Live a Little

by Madeleine Reiss

  ‘Lara Croft doesn’t actually eat, you numpty.’

  ‘Cramp after eating is a myth, along with spiders that climb up plugholes and vampires.’

  ‘How come blokes just come up to you and offer you dope and sex? He barely even looked at me.’

  ‘He knows you are taken. You have that pursed-mouth, I’m-in-a-relationship look. Not to mention that less-than-vulgar, itsy-bitsy diamond on your finger.’

  ‘It’s actually from Tiffany’s,’ Lottie said. ‘And he doesn’t look to me like someone who notices a great deal.’

  ‘He looks like someone who spends his days peering at porn. He probably has a gecko in a reeking tank at home.’

  ‘Won’t we wake the other residents if we swim at this time of night?’ Lottie asked, in a worried fashion.

  ‘Have you even seen any other residents? This is like the place time forgot. Maybe Creepy Boy has murdered them all and stuck them in the walls.’

  Lottie started laughing, and then stopped suddenly.

  ‘I’ve just remembered something,’ she said. ‘In all the chaos it slipped my mind. What were you saying, before, about a baby?’

  ‘Go and get the dope. You might have to give him a hand job to get it, mind.’

  ‘Do I have to? It wasn’t me that he offered it to.’

  ‘You’re back on challenge time,’ Tina said.

  ‘If I go, will you tell me about the baby?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘You are in no position to bargain, sis. Go get the weed.’

  Creepy Boy was asleep when Lottie went into the office. He was sitting in his chair with his head lolling backwards, his narrow black T-shirted chest rising and falling to the sound of his snores. The remains of a pepperoni pizza and several empty beer bottles littered the desk. Lottie coughed meaningfully. He came to with a start and looked around him in surprised indignation as if he had expected to wake somewhere quite different.

  ‘Sorry to wake you,’ Lottie said.

  ‘I wasn’t actually sleeping,’ he said. ‘I was meditating.’

  ‘Well, sorry to disturb your meditation then.’

  ‘How can I help you?’ he asked, becoming suddenly officious, as if he had belatedly remembered what it was he was actually supposed to be doing. This job that was only supposed to have lasted a couple of months, enough time to get some money together to travel, had somehow transformed itself at some point into what he actually did. It was impossible on his wages to save enough for the airfare to Thailand and keep himself in weed and beer, and in any case the girl he was supposed to have been travelling with had dumped him for a football player. He still felt actual pain when he thought of her dark, uneven hairline and her breasts that had exactly fitted into his cupped hands. He scooped the remains of his supper into a tissue-filled bin and then raked his fingers through his hair as if he was pulling himself upright.

  ‘You told my sister that you might be able to give her some . . .’ Lottie trailed off.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, looking suddenly wide awake. He smoothed his hands over his chest with a smirk. He had the air of a man who had moments ago been contemplating an arid desert and was now gazing on the Promised Land.

  ‘I take it you ladies are looking for some company?’ He pronounced ‘ladies’ with an extended ‘e’ as if he thought he was playing the part of a rake.

  ‘Oh no, no,’ Lottie said in alarm. ‘No. Sorry. I was just wondering if you might be able to sell us a couple of joints.’

  ‘Oh, OK,’ he said, looking crestfallen. ‘Am I right in thinking the other one is of the same mind?’ he said, the hope not quite extinguished in his chest. The ice machine made a grinding sound and deposited its load into the tray.

  ‘Yes, my sister is of the same mind,’ Lottie said firmly.

  ‘Sisters!’ he said wistfully, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a couple of bent spliffs. ‘I’m Chip, by the way.’ He said it as if he knew she wasn’t interested in his name or in anything else about him.

  Lottie felt a little sorry for him. ‘You could always join us,’ she said. ‘Just for the company, not, you know . . .’

  ‘Well, strictly speaking I’m on duty,’ he said, as if there was a horde of people clamouring at the door to spend the night with pirouetting ballet dancers and milk-pouring Dutch maids and almond-eyed pre-Raphaelite women.

  ‘I’m sure you would be able to hear the phone and the door if we stay outside,’ Lottie said, wondering why she was working so hard to persuade him. It was just that he was a teenager with spots around his hairline and the kind of dog-eared look that spoke of lack of love. It also seemed harsh to just take the weed and run. She liked to think she had better manners than her sister.

