Anjali Joseph - The Living

Why would you even say that? I said. What does it mean? Why would he say me if he didn’t mean me? He loved me.

She shook her head, and her face became disapproving. You’re getting at me, she said. You’re getting upset. I don’t understand. You said you wanted to come and talk. I made your favourite cake. We were having a nice time. I thought we were past all this now. At a time like this.

She was quiet, a little old lady, white-haired, small, at her kitchen table.

You know you’ll never win, don’t you? said the voice in my head. Stop trying.

But, I thought, but, but. She can’t have meant it. Even she –

But you know I loved Granddad, right? I said. There were tears in my eyes. And I used to go over and spend time with them on my own, before I was old enough to go to town alone? When Jim –

All I’m saying is he was specially fond of Jim, and Paul, she said. That’s all I’m saying.

But why would he have said me if he didn’t mean me?

Oh Claire. She got up and began clearing away her mug, little tottering chunky old shape moving towards the sink. You always have to make so much out of everything, she said.

I’ve got to go, I said. Relief was washing all over me. So you didn’t make it up. You see? Jason, I said.

He’s a nice boy, she said.

Of course he is, I thought. He’s a boy, isn’t he?

He came to see us, before your dad –

A tear rolled down her face. I watched myself watching her cry. She dried her hands on the tea towel, standing near the door while I put on my jacket.

Well, bye, Mum, I said.

Thanks for stopping by, she said, making everything clear.

I made my mouth smile and bent to kiss her cheek. You weren’t wrong, said the voice, you weren’t wrong, you’re not mad, it happened, it’s true.

Jason wasn’t home when I got back. I made steak and kidney pie, his favourite.

Do you think she’s all right? he asked me when we were eating. On her own?

She’s not on her own, I said. She’s got them. She’s always all right, I said. I thought of her, the set of her mouth, her catalogues of things people had done that she didn’t like, going back to the Dark Ages. She’s never all right, I said. And it’s always someone else’s fault.

Jason got up and put his plate in the sink. It’s not her fault, he said. It’s just the way she is. His face was blank and young.

That’s true, I said, but it was after he’d left the room. It’s just the way she is. I didn’t know why it was so heavy, why I had to take it so seriously.

Jason’s not here, I said.

Oh, right, he said. He didn’t move.

Do you want to come in and wait? I said. I wouldn’t ask everyone, but Jason and Steve are always in and out of here and Steve’s house. Cup of tea? I said. I’ve been in the garden.

Thanks Claire, he said. He followed me through to the kitchen. The floor felt cool and smooth. I was wearing a vest and shorts, and I didn’t have shoes on. It had just got too hot to be indoors and be comfortable. The carpets were like radiators. It couldn’t last.

What do you want to drink? I asked. Tea? There might be some juice. Or squash.

Tea sounds good, he said. He hung around while the kettle boiled. We took the mugs outside. Do you want a chair? I asked. I just sit here. I sat back on the grass which looked sad and too long, my legs hanging on to the patio.

Here’s fine, Steve said. As usual, he was easy to have around. Not just because he was a kid, or I’d known him forever. When did we produce these handsome young men? I thought. Sandra, Steve’s mum, and I were new mums together, we met at playgroup. She’s a strange one.

How’s your mum?

She’s all right. She’s the same.

I nodded. This garden needs things doing to it, I said. I should mow the lawn at least.

Jason’ll do it for you. Steve smiled.

Oh really, I said. I finished rolling and lit up. You look after things for your mum, do you?

Course, he said. He smiled, though.

We sat there with a bumble bee buzzing round and a radio next door, someone’s paddling pool and splashing sounds.

So how’s things? I asked. What are you planning?

Dunno. College probably. While I think about what to do. I feel like getting a job.

But what about five years from now, ten years, when you don’t want to do the same job any more?

I know, he said. How are you supposed to know what’s going to happen?

I laughed. Fair enough, I said. I wanted to add, It’s less exciting than you think. But I didn’t. I tried to remember if I’d been as young as him, when I was that age. They’re all so confident now. They know their way around. What’s it like, still to be in the part of your life where you think you’ll be making decisions about the future?

I’m sorry about your dad, he said.

I thought of the waxy face in the coffin. He’d looked smaller. Maybe he’d got smaller, before. Thanks, I said. You know we didn’t really see them, I didn’t really see them, for ages.

Do you think that’ll change now? he asked.

I shrugged. I dunno, I said. I went to see my mum but — I dunno. We’ll see.

Sorry, Steve said again.

It’s fine, I said. I felt like lying down on the rug and I did. He lay a foot away from me. I looked at the sky, bleached but still blue. There was a long white line in it, a jet trail. Summer … I thought, and remembered the school field and Katie. Summer doesn’t have a year or a date, it just appears and disappears, and while it’s happening it’s endless. I felt tired, almost drunk. Light-headed.

A hand went over mine on the rug. It was warm, not sweaty, larger than I’d have expected, if I’d thought about it. Everything’s going to be all right, Steve said.

I know, I said. I closed my eyes.

The thing was that I never felt funny in front of him. I didn’t hold in my stomach. I didn’t worry about what he’d like or not like. When he tried to fit in four different positions during one shag — doggy style, then holding up one of my legs and tilting me off the bed while he stood up, then being on top of me from behind, then making me sit on him — I finally just told him to stop. I didn’t want to embarrass him, but I said, Steve, what have you been watching?

He went bright red.

Jesus Christ, I said. What do all of you watch? What do you think sex is? I imagined Jason doing this to some girl. Maybe she’d like it. More likely she’d be wondering, like me, what the hell was going on.

I’m not trying to be horrible, I said. It just isn’t doing anything. It feels weird.

He looked exhausted, like he was going to cry. Mistrust moved across his face.

It feels like you’re just doing something and it isn’t about me at all, I said. I wasn’t angry. I was trying to explain because it mattered that he knew. He sighed and lay down next to me, then rolled over and put his head on my breast. I was about to carry on talking when I realised he was asleep.

Maybe this is what it was like for Damian. I didn’t miss Steve. I was happy when I got to see him. I didn’t think about him when he wasn’t there, except for worrying about Jason, but Jason was after some girl, and he was hardly home. I told Steve he could never tell anyone.

I’m legal, he said.

Yeah … That’s not the point, I said. Just don’t. We’ll both be sorry if you do. Think about your mum, I said, and he held up a hand.

All right, all right, he said.

The fifth time, which was the last time, I ran into him when I was just walking. Out past the wood and around, down towards the football ground. He was coming the same way and ran after me. Cup of tea? I said. Sounds good, he said. For some reason, I don’t know why, just before we passed a bus stop he took my hand. There were two old ladies there. As we walked past one said, Nice to see a young man who’s not embarrassed by his mother. The other one said something else quietly. I twitched my hand. What are you doing? I hissed.