The Lesser Bohemians (5 page)

                    And the air makes whistles.

                              And my brain makes hay.

Guts to gorge. Look at him. Be sure? It is. oh god. But if I sit
still. Live for the stage. Focus on the actors and glorious fake and. Look again
is he looking at me?
Read at the programme.

Then he definitely isn't.

Then it's the interval.

Look again. He gets up
pray for poise
. More as he excuses himself across. Yet more at my aisle.
Please poise
at my step. Hello, I thought it was you, he says and I remember and I remember and make some word like Hi. Enjoying it? Yes I. Really? he says I thought I saw you nodding off? I wasn't      it's just my first time     I mean     you know     I was looking around. He solemn nods but somewhere smiles So how have you been? I scaldcheek Fine    and you? Fine, he says Coming out for a smoke? an unlit in his fingers. No, I No thanks, and go at reading biogs. like War and Peace. He loiters further but I am shame sealed. Well, I'll leave you to it, he says Nice to see you again. You too, I say and don't look up. Do not watch him climb the steps. Nor think at all Why were you rude? Only Bladder, why have you forsaken me now?
Just wait til he's gone, then go.

Right, stick on that nonchalant smile
don't buy an ice cream like a child
and get what urbane I possess into line as I go back in. But at the bottom of the steps he's all chat to some girl. Close and smiling. She giving laughs. Him too, or thoughtful, pushing his hair back. Gets kissed on the mouth too at the bell, and offered permutations of See you soon then, before he heads back to his row. And so what of it? What do I care? I am here for the Art.

And the dark swims over. And the play winds on.

In twenty minutes, he's up again. Maybe leaving? Should I wave? No. Oh here. He crosses aisles instead, comes up to my row then drops in the seat beside. You pissed off with me? he asks, leaning his long self in. No, why would I be? Don't know,
that's why I'm asking. Well I'm not, and glare at the stage. I had a good time the other night, he says I know it got a bit weird at the end but Don't, I say Just don't. Alright, with his eyes wandering down my face So let's go. What? Let's go, this show is shit and it's not going to improve. It isn't. It is, you liar, he says Come on, then gets up and leaves and I, for only trouble it seems, get up and go as well.

On the stairs down he says The designer's a mate so I have to say a quick hello backstage but I won't be long. Won't he be offended you left? No, I made the effort, besides he said it was bad.

Bang out. Sky gone to winter but still fanfares of sun. I'll just have a look at the books while you're gone. Don't wander off, he says. I shrug. No, I'll be five minutes that's all     I mean it, don't go home. But I turn on my heel. Into the book stalls and the so many books. What is he after? What am I up to? I think it's called adventuring. So shuffle on in with the shufflers then lose myself in spines.

And tick on the moment he reappears where I pretend not to see. His friend as tall as, not as thin, dark-skinned, older, earnestly discussing, the pair of them. His fingers negotiating something imaginary but stops with a loud Yeah, anyway. Then he looks up for me into the end of the sun.
Pick me
. There she is, over there so    til next weekend. There's a form of an arms round and his friend laugh calls to me Watch yourself with this one, sheep in wolf's clothing my dear! Terrible English! he shouts, walking backwards from him After all these years, you should be ashamed! then turning around warns Ignore him! with the concrete halving under his feet.

Anything good? he asks. Lots, I say. So what do you want to do? What? You're the one who wanted to leave, what do you want to do? He hmms at the river, casts about Okay    ever
walked across the Hungerford bridge to Embankment? Not yet. Then I'll show you my favourite view of London, he says as we go into the weeding dark. Where's your friend from? Algeria, and France. Do you know him from work? That, and he was with my oldest friend. Not any more? No     he died. What happened? Cancer, he lights up Pancreas. Like my father. Really? When was that? He died when I was eight. Horrible thing to see, he says and I nod because it is.

