And there, touching my throat on the pain he’s made I Look outside, it’s light. Pull myself up Time for bed. Wait! What? Do you want to sleep with me? he asks. In blear-gratified vacuum I say Yes do you want to sleep with me? Yeah, let’s go to bed — which is back on the floor, him on top, kissing to rubbish truck squeal beyond. He kisses well too, without remorse but no iota in me stirs. Still, I just have his jeans off when the front door creaks. Sssh it’s your wife! Mithered by giggling we freeze where we are. Czechoslovakian-sounding words. Wait. Ssssh. Her bedroom door. Right, your place or mine? Follow, I instruct, stumbling into the hall. Dawn spidering across my mattress now. Still no curtains! No one’s around to see. Slide down the wall and he slides down on me. Kiss. Stripping. Different. Why shouldn’t it be? Though he’s tall, not as tall. Thin, not as thin. Further unnerving the not smelling the same. Still, it’s friendly to wriggle about, touch in those ways. And, despite the drunkness, I like this something like sex, even though it only seems its cousin twice removed when compared with. Don’t. Don’t think about him. Too quick, he says after Sorry about that. But sprawling I offer the comfort of females Don’t worry about it, happens to everyone. Go to sleep then knowing I’ve made the first step towards rubbing him out.
Bit weird that, Flatmate says around three. Yeah, I eating my bowl of rice crispies Let’s not repeat it. Yeah, nice love bite though why did you want it again? I forget I haven’t. It’s the best thought I’ve ever had. Could I though? Dwell on him. Pick at the scab of missing him. Just to see him. Even to hurt him, that’s something. He’s the one closed the door. Got to say it, Flatmate says lifting my hair to inspect Damn fine work there on my part.
Six hours later. Come the fuck on! I’m coming but I have to drop this book off. Where? The Prince Albert, it’s on the way. Hurry up then! Okay, I’m just doing my hair.
Feast of the crowd. Pub. Saturday night. Rites of laughter. Crisps. Fags. Pint. Flatmate declares he’s off for a slash, deserting me to the boots and bag straps I. He’s probably not here anyway. He’s probably at the World’s End. He’s not. He’s in the corner, lighting a cigarette. Two girls beside him of course he has. No. Look harder. They’re just there as well. Then all I can do is look at him, burning with what’s left of not burnt down. Tired, he seems but hair been cut. Little more grey, maybe. Don’t see me. Please don’t. Palming the bite mark I make to retreat. Flicking a match though he catches sight and Shit! Drops it. Stands. Paperback swatting it off while my inside life shows whatever it wants. Hello, he says, once fully extinguished. You shouldn’t dog-ear it, I say. Oh God, spare me the books, he says then It’s nice to see you. And you. But I can’t meet his eyes so stare at his fingers instead. He’s a better trier So how’ve you been? Fine, you? Fine here for a drink? But suddenly remembering I came to be cold I fish out his book Just returning Black Snow. Oh did you read it? Yes it was good. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I really did. Listen — quick his hand goes for my hand but WHACK from the flatmate hits my arse right then with Awight darlin’? Ready or what? So here it is, the flower of my plot. Them face to face, with him — for just a second — off guard. Perfect in every way except I don’t feel so vindictive now. Oh God you did this so you have to now. This is my new flatmate Oh right, he says Nice to meet you, and he shakes his hand. You too mate, the flatmate says impressed then, for the moment’s a bit crippled, adds I saw you in ’Tis Pity last year you were great! Cheers, he says It worked out alright, but his eyes move back across my face and down my neck. I see him see it then by just the tiniest flick that he covers by itching at his lip. So, Flatmate soldiers We’re meeting up with some mates, you’re very welcome to come along if? Thanks but I’m just out for a quiet pint. How he looks at him though, gauging what might be the thing. Fair enough, Flatmate says Well I better head out nice to meet you — and to me — don’t be long, then disappears into the crowd.