Anjali Joseph - The Living

Nuthin, Steve said. He swaggered a bit.

I yanked my hand away. Don’t be stupid, I said.

You don’t get to talk to me like that, he said. He stood near the gate of our house, smoking and sulking.

Come inside, I said. I unlocked the door, and went in, leaving it open. Course he followed me to the kitchen. I opened the back door. It was a grey day, bits of sun aching out, but it was warm. I looked down. One of my sandals had been rubbing on my little toe. I filled the kettle.

I made the tea quite slowly. We sat at the table, on each side of a corner. From the open door I heard insects, and a lawnmower. I took off my watch, nearly reached for the paper, and stopped myself. Look, I began to say in my head. You knew this couldn’t last.

Steve said, Can we do it one last time then?

I thought about us, tangled in the bobbly cotton-blend sheets, and the box of tissues near the bed, and wrapping the used condom in six plastic bags before throwing it away, and afternoon sun on the wall from a tiny bit where the curtain didn’t cover the window. I saw it from the doorway, as though I was looking in. It interested me that I saw myself, not perfect looking, not perfectly thin or big-breasted or anything, messed up, sweaty, and thought I looked sexy. I suppose a person having sex just is sexy, isn’t she?

It was the last time, so I stopped worrying about Steve and what he’d think or how he’d feel. I just told him what to do, how to touch me, and he did. It was good. Afterwards we lay there quietly. Then he turned around and said, That was the best one. We looked at each other and I laughed, and he smiled too, and got up and put on his shorts. When he was doing up his belt I heard the door.

Shit! I said.

It’s okay, he said. He grabbed his shirt and went out of the room before I could say anything. I thought I was having a heart attack, I breathed so little, or maybe so much. I moved faster than I remember ever moving. The carpet was rough under my feet and I was in my clothes and brushing my hair and on the bed with a magazine maybe a minute later when I heard Jason’s voice at the same time as the flush.

Mum?

Yeah?

He came in and I took off my glasses.

Is someone here?

Steve came to see you, I said. I think he’s in the kitchen.

He looked at me. The bathroom door opened.

Jason stuck his head out of the door of my room. All right, mate? he said.

I heard Steve saying something about going round to someone’s nearby and being on his way and the evening and Jason laughing and then Jason came back in and said quickly, Going out, Mum, see you later.

I thought about shouting after him, What about tea?

Don’t overdo it, I thought. I lay down and let my heart stop racing.

Jason had his birthday party. I’d talked about it at work and when we were out smoking, John said, You don’t want to be home for that. You want to let him and his friends have the house to themselves.

And wreck it? I said.

He smiled and looked down at his shoe, scrubbed the toe on a bit of grass in a crack in the tarmac. Nah, he said, they won’t wreck it. We should go out for a drink that evening. Give you something to do. Isn’t there a friend you could stay with?

Maybe Katie, I said.

He smiled. That’s it. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?

I laughed. I looked at his open friendly face and remembered what I like about men. It’s easy for them to be themselves. They throw on a t-shirt, they laugh things off. At the end of it all I’m too much of a girl. I get caught up in stuff. Maybe, I said.

First John and I went for a couple of drinks in the Hat and Feathers, that quiet old pub down the hill. And this was the best part of the evening. We played pool. I hadn’t played in ages. When I play with someone I’m trying to impress I play terribly. I wasn’t trying to impress John and I played all right. For an hour or two we had the bit with the table to ourselves and in between shots we chatted, just relaxed. John was telling me about where he lives, his house, and the things he wanted to do to it — do up the attic maybe, paint the walls, get rid of the stuff he’d moved in with. I knew he’d been with someone for a while but I couldn’t remember when that was.

Did you move in there with your partner? I said.

No, he said. After we split up — three years ago. He smiled. New start.

Cool, I said.

I guess John and I had never really had a long conversation before, just the two of us, but the fact that I see him every day, and we sometimes have little chats in between smoking, made it seem like nothing. But suddenly he was there, really there. I thought, oh, I like this person. Maybe we could be friends.

When Katie got there I was sure he’d notice her. Men always do. She’s good at being noticed, she takes up the space around her. She arrived and hugged me, smiled at John, said finally she was getting to meet someone else who worked at the mysterious fairy-tale shoe factory. That made him grin. Right, she said, what are we drinking? Pool, is it? Great. She got more drinks, rolled up her sleeves, and we started playing, me and her against John. She cleaned up. Near the end there was a shot I had to take — a long one. I’d got distracted listening to the two of them, and wondering what Katie thought of John, or John of Katie. The red ball, our ball, was near a yellow one.

I’m not going to make this, I said.

Think positive, Katie said.

You’ll get it, John said. Nice and easy. I looked over at him in the corner, in his old cartoon t-shirt, easy-going. Okay, I said to myself. I hit the ball cleanly, but it stopped just at the lip of the pocket.

Nearly! Katie said.

Unlucky, John said.

I laughed, and said it didn’t matter.

Are you starving? I’m starving, Katie said.

I am, I said. Should we head off?

We said bye to John on the way. He smiled at us. Nice to meet you, Katie, he said. See you tomorrow Claire, fingers crossed for the party.

I think it’ll be all right, I said.

Katie put her arm through mine as we walked. What do you want for tea? she said.

I don’t know, what do you want to do?

Takeaway? He seems lovely.

He’s nice, yeah, I’d never really got to know him before, I said, outside work.

She raised her eyebrows.

Oh, come on, I said.

He’s nice, she said. I like him. What about that other guy then?

The next afternoon when I was going home I thought about Damian again, and about my dad. Dad going had wiped Damian out of the picture. Almost. Last night at Katie’s, after talking about it, I’d dreamt of them both, Dad and Damian, together. Damian put a book in my hand and said, Look after this a minute. I saw him go into a pub. I was just standing there, under the flyover. Later he passed on his way and I tried to give him the book but he didn’t want to talk about it. It was a big book, with a red cover. I don’t know what it was. Then I saw my dad go by, sad and small, shrunken, his head down. I called after him, but he looked at me as though he was afraid.

The house was tidy enough, the carpets had been vacuumed. There was only a vague smell of smoke. Jason was out. The glass recycling bin was full, and smelled sour. A sunny day. College started next week, and he’d agreed to try it for a year. I made some tea, realised I didn’t want it, and sat on the sofa. The smell of the air, and the last warmth of the year, was on my mind. I wanted to move. I thought about the wood. I found myself putting on plimsolls and leggings and a t-shirt. I tied up my hair and left, excited or nervous like someone’d see me. Like I was going to meet someone or something. First I jogged slowly. By the end of the road I’d got into it, and didn’t care much when I passed a woman then a couple of kids outside the shop. Near the hill I started really running, like when I was a kid, racing just because I could. I flew up to the park and across it, down to the gate of the wood and along the path, through bushes and the backs of garages. A kid smoking and texting looked up at me but I looked away and he did too. I wanted to laugh I felt so good. Back into the wood and down a slope through the main path out the other side and near the cemetery. I felt a bit sick when I stopped. My face was hot and my lungs were going but it was good. I ran up the little lane and stopped just inside the cemetery.