Erotic Refugees

by Paddy Kelly

  “Oh the rats are no problem,” Preben said. “It's the alligators I'd worry about.”

  Karen laughed and slipped an arm around his waist. “That wasn't funny in any language, dear.”

  Off they went and Rob followed after them, trying to ignore their cuteness by looking again at the city. This place was growing on him and he realised that if Karen built herself a life here he'd have to come visit more often. And maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing at all.

  Chapter 25

  Eoin liked these kinds of days. Wednesdays in general he had no particular opinion about, but a Wednesday spent at home with a lie-in, a nice pot of Lapsang tea and an episode of The Onedin Line was a thing to be treasured.

  Rob was off finding his sister, Damien was with Jenny, Alice was on Gotland, and there was absolutely nothing, job-wise or otherwise, that demanded his immediate attention. He couldn't remember the last time he’d had a summer day entirely to himself, where he was able to do exactly what he felt like without having to consult somebody else and their calendar, or worry about “wasting” time just by hanging about and drinking tea.

  There was however one thing on the cards today, and that was heading over to Anja’s later. Not that he wanted to, exactly—well okay maybe he did just a bit—but she had messaged about getting together before he went off to Gotland. And when casual sex was the question the only answer Eoin could supply was a slack-jawed “yes please”, even if it was dangerously complicated.

  Oh well, it wouldn't take more than an hour or two, and then he could get back to enjoying his long anticipated day of sloth. He had the seasons three and four DVD boxes, and that was a lot of Onedin.

  When the credits rolled he reached lazily for the laptop. First he went to the prototype of the new site and saw that Milly had made great progress. The login screen was working and the main body now had its basic functionality. He nodded as he clicked around, amazed she has done it all in less than a week. The girl truly was a whirlwind.

  He closed the page, brought up Diamond Date and saw, as expected, a mail from Maria. She started by replying to his previous points, then went on about her plans for today—how she'd be getting boots resoled and getting food for Custer. That was her cat, and Eoin already knew far more about Custer the cat than he really needed.

  He read through the whole mail again and closed the window with a sigh. It was clear they’d run out of conversational topics, having already discussed everything from his favourite tea to where she bought her socks. He knew he couldn't put off the big moment any longer—he would have to meet her.

  There his problems really started, because staring at him from his profile page was a guy who wasn't him, bearing a description that clearly wasn't his. That guy would be very hard to reconcile with reality, and that meant whatever explanation Eoin came up would be only one of many variations on the same big fat lie.

  He toyed briefly with the idea of morphing his profile photo into his actual face over a period of weeks so that Maria wouldn’t notice, but that was no good either. In fact no plan was any good, be it clever or inane, while he was still seeing Anja.

  He would just have to drop Anja, regardless of what instructions were being broadcast from the region below his belt. And he’d have to do it soon before he built a web of lies so intricate he wouldn’t be able to extricate himself from it at all.

  In fact, he’d have to do it today and that meant he couldn't screw Anja as planned. No, he had to be firm and get it done before it all went too far. Because, when it came down to it, it was only a physical thing with Anja, a purely sexual pastime. While Maria—her hair, her silhouette, her sultry (and largely imagined) voice—was something very special.

  Eoin nodded at his decision. The New Plan would be unfolded today. Glancing at the clock, however, he saw it was well over an hour before he was to meet Anja, and that meant time for one more episode. He reached for the remote and settled back, hoping that the rest of the day, even the nasty parts, would go as smoothly as this glorious solo morning.

  He had a strong feeling that it would.

  It was strange to meet Anja outdoors. Until now they’d only met up in various bedrooms and hadn't seen each other in daylight very much. But she had things to do and asked if they could meet in town, close to her apartment. Eoin agreed. He figured it might even be better that way as it gave him a chance to break it off on neutral ground and avoid the whole goodbye-at-the-door scene. And hopefully the tears as well.

