Peer Pressure

by Chris Watt

  It didn’t even depress him that while his students went home that day, to meals around the dinner table, surrounded by family, he was heading home to a small flat, bad television and a takeaway.

  To an outsider, it would have seemed a lonely existence. Rob, however, took full advantage enjoying the peace and quiet, capitalizing on this feeling of being independent.

  It reminded him a little of those first months living on his own during university. That novelty of eating whatever you want, drinking whatever you want, no parents, no consequences and, best of all, no complications.

  When Rob arrived home, he jumped in the shower, drank a couple of beers and phoned for a Chinese. He sat in his small living room, watching his television, looked over some papers for the following day, before calling it a night at around ten p.m.

  In the McPhee household, things were slowly getting back to normal also. The stress of the day had started to recede into the back of Jodie’s mind, and although she found that she could not stop thinking about Mr. Peer, the overall embarrassment of the day had almost completely gone. She and her mother sat in the kitchen, eating pizza and talking over plans for the weekend, as they tended to do on most weeknights and it was this routine that gave Jodie the most comfort. No matter how bad the day either of them had, at least this was a constant; something that nobody could touch.

  It was while Katy was on the phone to her mother that Jodie decided to turn in, heading up the stairs to her room and closing the door. The light was off, but the glow of the street lights outside, bathed her room in an orange haze.

  She flopped down on her bed once more, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what Mr. Peer was doing at that moment. She imagined he was probably out with friends, in a pub somewhere, or with some of her other teachers, talking about their students behind their backs.

  She was wondering if he talked about her, if she had made a big enough impression. God knows she had embarrassed herself enough. Did that count?

  Jodie sat up and turned her head towards the window. She could see Sean sitting at a small desk, typing on his laptop. She saw his father enter the room, a burly man with a beard like Santa Claus. They chatted for a while and although she couldn’t make out what was being said, she could tell that they were good friends even though they were father and son. It made her warm to her new neighbors a little. At least they weren’t freaks.

  Katy returned to her desk at Stimson and Sons that next morning, happily sliding back into her routine. It felt good to be back to work; in a place where really Katy’s social calendar revolved.

  Outside of work, she had only maintained a handful of close friends from her school days. She was always surprised at just how many of them seemed to lose interest once Jodie had been born and also because of her age during her pregnancy. She didn’t feel outcast, just kind of an afterthought. So to see the familiar faces of her work colleagues, always felt like something of a homecoming to her. And with three staff nights out a year, she always had something to look forward to. Katy had been with the company for roughly five years and, although promotion had never exactly been out of the question, she had chosen to stay comfortably in her place, feeling that any promotion that came her way would be better suited to her once Jodie went off to University, so she was never in much of a rush. Besides, she had always had the feeling that being a mother was her true career.

  Once Jodie was gone, she knew she could take anything that was offered to her. Besides, the less responsibility at this point in her life, was all the better. It meant she could leave work behind at the end of each day, with no ties or complications. She got enough of that at home.

  The only thing that really bothered her was her manager Ted, a horribly sleazy, forty five year old divorcee with what seemed to be a near permanent tea-stain tan. He did himself no favors by being a moron too. He was a man who had come to the business by way of his father. Katy had once nearly collapsed from boredom as he had tried to impress her with his knowledge of marine life in the North Sea, a passion of his that was almost as boring as the shades of grey suits he wore every day.

  Yes, he was an idiot and it was a source of constant embarrassment to Katy that it was she that was the object of his misconceived attention. Worse still, in an office full of older men, he was the pick of the bunch, so it was no wonder that Katy denied herself promotion. She may have had to spend more time with him in that case and who needed that?

  She had learned to live with a slow love life and found that as she got older, it suited her right down to the ground. She often used to dream up fictional ad campaigns in her head, for her own amusement. Things like:

  ‘Childbirth: Nature’s Own Contraceptive’

  Or

  ‘Once you pop, you WILL stop.’

