by Jon Rance
Ed
‘I just don’t know what to do,’ I said. ‘For the first time in my life, I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.’
‘And what are you doing?’ said Jack, opposite me.
We were at a pub in Notting Hill. I’d taken the tube up just to get out of the house. I was going crazy on my own with nothing to do all day. It had been a few weeks since I’d been unceremoniously fired and if the truth be told, I hadn’t done much of anything except watch daytime television and feel sorry for myself. It was a vicious circle. It was only a matter of time before I started drinking heavily.
‘Not much. I can’t seem to get up the energy to find a job and plus I won’t be able to get another job in the City. As soon as the truth comes out about why I was fired . . .’
‘Even though it wasn’t true?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I was fired because of a sexual complaint. Do you think I have any chance of getting a reference from Whitman that doesn’t state, ‘Oh, and by the way, he molested my niece.’
Jack chuckled and, maybe for the first time in weeks, I laughed too.
‘Ed Hornsby, niece molester. It has a nice ring to it.’
‘Yeah, right before Ed Hornsby, inmate number four-seventy-one, Wormwood Scrubs,’ I said and we laughed. ‘Another?’ I asked, shaking my empty pint glass.
‘I’d love one, but I’d better get these. You’re unemployed, remember?’
Jack smiled and then walked off towards the bar to get in another round. It felt good to be out again, enjoying myself and having a laugh. It had been an awful few weeks. Between breaking up with Kate and losing my job, my life had gone from the heady heights of happiness to the depths of despair. I hadn’t told Jack about me and Kate yet, probably for the same reason it had taken me weeks to pluck up the courage to come out for a drink. I was embarrassed.
‘There you go, mate.’ Jack put our pints on the table and sat down.
‘Cheers.’
‘I was just thinking,’ said Jack. ‘Now you’re unemployed and have all that money, why don’t you go and meet Kate? The only reason you didn’t go in the first place was because of work, but that’s gone now.’
Jack was partially right. Work wasn’t the only reason I didn’t go, but definitely the main one. I’d thought about it and if Kate and I weren’t on a break, maybe I would have met her in Australia. I couldn’t though. It was time to tell Jack everything.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not? Most people would jump at the chance. A few months travelling around Australia and then what, Fiji and Peru? Better than sitting at home bored on your own.’
‘But I’m not most people and Kate and I sort of broke up.’
‘What?!’ Jack said incredulously, almost choking on his beer.
‘Let me have a cigarette and I’ll come back and explain everything.’
‘But you don’t smoke?’
‘I do now,’ I said and went outside to join the huddled mass of smokers.
‘You’ll amount to nothing with that attitude,’ Dad said, looking at me with that face, his eyes burning with rage. He was never the sort of dad who hit us, but he didn’t have to. His face said everything you needed to know.
‘And what would you know about success?’ I yelled back.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
My heart was beating like a crazy drum in my chest and my mind was racing at a million miles an hour. I was only eighteen and I’d never stood up to Dad like that before. Only it wasn’t standing up. Not really. Dad hadn’t done anything wrong except not live up to my expectations. He hadn’t been the success I wanted him to be, but I was too angry, too afraid and too embarrassed to give in and admit that I was in the wrong.
‘You know what it means,’ I said spitefully. ‘Just look at you.’
‘What’s wrong with me?’
I knew I shouldn’t say it. It was hurtful and mean, but I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to punish him for his mistakes, the mistakes that had hurt me, hurt our family and made me want to get as far away from Slough as possible. I hated his average life with its pathetic routines and mundane traditions. I hated the way he spoke in that working-class accent, mispronouncing words and dropping letters like all the other wasters at the pub. I didn’t care about them though. I wanted my dad to be different. I wanted my father to care more, have some respect and to be above getting pissed every Saturday with welders, mechanics and factory workers down the local. Why didn’t he want more?