  She was sitting on a bench in Mariatorget, in the speckled shadow of a lime tree, gazing at the spray of water that emerged from the bronze jaws of the sea-serpent fountain. Around her the park was full of summer life. Children played on the swings, people slouched around on the grass in t-shirts and sunglasses, and there were even a few brave toddlers wading in the shallow water and squealing with delight as the serpent misted the air around them into shifting rainbows.

  Anja looked up. Her shoulders were barely covered by a loose blue top that showed off her pale skin. Eoin liked that she avoided the whole tanned-skin thing favoured by most Swedish women. In fact, he thought pale skin on a woman was quite Victorian and sexy. Not that Anja needed it, as she stirred enough physical sensations without extra assistance.

  He said hello and settled down beside her. They both sat there, not looking at each other, as the shrieks of the children rang out around them. Eoin quickly began to feel out of his depth. Dialogue had never been much of an issue with Anja as usually their conversations were short and monosyllabic. But now the silence stretched and he realised that he'd had to say something, anything at all, to prevent things from sliding from strained into embarrassing.

  He cleared his throat, and was all ready to babble when his thoughts were interrupted, strangely enough, by the sudden mooing of a cow. Anja snatched up her mobile with unusual haste and nodded as she read the message.

  “Oh look,” she said. “We'll have to go to the café over here first. I have to pick something up.” She glanced at him with an odd expression that he couldn’t read. “If that's okay with you.”

  Eoin shrugged. “Sure”. The longer they stayed out, the longer he could avoid saying the very hard thing he had come to say.

  He followed after her. The black straps of her bra were occasionally visible through the loose neck of her top. He swallowed, glad to be outdoors and not within falling-over distance of Anja's bed, where The Plan might find itself temporarily shoved in a cupboard.

  They crossed the street and halted outside a café where a dozen or so tables were arranged. Anja looked around, shading her eyes with a hand, and gave a little wave. “Oh, here she is now.”

  Eoin turned and felt the emotional equivalent of a solid punch to the chest. Sounds faded and all cognitive rubber belts at his command slipped their gears and ended up flopping uselessly inside his head.

  It was Maria, in the flesh and approaching rapidly on foot. Eoin's face twitched, unsure about whether it should be smiling or frowning or what. Having no instructions to go on, it settled for a frozen grimace.

  Maria came to a halt. She wore a tight red polo shirt, olive green shorts, open-toed sandals and a ring on the small toe of her right foot. She extended her hand but he noticed she wasn't smiling. In fact he couldn't quite say what expression she had.

  Eoin shook the hand offered. It was narrow and soft.

  “So this is Eoin?” she said. “I remember. From midsummer, right?”

  Eoin grunted and smiled simultaneously, aware that it made him look slightly mad. “Sure, I mean yes, I mean … yeah.”

  Maria studied him for a moment before turning to Anja. She pecked her friend on the cheek and handed over a book.

  “Oh,” Anja said, as if surprised. “Thanks. For that.”

  Maria nodded and had a leisurely look around, while Eoin's heart thumped so hard he could feel it in his thumbs.

  “So,” she said. “Won't you both have a coffee with me? Or are you in a crazy hurry? The day is too nice to not sit a
while, I think.”

  Eoin gave a hopeless shrug, and found a reason to check out some scuff damage on his shoe just so he could snatch another glance at her toe-ring. Anja nudged him and he nodded.

  “Great,” Maria said. “Take that table there, I'll be back shortly!”

  Eoin sat down, well aware that he was doing a bad job of hiding his fluster. Anja, he noticed, was tense too. Maybe she'd spotted some spark between him and Maria and had concluded she shouldn't get in the way of it. Whatever the reason, they sat through a painful few minutes of ignoring each other while poking at zips, laces, fingernails and salt-shakers.

  Thankfully, just as all distractions had ran out, Maria returned with a fully laden tray. There were tea and coffee and buns on it, and it looked like she'd already paid for everything.

