Trackman

by Catriona Child

  'Ha, you're so British.'

  'Scottish, actually.

  'She pulls the pillow out from behind my head and hits me with it. I fall back onto the mattress, and watch her as she pads naked around her room. She has a butterfly tattoo on her right hip. I follow it as it flutters around the bedroom, before it's swatted by the waistband of a pair of shorts she slips on. Astrid pulls a Blondie t-shirt over her head, ties her hair back in a clip and blows me a kiss.

  'How do you take your tea, gorgeous?'

  'Just milk, cheers.'

  'No problem.' She leaves me alone in her bedroom.

  In her bed.

  Astrid's bed.

  I prop myself up on my elbow and look around me as I wait for her to come back. Her black bra is lying on the floor; I hadn't noticed the pink polka-dots on it last night. It matches those socks Susan gave me. Man, last night was like some kind of crazy fantasy. It's been ages since I hooked up with someone, especially someone I really like. If I pinch myself I'll probably wake up in my own bed.

  Alone and with a stiffy.

  Don't pinch yourself.

  I can smell toast coming from somewhere and my stomach grumbles. We never quite managed the pizza last night.

  My eyelid starts to twitch and I rub at it.

  His eyelid started to twitch, the only part of him that could move.

  The door is kicked open. Astrid is carrying two mugs and balanced on top is a plate of toasted bagels. I can smell the cinnamon from them as she comes towards me.

  'Sorry, I took so long,' she says, 'my flatmate was, like, totally giving me the third degree, huh? Budge up.'

  I take the plate from her and slide across the bed to make room. She puts the mugs on the bedside table and gets in next to me. She wriggles her toes up next to mine. Her feet are freezing from wandering around the flat barefoot.

  The ring disintegrated around his bare feet and he kicked the smoke away.

  'Thanks,' I take a drink of tea as she passes me a mug.

  'No problem.'

  I bite into one of the bagels and feel melted butter dribble down my chin.

  'This is nice, huh?' Astrid says sipping on her coffee.

  'Yeah, totally. Just kick me out though, if you've got stuff to do or that.'

  'Trying to escape?'

  'Nah, totally not. It's just, you know.'

  'I know, I'm sorry, I'm so bad for teasing, it's a nervous habit.'

  I'd be happy to stay here all day. It's just the awkward morning after thing. What if in her head she's, like, get out, go home and I'm hanging about her bed like a lost sock. A lost spotty sock.

  'Do you fancy watching a movie or something? I feel, like, being totally lazy today, huh?' She licks her finger and runs it across the empty bagel plate, collecting the crumbs.

  'Aye, sounds good,' I reply, watching as she sucks the crumbs off her fingertip.

  Two days later, it's time to make a move. It's like I've been on holiday: away from reality, from responsibility.

  I know Jamesy is pissed off at me for ignoring him, but two days off isn't going to hurt him; without my legs he's going nowhere.

  I don't want to leave, but I know I have to. Astrid's got uni work to do and I really need to get in touch with work, seeing as I've dingied them for the last few days. The battery in my phone's run out and I'm starting to stink a bit; I could do with a change of clothes and some fresh air. The room smells of sweat and spunk and coffee and toast: eau de Pulp record.

  'I'll see you soon, huh?' Astrid says as I stand at her front door.

  'Yeah, totally,' I lean forward on the balls of my feet and kiss her.

  'Stop that or I'll never let you leave.'

  'I don't think I'd mind that somehow.'

  'My flatmate thinks I've been abducted by aliens or something and you're gonna be in so much trouble at work.'

  'I don't care, it was worth it,' I shrug.

  She rises up on her tiptoes and runs her fingers across my whiskered cheeks.

  'Okay, right, I'd better head then,' I say, 'I'll see you soon, eh?'

  'You betcha,' she kisses me on the end of my nose, and then waves from the door as I finally tear myself away.

  I hear the door click behind me as I reach the first landing. The sound of it echoes around the stairwell, and I want to run back up there and force her to let me in.

  My heart starts pounding really fast. I have to lean against the wall to catch a breath.

  inoutinoutinoutinoutinoutinoutinoutinoutinoutinout

  One finger, one thumb, one arm, one leg, one finger, one thumb, one arm, one leg.

