Iain Reid - I'm Thinking of Ending Things

He’s kissing near my bare shoulder, where my neck and shoulder meet.

Maybe it’s too soon to know. It doesn’t matter. God. I just want him to keep doing what he’s doing. I want to kiss him.

“Steph,” he whispers.

I stop. “What?”

He moans, kissing my neck.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Did he call me Steph? Did he? I lean my head back as he starts kissing my chest. I close my eyes.

“What the fuck!” he says.

Jake tenses, recoils, and then leans over me again, shielding me. A shudder runs through me. He rubs his hand on the window, clearing some condensation away.

“What the fuck!” he says again, louder.

“What?” I’m reaching now for my shirt on the floor. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit,” he says, still leaning across me. “Like I said, there’s someone in the school. Sit up. Quick. Put your shirt on. Hurry up.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to startle you. Just sit up. He can see us. He was looking.”

“Jake? What are you talking about?”

“He was staring at us.”

I feel unease, a pit in my stomach.

“I can’t find my shirt. It’s down here on the floor somewhere.”

“When I looked up, over your shoulder. I saw someone. It was a man.”

“A man?”

“A man. He was standing at that window, there, and he wasn’t moving or anything, just staring, right at the car, at us. He could see us.”

“This is creeping me out, Jake. I don’t like this. Why was he looking at us?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not right.”

Jake is rattled, upset.

“Are you sure there was someone there? I can’t see anyone.”

I turn in my seat toward the school. I’m trying to stay calm. I don’t want to upset him further. I see the windows he’s talking about. But there’s no one. Nothing. If someone had been there, they could have seen us, easily.

“I’m positive. I saw him. He was… staring at us. He was enjoying watching us. It’s sick.”

I’ve found my shirt and slip it on over my head. The car is getting cold with the engine off. I need to put my coat back on.

“Relax; let’s just go. Like you said, probably some bored old janitor. He probably hasn’t seen anyone out here this late before. That’s all.”

“Relax? No, this is fucking bullshit. He wasn’t concerned. He wasn’t wondering if we were okay. He wasn’t bored. He was staring at us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was leering. It’s fucked-up.”

I put both hands over my face and close my eyes. “Jake, I don’t care. Let’s go.”

“I care. He’s a fucking pervert. He was doing something. I’m sure of it. The guy’s fucked up. He liked looking at us.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw him. I know him. Or guys like him, I mean. He should be ashamed of himself. There was a wave or a movement of his hand, a wavelike gesture. He knows.”

“Calm down. I don’t think he was doing anything. How can you know for sure?”

“I can’t just ignore it. I can’t. I can see him.”

“Jake, can we please just go? Listen, I’m asking you. Please.”

“I’m going to give him shit. He can’t do this.”

“What? No. Forget it. Let’s go. We’re going.”

I reach over but Jake shoves my hand, not softly. He’s shaking his head. He’s mad. It’s his eyes. His hands are trembling.

“We’re not going anywhere until I talk to him. It’s not right.”

I’ve never seen Jake like this, not even close to this. He pushes my hand away, violently. I need to calm him down.

“Jake. Come on. Look at me for a second. Jake?”

“We’re not leaving until I talk to him.”

I watch in disbelief as he opens his door. What’s happening? What’s he doing? I reach over, grab his right arm.

“Jake? It’s a snowstorm! Get back in the car. Forget it. Jake. Let’s go, seriously.”

“Wait here.”

It’s a command, not a suggestion. Without looking back at me, he slams the door shut.

“What? So stupid,” I say to the empty, quiet car. “God.”

I watch him march around the side of the school until he’s out of sight. Almost a minute goes by before I even move. What just happened?

I’m confused. I don’t understand. I thought I knew Jake better, thought I could at least predict his moods and reactions. This seems entirely out of character. His voice and language. He doesn’t usually swear.

I had no idea he had a temper.

I’ve heard about people with a short fuse, road rage and things like that. Jake just had one of those moments. There was nothing I could say or do to bring him back to his senses. He left all on his own and wasn’t going to listen to me.

I don’t get why he needed to talk to this guy, or yell at him, or whatever it is he’s going to do. Why not just leave it? The guy saw a car out front and wondered who was in it. That’s all. I’d be curious, too.

I guess I didn’t realize Jake was capable of such emotion. It’s actually what I’ve wanted, I think. He’s never shown any sign of it. He’s never shown extreme anything. That’s why it’s so weird. I should have gone with him. Or at least suggested it. That might have made him realize how stupid it was to go storming in there.

I find my jacket on the floor of the backseat and put it on.

I could have tried to relax him more. I could have made a joke or something. It just, it all happened so fast. I look toward the school, the side where Jake went. Snow still falling. Heavy and windy. We shouldn’t even be driving, not when it’s like this.

I guess I can understand why it upset him. He did have my shirt off. We were going to have sex. We could have. Jake felt vulnerable. Vulnerability makes us lose our ability to think straight. But I was the one with my shirt off. And I just wanted to leave. Just drive away. That’s what we should have done.

Jake saw the guy. If I’d looked up and seen a man staring at us through the school’s window when we were like that, in that position, regardless of what the man was doing, maybe I would have lost my temper, too. Especially if this guy was a weird-looking man. I definitely would have been freaked out.

Who is this guy?

A night worker? A janitor, as Jake suggested? That’s the only thing that makes sense, but seems outdated somehow.

What a job, night custodian. In there all alone, night after night. And especially this school. Out here in the country, no one around. Maybe he likes it, though, enjoys the solitude. He can clean the school at the pace he wants. He can just do his job. There’s no one to tell him how or when to do it. As long as he gets it done. That’s the way to work. He’s developed a routine over all these years and can do it without even thinking. Even if there were people around, no one would notice the custodian.

It’s a job I can appreciate. Not the cleaning and sweeping. But being alone, the solitude. He has to be up all night, but he doesn’t have to deal with any of the students, doesn’t have to see how careless they are, how messy, sloppy, and dirty. But he knows better than anyone because he has to deal with the fallout. No one else does.

If I could work alone, I think I’d prefer it. I’m almost certain I would. No small talk, no upcoming plans to discuss. No one leaning over your desk to ask questions. You just do your work. If I could work mostly alone, and was still living alone, things would be easier. Everything would be a little more natural.

Regardless, alone in there all night, especially in such a big school. It is a creepy job. I look back at the school, dark and quiet, like inside the car.

The only book Jake has given me, and he gave it to me about a week after we met, is called The Loser . It’s by this German author, somebody Bernhard. He’s dead now, and I didn’t know about the book until Jake gave it to me. Jake wrote “Another sad story” on the inside cover.