Up to the walkway under hulkish sky. Breeze licked and nerves cracking fissures inside as he points out Big Ben. Parliament there – look through the grating. At halfway he says Here's London spread out for you. In the murk cold Thames still curling away. Lights just beginning across the city. All the stone world of it. Its stone face. Showing its towers and flanks and shapes, purplish in this light, and grey. And I stand, strick, by its great space, watching the boats til St Paul's there, he says the Oxo Tower. Barbican. Pointing out places I cannot see, then can, because he stands behind Look along my arm. No there. No. There. Do you see? When I still don't, he bends to see it how I see and I see all of it then. This is the most beautiful view I've ever seen, I say. Really? Better than Naples with those boats stretched out across the bay? Ah fuck.
He remembers my lies.
Sorry, those were all lies, I say I've never been there, or anywhere else. His elbow on the rail Well you're a surprise, what did you make all that up for? I don't know     to be interesting I suppose. How very calculating, he laughs And I thought you believed in love? I do but     love isn't what that was. True, he says But what if I'd been a lonely soul looking for it? Are you? No, I'm not, and you're not much of a liar – I guessed. This I concede, I've never been. Oh well, that means you're probably quite good at the acting. I quick look up to see if he's joking.
He's only watching though and in a moment says So, you just used me for your sexual gratification then? Well, I say It didn't turn out to be that gratifying so perhaps I got what I deserved. Didn't you get what you wanted? Didn't you? I say. Sort of    it started out well enough but. You were hurting me, I whisper. You were a virgin, he whispers back I'm not responsible for the laws of nature. I know that but     I thought at least I wouldn't have to see you again. Ah, well you shouldn't have shagged an actor then – but by now he is laughing and I almost am, over my chasing brain. So throw my breath to the Thames and the strange of the day as we strangers stand looking out on the city. Quiet then but for its sound – that noise it must make for its life to go round. Slow aftershave smell of some passing man. Loud of the train as it clanks behind. Me watching the river. Him watching me. What? I ask. You know well what, he says and stoops and kisses me. Fresh inclination and the blood goes up    Bends me like a body    puts inside    into my mouth    and we    deep and open    where is no mistake, where are only runs of thoughts of next     of kissing him in that short past, naked and    He stops    I stumble forward in perfect dazed unfurl his breath on my hot cheek    then kissing me further. And I might fall over but he has my arm and we kiss like he drags me live from under the Thames and where was allthiswant when I needed it? I don't care I don't and I could do    Enough! he says This is getting ridiculous now, do you fancy getting something to eat? There now legs but disgraceful knees. All his impulses working inside out too, it seems, for even as I nod, see him almost go again for me. And I am all for that. But he turns instead, wiping his mouth on his hand, leaving me tapping the prickle of mine, to trail him over the bridge.

We walk up the Embankment by Charing Cross
Oh God
please
take my hand.
But deaf to petition he on the Strand asks Do you like Chinese? I do but. But what? I've no money. You're a student, he laughs Don't worry, dinner's on me. By St Martin-in-the-Fields I'm lagging his gait Could you slow down? I can't walk as quick. Sorry, he says Sometimes I forget, how's this? Better, and is. Soon walking gives – bus-lunged – to staring at the road-load of bookshops and that. God there's so many, I could live on this street! Up twitch of his mouth. Are you laughing at me? No! I wouldn't dare! I'm just enjoying the wonder, he says. When I Oh Les Mis! though, he tilts his head Musicals? Really? It's not that, I say It's the being here. Thank fuck for that, he says Chinatown's this way.

And the smell comes out to get me as I follow into Gerrard Street. Look at the ducks in the window! Look! Do you like duck then? I've never eaten it. Okay, well go on in there to Harbour City and let's try to rectify that.

He picks a table by the window so I can see out. Beer or wine? What goes with Chinese food? I wasn't allowed to drink at home. Jesus, are you really only eighteen? I am, I say How old are you? Mmmm, he swallows Older than that      I'm actually thirty-eight. Twice as old as me. And then some, he says Fuck     so a beer I think and quick. Feeling like a dirty old man now? A bit     actually     quite a lot     yeah     thanks.

Still. He eats prawn crackers and smokes in chains twisting quotes from my first term play. ‘Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd in one self place, for where we are is hell and where hell is there must we ever be.' Cheery! I chew Have you done it? Not yet but I live in hope, I've a few more years before I'm too old. What did you do last? 'Tis Pity. Where was that on? Here, in the West End. Did it go well? Think so, he says But can I ask you about something else? If your father died when
you were eight    how well do you remember him? Pretty well, better than people expect, are your parents alive? My father is, much married and living in Bradford. Is that where you're from then? No, Sheffield. And your mother? Dead, a long time dead. How long? Don't know    I was in my early twenties. I'm sorry. I'm not, do you want another drink? Alright, I say Thanks. And the food goes over and I watch him eat, liking long fingers manoeuvring chopsticks thinking God I fancy him something wicked. What? he asks. Nothing, I say.