  I try to visualise myself being back here in a few days, but I can't do it. What if this is it? That I'll never make it back here. The scariness of that thought and the loneliness of the empty stairwell overwhelms me. My eyelid starts to twitch and I push my palms into my eyes.

  The only moving body part.

  He never went back in there, but sometimes stood outside with his palms flat against the door.

  The rectangular scar on my hands flashes in front of me.

  This is a low.

  'Are you alright?'

  There's a lassie standing in front of me. Fuck, she must think I'm a right weirdo. Leaning against the wall, blocking the way for her.

  'Aye, sorry, I'm fine.'

  I run down the rest of the stairs, pull the main door open and breathe in the air outside.

  Inoutinoutinout in out in out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

  The sunlight hurts my eyes after being inside for so long, and I can hardly see where I'm going. Is Astrid looking out her window? I don't want her to see me staggering about like a fool. I look down and follow a line of tar running along the centre of the pavement.

  Jamesy buzzes at me as I unlock my front door.

  There you are; I thought I'd left you behind. I know, I'm sorry. I was just having a good time is all. Did you find your own way home? Should I start calling you Lassie? Okay, okay, sorry, I didn't mean to take the piss. Come on, stop being so jealous.

  I know I've neglected you for a couple of days, but I'm back now and I'm focused. Yeah, maybe not the now though, eh? I'm fucking knackered.

  Alfie pops his head out of his room, as I push the front door shut behind me.

  'Your scary cousin's been round here looking for you.'

  'Susan?'

  'Aye, I think that's her.'

  'Shit.'

  'Aye, she was pretty worried, was trying your mobile and that, but she said it was dead.'

  'Aye, the battery ran out.'

  'Where were you anyway?'

  'With that lassie I told you about.'

  'No way, you sly dog you. What did I say about the zoo?'

  'I know, I owe you one, Alfie.'

  'Anytime, Davie boy, anytime.'

  He leans against his doorframe and crosses his arms.

  'I suppose I'd better go phone Susan, tell her I'm okay.'

  'Aye, I was half expecting the polis to show up.'

  'She didn't call them, did she?'

  'Nah, I don't think so. Eh, she might have. I can't remember what she said, I was trying to teach her wee girl how to play my new guitar. I kind of switched off a bit to be honest. She can go on, eh?'

  'Aye, that's Susan. Right,' I hold up my phone and Alfie nods and leaves me to it.

  I chuck all my crap down on the bed and search out my phone charger. I plug it in and let it sit for a few minutes before switching the phone on.

  I'm bombarded by beeps: sixteen missed calls.

  I put my mobile on speaker phone, lie back on my bed and listen to all the voicemails.

  David? It's Laura here, it's… half ten and you were supposed to be here at nine. Just wondering where you are.

  Hey, Davie, do you fancy coming round for tea tonight with me and Pammy? Let me know, okay?

  David, it's now twelve-thirty and still no sign of you. Can you phone me, please.

  Davie, I'm technically not speaking to you, but Lau
ra is really pissed off. Where are you? Stop being a dick and phone in.

  Okay, so you've missed a day's work now. I expect to see you tomorrow with a good excuse.

  Why haven't you got back to me? I take it you won't be round tonight now? I need to speak to you about something, can you come over tomorrow?

  Davie, where are you? I'm starting to get worried now.

  Okay, it's now Thursday and still no word from you. Please phone me, David.

  David, I've had your cousin in here looking for you. She seems worried. If you won't phone me, can you at least speak to her?

  Davie, where are you? I'm so sorry I shouted at you the other night, just be okay, okay. I couldn't bear it if something had happened to you and we'd been fighting.

  It's not even ringing now, just going straight to answer machine. I'm really worried. Please phone me.

  Pammy's in tears wondering what's happened to you. I've been round to your work and your flat and nobody's seen you. Where are you?