‘You’re a fucking failure, Dad. You have a shit job that pays shit money. You piss about with blokes at the pub when you should have, could have, been doing something else. You’re an embarrassment to me and the whole family,’ I spat out, every word hitting him below the belt and knocking the stuffing out of him. I could see the pain in his eyes. I could see the look of disbelief and then a tear escape and fall down his cheek. It was time to turn the final screw. ‘I can’t wait to get away from you, away from this shithole of a house. I’m going to university. I’m going to get a proper job so I can take care of my family in the way you couldn’t.’
Dad stood and stared at me. He wiped the tear away from his face. I don’t think he could believe what I was saying. Neither of us could. We stood there for a moment and I was shaking with nervous energy and fear. I didn’t know what he was going to do. Was he going to hit me? He had every right. I’d shouted at him and told him what I thought of his life. He was fifty years old and in my eyes had wasted all fifty of them. After what seemed like an age, he finally said, quietly and coldly, ‘If that’s what you really think, son, then you can get out of my house.’
And I did.
‘So when did you start smoking?’ said Jack, back at the table.
‘Oh, a while ago. It’s a long story.’
‘So you were saying about you and Kate?’
‘We’re technically on a break. She kissed a bloke in Thailand. I slept with Georgie and every time we spoke on the phone it just seemed like we were further apart.’
‘You’re done?’
‘Not done. Just on a break. I told her we’d see what happens when she gets back. It seemed easier than trying to keep it all together while she was away.’
‘Mate, I’m so sorry. That on top of work and everything else. It’s no wonder you’re smoking.’
‘Amazed I’m not an alcoholic too,’ I said with a smile. Jack laughed.
‘I guess the only thing I’m not sure about all of this is why? Why did you sleep with Georgie in the first place? It seems so unlike you.’
‘I’ve been asking myself the same question.’
‘And?’
‘Apart from the obvious ones like she was young, gorgeous and had the sort of body you only generally see in magazines . . .’
‘Apart from that.’
‘I think it was sort of payback to Kate for leaving. Fuck, that sounds bad, doesn’t it? You leave and follow your dreams and I’ll sleep with the first girl who shows me a bit of interest.’
‘No, I mean, yes, it does sound a bit shit, but it’s not that simple, is it?’
‘Probably not. It’s just . . .’ I started and then began searching my head for the right words. Then the argument I had with Dad suddenly replayed in my mind. Was that the same? Dad hadn’t been what I thought he should be and neither had Kate. I’d punished them both because they hadn’t done what I wanted. What did that make me? ‘I didn’t think she’d leave me, is the simple answer. I thought that once I’d said no, she’d forget about it and move on, but then she didn’t. I haven’t even told Kate this, but a part of me wanted to go with her. I thought about it and almost changed my mind, but . . .’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Probably for the same reason I’ve been sitting at home for the past few weeks. Because I was afraid. Afraid that leaving would ruin my career and we’d be poor and end up living back in Slough.’
‘But that wouldn’t have happened.’
‘It’s differe
nt for you, Emma and Kate. You all grew up in nice middle-class families. You didn’t grow up wondering where the next meal was coming from. Wondering why you couldn’t have the same toys as everyone else. We were poor. Really poor, and leaving a well-paid job to go travelling was too big of a gamble.’
‘Did you tell Kate any of this?’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why not? She’d understand.’
Kate had given me plenty of chances to talk about it. She’d asked me over and over again why I wouldn’t go and every time I’d given the same generic answer. Because I just can’t. Because of work. Because I didn’t really want to travel. I’d never given her the real answer, the truthful answer, that I was too scared to take the risk, to pack everything up and go travelling because I was terrified of ending up like my father.
‘I don’t know, mate. I guess I thought I was doing her a favour. In my crazy mind I’ve always wanted her and our future kids to be proud of me. Proud I could give them whatever they wanted because I was a success. I didn’t want to jeopardise that.’
‘I understand. It’s the same for me. I need to be a successful writer as much for Em and my mum as for me. I need it to work because I want them to be proud of me. I want to be a success like my old man was for me.’
