by Sally Rooney
Still typing, she answered: It’s nice to know you care so much about my opinion.
If you think that’s bad, whatever, he said. I’ve honestly done a lot worse. I mean, if looking at something on the internet is enough to put you off me, we were never going to be good friends, because that’s nothing to me. I’ve done horrible things compared to that.
She stopped typing then and looked at him. Like what? she asked.
Loads of things, he said. Where would I even start. Like, for example, you’ll hate this one. About a year ago I brought some girl home after a night out, and then I found out later she was still in school. I’m not just saying that to fuck with you, I’m serious. Sixteen or seventeen, I think she was.
Did she look older?
I want to say she must have. But I didn’t think about it. We were both drunk, she seemed like she was having fun. I know that’s a horrible thing to say. It wasn’t a case of me going after her on purpose because she was a kid, I never would have touched her if I’d known that, but obviously it was still wrong what happened. And I’m not saying, oh, it was just a mistake, it could have happened to anyone. Because actually, it was my own stupidity from start to finish. I’m not going to go on and on about how bad I feel about it. But I do feel bad, okay?
Quietly, she said: I believe you.
And honestly, I’ve done worse than that. Worst thing I’ve ever done, if you want to hear—
He broke off, and she nodded for him to continue. He looked away into the room as he spoke, grimacing vaguely, as if staring into a light.
Worst thing I’ve ever done, I got a girl pregnant when I was in school. She was in Junior Cert and I was in fifth year. Have you ever heard anything worse than that? Her mam had to take her over to England. I think they got the boat over. She was like fourteen or whatever, a little child basically. We weren’t even supposed to be having sex, I talked her into it. I mean, I told her it would be fine. There, anyway, that’s the worst thing.
Did she want to do it, or did you make her do it?
She said she wanted to, but she was afraid of getting pregnant. And I told her it wouldn’t happen. I don’t think I really pressured her into it beyond that, I just said not to worry about it. But maybe that was kind of pressurising in a way. You don’t think about this stuff when you’re fifteen, or anyway I didn’t. I would never do that now—I mean, I would never try to talk someone into it if they weren’t interested, I just wouldn’t even be bothered. You can believe me or not, I don’t blame you if you don’t. But when I remember myself saying those words to her I feel really out of my body. I start getting these weird heartbeats and everything. And I start thinking about really evil people, serial killers or whatever, and I feel like maybe that’s me, maybe I’m one of these psychopaths you hear about. Because I did say it, I did tell her not to worry, and I was older than she was, so she probably thought I knew what I was talking about. I just didn’t think it would actually happen. And you know, I didn’t even really have a conscience about it at the time. Only later, after I finished school, I started thinking about how evil it was, what I did to her. And feeling kind of scared and everything.
Do you know what she’s doing now? said Alice.
Yeah, I still know her. She’s not living in town anymore, she works in Swinford. But I would see her around the odd time when she’s home.
Would she say hello to you if she saw you?
Oh yeah, he said. We’re not like, not speaking to each other or anything. I just feel awful when I see her because it reminds me of what I did.
Did you ever say sorry?
At the time, maybe. But I never got back in touch with her later when I started feeling really bad about it. I didn’t want to drag it all back up and get her upset for no reason. I don’t know what she thinks. Maybe she just moved on and it’s not on her mind that much. I hope so. But you can judge me if you want, I’m not defending myself.
He was turned to her, his head resting on the pillow, his eyes bright, almost glittering in the white light from the window behind her. She sat upright looking down at him, her face drawn.
Well, I can’t judge you, she said. When I think about the worst things I’ve ever done, I feel the same way you’re describing. Panicky and sick and that kind of thing. I bullied a girl I was in school with, really cruelly. For no reason, other than I suppose to torture her. Because other people were doing it. But then they would say they were doing it because I was. When I remember it now, I mostly just feel scared. I don’t know why I would want to cause another person pain like that. I really want to believe I would never do that kind of thing again, for any reason. But I did do it, once, and I have to live with it for the rest of my life.
He watched her intently and said nothing.
I can’t make it better, what you did, she said. And you can’t make it better for me either. So maybe we’re both bad people.
If I’m only as bad as you I don’t mind that much. Or even if we’re both terrible, it’s still better than being terrible on my own.
She said she understood that feeling. He wiped his nose with his fingers and swallowed, looking away from her, at the ceiling.
I want to take back a horrible comment I made, he said.
Don’t worry. I was horrible as well. What I said about those women degrading themselves for money, that was a stupid thing to say. I don’t even think that, really. It doesn’t matter, we were both annoyed.
Looking down at his fingernails he said: It’s amazing how much you do annoy me.
She laughed. It’s not amazing, she said. I have that effect on lots of people.
I’ll tell you what it is, you do act very stuck-up at times. But I know other people who can be like that as well, and I wouldn’t let it get to me the way it does with you. To be really honest, I actually think it’s more the fact that I like you. And then when you act badly it drives me up the wall.
