Pissing in a River

by Lorrie Sprecher

  I couldn’t help it. I started writing a tune about Melissa.

  I can lie like denial here at your feet,

  but I think you’re entitled to see through me.

  When the angels fall I will be ready,

  sometimes when I look around there aren’t any.

  When the angels fall there will be plenty,

  but you see right now there aren’t that many.

  I’m afraid it sounded a bit like the Beatles’ “Norwegian Wood.”

  Finally I saw Melissa coming down the lane from the tube in her long, beige raincoat. I was relieved she was alone. “Come inside, misery-guts,” Melissa said, putting her key in the latch.“Why the sad face? What’s happened? Did you find Nick? You’ll catch your death.” She closed her umbrella and I followed her into the warm flat. “Get out of those wet things.” She took my parka and wool hat and hung them in the entranceway. I pulled off my gray fingerless gloves. Melissa felt my green army-surplus jumper from Portobello Road. “Love, you’re soaked through. What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you.” I hung my head in shame.

  “You’re freezing.” She took me upstairs and ran hot water into the large bathtub. I stood there limply, morale depleted, watching it fill. When Melissa went downstairs, I peeled off my jeans and black trainers and stepped into the tub. The hot water was soothing on my aching muscles. I had a bit of a scratchy throat and a headache. Melissa knocked and asked if she should come in or leave the dry clothes she’d brought me outside the door. I told her, what the hell, come in. Normally I’m squeamish about my body, but she was a doctor. She saw naked women every day without being allowed to judge them. At least that’s what I told myself. Melissa perched on the rim of the tub and dipped her hand in the water. “Stay here tonight. It’s raining. It’s late. Why’d you want to see me?”

  “To say hi.”

  She arched her eyebrows, waiting for me to say more. But I didn’t know what to say or how not to say it. “I’m sorry you had to wait for me,” she said finally.

  “Don’t be silly. It was rude of me to just barge over. You’ve got better things to do than look after me.”

  “I’m sure Nick’ll turn up,” Melissa said to make me feel better. “I’m probably just overreacting.”

  I asked, “Did you have a nice time, wherever you were?”

  “I was out with Martin.”

  “That bloke you’ve been seeing?” I sounded like it was the best news I’d heard all year. It was pitiful.

  “Yeah. Went for a meal then to the cinema. Butterfly Kiss. Weird, religious, lesbian serial-killer film.”

  Great, I thought, lesbians as crazy murderers. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “It was alright. Had a lovely vegetable curry with pappa­dams and aloo matar paratha.” Melissa shook her hand dry.

  “Is that bread stuffed with potatoes and peas? You look nice.”

  She was wearing a silky, maroon-and-turquoise-striped shirt over a black-and-red Stiff Little Fingers “Inflammable Material” T-shirt. Through the picture of the cover of my favorite SLF record album, I saw the delicate arc of her breasts. She had two silver rings on her fingers. A plain band and a rose that accentuated the graceful way she moved her hands. She smelled good. Melissa looked surprised by my comment. “Ta, love.” She pulled off her sexy, black fake-suede boots, slid off the vegan green studded bracelet fastened around her wrist with little handcuffs and left the bathroom. She returned and put a mug of hot tea on the plastic soap holder that stretched across the tub.

  After a good long soak, I put on the black sweatshirt, blue flannel pajama bottoms and thick socks Melissa had left me to wear. Then I took the medication wrapped in cling film from my damp jeans pocket and swallowed it with the dregs of the tea. Melissa had already gone to bed. I stuck my head inside her bedroom to say goodnight. “I’m sorry I can’t stay up and chat, love,” Melissa said. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow.” She was covering an extra surgery session for one of her partners who was out ill. As I turned to go downstairs, Melissa groaned, “Wait. I took the sheets off the bed.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll sleep on the settee.”

  “And you don’t have enough blankets.” She sighed. “It’s cold tonight. Crawl in here with me where it’s warm. There’s plenty of room.”

  “Okay.” I climbed gingerly into her bed, making sure not to crowd her. The rose-colored duvet was heavy and soothing.

  She turned off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, love.” Melissa rolled over to sleep.

  “Ta for the hot bath and for letting me stay,” I said.

  “No worries, love,” Melissa murmured. In a few minutes, I heard her breathing slow down.

  I stared at the back of her head. The Oasis song “Don’t Go Away” was playing in my brain with Liam singing, “Damn my education, I can’t find the words to say / with all the things caught in my mind.” Those lines stayed wedged in my thoughts because it was how I felt around Melissa. But when I wasn’t paying attention, my mind played the first verse of the song as,

  Cold and frosty morning, there’s not a lot to say

  about the things caught in my mind.

  And as the day was dawning, my brain flew away

  with all the things caught in my mind.

  It was supposed to be “plane”—“my plane flew away.” But when I was near Melissa, it was like my brain flew away, and my reaction to her beauty made me nervous. Now I held as still as possible, terrified of fidgeting and disturbing her. I held my breath and tried letting it out silently. I was afraid of accidentally moving too close to her in my sleep. But you can clearly see she isn’t bothered you’re a lesbian, I told myself. She doesn’t treat you any differently.

