Teach Me Dirty

by Jade West

  She nodded. “Will do. Come on, Hels.”

  I watched them leave, and it was a slow affair. Helen seemed to crumple into Elizabeth’s side, mumbling words I couldn’t hear in a voice that sounded sad and whiny and tearful. I was glad I couldn’t hear them. I lit up a cigarette as I watched, positioning myself on the street where I could see them make their way up Elizabeth’s road. I waited until I saw them arrive at a block of flats in the distance.

  And then I made my way back inside, and grabbed myself a double scotch.

  ***

  Helen

  “I’ve ruined everything!” I could hardly get my words out, they sounded weird and slurry and not like me. My legs were like jelly, too.

  “Just walk, Hels, or we’re both going to go flying.”

  I focused on my feet, climbing the stairs slowly up to Lizzie’s place. They lived on the second floor and it seemed to take forever and a day, swaying all the way up while I death-gripped the railing.

  Ray was watching the game when we made our way inside, an empty bottle of scotch at his side.

  “Twit-twoo. Didn’t expect you girls so early. Very nice…”

  “Helen’s not well,” she snapped. “She’s had too much to drink.”

  “If you girls want to carry on the party…”

  I heard the venom in her voice. “No, thanks. Where’s Mum?”

  “Your nan’s.”

  “Fucking brilliant.”

  She dragged me through to her bedroom and dropped me on her bed. It was a long way to fall, just a mattress on the floor, and my stomach lurched as I landed. She crouched beside me and pulled off my heels, and my feet felt cold against the carpet tiles. “Get in bed if you want.”

  But I didn’t want.

  “It’s all over. I ruined everything.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re drunk, Hels. You don’t know what’s what.”

  “I do know,” I sighed. “It’s all over. He hates me now.”

  “He doesn’t hate you.” She tutted. “You’re wearing his jacket and he watched us all the way up the bloody street.”

  “Because he’s my teacher. He has to.”

  “I don’t think it’s just that, Helen.”

  “It is.” I lay down and pulled my knees to my chest. “I screwed up.”

  “You screwed,” she laughed. “I dunno about screwed up. Maybe both.”

  “I didn’t,” I said. “Harry didn’t fuck me.”

  Her eyes widened. “You are shitting me?”

  I shook my head, trying to ignore the sick feeling. “No. He was too busy fumbling, and then Mr Roberts was there.”

  “Shit. That sucks.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be Miss Purity anymore?”

  “I don’t. But Harry… I don’t love him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like anyone gets that whole love shit their first time. First time’s overrated, Hels, you’ll find out. It’s not even that good. It’s awkward and it hurts, and it’s a big fat non-event. You’ll see.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t, then.” She fetched me a glass of water and I drank it down while she lit up a cigarette. She shoved the ashtray towards me and offered me some, but my stomach turned at the thought of it. Lizzie’s room was spinning a little, but I looked around anyway. She still had loads of posters up, still the same old broken wardrobe door and the tatty old dressing table. I was hardly here, she hardly wanted me here. I don’t think she wanted to be here either. “Mum’s away again. Typical.”

  “Maybe we should go to mine…”

  She shook her head. “It’s alright, you should get some sleep.”

  I forced myself up, until I was sitting upright. “I have to go back out later.”

  “You what?”

  “I have to, Lizzie. I have to say sorry. Give him his jacket back.”

  “That’s ridiculous. He won’t thank you for it.”

  I reached for her hand. “Please, Lizzie. Don’t stop me. I have to make this right.”

  “You’re trashed. You wouldn’t make it ten yards.”

  “I’ll sober up, head over there just before midnight, just before it finishes…”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “You can watch me up the road, like he watched us.”

  “This is crazy talk, Hels.”

  “Please.” I squeezed her hand. “Please, Lizzie. It’s important to me. Please.”

  She sighed.

  “I love him,” I said, and even drunk it sounded pitiful. “I really love him.”

  “And he’s really your teacher, and you’re really drunk.”

  “If I sober up,” I begged. “Please, Lizzie. Please let me go.”

  “You’re eighteen years old, Helen Palmer. It’s up to you how much of an idiot you make of yourself.” She smiled to lighten the words. “I can’t believe you’re still a virgin. Way to go, useless Harry.”

  “Harry’s nice. I just don’t want him.”

  “You don’t want anyone who isn’t Mr bloody Roberts, Hels.”

  I shrugged. “That’s true enough.”

  She stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. “Ain’t such a thing as true love, Hels. It’s nothing but fairy tales.”

  “You really think that?”

  “I really know that. There’s sex, and there’s finding someone who is tolerable to try and goof about the rest of your life with. That’s it.”

  “That’s no way it,” I argued. “That’s crazy talk.”

  “It’s real talk.” She kicked her heels off. “Be glad that you won’t get to be with Roberts. Enjoy the dream. At least you won’t get disillusioned.”

  The thought pained. It poked my broken little heart and made it bleed. “I just… I love him so much.”

  “He’d be just another douche like the rest of them.”

  “The rest of who?”

  “Men,” she said. “Stupid idiot men.”