She nodded, silent. For a minute, two minutes, three, they sat on the bed without speaking. Finally he touched her knee in a friendly way and said he was going to have a shower. After he had left the room she sat there unmoving. In the bathroom he switched the shower on and stood looking in the mirror while the water warmed. Their conversation seemed to have had some effect on them both, but it was impossible to decipher the nature of the effect, its meaning, how it felt to them at that moment, whether it was something shared between them or something about which they felt differently. Perhaps they didn’t know themselves, and these were questions without fixed answers, and the work of making meaning was still going on.
* * *
That evening Alice had dinner with a group of booksellers and journalists in the city, while Felix ate on his own in the apartment. Afterwards they met for a drink and walked over to the Colosseum together. In the darkness it looked skeletal and desiccated, like the dried remains of an ancient insect. You really do see some pretty good stuff here, Felix said. Alice smiled, and he glanced over at her. What? he said. You’re laughing at me. She shook her head and answered: I’m just happy you came with me, that’s all. Back in the apartment, they wished one another goodnight and Alice went to bed. Felix sat in the kitchen looking at his phone while she lay in the next room with her eyes open, staring at nothing. After midnight, he knocked on her bedroom door.
Yes? she said.
He looked inside, holding his phone in his hand. Are you sleeping? he said. She told him no. Can I show you a video? he asked. She sat up and said yes. He came inside, closed the door and sat down on the bed beside her, where she shifted over to make room. He was still dressed, in a T-shirt and sweatpants. The video showed a raccoon sitting up in a humanoid posture, legs splayed, a bib tied around its neck and a bowl of black cherries in its lap. The raccoon reached into the bowl with its tiny clawed hand, grabbed a cherry and began eating it, all in a very anthropomorphic fashion, nodding its head in gourmet appreciation of the cherry. The caption on the video was ‘raccoon enjoying to eat fruits’. It was a minute long and a
ll the raccoon did was eat and nod. Alice laughed and said: Incredible. Felix said he thought she’d like it. Then he locked his phone screen and leaned back against her headboard contemplatively. She lay on her side, facing him, the quilt pulled up to her waist.
Were you sleeping? he asked again.
No.
I didn’t interrupt anything, I hope.
What do you mean? she asked. Interrupt what?
I don’t know. Whatever girls get up to when they’re lying in bed at night.
She looked up at him, intrigued. Ah, she said. Well, I wasn’t touching myself, if that’s what you’re implying.
I suppose you don’t do that, do you not?
Of course I do, but I wasn’t just now.
He settled himself down with his head on the pillow, lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. She had her arm tucked under her head, watching him.
And what do you be thinking about when you do it? he said.
Different things.
Your own little fantasies and things like that.
Indeed, she said.
And who would be starring in these fantasies?
Well, me, of course.
He gave what seemed a very genuine laugh at that. Of course, he said. I would hope so. But who else? Famous actors or celebrities or what.
Not really.
People you know, then.
More often, she said.
He turned to face her where she lay next to him.
And what about me? he said.
She bit on her lower lip for a moment, and then said: I think about you sometimes.
He put his hand out and touched her nightdress, letting his fingers graze her waist. And what do you think about me doing to you? he asked.
She laughed, and it was impossible in the darkness to tell whether she was embarrassed. I think about you being very, very nice to me, she said.
He seemed to find this amusing. Oh yeah? he said. In what way?
She turned and hid her face in the pillow, which had the effect of suggesting she was in fact embarrassed, but when she spoke she was smiling. You’re going to make fun of me if I tell you, she said.
I genuinely won’t.
Well, I think about different things. I mean, I don’t just have the same fantasy every time. But one thing all the fantasies have in common is—You are going to laugh, because it’s so vain. I would never usually say this to someone, but you asked. I like to imagine that you really want me—a lot, not just a normal amount.
Lightly he moved his hand over her ribs, down the side of her body. And how do you know I do? he said. In the fantasy. Do I say it to you or is it just obvious?
It’s obvious. But we get to a part later on where you say it as well.
And do you give me what I want, or you just like teasing me?
She turned her face even further into the pillow. He moved his hand back up to her waist, up her ribcage, up to the soft line of her breast. In a low murmuring tone she said: You get what you want.
So why does it make a difference how much I want it? he said. Am I begging you?
No, no, you’re not pushy. You’re just really into it.
And can I ask, am I any good? Or do you imagine me more kind of nervous because I want it so badly?
She turned to face him, lying on her side again. His fingers moved over the surface of her breast, as far as the strap of her nightdress and back down.
I do sometimes imagine you kind of nervous, she said.
He nodded, his face and manner expressing a keen interest in the discussion. Can I ask something else? he said. You don’t have to tell me. But what do you think about when you come?
I think about you coming, she said.
Where, inside you?
Usually.
Slowly, as if in deep thought, he ran the back of his hand over her belly, down over her navel. She was looking at him still.
I know what you’re going to say now, she said.
Yeah? What?
I’m going to ask if you ever think about me in that way, and you’re going to go: No, not really.
