The Lesser Bohemians (8 page)

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.

So, under the drip of his shower, I wash my hair with his shampoo. The rest of my body with his soap and, in his towel, make my way back to his room through his wet footprints in the hall.

Tall and shaving in the early light. Bit better? he asks. Bit, I nod. Well, come put your arms around me, like you did that first time. I do and. The smell of him then, damp shivering against his damp back.
I don't want to go to Ireland
. He says I really liked last night. I say I liked it too. Can I do it again? What now? Why not? I won't be able to for another month. While he rinses his face, I prevaricate but what need here for No? Turn and tug his towel then get myself dragged to bed. And soon I'm rolling back through the pleasure again as though it is brand new. Cold drops from his wet hair trickle my thighs. Mint from his toothpaste mouth tingles nice and long fingers locking through mine. I give in to him. Resign to his tongue, to every single thing he does, for it's good to have this thing we do as the hangover breaks my heart. And take his lips on my stomach      breast. Biting my shoulder. Into my neck. Kissing completely until       I look up What is it? I want to be inside you, he says and I am ready, surely ready for him So Yes. No   I mean without anything on. What? Just for a bit. I won't come in you and I'm completely clean. What? Nerves hitting lungs with the thought of what it is. But not come? Not come, I promise you that. So and watching each other I say Alright. Jesus, he says as I, for surprise, cannot even think to say how it feels. Just open myself to his body in mine. Stretching to the want of him all over me now. This is it and I am     like normal like. Like that? I do. I know, he says I can tell. Given over to
him and the creak of his bed, racket of both until Close? he. Yes. Well do, I can hold on. And far beyond shame my body longs. And him doing all he can to drag it down. So I hide against him. In his neck. Let it go through. Like a burst. Like a hurt. Clung to him clinging to gritting his teeth. Tiding me, though pulling out after so quick to sit on the edge of his bed. Leaving me in a body clicking inside like it never has.

I curl in to hide my delight. Blushed with it, or shower and no face cream for after.
Come lie with me.
But first water's splashed down his front. Getting a condom. Lighting up. Kneeling beside to offer a drag That was bad but, fuck, you feel good inside. And I think Am I not my own self now? Can't I do too what I want? I can. So. I take his hand. Lead him across like it's my turn now. His long legs naked and my knees shake. What's this? Sit in the armchair, I say and when he does, kneel down. You sure? he asks. I'd like to     if you would? Well I'll just lie back and think of England. Any tips? Nope, far as I'm concerned you can do no wrong except bite and you won't do that, will you? I hope not. Jesus, that makes two of us, he says as I put him in my mouth.

Fuck, his whole body goes to it and I wait for the impatient Open it wider. Instead he takes what I give and only strokes my wrist. Concentrates on the ceiling. Sometimes holds his breath. Sometimes pushes my hair back to watch but I like how he looks at me. Easier this than I thought until. His breath catches in his throat. The only sound I rrr. Not here. Not this now.
Don't freeze. Make your way through.
Talk, I say.   What? Say something. What about? Whatever       a poem       anything. Him looking down strange at me now. I'm nervous, I say Please      it would really help. He puts his head back Alright         well   Now is the winter of our discontent    how's that? Better, I almost laugh Go on. Mmm    made glorious summer by this son of York. And all the
clouds that loured upon our house in the              deep bosom of the ocean buried     Jesus     now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths our stern alarums no     our bruisèd arms hung up Fuck    more? Yes, I say. Ah     what the fuck is it?     Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings our dreadful visaged war hath smoothed      fuck I forget      Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front    I don't   I    You're a bit distracting, you know? Then goes to go silent but I cannot. Please keep talking and don't stop. Alright. He wets his lips then goes to the words at a similar lick Nowisthewinterofourdisconte ntmadeglorioussummerbythissonofyork and allthecloudsthatloured upon our house inthedeepbosomofthe ocean     burrrrieeeed nowareourbrowsboundwithvictoriouswreaths     right I'm right I'm there I'm. I pull back quick. He presses it onto me as his body gives up. Wet on my chest, ends of my hair and my breast and the heat. Goes everywhere and him smearing it all down me as I, touching the threat of bruise on my lip, lay my head on his knee.

He eases himself off with my hand a while. That was lovely Thanks for that. Sorry, I say For not letting you   you know    in my mouth. Don't be, he says I think it's rude to expect. And I look all about at the mess made by our versions of sex. I've been naked, embarrassed, touched and kissed and brought the whole way like any woman might. So after that what is it to say When I was little someone used to and     now I don't think I can any more. And the past sits forward and the cold comes pouring in. He looks down at me What did you say? I do not say it again. And he. Slides down beside me then. Takes me in to the lean of his chest that rises and falls in time with my pulse. The tight of his grip keeping me safe until I am calm and recalled to the smell of his neck. Until my soul re-finds its place. Listen to me,
fuck him, he says He's nothing to you now. And it is as if he always knows the very best thing to say.

I'd like a cigarette. I bet you would. He lights one for us both. Lies on the rug. His damp hair resting on my thighs and blowing smoke rings to make me laugh. I do too, dipping them, twisting about. Do other shapes. Rings not enough for you? Stretch yourself! He laughs but only stretches his legs. Fancy a walk to Regent's Park? Some fresh air might do us good.

So we go down through Camden. Market now under way. Slack queue for cash at the Midland bank, though it's early in the day. He gets sandwiches in Cullen's. Bag of Minstrels for me. I watch for agitation but he doesn't do a thing. Just eats his like a hungry dog then has a bite of mine. Somehow light with all that's in us now the night has rolled away. Only tired from drinking – and other things – treading up Parkway to Gloucester Gate. And this the first morning I can see my breath clear as smoke from his Marlboro Red.

Regent's Park is freezing but we walk on and on. My arm dandling in through his. He even takes my hand. Eventually settle on a bench. Cigarette? Please. He lights. I take and there we sit, breathing smoke across all dead flowerbeds. You alright? he asks. Fine, I say Was it a bit much, that? On contrary, it's good to keep your speeches up to scratch. I scrape my heel through the gravel and nudge No     really     do you mind? No, why would I mind about that? I'm not sure but instinct backs all those secret years when it burned down holes through me. Soiled goods maybe? Wow Holy Catholic Ireland, he laughs I've been soiled goods too long myself to care about that old crap. He watches me though, with those eyes of his. I can't see in or past the grey until he smiles Just as well you're off today, I'll need a month to recuperate. You're just hungover and
shagged out, I say Can't be easy at your age. You shut up, he says, beginning a kiss and he is cold to the lips but quick with smile and soft too from his shave.
Remember this moment.
I will remember this because, even though this morning's not much of his life, it's very much of mine. Whatever happens, nothing will be the same after and nothing will be like it again. Right, he says It's getting late. We should go or you'll miss your train.