  Of course, she had her needs, like anybody else, but she had gotten used to not sharing her bed a long time ago and by this point had pretty much given up on the concept of romance, instead preferring to take pleasure in the details of life. Like a nice glass of wine (or two), a warm bath in an empty house or a really good movie late at night.

  Whatever drama was to be gained from romance, she knew, was more likely to come from her daughter by this point. Katy had been prepared for it and while Jodie was almost eighteen and had not yet come home in floods of tears, her mother knew that the floods would be coming and it would be up to her to build the ark.

  THIRTEEN

  “Right,” said Rob, addressing his class and now with their full, undivided attention

  “Thomas Hardy. What do we know about him?”

  Susan thrust her arm up.

  “Yes...” Rob looked down at his class roster, still un-familiar with his student’s names,

  “...Susan?”

  “Tess of the D’Urbervilles.”

  Rob nodded.

  “Correct, well done. Hardy was one of the most influential writers of his time. He was a documenter of the society in which he lived, a little like Dickens but far more depressing.

  What else do we know about him?”

  A few students raised their hands, but Jodie didn’t hear their answers. She was focusing on Mr. Peer, pretending to write in her notebook, but really jotting down little observations about him. For example, he was wearing a striped blue tie that went with his eyes but clashed with his brown shoes.

  She also noticed that he wasn’t wearing a watch, a fact which then drew her attention to his arms, which she could see were muscular.

  From these observations she ascertained that he was clearly physically fit, but charmingly disorganized. Either that or forgetful, but she was willing to let him off with that because he clearly had his mind on other things. Like Thomas Hardy.

  “Anything else?” he asked his class.

  Without even thinking, Jodie found herself answering.

  “Females.”

  Rob’s eyes now fell to Jodie. He smiled.

  “Very good, strong female characters. Usually stronger than the male protagonists. And also, usually destroyed by said males. Very good, Jodie.”

  Jodie was on top of the world for two reasons. Firstly, she hadn’t embarrassed herself, and therefore had regained the high ground intellectually speaking.

  Secondly, and far more importantly, hers was the first name that Mr. Peer had not had to look for on the roster, which means she’d already made it into his memory.

  ‘ Take that, Goatsucker! ’ she thought.

  Rob walked over to his desk and picked up a stack of books, handing them out to his class as he spoke.

  “So, this term, the first book we’ll be discussing in depth will be ‘Jude the Obscure’, Thomas Hardy’s story of a young man trying to make his way in the world and his love affair with his cousin.”

  Susan let out a disgusted laugh.

  “That’s sick.”

  Rob tried to ignore the tone in her voice and continued.

  “Well, we can discuss that a little later in the term, but for now, we’ll just start at the beg
inning, and be warned,” Rob, having now handed out all copies of the novel, returned to the front of the class, “this is depressing stuff. Cruelty, lust, death,”

  “Sounds awesome!” was Jon’s sarcastic reaction from the back of the class. But Rob was quick to retort.

  “If you think this is awesome, wait until we get to Jane Austen. That’ll knock you on your ass.” He was half-joking, half-serious, but it was lost on Jon.

  “Brilliant,” Jon replied, “Chick-lit.”

  “Females,” Rob corrected, before bringing his gaze back to Jodie, “Strong female characters.” He then gave her a wink, a wink that to him meant ‘at least you know what we’re talking about here’, but to Jodie, meant more, so much more.

  “I’m going to ask out Sean Lewis.”

  Laura had that look in her eyes, a look Jodie knew only too well. And as they sat on the grass verge overlooking the sport’s field, later that day, watching the fifth years play football, talk turned very quickly to men.

  “Sean Lewis?” Jodie replied, “Yeah, he’s nice I guess.”

  “Are you blind? He’s fit, he’s...”

  “My next door neighbor,” Jodie added. Laura’s eyes lit up.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope, they just moved in this week. In fact, my bedroom window overlooks his.”

  This sold it for Laura.