Once he's paid we go to the street, salt dark now but hot with seething. Tube? he asks Or a bit more walking? I could walk a bit. So he's off and I'm after. Charing Cross Road. On it me saying My friend's boyfriend knows you. Oh right, does he? What's his name? No I mean, from the stage. Small pool, he shrugs. So are you famous? Well am I famous to you? No, I say. Then there you go, let's make a stop in Foyles.

Upstairs in second-hand, he finds it – I knew I'd seen it here. I'm going to get this for you. What is it? I ask. Book about Marlowe, you'll like it, it'll help with your play. You shouldn't, I fluster Anyway, isn't there some weird paying thing? Yeah, Soviet three-queue system, I'll be right back. So I follow him with the track of my eye, cheek to the shelf and tired by the weight of all I don't know.

You alright? he asks, handing it over. I Thanks, go to kiss his cheek. But there it is in the turning dust. Oh no, he warns No kissing in Foyles. Maybe though, just because I am already close, he kisses me anyway. And more, until Excuse me, we're closing up! I Anthony Burgess over my mouth. He offers the intruder a grave Of course, me a significant eyebrow and Alright jailbait, let's go.

Quick down the stairwell together and out. Cross between
traffic on Oxford Street. Past the Virgin Megastore. Up the Tottenham Court Road. Past sex shops. Electric shops. Let's cut down. So Torrington Place then. Across Gower Street. I went there, he points back. Posh! Not really, scholarship. Nips into Dillon's for a new Time Out. Over Malet Street. Byng Place. Gordon Square. Out by Wellcome building to the Euston Road. And we go across it, glittering, in buses, cabs and the race of things. Night upon us and I must quick to keep with his long legs. As he lights up on Eversholt Street, I ask Will you tell me what your script's about? It's about someone falling off a roof. Is it based on you? Ah! he says You remember that? Is it? A little. How come you did? The usual, a problem of balance, and drugs. So because you were high? No, because I usually was and things a little got out of hand when I stopped. When was that? I ask. Oh years ago – probably when you were two. Do you miss them? The drugs? I nod. Sometimes but not enough – Royal Mail depot – to go back. And won't you miss acting while you're writing? He says I might, acting's been a lot of my life but it's time now for something else. Walk quieter then – quick took looks at him. Tall and straight. Proverbial thin. His face showing different in the light and dark. What? he asks. Nothing, I shrug as the drunks go fight up Oakley Square.

By Mornington Crescent, legs wore from wear, I ask Can we get the tube? Sorry, eternally closed for repairs. The Palace pumps to our right though won't get going until late. Oh we're in Camden, I see. High road spilling up for the night. So weave we through serious clouds of spliff. If you're tired we could stop at the Liberties for a drink? I'm alright, I say, divining junctions ahead and the hope in me wanting him to be explicit. He, oblivious, only moves us through so by the World's End I stop. In here? he says It'll be a meat market tonight. No,
I point to the Kentish Town Road sign. Oh right, you going home?
Guess me guess me with your grey eyes.
Shame, he says I was hoping you'd want another go on me tonight. There it is, on a plate, and he only giving smallest smile. I suppose I owe you for dinner, I say. You don't really think that     do you? And what if I did? If you were that stupid I'd make sure I got my money's worth, he laughs. I don't owe you for dinner. I know, he says Come back anyway.

No this one, he grabs me as I go the wrong gate. Careful on the stairs too, still no light.
Here again for what new night?
Were you expecting to bring someone back? Why do you say that? It's all tidy. I tidy sometimes, he says. Yeah but there're also clean sheets on your bed. I get a look but continue anyway So, if we hadn't met would you have gone to the World's End tonight? Might have done, he says Pass me your coat. As I pass it to him If you think it's a meat market, isn't that a bit grim? Well not liking it and not doing it are two different things, aren't they Nancy Drew? And he kneels at the fire letting the air go thin. I scrabble back What're the boxes for? Keeping my stuff in. I never noticed them last time. Well you were somewhat preoccupied, he says With what you wanted to achieve. Quiet bite. How wrong's my foot? So – he leans back on his desk – What now? Sorry     how do you mean? Well we're both here for sex aren't we? I just thought, given your insightfulness, maybe you'd like to get things going this time? And his eyes say nothing so I die inside. Don't make me make the first move. Why, would that be unkind? I mumble I think it would. So you see, he says – surveying his shoes – I also have insight and, if I wanted, could be unkind as well. Sorry I      it was a stupid thing to say. No, it was a clever thing to see but I don't need to be caught out so what exactly would you like to know?
Nothing. Really? Nothing. Adversaries it seems but I don't look away and he is the first to smile. Well, in that case, he says I think we should get back to the kissing now.