The Man on the Middle Floor

by Elizabeth S. Moore

  She was still five feet from him when he shouted, ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

  Even through the shakiness which his fury always induced in her, she retained a little of the earlier unusual cheer. ‘Nothing’s wrong with me. What do you mean?’

  ‘You think nothing’s wrong with you? Do you know your children’s names? Do you have any fucking idea what is going on in their lives? Jack walked off the football pitch halfway through his game this morning. Apparently you promised to come and watch his social side, having already failed to get the forms in for the school club. He looked out for you when he scored a goal and when you still weren’t there he legged it. You’re a joke. The great scientist. You should stop doing experiments on strangers and start looking at what’s under your nose. You’re damaging your children while trying to fix people who probably had mothers just like you. You’re pathetic. Sarah told me your last words were, “See you at the weekend, at football, I promise.” Nice touch, the promise – kids tend to believe those even from absent parents.’

  Karen remembered now. She had got so caught up with the possibilities for Nick and her unexpected night of lust that it had gone out of her head. She stood, head down, trying to think how to explain. The images of her children congratulating her on academic success were receding fast. From round the corner Karen heard rustling. She hadn’t realised it, but she had started crying and her nose was running. She grubbed around in her bag for a tissue and by the time she had found a crumpled one that had seen better days Nick had appeared in front of her. He must have been at the bins. She had seen him before on a Saturday, wiping them down and putting them straight after the bin men had been on a Friday. Now he stood in front of her, looking agitated and stepping first to her left and then to her right. Karen realised it was because she was blocking the doorway.

  ‘Sorry, Nick.’ She stood to one side and blew her nose, then started dabbing at her eyes. The remnants of the lipstick she had smeared on ten minutes before were on the tissue.

  ‘So who the fuck is this, then? Very cosy, and since when did you wear lipstick to work?’

  Nick was hurrying towards the door.

  ‘Are you her boyfriend? She likes guys who can’t step on the cracks in the path; you’re right up her street. Did she mention she had three kids, and an ex-husband?’

  Nick was standing on the step in front of the door with his hands clamped over his ears. His key had fallen on to the paving stones below and he didn’t have a free hand to pick it up with. Karen turned, and unlocked the door for him, handing him back his key, which he took after he’d pulled his jacket sleeve down to cover his hand. Karen understood: germs. When he was safely inside, Karen turned back to her ex-husband.

  ‘Typical of you to pick on someone vulnerable. Don’t you understand? My work is vitally important. I am trying to help a vast swathe of misdiagnosed people with my research. There is an epidemic out there of illnesses which are being put under the all-encompassing umbrella of autism and there are a huge number of permutations and symptoms that haven’t even been classified yet. There are hundreds of thousands of people; students, mathematicians being lost to society once they are labelled autistic. Do you understand that some of the great minds of history would be classified as autistic today? Albert Einstein, Michelangelo, Mozart, Hans Christian Andersen – they would all be considered on the spectrum, and probably drugged up to the eyeballs on antipsychotics or playing endless computer games. Don’t you understand that sacrifices are necessary to rectify that? I work as hard as I do to make life better for millions of people. I’m proud of that. What am I supposed to have done wrong? Not told the kids a bedtime story? I was working. I made sure they got to school, I fed them – just leave me alone.’

  It was the first time Karen had ever tried to explain to her husband what she felt or what she was trying to achieve. For a moment it seemed to have helped, as he was silent. Her relief at being able to put into words the rationale for the long hours in front of her computer, the weeks of research, to express the reasons behind it, gave her courage, and she stood, momentarily defiant, and waited.

  ‘Have you ever heard of balance, you stupid, stupid woman?’

  Charlie was shouting now, and from the window on the first floor Karen heard a high-pitched screeching noise which she knew instinctively was coming from Nick’s flat.

  ‘Karen, you have children, you have responsibilities, don’t you understand that? Play God all you want, cure the whole fucking human race, but has it occurred to you that for someone with so many letters after their name you’re incapable of making anyone happy, even yourself?’

  Karen was frozen now, as the tirade got nastier and nastier and her husband got closer and closer. He was almost on top of her now, flecks of white spit on his lips, and he was so close she had to bend her neck to look up at him, like a snake hypnotised by a mongoose.

  ‘Look at the state of you, look in the mirror. You’re a fucking embarrassment. The best thing for everyone concerned would be if you just disappeared. You’re a frigid, ugly old bitch with ice for a soul and I wish I’d never met you.’

  Karen sensed Tam before she saw him and shame filled her. He walked up the path in her peripheral vision while Charlie carried on shouting, oblivious to the approaching newcomer.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Tam said, putting down his shopping on the path.

  ‘Just go round us, mate, we’re talking here.’

  ‘Yes, I caught some of it. Karen, are you alright, can I help?’

  ‘What the fuck is going on in this house?’ shouted Charlie. ‘It’s very cosy all of a sudden. Why would you be able to help? Just mind your own business and fuck off.’

  ‘I think abusive men are my business.’