  “Oh I’m coming over tonight. Tell your mother to set out an extra plate for tea. Sean can be dessert. Ha!”

  Laura always ended her lamest jokes with a ‘Ha!’ something Jodie loved about her. It showed a lack of pretention that only came from best friends. It was this trust they had, not to judge each other, that made what Jodie said next, seem less of a gamble under the circumstances.

  “I think I’ve got a crush on my teacher.”

  Laura wasn’t surprised.

  “Which one, the Head?” said Laura. There was no ‘Ha!’ but the sarcasm was implied.

  “Very funny, skank. No, Mr. Peer.”

  “The new guy?”

  Jodie nodded and gave Laura a look that asked for advice as much as a kind word.

  “I’ve never felt this way before,” Jodie added, “I mean, I’ve had boyfriends before, but...”

  “He’s a man,” Laura added. Jodie thought about this, giving a sigh.

  “That might be it, but he’s twenty five. Does that make him a man?”

  Laura gave her a friendly nudge on the arm.

  “Look who you’re asking? The only real man I have in my life is my Dad and he’s demented.”

  Jodie gave her a polite laugh, but it wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “It’ll pass,” Laura shrugged, “He’s cute, but nobody’s perfect. I’m sure he’ll say or do something, eventually, that you’ll find annoying. It usually doesn’t take guys long to fuck it up.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  Laura shrugged again,

  “Well, then you use the old Jodie McPhee technique.”

  “Which is?”

  “Nail him in the stationary cupboard.” There was a pause as Jodie tried to ascertain if Laura was joking or not. She hadn’t implied it as such. Was she being a bitch? In the end, she needn’t have worried too much about it, as Laura then followed it with,

  “Ha!”

  FOURTEEN

  Rob went out for post-work drinks that Thursday with some of his new colleagues. He had been invited by Jon Marker, the P.E. teacher that he had met on his first day. In the end, it wasn’t the largest of staff get-togethers, the party consisting of himself, Jon, Steve Penman from the Geography department and Amy Mackenzie, who was Head of Modern Studies.

  Steve was fifty, well dressed and prone to moments in which his hippy heritage would get the better of him. Every so often, he would throw a ‘Led Zeppelin’ or ‘Thin Lizzy’ reference into the conversation, not caring whether his companions knew who they were or not.

  Amy, meanwhile, was forty, smart and completely besotted with the new arrival, taking any opportunity to make jokes so that she could laugh and nudge Rob’s arm, trying to find any way to make physical contact, hoping that at some point she could work her way up to an arm on his shoulder, or possibly even a tap on the thigh.

  Rob, however, could see through this and took every opportunity to pretend to check his mobile phone, to get the next round in, to go to the toilet, anything to avoid being treated like a piece of meat by the recently divorced Ms. Mackenzie.

  They had met up in a local pub called ‘The Hog’s Head.’ The bar was busy, the late night shoppers having just finished and the remnants of dozens of bar meals lay strewn across many of the tables. Rob’s table was no different, a wasteland of empty pint glasses, ketchup stained plates and half-eaten onion rings.

  “I think that the key to finding the right man is mystery.” Amy was on her third large glass of Pinot Grigio by the time she started on the opposite sex, which, if you knew her personally, was probably something of a record.

  “The less you know about someone, the more curiosity gets the better of you.”

  Steve, who was slowly drinking his second pint of cider, indulged Amy’s rant, by throwing in a literary reference.

  “Sure, like ‘Alice in Wonderland’. Look where curiosity got her.” He looked across to Rob, to see if he had appreciated his nod to Lewis Carroll. Rob, however, had his eyes fixed somewhere across the room.

  “Exactly,” Amy continued, “if the white rabbit had been a good looking man and Alice a blonde bimbo...,” but she’d lost her train of thought by this point, the alcohol and Rob’s lack of interest distracting her, and could only muster, “...well, we’d have a very different story.”

