by Ted Lewis
“I know but there’s no point.”
“Why not? Now you can’t wriggle out of it like that.”
“I’m not wriggling out of it. You said something earlier that makes me realize there’s no point in telling you.”
“What was that?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Come on. Oh, you are mean. It’s not fair.”
I smiled, my face assuming a rueful expression.
“All right,” I said. “You said you didn’t find me attractive.” She looked at me concentrating on my face. The vodka was knitting her forehead.
“You said I wasn’t your type.” I looked at my beer then smiled up at her. “So figure it out.”
She carried on staring at me. Then she leant back in her seat. She tried not to smile. She tried to keep the evidence that she was flattered out of her face.
“But don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “We’re so opposite. You don’t mean it. You’re drunk.”
“Have it your own way.”
“But I—Oh, you’re impossible. I can’t take you seriously.”
“Don’t then. Have a good laugh,” I said, pretending to be cross.
“Vic. Don’t be like that. You must realize it does sound im-probable.”
“I suppose so,” I said. “Anyway, forget it. You made your feelings clear earlier.”
“But—but if it is true, I mean, you never asked me out or any-thing.”
“I know. I guessed what your answer would be.”
She stared at me in smiling confusion, her mind racking round all the possibilities engendered by what I had said. She brushed some hair back from off her forehead. I took a drink from my beer.
“Vic, you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” she said.
“Yes. Can’t you tell? I’m weeing myself with laughter.”
“No, seriously.”
“No, I’m not pulling your bloody leg. I’ve always liked you. All through school and everything. For years. But I never stood a chance so I never said anything. And I wish I hadn’t now.”
She didn’t say anything; she stopped smiling. She looked at her hands which were clasped round her glass.
“When—when I said I wasn’t attracted to you—” she smiled self-consciously— “I, well, I was doing the same as you were, in a way. I mean, I’ve always liked you but not just in the way you thought I did. I thought the way you did, that it couldn’t be anymore than just friends, so—I resigned myself to it.” She looked at me, smiling a little sadly, a little awkwardly. “But—it’s awfully difficult saying this, and I’m still not sure you mean it—but I’ve always liked you, in the way that you say that you like me. I’ve always been attracted to you. There, now I’ve said it.” She laughed in embarrassment.
I looked at her nice pretty face.
“Of course, I’m going crazy,” I said.
She looked away from me, still smiling, a small frown on her forehead.
“No, you’re not,” she said.
We looked at each other and after a minute we laughed.
“Well, would you bloody well believe it,” I said.
“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t.”
I wanted to tell her I hadn’t meant a word of it. I couldn’t summon up the courage to tell her the truth, that it had all been said to take my mind off Janet. I’d always suspected what she had just explained. Anyway, I thought, it’s too late to go back now. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
Monica drove the car off the road and onto the track that led through the wood. She stopped the car and switched off the headlights. The wood was on the top of the escarpment that fell away down to the river. Through the trees and below I could see the lights of the city over the river flickering across the evening. Monica stared ahead of her, too, waiting. I lit a cigarette. A rocket sparkled noiselessly into the sky below us. It seemed to move very slowly. I watched it until the last sparks were absorbed into the night sky.
Monica shuddered.
“The lights of civilization,” I said.
“Yes,” said Monica.
“Flicker, flicker, flicker.”
“I imagine you’re sorry not to be living in the way you did when you were over there.”
“Yes and no.”
“Don’t you miss the girls you knew?”
I rolled the window down and threw the cigarette out. I turned and looked at her.
“No,” I said.
“Vic, what you said tonight and what I said—well, I meant what I said.”
“Did you?”
“I’m glad to have said it. I wanted to for a long time.”
I put my arm round her and pulled her to me. She put her arms round my neck.
“How funny,” she said. She smiled at me. Her smile disappeared slowly as I made to kiss her. After the kiss, she drew her head back a little and her lips framed a word but no sound came out. I pulled her head back and kissed her as hard as I could.
She drew her legs up and I put an arm at the back of her knees and pulled her legs across mine. We kissed again and she was passionate. After a while, I moved my hand across her stomach and then down between her legs. She pushed herself onto my hand. Her mouth seemed to be trying to encompass not only my lips but my nose as well. I felt her spittle on my face. I moved my hand up again and began to undo the belt of her jeans. She stopped kissing me and moved her mouth next to my ear biting my neck and ear as she spoke.
“Vic,” she breathed. “Vic, Vic,” I pushed my hand inside. “Vic, because of what I said—don’t think I’m easy. I’m not. Oh Vic, it’s because it’s you. Honestly it is. Honestly, honestly.”