  “Like Scottie?”

  She shrugged. “Like Scottie, like all of them.”

  I lowered my voice, looked at the door. “Like Ray.”

  She took a long drag on her cigarette. “I don’t know what Mum sees in him.”

  I didn’t have an answer for that, because I didn’t know either.

  She stubbed out her cigarette and flicked off the main light. “If you’re going to be sober enough, you’d better get some rest, Hels Bells. I’ll wake you up before midnight.”

  I climbed under the covers and she followed. Only this time she didn’t tie me up or rub me in private places. She wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my hair and hugged me tight.

  “Love you, Hels. Always.”

  “And me you,” I said. “Always.”

  She was asleep before I was.

  ***

  Lizzie was fast asleep when I crept out, and Ray was, too. I tiptoed through the flat, still feeling sick to the stomach, and my head was woolly, thumping a little. I shut the front door quietly behind me and put on my heels in the corridor. It took me a while to get down the stairs, but I managed it without incident, and the chill from the night air sobered me right up.

  I went as quickly as my legs would carry me, sneaking through the Three Friars car park and keeping to the shadows. There weren’t many students left, just the odd huddle smoking outside. I kept my distance, peering through one of the windows at the back of the hall just to make sure he was still in there.

  He was. And so was she. Miss pissing Monkton.

  I crept back to the main entrance, and positioned myself in the shadows to the side of the car park. I’d catch hold of him here, as he was leaving.

  Everyone in the whole universe seemed to leave first, laughing and singing and swaying up the road. I was freezing cold by the time he came out, even wrapped up in his jacket. My knees were knocking and my teeth were chattering.

  I was all set to step out when I heard a voice behind hi
m.

  “Great night, all in,” Miss Monkton said. “Thanks for all your help.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “I think everyone had a good time… asides from the dramas…”

  “There are always dramas, Jenny.”

  She laughed too loudly. “Yes! Always!”

  I willed her away, begging her silently to fuck off out of there, but she did entirely the opposite. My breath hitched as she took his arm in hers and rested her head on his shoulder and dragged him over to her car.

  Cosy. They looked cosy. And she looked happy, and keen, and… in love. She was in love with him. It was written all over her face.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “Bed calling.”

  Bed calling.

  He smiled and got in the passenger seat and together they drove away.

  Together.

  Bed calling. Together.

  And my heart stopped.

  ***

  Mark

  I was aching to get rid of her, but she wouldn’t leave. She switched off the car engine outside my house, and lingered there, clearly angling for an invite. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

  I didn’t want her in there. As nice as she was, and as well-meaning as her intentions, I just didn’t want her in there.

  I faked a yawn. “I’m exhausted. Too old for partying.”

  She smiled. “You need a coffee and a back rub. You must be freezing.” She reached out and squeezed my arm through my shirt, and her hand stayed there.

  “I need my bed,” I said. “Early start tomorrow.”

  “Spoilsport.” She giggled. “I could wake you up… rustle you up some breakfast…”

  “That’s very kind, but I’ll set the alarm.” I leaned over to peck her on the cheek. “Goodnight, Jenny.”

  She stared as I opened the door, her mouth flapping as she tried to think of something to say.

  I felt like an asshole, but that was nothing new, holding up my hand in farewell as I bundled myself in through my front door.

  I held my breath until I heard her car start up. Thank fuck for that.

  I flicked on the lights and the same old empty house greeted me. I turned up the heating and prepared a fire in the grate, then went to grab a jumper. There was one lying over the dining table, and as I picked it up I noticed my mobile on the side. I hadn’t taken it, hardly seeing the point, but it was buzzing and whining and flashing green, creeping its way across the table top.

  I picked it up. Ten new messages.

  Jesus.

  Helen: I thought you liked me.

  Helen: But now I know.

  Helen: It was her wasn’t it?

  Helen: I feel so stupid.

  Helen: You’ve broken my heart!!!!!

  Helen: I thought I meant something. But I mean nothing. I’m just a joke to you, aren’t I? Just a stupid kid!

  Helen: Why is she so much better than me??

  Helen: I love you. I love you more than she does.

  Helen: I’ll never bother you again.

  Helen: It’s over for me.

  I fired one back.

  Where are you?

  Helen: Why do you care?

  Of course I care. Where are you? Are you still at Elizabeth’s?

  Helen: No.

  Where? At home?

  Helen: No.

  Jesus, Helen, where are you?

  Helen: I’m thinking. Down by the river. I like it here. Enjoy your time with her.

  My patience expired, faded to nothing behind a plume of rage and worry. I tried her number but she didn’t answer, then called through the pathetic list of Much Arlock taxi numbers, searching for someone to pick her up. The closest to her was forty-five minutes out, already engaged on a city run. That was way too long.

  I checked out my reflection in the mirror, and I looked tired. I was way over the limit, far too drunk to risk driving.

  Under any other circumstances I’d never have considered it.

  Fucking hell.

  My fingers were angry little blurs as I sent my final response.

  Don’t fucking move. I mean it, Helen. Don’t you dare.

