Morning lovely daylight early I get out of bed. Tie up all my hair. Put his dressing gown on. Kettle too. He sleeps deep on his front. I light a cigarette then watch the sunlight inch up to his face. Young-looking despite the lines that show deeper when he laughs around his eyes. In a little they open. He rolls onto his side What time is it? Half six. Come here. I sit by and he takes my hand Some woman’s yellow hair has maddened every mother’s son, he smiles. Impressive, I say, softly itching his chin. Then you better go put your clothes on before I make both of us late.
Partly patched so I go back to the world. Blue of the day and Monday round making my way along the Prince of Wales Road eating a Belgian bun.
Where the fuck have you been? Flatmate shouts from the steps I thought you’d been murdered, I nearly called the cops. Out, I say. Doing what? I haven’t seen you since Saturday night! Just stuff. What fucking stuff? he says Oh wait, I can see.
In the changing room I catch sight of myself. Mischief bruised. Slightly proud. It’s a long enough way to here from Ireland. But there is one more bad thing.
Ho ho harlot! What have you been at? Couldn’t take my eyes off it all Character Analysis class. Did someone try to suck your blood? It was a mad weekend. Well bring your tea out onto the step and tell me EVERYTHING! Who? Where? All the pork. Mmmm I Mmmm I. Mmmm.
It was terrible. I feel terrible. She was so upset. So what did you tell her for, you fucking idiot? I had to, besides, she guessed. I’m a terrible liar and now she’s going to hate me forever. Yeah well, join the club.
Dubious this, and awkward — from here now unto then on. Such sufferous vistas of eye-rolled ignoring I had not thought possible. Allegiance-mad others crowd in too with You know the rules — though I perhaps didn’t. Take it all, as my due. But it’s a mercy to get cast in the Third Year play. Maid. And why not? The Director says The Irish sort. Raw-boned you know, I want you to play that. Raw-boned. Okay. Still, to be sitting in with them from six o’clock to nine every evening helps cut to the last of the term. Finding a little more out all the time. Making something of nothing’s easier said than done but — oh — once it gets done is when the fun begins. Solving the search for that idle moment when the own eye loses touch. When slipping the focus allows it to reach elbow-deep into other, and else. Additional. Extra. Hinted at. Imagined. Imbibed. Made possible because of. Bent to the will by. Smothered at the breast. Left for the wolves. No. Thrown to is best. For it’s finding to there that finds to where pure is indivisible from its reverse.
Hold on and suck in! the Wardrobe Mistress instructs, rib cracking corset as I suffer gulp. Now hike them up and, as if by magic, Jacobean boobs. So starts Tech Week. First I’ve had. Costume fittings. Running lines. Keyed-up Third Years. Lighting and sound designers keeping us on set til late. Home from rehearsal and the Missus’s pizza box No help yourself, they give me so much. Flatmate Here, have a look at my contact sheets. This one’s for Spotlight but maybe that with CVs? What do you think? I don’t know, they all look nice to me. Yeah but which says Just some nice guy. Not too good-looking or serial killer mad. Ordinary bloke. Some guy you would. Jesus maybe this? And as for the phone. Drilled to the drill. If an agent calls TAKE ALL HIS DETAILS and you, don’t be a twat — to the Missus’s boyfriend whose skittering English often makes him hang up.
And one Sunday morning phone Morning. Are you back? Just. How was it? It was alright, very early to very late. No buxom extras to cheer you up? No, they were all a bit grumpy for that, anyway, you around tonight? Later on. Later when? We’re supposed to be teching at least until ten. After then, want to come back to mine? Or you could come here? Aaaaaaalright, what’s your new address?
Only onto the couch when knocks a knock. Flatmate goes out. I should have but, devil loves bait and can’t resist the straitened Oh alright mate? Alright she in? Yeah follow me. Eyes from the flatmate like Fucking Jesus! Placated though by the bag of beers and For the fridge, help yourself. Flatmate takes to the kitchen as I swing round his neck. Kiss, then a quiet Didn’t expect to see your mate. Why not? Just thought it would be us, why don’t we head to your room? No I haven’t eaten yet, sit down, slice of pizza? Okay, thanks, stretching long legs out. Can? Flatmate calls through. Please, but accepts it cautious-like and eyes him sitting down by my left side. So how goes the tech? Fine. You in this too? I’m playing Vindice. Great. How was Prague? So and tides until our small chat sticks and Flatmate mines his stack of tapes. How about The Italian Job? Why not. On. Mystified me but both of them, right off, doing their Michael Caines like easiest segue for English males. Reminding each other of The Swarm or Ever seen his Acting on Film? Making this weirdest couch weirdly alright before Flatmate reaches for his. Do not, I kick. What? Just making a spliff. No, put it away. What the fuck? She’s looking out for me I think, he says But it’s okay, there’s no need. Come again? I think she’s concerned, he says Because I have a history of problems with various substances, am I right? I nod and my hand gets squeezed. Like how? Flatmate asks. Like a junkie, he says. Like shooting up and shit? Yeah, at the end mostly other stuff but, really, weed was never a problem so feel free to roll away. And so Flatmate does brazen asking How long are you clean? Sixteen years. Fair play mate. Thanks, he thanks him, though wrestling a smile off his face. What did it? He yawns up at the artex Let’s just say life’s rich buffet signalled it was time for a change. Anyway, look at this, she’s wrecked, come on you, let’s go to bed.
In the dark he says Leave off the light, so instead we shine in the moon and car light. He sits on the mattress while I undress. You need some curtains. I do. You alright with all that chat? Were you really a junkie? I really was, does it bother you? No but I just can’t imagine it. Well that’s good I suppose. It was another kind of life and one I don’t plan on returning to so have you slept with him? Yes. And are you still? I’m not. You can, you know, as far as I’m concerned. I know but it’s not like that. Okay, he says. Kicking off my knickers so, I sink onto his lap. He kisses me then and I kiss him back. Too long, he says pulling up the duvet to hide us. Far too long, I agree.