The Lesser Bohemians (12 page)

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.

He seems like a nice lad. Yeah, he is. Well      I'll let you get off, and he stoops to kiss my cheek but the chaste peck turns to kiss, half-kiss, between us. I'd go all but he says up close I'm so sorry for what I did and I want you to know I've regretted it every day since. I know, I say
the pain of this
What upset you though? Won't you tell me that? He steps back, but then just says I spoke to my daughter on the phone and it had been so long I didn't recognise her voice I had to ask her who she was which      wasn't great      I suppose. And the bareness of him, down to the bone. What I'd give to ask him more but Anyway that set me off      and it's not an excuse but you're owed the truth so, poor as it is, that's it.
Quiet world again.
Thank you, I say. He just nods so I    If you want      if you'd like    I could stay for a pint? Don't be silly, besides your bloke'll be freezing his arse off outside. I'm not with him, you know. He says Oh right. So and because there's nothing else for it, I say Goodbye, and leave.

You sneaky fucking cow! You made me look a right twat! I cool my face on the tile What does it matter? It matters because he's fucking great and now he thinks I'm shagging his bird. I'm not his bird and he doesn't care. Are you crying? No. Stop crying. I'm not. Fuck's sake, you'll be alright, look, take one of these.

In. Under the hot and dark. Waterfall pictures. Plastic flowers. Doner turning. Seven Skol. Chippy fingers. Back room. Smoke. Some girl going It's like a vision in my head. Some lad's hand sitting welcome on my leg. Me to Flatmate passing the joint. The laugh of it all on this good night. Mix compound found
and herb-induced free. Hours of drinking over the E. But gathered together. Brain working loose. Belonging to London. Safe from the world. Three o'clock. Four, before they start picking off. Got to get the last night bus. Him. Then her. Then Flatmate with the some girl staggers out to the breeze. Coming? Not yet. My accomplices lads, saying You're very welcome to our floor. Sure? Sure. So, caning, stay until we're turfed to the dawn.

We three here. Thy will be done. Satan under every skin. Skinful under all our skin. Skitter bedraggled laughing in the streets. Linking arms. Split cigarettes. Steps and stairs and to the room. Copies of Loaded. Dirty tissues. Cramped. Drink more? Shall, I think – bottle of vodka that stinks of fridge. First, more drugs? Jesus, please. Snuffed off a Dog Man Star. Kick away boots. Tights the bane of mankind. Better off with young men, amn't I? Chin, my dears. Chin chin to you. Hum in the lungs and the spine and the gullet. Everything cancelling everything out. Dance lazy loose like playing trust. Safe they rock me about, between. Kind hands helping air to my skin. Draughty strip. More! More! they complain and I lay, am laid down. Still, I have laid on beds before. Who objects? Answer – No one. No one in here ever does to a speed quick kiss from two drink thick mouths. Sure ye're nice lads. Decent lads. Nestled in my neck. What are ye at? Well, what would you like? To be dead no that's not right. Twine me round. More kisses perhaps? A mouth finds mine. A mouth finds my back. Smell of hair on a pillow. Bra unclasped. Devil at my navel. Devil at my breast. Right hand in tight jeans, doing its work. Whoever they are though, they're good to me. Good at pointing out my sovereignty. And why shouldn't I reject my scum-rid history and wherever I'm wanted, go? So I touch. Am touched by both. If
it's more than I bargained for it's only life. Fine to the moment of Suck us off? Then No, I won't do that. We thought you were up for it? I thought I was. Quick one? No. Please? Listen lads, maybe it's time I head for the wilds. Don't. Stay. We'll have a good time. Plenty condoms. Plenty drink. But I can leave if I want. We know that. We just hope you won't. So now as I chose him can I choose them? If I let it this will happen. If it happens, who would care? Not all girls have fathers who get upset. Not all men hurt girls for their daughter's sake. And how much do I already know I can take. To spite myself, for him. To hurt myself. I open my thighs saying Lads, do anything. Nothing matters. And it is nothing. Empty vessels making most sound. Stretch her. She deserves it. The well-trained mouth. Just go where she treads herself underfoot. Beneath unwashed bodies. She chooses this. This time she chooses what she is. Beyond the fright, even disgust, she passes her body on to their want and only when they have fucked enough goes down to the sleep where no dream penetrates.

I wake up. Again there's life. I wake up. It is daylight. Their trousers off. In my skin. Find my clothes. They stay asleep. Got to go. Monsters approach and the morning knows what you did.

I push outside to the night that's day. To the street where I was before I became what I've become – a form of thing. What does it mean? Look into the sun and want      and want    to be safe. Down Chalk Farm Road. The Marathon. If I could step back there, I'd choose to go home. But it's in me, forever. The Roundhouse here. Safeway's. Offstage. The Monarch. Moon under Water. The Fusilier. Under railway. Over canal. The Elephant's Head. Market stalls. Round the tube to the Camden Road. Canal again. Cross beneath the overground. Again over
Royal College Street. Further up. Turn right. The hedge. The house. His door and ring his bell. Ring it and listen and ring.

Steps. Unlatch locked opened. There. Him, light-wincing, half-asleep Hey      it's barely seven      what are you doing here? I only stand. Then his eyes catch up Jesus, what happened? But she is silent, spring-snapped. What's the matter? What happened? I did something bad. What did you do? I went back to this fella's      with him and his friend. Why are you telling me this? Can I come in? No, go home. Please. No. Please      I'm frightened. His fingers in his sleep-flat hair Alright, go on upstairs.

Lair early, old cigarettes and sleep. The stuffiness, comfort. Even the mess. Oblivious to its magic he leans on the desk Right, what is it you want?
Can I say what I want is to lie on his bed, in his crease on his sheets until my body forgets what it's done and where it's been?
By the cool of his eye I don't think I can. Instead I stare at floor. He takes a deep breath From the beginning then, did they make you? No. Did they hurt you? Shake again. Use protection? I look up – he looks away – Yes. Well that's something at least so      why are you frightened? Because of what I did. And what exactly was that, do you remember? Everything I did everything      with the both of them. For fuck's sake! he says. It was only a good time but then I woke up and
how can he not see what it took to make myself do that?
So what is it you want me to do? Let me stay here. No, go home, sleep it off. But fright goes everywhere like losing blood. Don't look at me like that, he says What am I supposed to say? If you're upset by what you did don't do it again    you know     these things happen     you'll be fine. I nod. Do you hear me? Yes. Then why don't you go? But Sorry's all that comes. Don't apologise to me, he shouts I don't give a fuck what you did. Why are you shouting at me
then? He just shakes his head and seeing now he won't be kind, I shut my eyes. Shame fuses to silence letting the night maraud, killing bit by useless hope of not being this girl I was. Am. She is. Don't fucking cry, he says Do you think I don't understand? I know all about having a good time. Having it and having it until a good time's all there is, until it's not a good time, until it's everything turned to shit and you can't believe the things you've done, look at me, is that what you want? I look and   I think   I'm going to puke. Ah fuck it! he grabs me, drags me by the arm out. Half carrying by the toilet. Holding hair back and me forward Just try to aim. Drugs, drink, chewed chips spittle bile. Again. Again until That everything? Yes. Go wash your mouth in the shower then. Brain whacks with spun though and balance off. Hand out to the nowhere. Knuckles the lock but. He catches me. Hikes me under his arm over each nail in the floor. Past blue telly flicker. Click. Green mirror mould and. Puke stain all down my top. There's the. What's she? Just get in it, he says so I try to but     seize up.