  ‘The phone hasn’t rung since Monday,’ he said, ‘and that was only the ice machine mechanic saying he couldn’t make it.’

  ‘There you are then,’ said Lottie, encouragingly. ‘No one is going to come at this time of night – or morning actually,’ she added, looking at her watch. It was three o’clock and it seemed they had missed their chance to go to bed.

  Tina rolled her eyes when Lottie came back to the room and explained that she had invited Chip to join them.

  ‘If you want a job done,’ Tina said.

  ‘He’s very lonely.’

  ‘So was Norman Bates,’ Tina replied.

  They changed into their swimming costumes and joined Chip, who had laid out the joints and a couple of beers with as much ceremony as if he was catering for a grand banquet. The sky lightened and they got stoned, even Lottie, who had declined to join in until Tina had fixed her with a look. Chip, who turned out to be a great raconteur, regaled them with stories about the guests who had stayed in the motel – a man who had had sex with fifteen different women during a three-day stay (Chip had enviously counted them in and out); a troupe of synchronised swimmers who had rowed with each other the entire time; a couple whose room had been discovered to be a treasure trove of stolen goods; and a man who had blocked his toilet with bagels. Sometime around daybreak they swam in the pool, trying out synchronised swimming moves while the sun gained strength and set the water glittering.

  ‘This has been the second-best night of my life,’ Chip said, as he left them to resume duty in the reception.

  ‘What was the first best?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘I haven’t had it yet,’ he replied.

  *

  When they finally went to bed, Lottie put her head up from the pillow and said, ‘You were going to tell me about the baby.’

  ‘I lost it,’ Tina said. ‘I wanted it so much, but I lost it.’

  ‘I didn’t know you wanted a baby.’

  ‘Neither did I.’

  ‘Did you break up with Spike because of it?’

  ‘No. We broke up because I slept with someone else. I think maybe if I hadn’t, he would have wanted the baby as much as I did. I’ll never know now.’

  Just before she went to sleep, Tina imagined the room that they might have made, with stars on the ceiling and lambskin underfoot and a baby with one sticking-out ear, lying with her eyes wide open, waiting to be held.

  Chapter 18

  ‘DOES IT STILL HURT?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘It’s a bit sore and swollen, but I’m feeling a lot better.’

  Spike was sitting up in bed eating the chocolates that Tina and Lottie had bought him from the gift shop.

  ‘It was really scary,’ Lottie said.

  ‘You did phenomenally well, going and getting help like that. Thank you so much.’ Spike caught hold of Lottie’s hand. ‘It might have ended very differently if you hadn’t had the guts to find your way in the dark. It was very brave.’

  Lottie blushed and tried to extricate her hand, but he kept it in his grip.

  ‘I was quite brave too,’ Tina said. ‘You were sick on my trainers.’

  ‘You were amazing,’ Spike said hastily. ‘Both of you were. I’m an idiot for blundering around and getting myself bitten. I should have know
n better.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Tina. ‘For someone who’s used to desert conditions, it was careless.’

  ‘I think I was a little distracted,’ Spike said. He looked at Lottie, and she pulled her hand away.

  Tina smiled. It looked as if Spike was doing what she had asked of him. The man was definitely a pro. He wasn’t going to let a tiny thing like a snake bite get in the way of romancing Lottie. Her sister looked more than a little flustered. It surely wouldn’t be long now before she would have to admit that she liked Spike, and if she confessed to that, then surely she couldn’t go ahead with the wedding? Tina had been right all along; Lottie wasn’t as convinced by drippy Dean as she claimed to be. Spike wouldn’t even have to force his pretend feelings to a conclusion – he wouldn’t have to sleep with Lottie or anything. The job would be done if it just made Lottie see that she couldn’t possibly be properly in love with Dean if she was even attracted to someone else. Tina would have to take Spike aside and warn him not to go too far; she didn’t want her sister starting to believe that Spike was actually in love with her, or she would be hurt when his affection mysteriously cooled. Besides, if she was really honest with herself she didn’t like the idea of them getting together. It would just be too weird. She had a sudden memory of the way they had lain together on the mattress two nights ago, her arm over him, her body spooned against his back, trying to keep him warm. She shook it away. She had just been frightened that he was going to die, that was all. The fleeting feeling of closeness, of rightness, had been prompted by the drama of the moment, nothing else.