He laughed, stroking the cloth of her nightdress with the back of his hand. No, I’m not going to say that, he said. I can tell you about it if you like, but I’d prefer to hear more what you think. I mean, obviously because it revolves around me I like hearing it, but I also just think it’s interesting. I’ve tried asking people about this stuff before and they never usually tell me anything.
Oh, she said. Were you using a line on me? I thought we were being very intimate.
His laughter had a note of awkwardness in it. We are, he replied. I have asked the question in the past but, as I said, I never usually get anywhere with it. And in fairness I’ve only ever asked people I’m already with. I’ve never gone down the route of using it as a pick-up line.
It is a little unorthodox. But then I don’t think you’re really trying to pick me up.
Well, I could have waited until tomorrow to show you the raccoon video, he said.
She laughed then, and he smiled with the pleasure of making her laugh.
You know well why I’m here, he added.
No I don’t! she said. We’ve been in Rome four nights already and the mood hasn’t struck you at all?
We were only getting to know each other then.
What a gentleman.
He turned over again. I don’t know, he said. I went back and forth on it. Honestly you can be kind of intimidating in certain situations, I don’t know if you know that.
I’ve heard it from other people, but from you it surprises me, she said.
He shrugged and said nothing.
And I don’t intimidate you anymore? she said.
You still do, a small bit. But you know, when someone tells you all their favourite sexual fantasies, that takes the edge off the intimidation a bit. I mean, no offence, but you obviously really fancy me.
Coolly she replied: You told me you weren’t going to make fun of me if I told you those things. Feel free, but it doesn’t hurt me and I think it’s cheap.
He got up on his elbow and looked down at her. See? he said. See, that’s intimidating when you talk like that. I wasn’t actually making fun of you, by the way, and I’m sorry if you thought I was. But when you’re pissed off with me you get this attitude, like you’re so above me. It makes me feel like a little worm.
For a while she lay there and said nothing. Then, sadly, she said: Okay, I’m defensive, and I act superior, and I make you feel bad. And besides all that it’s obvious I have a crush on you anyway. So I suppose I’m very pathetic to you and not even pleasant to be around.
Yeah, exactly, he said. That’s exactly what I think about you. That must be why I spent the last four days following you all over the place like a fucking moron.
What did you come in here for? she asked. Just to tease me?
Fuck’s sake. I don’t know. I like talking to you. When we go to our separate beds, I find I think about you a bit. So I thought I would come in here and see if you were thinking about me as well. Okay?
What kind of things do you think about?
He probed his back teeth with his tongue, contemplating. It’s not that different from what you said, he told her. I imagine you really wanting it. Maybe I tease you a small bit at the start, and I can make you come a lot of times, that type of thing. In the fantasy itself there’s nothing that strange. The only weird thing is that when we’ve been staying here, especially the last two nights, when I thought about you, I felt like you were thinking about me as well, in this room. Were you?
Yes, she said.
And it was like I could feel you near me. Actually, this morning I woke up and for a second I couldn’t remember if it was real or not—I mean I was confused whether I was alone in bed or you were there. Because it felt so real.
In a low voice she asked: How did you feel when you realised you were alone?
Honestly, in the split second? he said. Disappointed. Or, I do
n’t know, kind of lonely. He paused for a moment and then asked: Can I touch you now, what do you think?
She said yes. He put his hand under her nightdress and stroked his fingers over her underwear. Her mouth opened and she let out a little breath. Gently, he put his index finger inside her, and she made a whimpering noise. His face was flushed. Ah, you’re so wet, he said. Her breath came high and quickly, her eyes still closed. He licked his upper lip and said: Let me take this off you. She sat up a little and he undressed her. After that, he pulled his T-shirt off over his head and with her fingertips she touched his erection through his clothes. I want this so badly, she said. The tips of his ears were red. Yeah? he said. Do you want it now? She asked if he had a condom, and he said yes, in his wallet. While she lay there on her back, he finished undressing and retrieved the wallet from his pocket. She watched him, while with her fingers she absently pinched the skin inside her elbow. Felix, she said. I haven’t done this in a while, is that okay? They looked at one another uncertainly then—Alice perhaps uncertain of what he was thinking, Felix maybe uncertain of what the question signified. He had taken a little blue square of foil from his wallet. What do you mean? he asked. She shrugged, looking uneasy, and went on pinching at her arm. He knocked her hand away and said: Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself. What’s the matter? It’s not your first time or something, is it? That made her laugh, a little sheepishly, and he laughed too, perhaps relieved. No, she said. My life has just been weird for a while. Like about two years. But it was normal before. Smoothing his palm down over her thigh, he said sympathetically: Ah, that’s alright. Are you nervous? She nodded. He tore open the square of foil then and removed the condom from inside. Don’t worry, he said. I’ll look after you. He got on top of her then and kissed her neck. Afterwards, when they parted, Alice seemed to fall asleep instantly, without even moving her arms or legs, which were jumbled awkwardly in the bedclothes. Felix lay down on his side, watching her, and then turned over on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
14.