  Jon chipped in,

  “Not to mention a really fucked up cartoon. How much have you had to drink, Amy?”

  Amy wasn’t listening.

  “Take my husband,” she continued, “‘the helmet’ as I like to call him.”

  “Why do you call him ‘the helmet’?” asked Steve, curiously. Jon rolled his eyes and drank heavily from his pint, knowing what was coming.

  “Because he’s a knob-end.”

  “Nice,” Steve nodded, “continue.”

  “We knew each other for years before we got married. I knew everything about him and he knew everything about me. Then we married and...Nothing! Silence. We literally had nothing to talk about. No surprises. No mystery. I think it’s ninety five per cent of what makes a good relationship.

  “What about the other five per cent,” Jon dared to ask. Amy shrugged,

  “A decent sized penis doesn’t hurt.”

  Jon tried to stifle a laugh, while Steve couldn’t resist adding,

  “Or so you’ve heard.”

  Amy didn’t take him on, instead turning to Rob placing her hand tentatively on his shoulder and going for broke.

  “What about you, Rob?”

  Rob, however, didn’t notice the hand, his eyes still fixed across the room. He didn’t even look at her as he replied,

  “What about me?”

  Jon, noticing Rob’s dis-interest, followed his gaze landing on two women who sat at the end of the bar. Jon could see from their clothes that they were smart, professional women, both good looking, but one more than the other. He looked back to Rob and smirked to himself, while Amy continued.

  “What do you look for? I mean, in a relationship.”

  There was a pause. Rob’s gaze, it would seem, had not gone un-noticed by the two women at the bar as they both took turns looking across in his direction. One of them even smiled at him a little.

  “Rob...Rob?”

  Amy’s voice was a little annoyed and it snapped Rob out of it.

  “What? What were you saying?”

  Jon and Steve laughed a little to themselves. Amy shot them a look of anger, before turning back with her sweetest smile.

  “I was asking you what you look for in a relationship.”

  And then, to
everybody’s surprise, not least Amy’s, Rob started to get to his feet, answering the question with a simple;

  “Something new.”

  Rob knocked back the last of his pint and gave Jon, who was watching him like a hawk, a wink as he headed off towards the two women at the end of the bar.

  He wasn’t really sure what he was going to say, but being the spontaneous type, not to mention two beers into the evening, he felt a surge of confidence, backed up as he remembered the advice of his father many years ago.

  “If you see something you want, go for it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  He saw this as an opportunity too good to miss. It didn’t hurt that he hadn’t been in a relationship or even to bed with a woman, come to that, for nearly a year and was beginning to feel that all he did was work, eat and sleep. He felt that, now that he had established a career path for himself, perhaps it wasn’t unrealistic to think he could find someone to eat and sleep with. And of the two women, the one he was focused on was, as far as he could see, gorgeous.

  And it was with this confidence in his heart that he approached her, focusing his gaze straight at her, ready to deliver his first, killer, opening line.

  And that is exactly what he would have done, had some knob-end, or ‘helmet’ as Amy would have called him, not banged into Rob at the moment he stood before the woman that had caught his eye, causing him to nudge the drink in her hand.

  It landed somewhere on the left side of her blouse, followed by an awkward moment of silence. Rob quickly grabbed for a napkin from the bar and handed it to her.

  “I’m so sorry. That knob-end, I mean, that helmet, no, I mean, that dick just bumped into me. I’m sorry.” Rob looked in the woman’s eyes for some sense of forgiveness. In the end all he got from her was a;

  “Twat!” as she grabbed the napkin from his hand to clean herself up.

  Rob was crestfallen, looking to her friend for some sense that he could recover from this moment of embarrassment. However, she could give him no such reassurance and instead motioned with her eyes for him to leave.

  Who was he to argue?

  When Rob returned to his table, Amy was half-way through another glass of wine, while Jon and Steve were choking with laughter at what they’d just witnessed. Rob sat back down and grabbed for the nearest pint glass.