  Alright, Davie boy. Your scary cousin was round today, she's freaking out. Thinks you're dead or something. Can you phone her, pal? Unless of course you are dead, because that would just freak her out more, or maybe it would be comforting, I think it'd be ace to have a final conversation with a ghost. If you're dead you can phone me, alright. Man, if you really are dead, I'm going to feel like a right shit for this message, so phone your crazy cousin. Go do it. Now. Okay. Go.

  I'm starting to get pissed off now, Davie. Where the fuck are you? I don't know what to do? I'm this close to phoning the police, or your mum. For fuck sake, get in touch.

  I'm really sorry for getting angry, I'm just really worried now and Colin's been hassling me, I'm a bit on edge and I just really want to see you. Pammy and I are meant to be going to Australia next week; I wanted to tell you that we'd got the tickets. We can't go if you're missing though, please, just let me know if you're okay.

  Davie, please can you…

  Susan starts crying and the final message cuts off.

  Fucking hell, I didn't realise what a situation I'd created. It's only been two days.

  Is it hereditary? Every time I see that packet of valium in the bathroom, well, I just worry.

  The messages don't help with the rising dread I have at not seeing Astrid again.

  I text her to calm my nerves. Something soppy.

  Hey u missin u already cant wait 2 cu again x

  My phone beeps almost immediately. Good sign.

  me2 u sexy boy my bed will b cold + empty without u x

  I smile, but her text makes me feel worse. It reminds me that I have to spend the night alone in my dingy flat.

  My empty room.

  My empty bed.

  No warm body huddled next to me, fingernails twirling my chest hair. I think I might be sick.

  One finger, one thumb. One finger, one thumb.

  Breathe, breathe.

  Right, better phone Susan now, get this over with. The phone barely has time to ring before she answers it.

  'Davie, that you?'

  'Aye, look I'm… '

  'Wherehaveyoubeen?'

  'I'm really sorry, I was at a friend's, and my battery ran out and I didn't have a charger… '

  'What friend?'

  'Eh, nobody you know, a girl.'

  Susan hangs up on me.

  Fuck, I'd better phone her back. I hit redial.

  'Hello.'

  'That you, Pammy?'

  'Yes, Uncle Davie. Where have you been?'

  'Just visiting a friend, sweetheart, can I speak to your mum?'

  'She says she doesn't want to speak to you, Uncle Davie... she's crying.'

  Fuck.

  'Pammy, honey, look tell her I'm really sorry. I'll come round, okay. Tell mum I'm coming round just now, right?'

  'Okay, Uncle Davie.'

  I chuck on a clean t-shirt and spray myself with deodorant. I've been using Astrid's perfume for the last couple of days, and all I can smell is eau de Sarah Jessica Parker. It reminds me of Astrid. Makes me want to be back there with her.

  Alfie's in the living room watching Flight of the Conchords on DVD. I can hear him laughing from my room. I wish I could sit down next to him, but I'd better go make it up to Susan.

  'Just in case anyone thinks I'm dead, I'm away to Susan's, okay? She may kill me though.'

  'No bother, man. Good luck.'

  I head out to the bus stop. I really can't be arsed with this. Talk about fucking overreaction. I guess it's my fault though, I'd better make the effort. Plus, I didn't like what she said about that arsehole Colin, what's he up to?

  Not now, Jamesy. I can't. I need to go and see Susan. I don't have time for you at the moment. I know, I know. Looks like I fucking owe everyone at the moment. Man, I'm such a fuck-up. Every time I try to have a good time, I manage to wreck everything.

  Alright, Jamesy. For fuck sake. If I come with you, will you shut the fuck up? Aye, okay. One person. Count it. One. Then I'm going round to Susan's.

  Jamesy leads me off Morningside Road, along by the Dominion Cinema. It's such a cool building. I don't know anything about architecture, but I guess it's like Art Deco or whatever? I always imagine couples in the forties meeting for dates here. My granny and grandpa, holding hands and dodging bombs.

  Fucking hell, Jamesy. Pardon me for breathing. I'm not even allowed to look at the fucking scenery now, am I? I know, I've said sorry. My mind's not been focused the last couple of days. Give me a break though. You're overreacting. Man, calm down, you're boiling. I'm going in the right direction now, cool it.