  “Here we are,” she said and placed on the table a latte for Anja, an over-sized cup of tea for herself and another one for Eoin. Eoin sniffed at his tea and was surprised to discover that it was Lapsang. He nodded as he stirred the tea ball, relieved to have something to distract him from all the strangeness with Anja. As he removed the ball Maria slid forward a small dish on which sat a jug of milk and two sugar sticks. Eoin poured in both sugar sticks and, with a gleeful grin, reached for the milk.

  Then he froze, realising something very obvious. How did Maria know his favourite way to take Lapsang? He lifted his gaze and saw she was staring at him. And proper serious staring too. He glanced down at the milk jug, and then back at the tea, and a host of daft explanations rattled through his head.

  There was, however, only one that fitted. He'd just been rumbled.

  “I knew it was you chatting to me,” Maria said in a low hiss. “Oh I wasn't sure at first, but then Anja told me more about you, and I started to suspect. But I thought no, he wouldn't do that, is he stupid? But, see, I was right! So”—she leaned closer, her penetrating glare a thing to be feared—“Eoin or Paul or John or whatever name it is today, what the hell do you think you are doing?”

  Eoin’s skin crawled with terror as he realised, far too late, that his ghost profile plan had been well and truly rubbish. And now he’d have to pay the price for it.

  “Look,” he said, holding his hands up, “I didn't mean to hurt anybody, I just—”

  Maria laughed. “Is that what you think, that you hurt me? Well I know you were not trying to do that. First because you were such a bad liar, you couldn't even keep track of your own lies. Didn't you take notes?”

  “Ah,” he said hopelessly, as he’d pretty much just winged most of it, making things up when required. He hadn't counted on her paying that much attention. He leaned back and built a defensive wall of crossed arms. “Look, I'm so—”

  “Don't.” Maria shook her head. “If you say you're sorry, I think I will spill this tea onto your”—she pointed—“onto there, between your legs, whatever is called. Do you follow me? And don't say anything else either. Anja here, she said, oh no, he wouldn't do that, he is honest, this Eoin—”

  “I did!” Anja peeped up.

  “So I thought, maybe he is not a bad person, maybe he does not want to play with women and mess their minds. Maybe he just is incredibly stupid.”

  Maria glared at him a while longer, her chest rising and falling with every breath. Anja leaned close to her and mumbled something, causing her to shake her head. Then Maria shoved back her chair and stood up, continuing to glare.

  “Well you can stop mailing me, that is for sure. And I don't think Anja will be seeing you again either.” She poked her. “Right?”

  Anja nodded and Maria swept up her bag.

  “Enjoy your special tea. And your sad life.”

  And then, Maria first and then Anja, they were gone. Eoin's mouth opened and closed as he watched them depart. He wondered if anybody sitting nearby had seen the thrashing to which he'd been subjected. Not that it mattered—he was at fault, he'd been out-manoeuvred and now both women were exiting his life. Anja, of the fine lines and hard body. And Maria, of the fine everything and very sharp tongue.

  Hang on though. Wait a second. He didn't have to let this happen. Why did somebody else always get to decide? Every damn time, Eoin was the one reacting to other people, saying yes or no to whatever they suggested. And why? Didn't he get an opinion? Didn't he get a shot at running his own life?

  He stood up, feeling quite swirly in the head, and strode out of the cafe. The women were up ahead, not too far off. He could reach them in a minute. And when he did, he'd damn well stand up for himself. It wouldn't get him anywhere, of course, as his bridges were burned. But he was tired of being shouted at, and being blamed for everything. And just this time, just for once—

  His phone rang. Eoin came to a halt and swore as he dug it out of his pocket. He looked at the number and all fight left his body. It was Jenny. He glanced up at the retreating forms of Anja and Maria and then, with a sigh, pressed the screen.

  “Hello,” he said, attempting to sound cheerful.

  “Damien fell,” came Jenny's strained reply. “And he hurt his head. And he puked and there was blood and I took him to the, the akuten…”

  She stopped talking and broke into sobs. Panic roared through Eoin. Her English was failing her, and that meant she was genuinely upset.

