Пит Таунсенд - The Age of Anxiety

I almost collapsed. I was literally seeing stars; my vision was flashing and I felt unsteady. Had I been saved?

Molly was a tomboy. Ronnie had recently emerged as a cross-dresser. Man, woman, woman, man. Both of them looking exactly as they felt they should, as they felt they were deep inside. Ronnie took it all with aplomb. They met somewhere in the middle. Their faces were almost identical. Was Ronnie right? A DNA test might prove it. A frisson of latent violence suddenly gripped the room as Walter advanced toward Ronnie. Crow went to stop him but Walter turned on Crow and made to throw a punch. Frank stepped in and, to everyone’s astonishment, held Crow and Walter apart by their collars like squabbling kids in a playground. Walter tore himself away abruptly and lunged at Ronnie, throwing a meaty punch that knocked his victim to his knees.

This time Frank and Crow leapt in together to contain Walter, but Ronnie was actually laughing, blood pouring from a cut on his lip. Now two huge gymed-up security guards stepped in and tried to take control. They pulled everyone apart.

Molly seemed moved to have Floss for a mother and maybe gay Ronnie for a father. She was beaming like one of her own follow-spots and light was streaming around the two of them, mother and daughter.

Despite the postconcert gaiety that had prevailed earlier, despite the aura of light surrounding Molly, poor pale-faced Ronnie, bruised and battered, was being circled by some of the guests, chiding him. Some were still very angry. But Molly put herself between them and the fighting was over. I could see Floss was clearly not happy about what Ronnie was admitting; Walter still looked edgy, still ready to fight. He brushed himself down after the fracas. He had recently been disabused of his notion that his wife and her business partner had been conducting a relationship for years, and now here was Ronnie—that very partner—almost bragging about having impregnated Floss when they were both using hard drugs laid on by me, his godfather. Albeit many years before, it was not something he felt deserved such an outburst of flip levity among the backstage guests. As for a violent outburst, if anyone should be angry and get out of line, it should be him.

“Oh, darling,” said Ronnie. He was lying in a heap on the floor and holding his face. “Forgive me, sweetheart. Really.” He turned to Walter. “And Walter, I’m sorry, my friend. I’m all carried away.”

From his position on the floor, Ronnie put his arms out to Floss; he looked like a spurned child reaching out to his mother after some minor misdemeanor. Maud took pity on him and knelt by his side.

“Darling Floss,” Ronnie croaked. “You won’t remember us having sex. It was rape. I’m so sorry. You were completely out of it, but you did enjoy it, I’m sure of that. Not sure I did.”

He started cackling again, like a music-hall queen. He tried to get to his feet but was clearly still dizzy. Then he lay back gracefully into Maud’s arms like La Dame aux Camélias. No one in the room seemed to want to listen to him. Everyone turned away.

Ronnie addressed Walter. “Dammit, Walter,” he said, shifting his sore jaw from side to side and managing to rise onto one elbow. “I’m such a dork. I should have kept this back until a quieter time, but I’m so excited to be a daddy.”

He laughed again, and Walter attempted to laugh with him, but he still looked angry.

“Walter,” pleaded Ronnie, “forgive me, will you? Floss was the only girl I ever had sex with. We love each other. We always have since school, but we have only ever touched each other that once. And that shit Louis gave us was so powerful I really don’t think it should count.”

This justification energized him, and he got to his feet.

He turned to Floss. “You!” He threw up his hands, and with his high heels he must have been at least six feet four inches in height. Wobbling slightly, “Floss, you never told me you had become pregnant.” He was trying to look downcast, but he couldn’t hide his joy for very long. He turned to Molly and hugged her. “I would have been glad to be a father to this beautiful young woman.”

“Ronnie,” chided Floss, “I couldn’t have told you. I didn’t know who had had sex with me. I swear. I wasn’t even sure I’d had sex until I realized I was pregnant.”

I didn’t feel much like staying with the festivities. It was time for me to leave.

Looking back, I can only say that Selena must have cast some kind of spell over me. Every time I looked at her, she behaved as though she had simply been playing some kind of mad, mischievous game. The truth is probably that the pheromones were pouring from her all over again. All I could think about was that my life hadn’t been destroyed and instead this eccentric and extraordinary woman was still by my side.

We were moving to leave, and no one tried to persuade us to stay. The fraudulent spell Selena had attempted to cast had failed, and she took my arm, held her head high, and with her free hand made little waves to anyone who caught her eye before walking out in a stately way, like a deposed French princess being led to the guillotine.

We walked through the park with some stragglers from the audience. When we got to the gates at Hyde Park Corner, we hailed a black taxi and snuggled into the seat. My head was still reeling. I was relieved but didn’t know whether to be angry or happy. As Selena sat back, her belly seemed swollen; she’d either eaten too many cakes or drunk too much bubbly or was again carrying too many angelic spirits. Now she embraced her tummy and looked sideways at me. Fuck, she was so lovely. I hated her then, but she was still so lovely. She saw me looking at her belly.

“I have an angel here, that’s what I am pregnant with—a beautiful angelic force. I will protect you.”

“Protect me!” I practically spat the retort. “You’ve attempted to destroy me.”

“The entities occupying your body are already leaving,” she said. “Can’t you feel that?”

I thought about what she was saying. I had to admit that something was indeed happening to me, something strange. I felt in that instant as if the waking dreams I had been experiencing for the past few months were beginning to recede. My body felt calmer. I started to get a warm feeling. Not the “Little Mother” of heroin, but something almost as good.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I know you have healing powers, Selena. I just wish you weren’t so fucking wicked.”

Selena truly was a healer, the real thing. It was then that Selena properly captured me, ensnaring me, and she would hold me forever.

The wine I had been drinking in the tent may also have contributed to what made me feel better, but she had been right. The whole time she’d been speaking to me, bringing me down, now building me up, she had held my right arm close to her bosom.

I could feel the swell of her breasts and the hardening of the nipple closest to me. She was seducing me. She had accused me of a rape only she had witnessed, then been outed as a fantasist if not an outright liar, and now she was seducing me. It was bizarre, but to be honest it was also a wonderful feeling. I can’t say I felt normal again, but the anxiety and nausea receded to be replaced by a sense of something solid and reassuring in the pit of my stomach. I only ever feel that when I know for certain that the woman I am with is going to have sex with me.

So, I defend myself. I had never known, perhaps since the act itself, that I had tried to impose myself on Floss, if I had—or had she pulled me down onto her? Those two girls had been hard cases, even when they were younger. Spiritual twins, that’s what they thought they were. But they were wild, intoxicating girls—no, they had been women. Truly they were. Worldly and fabulous is how they had seemed at Siobhan and Walter’s wedding. Playing at being bridesmaids. Stunning. But I had been so drugged, so insane, and so had they; and now here I am covering my arse again.