  Tam’s arm was between them now, and this intervention broke the lock between her and the father of her children, the man she supposed she must have loved when she was twenty and they had first got together and who still had the power to make her doubt everything about her choices. She dropped her shoulders and her whole body felt weak, as if it was about to crumple into a ball.

  ‘This isn’t over, you stupid cunt. I need some backup with the kids, I’m drowning. Email me a schedule and stick to it, and turn up for parents’ evening next week. You’re supposed to be an academic even if you’ve never published an original thought in your life.’

  Another wail came from inside the house, followed by repetitive banging.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Tam. ‘Karen, come inside.’

  As she turned towards the door something hit her hard in the back then landed at her feet. Car keys.

  ‘I sorted the car out for you too, as you seem to be the only member of the human race who can’t put petrol into a tank. It was sitting on the pavement on my route to work all week collecting tickets and I couldn’t drive past it one more time. You’re lucky they didn’t tow it away. How’ve you been getting to work? Cabs, don’t tell me. Can’t pay for Jack’s football club but you can go backwards and forwards to the hospital in a taxi. Don’t worry about the money for filling it up, or the tickets, I’ll pay those as well, shall I? Fucking stupid bitch.’

  Charlie carried on as Karen let Tam lead her through the hall and to the door of his flat. He sat her on his sofa and made her a cup of sweet tea. She was going to explain how bad sugar was for you, what it did to your pancreas, but she stopped herself. She sipped her tea and then for the second time that morning she started to cry.

  ‘I think I should go and check on Nick. I was talking to him about a job and… ’

  She trailed off. Tam was standing in front of her holding out his hand and pointing at his ceiling. ‘Silence is golden. You can go later,’ he said, as he pulled her towards him and kissed her.

  Karen was lying on her back in Tam’s bed. She couldn’t see Tam’s head, it was under the sheets, between her legs. She couldn’t respond enough to be stressed about the intermittent buzzing from her phone, in her bag by the door. She was a pool of molten
jelly quivering like agar without a thought in her head, and when he lifted himself up in one smooth movement, and pushed into her, his mouth closed over her moaning one as she came, and she couldn’t even hear the renewed banging on the ceiling above them.

  Later – Karen had lost all sense of how much later – reality returned to her, this time in the form of a cup of coffee. Tam brought it to her, or what was left of her, spreadeagled across his bed with no worries about modesty or where she should be. She seemed to have lost direction completely. She sat up and shook her head briskly. She looked at Tam, who was staring at her with a huge grin on his face.

  ‘You’re full of surprises. That is the best time I’ve had in bed for years.’

  Karen opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her.

  ‘Drink your coffee, it’s a Saturday and you’re all mine, nowhere to go at the weekend, or do you just ignore those conventions too?’

  Karen remembered then, about Nick, and the morgue and the job.

  ‘Oh, God, can you hand me my phone please?’

  Tam walked over to the door and dug into her bag, took out the ancient Nokia and handed it over.

  ‘A message from Jack, one from Sarah, and one from Pete in the morgue saying he’ll be there till two. Oh, and two from Charlie, my ex-husband. You met him earlier.’

  ‘What’s the story there? He looks like a real charmer. What was he so upset about?’

  Karen hated talking about her ex-husband nearly as much as she hated discussing her work, and she hesitated. It had been a very long time since she had shared anything with anyone and she was out of the habit. She hardly knew this guy, even though they might have spent a few hours of their respective lives making each other happy in some very intimate ways. She took a deep breath. Even as a scientist she would have to acknowledge that her life had been delivering little in the way of contentment, except where her work was concerned. Perhaps it was time she tried again, took a chance and tried to engage with the human race. She wasn’t convinced but she would give it a go.

  She chose her words carefully.

  ‘I am very dedicated to my work. It frustrates my ex-husband and I think it’s beginning to affect my children. It’s difficult, but I can’t just give it up. I know how important my work is; it has implications for far more people than the five in my family. Important discoveries demand personal sacrifices.’

  Tam was standing over her, and his head was slightly on one side, with a gentle lopsided grin on his face. ‘Well, I think we’ve sorted out a bit of the work-life balance this week, and as for the kids, they’re yours; everyone prioritises their own kids above their work, don’t they, so why doesn’t he just give you a break? I’m sure he knows how much you love them and that they come first.’

  Karen didn’t really remember getting dressed, or the furious push that was almost a slap she delivered to Tam as he tried to put his arm on her shoulder to slow her down. She was going to the hospital and she was going to drop these forms off, Saturday or no Saturday. She had spent the last couple of days clearing the backlog of paperwork and tidying up her case files so that she could use all her time to concentrate on Nick and finishing her thesis. Fuck men. Fuck opening up. She slammed his door, crossed the hall and went upstairs. As she left she could hear Tam protesting,

  ‘For God’s sake, what did I do? One minute we were talking like grown-ups and then you just up and leave and nearly take me out on the way through. What’s going on? Did I say something?’

  Karen took the first flight of stairs two at a time and stood outside Nick’s flat. She waited for a moment and collected herself. Tam might have been good at sex but he was an idiot. Men had no idea what it was like to be a working woman and a mother. She took a breath and knocked decisively. Nothing. She wasn’t giving up this time.