  *

  ‘Have they said when you will be well enough to leave?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘I should be OK by tomorrow,’ he answered. ‘I’ll have to have a crutch and some painkillers, but it’s going to hurt for a while wherever I am, so I may as well be with you guys.’

  ‘You won’t be able to drive,’ Lottie said. ‘Perhaps you should go back to San Francisco.’

  Even as she said the words, Lottie felt a sense of loss. If he went home now she was unlikely ever to see him again. He would go back to his life and she to hers. Perhaps, after all, it was for the best. If he went away, she would recover her senses. It was a little like having heatstroke; a day in a darkened room and the sting would pass. She had been meaning to Skype Dean again, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to. She had settled instead for a series of jaunty little texts.

  Tilting at fake windmills in Solvang. Bought you a cowboy belt! Just seen the fattest man on the planet. Eaten grits . . . never again.

  ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’ Spike asked, doing that lingering glance thing that she found so disconcerting. It didn’t seem possible that he was interested in her, not when he’d known Tina. Although she had to admit, when he looked at her, he made her think that she wasn’t so plain after all. Dean was always telling her she was beautiful, but sometimes she thought it was just habit talking. She would try and catch him out occasionally, just to check he was still actually looking at her rather than making do with the idea of her he had become accustomed to. ‘What am I wearing?’ she would sometimes ask before a night out when he had already told her she looked nice, tucking her body out of sight behind a door. ‘You can’t expect me to describe a dress,’ he would say, or, ‘I think it’s almost certainly blue.’ When she laughingly complained about his lack of proper attention he would say, ‘You always look beautiful. Every day. It’s a fact.’ And she knew he thought her so, but just sometimes she wanted him to be carried away. To catch sight of her in a certain light, in a certain dress, and be overwhelmed. It was unreasonable of her to value his steady regard, the sturdy way he loved her, and then expect him to behave impulsively, even theatrically; he wasn’t made that way. She felt ashamed of her vanity. She liked to think of herself as a serious person, but she was clearly anything but. Spike made a groaning sound as he moved his leg and she was jolted out of her reverie.

  ‘No, not at all,’ she said, deliberately not looking at her sister’s grinning face. ‘I just don’t want you to overdo it.’

  ‘That is such a British phrase!’ Spike laughed. ‘The British absolutely hate the idea of anyone exerting themselves or being seen to try too hard. So vulgar! Just so much and no more,’ he said, putting on a terrible English accent.

  ‘I see that your close shave with death hasn’t improved your infantile sense of humour,’ Tina said.

  ‘We’d better go,’ Lottie said hastily, keen to prevent Tina and Spike starting to snipe at each other. ‘We’ve got to retrieve the tent and all the stuff we left behind, otherwise we’ll be facing a hefty bill from the hire shop.’

  *

  They walked back to their campsite. The trail was easy to navigate in the daylight, and Lottie was alarmed (but also secretly gratified) to see that there were a couple of places where she could easily have fallen and hurt herself if she had taken a wrong turn. Once they reached the campsite, they ate the remains of what hadn’t been nibbled at by what Tina said was almost certainly coyotes, and drank lukewarm beer.

  ‘So, how are you feeling about your wedding?’ Tina asked.

  ‘I’m worried about the things I haven’t done yet. Dean said he would deal with it all, but I don’t feel completely confident. I’ve left him in charge of ordering the flowers so I’m not sure what we’ll end up with. Something orange and purple, probably.’

  ‘I don’t mean how you feel about the preparations. How do you feel about the prospect of marrying Dean?’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Lottie said, but her tone didn’t match her words.

  ‘You don’t sound as if you are,’ Tina remarked. ‘Perhaps the fact that you’ve been together for ten years and not got married is a sign that you’ve never been really sure.’

  ‘It’s the exact opposite, Tina. It’s because I’ve been with him a long time that I know I want to marry him. It feels like a real commitment. A proper promise to each other and not something we’ve just rushed into. It’ll be great when it actually happens.’

  ‘Is that what you really think, or what you hope you’ll think?’ Tina asked.