  Usually I repeated my prayers of protection for hours because my brain never got the message I’d completed them, like intellectually knowing I’d just eaten and remaining viscerally famished. But lying in the dark, peaceful next to Melissa’s warmth, I fell asleep painlessly, my OCD more like a residue, an echo.

  TRACK 20 Save Yourself

  The blue Vespa Lounge sparkled in the rain. I looked up at its bright orange sign, sighed and went in. It was my third pub of the night. Melissa and I had looked up all the gay pubs and clubs in Time Out. We’d also gone on an Internet site called Gingerbeer that had up-to-the-minute information on London’s lesbian scene. From the women at Gingerbeer I learned that Gateways had shut in 1985. I also discovered that the Due South, which I considered my local, had just closed.

  My eyes adjusted to the Vespa’s blue interior. To my utter astonishment, Nick was sitting in a corner having a pint. I slid into the chair next to her.

  “Alright?”

  “Alright, mate! Whatcha doin’ ’ere, ’manda?” She was totally trolleyed.

  “What am I doing here? Looking for you. That’s what I’m doing here. Don’t you know Melissa and I have been frantic? Where’ve you been?”

  “I can’t sleep.” Nick’s normally piercing green eyes looked dull. “I’m afraid to be alone. Where else would I be?”

  “You could be with me. Why didn’t you give us a ring? Melissa’s worried sick about you. Why haven’t you been over to see us?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not? You always have done.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t anymore.”

  “But I’ve missed you.” I reached out my hand to touch her rumpled hair, trying not to show how hurt I was.

  “It’s been ages and I’m still whingeing and moaning about something you can’t even call a real rape. I’m not getting over it, me.”

  “It hasn’t been that long. And it was a real rape. Are you fucking kidding me? Are you telling me he didn’t violate you? Traumatize you? No, I didn’t think so. Maybe we should have pressured you to report it.”

  “How many times can I spi
ll my guts on your eternal shoulder of kindness? Or Melissa’s? I already can’t repay either of you.”

  “Being mates isn’t about repaying,” I said.

  Nick pointed an unlit fag at me. “No, I find me own places to stay, me. I’ve got it sussed, mate.”

  “What are you doing?” I grabbed the coffin nail from between her fingers and tossed it on the floor. “You don’t smoke.”

  “Give it to me.” She held out her hand and looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes, not realizing I’d already thrown the cigarette away.

  “How did you get like this all of a sudden? You’re coming back to mine,” I said.

  Nick ran a hand through her hair, thick and rich like Guinness stout, looking completely out of it. She rested her chin in her hands. She was wearing her black leather jacket and a torn yellow jersey that was held together with safety pins. She looked beyond mere fatigue. I stood and tried to pull her up with me by her collar. A woman joined us, setting another pint of bitter in front of Nick and sitting down cradling the other. I couldn’t believe Nick was actually going to drink it. She was ready to wipe up the floor. I didn’t think she’d be able to stand, let alone walk.

  “Who’s this?” the woman demanded.

  “A mate,” Nick said. “She’s just leaving.”

  “She’s not,” I said firmly. “She is taking you home.”

  The woman rested her hand heavily on Nick’s shoulder. “Go an’ chat up someone else, lover.” She had a Devonshire accent.

  I had the feeling that Nick didn’t really know this woman. Why was she talking to me like this? She seemed gruff, abrasive and, I decided, predatory. She didn’t smile, and I admit I was over-protective of Nick. “I’m not chatting her up,” I said, as the woman continued to eye me warily. “I’m concerned about my mate.”

  “Sod off,” Nick muttered, morosely crumpling up an empty crisps packet in her fist. “Leave me alone.”

  Stung, I asked, “What’s the matter with you?”

  “I just can’t see you right now, Amanda.” Nick downed most of her pint.

  The strange, raptorial woman put her arm around Nick’s waist, half holding her up, and they limped out of the pub together. I grabbed at the sleeve of Nick’s jacket. “You don’t have to do this. Stop using yourself. Stop giving it all away.” Having said that, I felt a right prat for assuming I knew what was best for her. I followed the two of them out into the rain. “You’ve got people who love you, you know,” I shouted after Nick. “I love you, mate.” The wolf opened her umbrella, and they huddled chummily underneath it. I stood in the open with my naked head. “Come back.” I watched their figures recede.

  Later I stood in front of my red-brick Victorian feeling shattered, looking at my protruding ground-floor window. The lights were on behind the yellow curtains in the basement flat as I walked up the few steps to mine. I wondered if someone nice lived down there.

  I rang Melissa’s mobile to let her know I’d found Nick and she could go home if she was still out looking. “What?” It was loud on Melissa’s end of the line.

  “Go home!” I yelled.

  “Hang on, I’m walking outside.”

  It was only slightly less noisy so I didn’t explain the circumstances. I just shouted, “Go home! I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

  I was lying in bed not sleeping, listening to the Clash song “One Emotion” over and over again, when my buzzer rang. I turned off the CD player, pulled back the curtain and peered out. Nick was standing there, looking wet, dirty, and crumpled from the rain.

  “What are you doing here?” I held the door open.