  “Where are you?” he said.

  “Dalens sjukhus.”

  Eoin looked around. With the phone still pressed to his ear he dashed across the street and into the path of a slowly moving taxi. He flagged it down with some frantic waving and clambered into the front seat. The annoyed driver began to say something but Eoin cut him off and barked the name of the hospital. The driver blinked, then gave a quick nod and pulled out into traffic.

  With his ex-wife still crying on the line Eoin began to feel his adrenaline turn sour. He leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling like an enormous arsehole. Because while he'd been obsessing about women, sex, and secret identities, his son had been lying on a hospital bed with sticky blood pouring from his head.

  They weaved through traffic and Eoin stared out the window, suddenly unable to feel anything. Because if Damien wasn't okay, if he'd been hurt while Eoin had not been around to protect him, he'd just never be able to forgive himself.

  Chapter 26

  When he tracked them down, Eoin was red-faced, having charged through the hospital like a demented bull. He found them in a room containing one bed and two chairs. Damien was awake, sitting up in the bed, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “Pappa!” the boy said and gave a wave, as if everything was fine and dandy. There was a white compress on his head, held in place by a bandage, but otherwise Eoin could see nothing wrong with him. He kissed him on the head, gave a stiff nod to Jenny and sat in the chair beside her. Her eyes were red, her brown hair was missing clips, and she was very far from smiling.

  “So how is he?”

  “Well he fell and banged his head on the wooden frame on the sandbox. And he had this huge bump on his head and there was blood and he vomited—”

  “But what did they say? The doctor or whatever?”

  Jenny kept her focus on Damien, not even looking at Eoin. “Well he has no brain-shaking, or what do you call it—”

  “Concussion.”

  “Yes, no concussion. The cut is small, he will be fine.”

  Eoin nodded and felt he might cry from relief. Damien was busy with a toy that looked like a cross between an elephant and a robot. His t-shirt had a smiling purple monster on it and Eoin was aware of how small he was, and how cute he was, and how fast he was changing.

  “Look,” Jenny said, “you need to be around in case anything goes wrong—”

  “Why, what did they say? What can go wrong?”

  “Well they didn't say anything, it's just if it does happen I don't want to take care of it again.”

  Eoin flushed with irritation. “Look, this is not the place for this—”

  “I think this is the perfect place, because here you can't run off!”

>   Eoin stood up. He turned to Damien. “Back in a minute, kiddo. We'll be right out there outside in the hall, okay?”

  He turned to Jenny and jerked his head towards the door. “Out there.”

  They left Damien engrossed in the plastic elephant thing and stepped into the hall. “Look,” Eoin said when the door had closed. “You've got your parents to help and the doctor said it wasn't serious. Now I have plans to go away, and I know you're worried, but there’s nothing wrong with him, he's fine—”

  Her mouth tightened. “Oh well I wouldn't want to ruin your going-away, not for anything as small and not important as your son—”

  He fought the urge to shout at her and instead lowered his voice until it was soft and sharp. “Don't give me that 'Eoin doesn’t care' crap. I gave you the damn house, and the friends, and I let you pick whatever schedule suits you best. Plus I see the kid four days a fortnight because you wanted it like that. Now I don't see what the hell the problem is with me going away and leaving my son in the care of his mother for a few days, especially when the doctor says it's fine. And it is fine, I saw that myself!”

  “Eoin, I don't want to have this discussion now—”

  “Oh, you don't want it now? So then why did you start it Jenny? Why are you always starting this damn discussion?”

  He paused for breath as two nurses approached, but he didn't for a moment take his eyes off her. They passed by and he went on.

  ”I am a good father to that kid, and I was worried fucking sick when I came here, expecting all kinds of horrible things! And then he's just sitting on the bed with a bandage on his head. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy as hell that he's fine, and I know you were panicking, but still, to make me worry that much over a scratch on the kid's head!”