  Lottie fell silent and Tina didn’t prompt her. They stared at the view – the landscape that had already become familiar to them. Tina wondered if they would be able to find this spot again if they returned at some time in the future. She resolved to take pictures of it before they left. It felt to her that something significant had happened here, although she couldn’t quite say what.

  ‘Do you think that the fact you are attracted to another man means that you can’t really be in love with the person you are with?’ Lottie finally said, her eyes troubled. With her hair released from its usual tight ponytail and her arms tucked around her knees in a childlike pose, she looked young and vulnerable.

  ‘I think it might make someone think very carefully about committing themselves,’ she said.

  ‘I feel so confused,’ Lottie said in a small voice.

  ‘What are you confused about?’ Tina asked, putting her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

  ‘I really like Spike,’ Lottie said. Her eyes were full of tears. ‘I like him more than I should do if I’m getting married to Dean.’

  Now that the words were out, Lottie looked terrified. I’ve fucked up badly, Tina thought. This hadn’t been in the plan. What she had envisioned was a harmless bit of flirtation that wouldn’t lead to any great feeling, but only serve to cast doubt on the upcoming marriage. She had never imagined that Lottie might actually fall for Spike. She needed to tell Spike to stop the pretence before the situation got completely out of control.

  ‘But how can I cancel the wedding?’ Lottie asked. Her face was wet with tears.

  ‘How can you go through with it unless you are completely sure?’ Tina said.

  ‘A wedding is a huge thing. It’s like, once it has been put in place there is no stopping it.’

  ‘I think you should think about whether Dean is really the person you want to spend
the rest of your life with.’

  ‘I’ve always thought he was,’ Lottie said pitifully. ‘I’ve loved him from pretty much the first time I spoke to him. He came up to me at a party and asked me if I wouldn’t dance with him. It made me laugh, and so we went and sat on a wall outside the house and talked for hours.’

  ‘Sometimes you can just get carried along and before you know it you are tangled up in something you are not even sure about anymore.’

  ‘Why have you never been in a long-term relationship?’ Lottie asked abruptly. ‘Don’t you want someone?’

  ‘You have to be certain it’s going to last, and I’ve not had that with anyone.’

  As she said the words, Tina remembered how it had felt when Spike had wanted nothing to do with her and the baby, the black days and weeks afterwards when he hadn’t returned her calls. It had been the one time she had laid herself open and it hadn’t ended well.

  ‘But how can you be sure?’ Lottie rubbed her face with the sleeve of her dress. ‘There’s no guarantee. There can’t be.’

  ‘So why get married at all?’

  Lottie stared at her and then shivered as if a chill wind had risen up from the scrubby brushland.

  Tina undid the nozzle of the mattress and pressed her elbows down so that it started to deflate with a hiss. Lottie jumped to her feet and began pulling at the guy ropes on the tent. Tina knew that she always felt better when there was something concrete to do, and so she came to help her. They wrestled for a while to get the tent that had come out so easily the day before back into its narrow bag.

  *

  ‘Challenge One-Hundred-and-Fifty-Three,’ Tina said. ‘Sing with me.’

  She was pulling insistently at Lottie, who was holding fast to the sides of her chair. Tina was boisterously drunk – her hair was wild and she kept going over on the heels of her nasty pink cowboy boots. She had spotted them in the window of a charity shop in Lone Pine and claimed she couldn’t live without them, even though they were a couple of sizes too big. Her loud voice, the ludicrous boots and her red mini-skirt and white crop top had already attracted a lot of attention in the bar. Lottie figured she might have to drag her sister home, and was relieved they were only a couple of blocks from the motel. Lottie would never have said anything to Tina, but for the first time ever she thought that she looked a little old to be dressed as she was. Until now, Lottie had considered her to be living, breathing proof that women could wear whatever they wanted, and it was with a shock that she realised that for once her sister didn’t look great. She chastised herself for her thoughts; she never wanted to be the sort of person who judged other women for what they looked like or what they wore. There would be much less store set by the firmness of flesh and many fewer hours wasted filtering yourself into what passed for beautiful if women all stuck together and wore red mini-skirts and told more people to fuck off. It was men who benefited from women’s insecurities, but it was often other women who created them. She loved the fact that her sister was an unstoppable force – although at this precise moment she wished she would quit trying to make her sing karaoke. In Lottie’s opinion, karaoke was the invention of the devil designed for the delusional and the drunk.