‘I guess that’s the difference between us,’ I said and took a sip of my pint.
‘What’s that?’
‘You want to make your dad proud because you want him to see you’ve achieved what he already had, and I need to be a success so I don’t become what my dad was to me.’
‘Was your dad a bad dad though?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Was he a good dad, but a failure in life, or was he bad at both?’
‘I guess that’s my problem, isn’t it? I could never distinguish between them.’
‘And now?’
‘I don’t know anymore.’
‘Sounds like you need another pint,’ said Jack.
‘Definitely.’ I smiled. ‘But this one’s on me. I may be unemployed, but I still have my dignity.’
‘And who do you think you got that from?’ said Jack, and as I wandered off towards the bar I knew exactly who he meant.
Kate
‘You coming?’ said Bryan, attempting to sound seductive.
‘Just give me a second.’
I was standing in just my underwear.
‘I don’t bite, Kate.’
Bryan was in his hostel dorm bed. The room was empty except us. The other six people who shared the room were downstairs at the bar and they could be back at any moment, drunkenly falling through the door and stopping us in our tracks. A part of me was desperately wishing they would so I didn’t have to go through with this. Not that Bryan was forcing me or making me do anything I didn’t want to. If I wanted out I just had to leave. Say the safe word, not that we had one, but ‘Stop. Put your penis away Bryan,’ would probably be enough.
‘I thought you wanted this,’ said Bryan from under the single, depressingly unromantic, slightly stained sheet of his bed. A single sock lay over the metal headboard above his head.
‘I do. I did. It’s just . . .’
The truth was I didn’t know what I wanted. Downstairs, when Bryan and I were knocking back the drinks, flirting and then kissing in dark corners, it felt all right. I felt all right. It wasn’t the gap-year experience I’d imagined. In fact, it was a million miles from what I’d thought about before I left. But when Bryan grabbed my hand and led me upstairs, I didn’t stop him. I knew what was happening and didn’t have a feeling either way about it. It was almost as if I was watching myself doing it, but couldn’t affect the outcome in any way.
Bryan reached out and held my hand.
‘We don’t have to if you don’t want to.’
‘No, it’s OK,’ I said, slipping out of my underwear and into bed next to Bryan.
He smelt of a mixture of Hugo Boss, cigarettes and lager. I heard voices in the hallway, giggles and the steady bass of the music from the bar. A light from the street angled towards us. Bryan positioned himself on top of me and through the darkness I could just make out his smile, and then he leaned down and began kissing me.
His tongue felt strange and he pushed too hard and a couple of times we hit teeth. He ran his hands over my body, but they were dry and felt alien. Unlike Jez, who had little excess fat and no body hair, Bryan had rolls of extra skin around his waist and slightly flabby man boobs. His chest was hairy and when I reached around I felt hair on his back too. Ed wasn’t in the best shape, but I’d grown with him. When we first met he was more like Jez and I was probably a lot slimmer too. I knew I was. At twenty-one I had been slim, smooth and my skin was taut against my body, before age and bad eating habits had shifted everything south. Ed wasn’t as hairless as Jez, but he took care of himself and I loved his body despite its failings and he loved mine despite its flaws. I had feelings for Jez, he meant something, but Bryan didn’t have a great body and I barely knew him. Bryan was just a shag.
I’d only had two one-night stands before. Once when I was in Newquay at the age of seventeen and then another during the first week of university. Both were a total disaster and I regretted them almost as soon as they were over. I loved having sex with Ed, but shagging a complete stranger I didn’t even really fancy while pissed out of my brain meant nothing to me. It was pointless and as Bryan started making his move, his slightly awkward hand grabbing and probing between my thighs, I knew I couldn’t go ahead with it. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want nervous and slightly sweaty Bryan on top of me, desperately trying to find something that felt a bit like a clitoris, which he’d probably rub for five seconds before trying to shove his penis inside me.