  “I came to apologize.” She looked awfully pale and ill.

  “What’s happened to what’s-her-name?”

  Nick shrugged. “I left when she fell asleep. I felt too restless to stay.”

  “Did you at least leave her a note?” I asked, still a little hurt.

  “Believe me, she didn’t expect one. It wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it like then?”

  “You know what it was like.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Nick. Why’d you disappear on me?”

  “I had to. Don’t you see? That night. I could’ve got you killed an’ all. I never should’ve gone off the main road.”

  I helped her out of her wet clothes and stuck her under a hot shower, getting myself soaked in the process. I dried my hair with a towel and plugged in the electric kettle. I put dry clothes in the bathroom for Nick and told her I was going into the hall to ring Melissa.

  “Don’t let her come over,” Nick pleaded. “Not when I’m in this state.”

  “I need to let her know you’re alright. She’s really concerned about you.”

  Sounding half asleep, Melissa said, “Brilliant,” when I told her Nick had just turned up. “Is she alright? Do you need me to come over?”

  “Nah, much as I love your company. We’ll pop round yours tomorrow.”

  Nick came out of the bathroom and I rubbed my towel over her head. I handed her a steaming mug of tea and said, “Pour that down ya, you silly git.” She was shivering, and I wrapped a blanket around her. “Alcohol poisoning is a real thing, you know,” I said.

  Eventually, from her hesitant spurts of confession, I learned that Nick had been going out every night, getting legless and going home with strangers.

  “You’re not being responsible,” I said. “It isn’t safe.”

  “Not as safe as walking down the road to catch a fucking bus?” Nick asked sarcastically.

  “It isn’t okay to put yourself at risk on purpose.”

  “At risk? A woman isn’t going to rape me.”

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. No woman would ever put you in danger or physically harm you. That never happens in the lesbian community. Are you at least having sex with all these women safely?”

  “No oral sex without cling film or an HIV test.” She saluted me like a soldier.

  “Well, I see it as a cry for help.”

  “Listen, mate. I slept with those women trying to feel safe.”

  “I know,” I said.

  After two cups of tea, Nick looked less defiant and more despondent. Her small, silver eyebrow ring and the earrings in her right ear glittered in the lamplight. “If you let me stay, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “You what? Sorry?”

  “If you let me stay, you can fuck me,” Nick said harshly.

  “Are you out of your fucking head? Do you think that’s what I want?” I nearly screamed at her. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to be.”

  “How can you do that to yourself? And how can you think so little of me? Do you really think I’d take advantage of you like that? That’s really naff. What the hell are you thinking?”

  “I can’t keep coming here expecting you to take care of me. Maybe you want to have other women over.”

  “If I had other plans, I’d just bloody tell you,” I snapped. “It’s not a fucking problem.”

  “I couldn’t show up offering fuck all.”

  “What a fucking naff idea,” I repeated. “I can’t believe you came up with it. Are you on drugs or something?”

  “Only crack.”

  I gasped in horror, and Nick finally gave me a weary shell of a smile.

  “I’m only taking the piss, Amanda,” she said, but then she started to cry. “I can’t live with the guilt that’s inside me. I could have got you raped an’ all. It was my fault. I had a few pints and thought I was bulletproof. That area’s dead rough. I never should’ve gone off the High Street.”

  “That doesn’t make it your fault. No one has the right to harm you.”

  “Summat terrible could have happened to you, d’you know wha’ I mean? I can’t live with it, me.”

  “I made a c
onscious decision to help you,” I said. “No one held a gun to my head. I could have thought, ugh, some bloody stupid woman has turned off the main road and got herself in trouble. And I could’ve carried on down Kingsland High Street, got my bus, and left it at that. I chose to go after you. Whatever else may have happened, that was my choice and I have to live with it.” I pulled the blanket more tightly around her. The room was dead frigid and I realized the radiators weren’t working. My electricity key had run down and I couldn’t recharge it until the next day. “I could never hurt you.” I ran my finger down her cheek. I could see my breath. “It’s fucking freezing in here.” I made Nick put on a sweatshirt and extra-heavy socks. She curled up next to me in the small bed. I put my arms around her. “I can understand why all those women want to take you home,” I said, trying to make her feel better about having offered me sex. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re attractive.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “Really.” I ran my hand through her wondrous hair. “You’re well fit. You’re sex on legs.” We both laughed. “Seriously, I think you’re beautiful. And you’re vulnerable. I don’t want those women taking advantage of you.”

  “They don’t scare me. Nowt scares me,” Nick claimed defiantly.

  In my head, I started playing the Indigo Girls song “Kid Fears.”

  “Was Melissa really worried about me?” Nick asked quietly.

  “Yes, she bloody well was.”

  “Bollocks,” Nick said, but I felt her body relax.

  TRACK 21 The Ghost at Number One

  When I woke up, I went through the pockets of my trousers looking for dosh. I only found 50p. I went to a cash machine, got out a fiver, and ran to the newsagent’s to top up my electricity key. I added money to it in one-pound increments to pay for my heat. Back at mine, I put the kettle on and let the room get a little warmer. Nick woke up as I put a cup of instant coffee on the floor next to her.