Lee Rourke - Vulgar Things

But i knew it wasn’t her, It could never be her, she didn’t exist anymore, there was nothing left, like she had been torn to shreds in the hill, or just evaporated before us, yes, that’s what she did when she walked out on him, on me, never telling him why, never contacting me again, she vanished from both of our lives, like that, like a ghost finally being expelled from our imaginations, Laura had disappeared, she’d beaten time and vapourised herself into perfect nothingness, becoming blackness, surrounding the night that had befallen us both …

mud and murk seethed in the abyss — I fell into it in going there, darker into the pitch of blackness, it was enormous and engulfing and there was nothing I could do but walk towards him there in the cold dirt, the church emptying out as they laid him to rest in the mud, I began to choke, it was maddening to me, why hadn’t I told him, the reason Laura left him, was because of me, but i could never tell him, there was nothing i could do to change this …

they were all looking at me now, of course they were, as I walked amongst them, I raised my arms, my stick, to say these words of mine, I threaten no violence, i’m here with you, with him my brother, please let go of your alarm, set it free, monsters at the gate there is no need to come forth, I am harmless, I mean you no harm, i am here because you asked it of me, I am here out of respect for what must be forgiven, the cries rang out all around me, the churchyard in blackened ruins, as if the darkness had stolen life itself from them, a death before their time, why are you here if you react to me in such a way? why do this to yourselves? i am here to speak once and for all …

i walked towards the hole in the ground, dug for him, his place in the universe, I watched as they lowered him, all ills must be made right this very day they said, I threw the ring onto his coffin, down with the black dirt, down into the blackness …

seek to know the terrible sorrow of your family, fate will allow the world merely to see him, no more, and thereafter allow him to live there no longer …

Oh brother, what did i do to you, I ruined you, I was the sole cause, oh brother you never knew, you loved Laura too, as did I, she wasn’t to know, to blame, nothing is by her hand, oh brother forgive me, I didnt want this to happen, i didn’t want you to die alone, I will take this with me, this burden, the mark, throughout my life, I will die like you, a lonely man, caught by desire, I will see to this, guide me from this blackness in your forgiveness, away from this churchyard, away from these people, guide me home, away from here, oh brother, please forgive me, oh brother, he’s mine, oh brother, your youngest is mine, he’s mine oh brother, he’s mine …

I stop reading. The realisation hits me hard. I shudder. It makes me stand up, even though the train is moving. I lean on my stick, like I’m wounded. An old man opposite me asks if I’m okay.

‘I’m … Yes … I’m fine.’

I don’t know what else to say to him. I need to calm down, to drink something strong, to eat again, to jump into the sea at the end of the pier. All the usual questions begin to litter my head, all the whys? and the what ifs? and countless images of my mother, my father, all of them flooding into me: Mother’s jet-black hair, her perfume, the way she laughed. But one thing sticks: her with him, with Rey, I can’t picture it, I can’t see them together. It doesn’t seem possible. I recall all the times people had made passing comments about how much I looked like him. I remember that he doted on me more than Cal when we were children, which always made Cal jealous, and probably fuelled his hatred of Uncle Rey. I remember that he’d always ask about Mother, and how I was, before he ever asked about anyone else. I remember everything my feeble mind will allow, piecing it all together in seconds, here on the train, as it slowly pulls out of Chalkwell Station.

failing light

As the train pulls into Southend Central Station I’m too afraid to get off it. I don’t want to face anything else. But I get off anyway, just as the doors are closing and everyone else has got off. The station manager looks at me disapprovingly, but I ignore him. I waltz through the station, my stick tapping in rhythm on the platform, trying to block out what I’ve just read. The rain is still pouring. Before heading to the Sunset Bar I head down towards Toledo Road, moving as if programmed to do so. I feel like it’s my last chance, my only chance to find my Laura, my vision from the pier, that beautiful face I can’t shake from within me.

This time, instead of waiting on the grass verge, I wait directly outside the house in which her flat is, or the flat she was in yesterday. I rub the back of my head and my ribs and wait for her to appear, Uncle Rey’s words swirling within me, the night beginning to darken all around me. The street lamps are murky, at least two of them flickering to my right up the street, casting a gloomy orange strobe across the wet pavement. It’s dizzying to look at, so I turn my back on the pavement and stare at the front door, looking for movement within, steadying myself, trying to concentrate, ignoring the failing light.

There’s somebody there, looking at me through one of the four small panes of glass. I jump back, swallowing the cold air, nearly falling. The door opens, it’s Laura, it’s her. I’m sure it’s her: she looks different, though, without make-up and her hair’s been cut shorter. It doesn’t look like her, but it is, I know it’s her.

‘What are you doing standing outside here?’

‘I’m waiting for you …’

‘What?’

‘I’m here for you … You remember me, right?’

‘I have no idea who you are …’

‘Last night? We spoke, we talked about stuff together … in there …’

‘What? …’

‘They threw me out …’

She walks down the steps quickly, looking back to the house to check if anyone is there, before whispering in my ear.

‘Meet me in the Sunset Bar later tonight. I can’t talk here.’

‘What time? What time? … Wait.’

She turns and runs back up into the house, shutting the door in my face. I can smell her perfume all around me, the air is thick with it, it’s strong and musky. I breathe it in so that I never forget.

pointless

In spite of the prolonged downpour, Southend is busy with shoppers and college kids taking advantage of the later opening hours most of the shops have introduced. I head towards Waterstones and then turn right onto Clarence Road where I enter a pub called Clarence Yard, which, by the look of it, used to be an old warehouse, the bar itself situated in the old cobbled courtyard that’s now closed off to the elements via an impressive glass roof. A barmaid with bleached blonde hair and a warm and friendly smile serves me. I take a table by the right of the bar, up on what must have been an old loading bay. I take a sip of my cider and rest my stick against a chair next to mine.

I contemplate reading the manuscript again, but it’s still too much. I’ve gleaned from it all I need for one day, there’s no point in going over it all again. I even contemplate giving it a little line edit, changing everything back to upper case where it should be, changing a few lines, but what’s the point in that? My project’s changed: editing this manuscript is pointless now as it can’t ever be read by anyone else.

it has to be her

I leave the Clarence Yard after a couple of hours. I feel an urge to be closer to the sea. I want simply to sit by it in the dark, but the rain’s falling in sheets and I know that I’ve a long evening ahead of me. I walk up the High Street, sheltering in doorways from the rain along the way, heading away from the sea and the darkness and towards the Victoria, an indoor shopping mall, where I figure I can sit down and have a coffee somewhere and wait for the rain to pass.