‘Stop, I’m sorry, I can’t do this,’ I said, quickly pushing him off me.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing, it’s not you Bryan, it’s . . . it’s me. This isn’t what I want. I didn’t come travelling to do this.’
‘OK, calm down.’
‘No I won’t,’ I half-shouted. Suddenly all the pent-up anger and resentment, the undefinable disgust I felt towards myself about Ed came screaming out of me. Bryan was in the wrong place at the wrong time. ‘I came travelling to experience wonderful things, to live, to find out who I was and what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I didn’t come away to shag boys like you while pissed up in the hostel. This is fucking awful . . .’ I said my final word before the tears came. Oh yes, the great swathes of tears. The waterworks.
‘You all right?’ said Bryan, sitting up and grappling with a T-shirt.
‘No Bryan, I don’t think I am,’ I said.
Bryan reached across and put a hand on my shoulder.
‘It’s weird travelling. We all have highs and lows. Probably just a bit of a low, eh.’
I sniffed and felt more tears waiting to erupt. I needed to get out of that room and be alone. I grabbed my pile of clothes from the floor and began putting them on quickly.
‘Don’t go, Kate. Come to bed, have another drink, see what happens.’
‘I’m not going to fucking sleep with you, Bryan!’ I yelled.
‘Jesus, I didn’t know you were fucking mental,’ he said, getting up and slipping his jeans on. ‘See you later, nutter.’
The next moment Bryan was gone, leaving me alone in the room. As soon as the door was closed, I broke down again, the tears coming and coming without an end in sight and all I could think about was Ed.
‘Love you,’ said Ed.
It was the first time he’d said it out loud. We’d only been together for a couple of months and it was early for such declarations, but I knew we both felt it. I loved him too. Every sinewy fibre of my body knew it and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops and put up fliers around London next to adverts for lost cats and escort services. It was still a gamble so early on though. The L word. I’d only ever told one boy before and regretted it ever since. I had loved Dan briefly, but just saying it se
emed to change things and our relationship spiralled downhill quickly afterwards. It was different with Ed though. I’d known I was in love with him probably from about the third or fourth week of our relationship, but I didn’t know what to do with it. As much as I thought he felt the same, I couldn’t know for sure. I didn’t want to ruin what we had by jumping the gun. It was all right when men jumped the gun, it was acceptable, but if a girl did it she risked everything.
We were walking down by the Thames and it was the perfect day. We were just out of university, there was the first inkling of summer sunshine and our lives stretched out before us, doors flung wide open and all the rest of it. We were in love and nothing else mattered. I should have been the happiest girl in the world, but something was stopping me. The same thing that had always stopped me. The emotional brake that kept me back, staring into the distance and wondering if I’d ever catch up. My father. Fuck him, I thought, but I knew it wasn’t that easy.
‘Love you too,’ I said back, but I couldn’t help feeling that shade of inevitable pain that lay somewhere over the horizon. The thing was, I don’t think I even knew it myself. I didn’t realise just how terrified I was of being loved and loving someone because it meant they could leave me too. Ed suddenly had the same power over me that my father did. The power to hurt me. ‘Just promise me one thing.’
‘Anything,’ said Ed with an expression of pure, unadulterated happiness.
‘Promise me you’ll never hurt me.’
His face changed like a flipping coin. Heads you win, tails you lose. His face was definitely tails. He knew bits and pieces about my father but not the whole sordid affair. The embarrassment I kept hidden in a small shoe box at the bottom of my wardrobe. The old photos of me and Dad: one of me when I was about five, sitting on Dad’s motorbike, grinning ear-to-ear with gaps in my teeth. And a few birthday cards – they abruptly stopped after my fourteenth birthday. And the letter. The one-page scrawl that explained everything and nothing about why he had to leave. He’d always love me, it said; he’d always be my dad, always be there for me if I needed him, and everything that, as it happened, didn’t turn out to be true after all.