  I splashed cold water over my face, swilled my mouth out with mouthwash and grabbed my car keys.

  ***

  She was easy to spot in the headlights, a little dark huddle of sadness on the picnic bench. I pulled up and left the engine running, grabbing hold of her before she could protest.

  She was crying. Hysterical. A flailing mass of teenage drama.

  “What?” I said. “What is all this about?”

  She got to her feet and her eyes were streaming. “You’re with someone else!” she cried. “You love someone else!”

  “What?! What the…” My jaw hit the floor, dumbfounded by the absurdity. “Miss Monkton? You’re talking about Miss Monkton?!”

  “Bed calling. Let’s get all cosy in bed and laugh about stupid Helen Palmer!”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Is it?!”

  “Of course it is!” I ran my hands through my hair, and caught my breath, reeling at the insanity, of this… this crazy drama, this abject teenage devastation, this irresponsibility I’d been dancing with. “I’m not with Miss Monkton. I’m not with anyone.”

  “But she said…”

  “I don’t care what she said. She gave me a lift home, Helen. She drove me home, as a friendly colleague, and dropped me at the door, and went to her own bed in her own house. She’s there now, as far as I know.”

  “She did?” Helen’s lip was trembling, her face deathly pale. She looked like a ghost in the darkness, a frightened, lonely, sad little ghost.

  “Yes. She did.” I sighed. “How the hell did you get here?”

  “Walked.”

  “Jesus Christ. It’s freezing.”

  “I didn’t care. I don’t care.”

  “You should care.”

  “But I don’t!” She slumped against the bench, her arms wrapped around herself. “I don’t care about anything anymore. I’m done with caring.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Not anymore!”

  “You should be in bed. At home.” I went to take her arm but she pulled away from me. “Come on, Helen, I’ll take you home.”

  And then there were more tears, tears and wailing and blubbery words.

  “I… I just… I’ve ruined everything! I’ve ruined it all… and I didn’t want to… I just… I loved it… everything… and now I’m empty… and sad… I’m so sad… I thought you liked me… I thought… I thought…”

  “I’ll take you home.” I beckoned her to follow. “Come on.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to go. It’ll wake my parents up, and they’ll be angry, or worried.”

  “Fine, then I’ll take you back to Elizabeth’s.”

  She shook her head again. “Lizzie’s asleep. She has a communal door, I can’t get in.”

  “Well, what then?” I rubbed my temples. “What are you planning on doing?”

  Her lip went again. “I’ll just stay… stay here…”

  “Like fuck you will.” She couldn’t move away quickly enough this time and my fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her along after me. I opened the passenger door, and put my hand on her head as I lowered her inside, and I even crawled in after her and fastened her seat belt.

  She struggled but it was half-hearted. The tears, not so much.

  “Please don’t take me home! They’ll be so upset with me!”

  “Be quiet, Helen, just be quiet.” I slipped back in the driver’s seat, and closed the door. “I need to concentrate, I’m over the fucking limit. So please be quiet.”

  She stared at me with big, sad eyes. “You shouldn’t have come for me…”

  “Like I had a choice.”

  “You did…”

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and she took the hint. The car went quiet.

  “Where are you taking me?” she said finally, and her voice was calmer. />
  “Home,” I said, then turned to her before she could object. “My home.”

  ***

  Helen

  I didn’t speak. Didn’t say another single word. Buttoning up my beak and letting the world slip past the window.

  His home.

  I wished it felt better. I wished it wasn’t under duress.

  He was angry, I could tell. That felt worst of all.

  I heard him sigh, and he turned the heater up full. It felt nice against my freezing legs.

  “You could have caught your death out there.”

  I shrugged. “I was upset.”

  We turned up towards Deerton Heath and my tummy tickled with nerves. The road climbed, steeply, and turned bumpy, and there were no streetlights, no lights at all.

  “Not far now,” he said and I hugged myself to steady my thumping heart. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Whisked away in the night to his home.

  The track evened out, and twinkling lights came into view in the distance. He pulled up, and switched off the engine.

  “This is us.”

  Us.

  If only.

  I unclipped my seatbelt and let myself out, and he was already at the doorway, leading the way inside. The door was old, heavy and smooth, and the hallway beyond was old, too. You could tell by the walls, uneven and beamed and full of age. He flicked on the light, and I looked through to a dining room. It was cluttered, but artistically so, the table laden with canvases and palettes, and the walls were covered in prints and paintings, a faded terracotta colour peeping out through the gaps. I took off my heels and followed him through to the kitchen, another artistically cluttered affair, with jugs and jars and heavy pans, and a couple of strange looking houseplants. He ran the tap awhile before filling up a glass.

  He handed it over.

  “Drink.”

  “Lizzie already made me…”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “Drink.”

  I propped myself against the side and forced some down, but I was still shaking, still cold. Still nervous.

  I felt his eyes on me. “Heating is on.”

  “Thanks.”

  He brushed past me and took a door to the side, and I peered in after him. He was crouched on the floor by a fireplace, fumbling with some kindling. He set it alight, and my heart leapt, an unexpected moment of joy. My first in weeks. I love a real fire.