  ‘Nick, I am taking your confidentiality form to the hospital now. I have also downloaded the contract, and you can sign that if you want so that I can tie everything up today. It’s only a zero-hours contract but it will be made permanent if you’re a good fit. Are you still happy to start on Monday?’

  She tried to contain her temper. She could sense that Tam was in the hall below her listening, and she could see that Nick was at the computer, back to her, because she was now bent over looking through his letterbox.

  She waited.

  ‘Nick?’

  ‘I will come on Monday. The cat ran away. I can start but please stop coming to my door. I am busy.’

  Karen understood. She hated interruptions, and she hated unexpected interruptions most of all. Nick sitting tapping away on his keyboard had focused her mind. ‘OK, just pick up your pen and sign where I’ve made a red mark and I will leave you alone. Meet me downstairs at 7 a.m. on Monday morning. I’ll give you a lift in and show you where to go.’

  After a minute Nick pushed the contract, signed, back under the door and she picked it up. She didn’t even bother to go and shower; she almost ran downstairs, ignoring Tam who was still standing at his open door, and went down the path to her car, trying to look dignified, and in control and unbothered by what had just happened. She got into the front seat and dug a scrunchie from under the handbrake. She gathered up her hair, which was still loose, and reversed towards the road…

  If there was one thing that reminded Karen of what was important and restored a feeling of order when life got on top of her it was driving into her own parking space at the hospital. Seeing her name, the initials and her title seemed to calm her, and restore her faith in herself a little. She put all thoughts of Tam’s admittedly pleasing face out of her mind, and slotted her car in next to the shiny new BMW belonging to the head of neural science. She locked up and followed the signs to the morgue, called the lift using her ID card to overcome the restricted access to the lower floors, and walked alone down the sterile corridor, holding the contract, the confidentiality agreement and Nick’s CV. She recognised the chatty forensic pathologist from the previous day’s lunch in the canteen and stopped him.

  ‘Hi, I don’t know if you recognise me; we were sitting on the same table in the canteen yesterday? I emailed you about my neighbour, and you sent me through a job spec and a zero-hours contract.’

  His face was blank, but that wasn’t a surprise to Karen. She rarely made much of an impression on men, despite the unexpected evidence to the contrary of the last couple of days. He hesitated, probably hoping for more clues.

  ‘I have a neighbour who needs a job, and I showed him what you sent through and he can start Monday.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing like getting straight to the point. Does he have experience? Although he is our only applicant so the question is only a formality.’

  ‘I don’t think he does have experience, but he’s very neat, diligent and clean and he can do the hours. I can give him a character reference and a lift in on Monday morning so that you can meet him and go through everything.’

  ‘Wow, that’s above and beyond. We’re really struggling down here without an assistant; we had to have someone in from an agency today and he freaked out and went home after a young road-traffic victim came in DOA. You’ve saved the day. I’m sorry, my name’s Pete. I should have introduced myself yesterday. I didn’t even realise you were listening.’

  Karen smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t there long, I just happened to overhear and looked for your details in the hospital directory. Just to let you know that Nick is quiet; he likes routine. I think you’ll be fine together. I think he has Asperger’s, mildly, which means he’ll be extremely organised, and brilliant at the job; just treat him gently.’

  Karen’s conscience, which had been niggling at her, was assuaged. She had covered the thorny topic of Nick’s differences, and hopefully that would mean everyone would understand the boundaries and take it slowly with him.

  ‘As long as he can do the job and muck in, we’ll take him.’

  Karen walked away, mission accomplished, completely unaware that Pete was still talking. Small talk h
ad never interested her and she needed to get on with her planning. She had done more than enough human interacting for one week. All she knew was that she needed Nick close, where she could watch him and his reactions. He was the perfect case study, and this way he would be under her nose both here and at home. Life was beginning to make sense again.

  7 | Tam

  ‘Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.’

  — Oscar Wilde

  Saturday morning

  Tam stood by the open door of his flat, baffled. He hadn’t seen that coming at all. He rubbed his stubbly chin and did up a couple of buttons on the crumpled shirt he had pulled on after Karen had stormed out of his flat. He felt strangely squashed. If you had asked him to pick a sexual mate out of a line-up, Karen wouldn’t even have merited a second glance, but he realised that he had been strangely drawn in by her need, and in particular the need she had suddenly seemed to have for him.

  He kicked himself mentally for letting his guard down. She had made all the moves, and from pinning him on the bed and riding him like her life depended on it, to the headspinningly impressive moments, two of them, when he had come in her mouth, it had been a passionate and almost happy couple of encounters which he had hoped would become a habit. He thought they had fitted together, as bedmates at least, and she had given him no reason to think she didn’t agree. Quite the opposite, not that he was complaining. It had been a long time, and feeling attractive and horny and desired had galvanised him into action, he had to admit. He had cleaned his flat, got his hair and beard trimmed, taken his washing to the launderette and begun to take an interest in what was going on out there in the big bad world. Karen had helped, and he had felt he was helping back. It had been a good feeling.