  Jamesy is overheating in my pocket. I'm frightened he's going to melt or blow a circuit or something. The sun is setting and the sky is fuzzy peach. I walk past a railing and the sun flashes through the bars like a strobe light.

  There's a weird house up ahead of me. The garden looks a total mess at first glance, but it's meant to be like that. A messy elegance. There's a rockery with plants and flowers out of control. Ivy creeps up the walls of the house, and sunflowers arch around the door. My eyes follow the ivy and I notice this weird, fake window painted on the side of the house.

  It's a wooden arch hollowed into the wall. There's a painting of a princess inside it. She's dressed in blue, peering out from behind a curtain. She's got blonde hair, puffball sleeves on her dress and one of those triangle hats with a ribbon trailing from its peak, like she's wearing a fancy police cone on her head.

  I might have known it would be this house. This better not be another cheese guy.

  The garden gate squeaks as I push it open, and black paint flakes off onto my hand.

  He swung the black gate open and was about to step out onto the pavement when the magic eight ball chose a thought.

  I ring the doorbell, but nobody answers.

  I can't just wander into someone's house. That's going a bit too far. I might get arrested.

  You sure about that?

  I glance around me. There's nobody about, and I'm in a hurry to get to Susan's, so what the fuck. Jamesy won't let up until I do this.

  I push down on the door handle and the door swings open. The house is totally back to front. I expect to find myself in someone's hallway, but I'm in a kitchen instead. Some woman's kitchen.

  She's sitting at a long, wooden dining table, like something out of Henry the Eighth's banqueting hall. The floor is stone and I can feel the cold through my flimsy Converse. She looks old and young at the same time. Her face is wrinkled, but she's got really long hair. It's almost down to her waist, and it's not grey, but silver. It's sparkling.

  I expect her to scream or stand up and throw something at me, but she looks like she's been expecting me. Waiting for me.

  She pats the bench running the length of the table and I sit down next to her.

  The kitchen smells of baking. There's a plate of biscuits in the middle of the table, next to a jug of iced pink lemonade.

  The ice tinkles in the jug as she pours me a drink. She offers the plate t
o me, and I take a biscuit and bite into it. It's still warm and the centre is gooey: just out of the oven, not had time to crisp up yet. She takes the headphones off me from where they've been hanging around my neck, puts them on and waits for me to activate Jamesy.

  Faithfull As Tears Go By by Marianne Faithfull As Tears Go By by Marianne Faithfull As Tears Go By by M

  I can smell paint mixed in with the biscuits, and I wonder if she's been decorating. Her hair shimmers and twists in the air, like Medusa's snakes. As she listens, she sways from side to side and strokes her belly.

  I lost you twice. The first time was when they made me give you up. It wasn't right for a sixteen-year-old girl to bring up a baby, especially when she wouldn't tell anyone who the daddy was. The second time was when I was older and I tried to find you. When I was old enough to realise what a mistake I'd made. I wrote you a letter but it got returned. At first I thought you didn't want to see me. It was only when I tried to phone that I found out you'd had leukaemia.

  I don't know what's worse. Having to watch you get sicker and sicker and not being able to do anything, or not being around to hold your hand and finding out after it's too late.

  You'd have been forty-seven today. Almost fifty. I can't imagine that little baby at fifty. I never knew your eye colour, your hair colour, what you smelt like, what your laugh sounded like. I never even got to hold you, they just took you away. They didn't realise that forty-seven years later, I'd still remember your birthday. But you know all this, don't you? I'm sorry I repeat myself. Change the record, Mum, I imagine you saying, but I don't know what your voice sounded like so it's just words in my head. No voice, just words.

  I wonder what your other Mum is feeling like today. I wonder if she gets the same ache inside as I do. That same emptiness. The emptiness that I pass on every year. She didn't carry you, she didn't lose you twice, she couldn't possibly feel the same way that I do.

  I know your other parents didn't make it happen. They couldn't help it that you got sick. I can't help but wonder though: would you still be here if they'd let me keep you?

  She hands me back the headphones and smiles, but she doesn't look happy. I take a drink of juice and press my hands against the cup, allow the drips of condensation to cool the palms down.