by Darren Wills
“Well I definitely want to write a book.” Jamie looked uncharacteristically serious again.
“Really? What about?”
“I thought I would write a book about the dating game, write down some of my adventures.”
“Go for it. Why not? Some of the stuff you’ve told me, definitely why not? If you start, it might just trigger me off writing something. You could end up being my muse.”
“Did I ever tell you about Tattooed John? He’s worth a chapter.”
“Who’s Tattooed John?”
“A weirdo. He tattooed fifteen girl’s names on different parts of his body. For every girl he met he got a tat, and eventually he had fifteen. After this, the story goes, he only went on dates with women who had one of his names. Bit of an obsession.”
“He sounds like a right fruitcake.”
“I don’t know. A woman I met with had a date with him and said he talked about destiny and fate really emotionally and she ended up in bed with him. That’s how she came across the tattoos. Apparently, he didn’t hide anything, but it scared her.”
“That’s an interesting episode. Write it then, but try not to offend every woman in the known universe.” This was all fascinating, but I stood up, having looked at my watch. “I’ve got to go. Same time next week.”
Jamie smiled. “OK, but next time you are going to be even more of a beaten man. Give my love to Laura. Tell her I forgive her.”
Here Comes The Night
Did Henry Ford or Karl Benz ever envisage how the car might be such a blissful place for the relaxed driver? Could the inventors ever even imagine, great visionaries that they must have been, the possibilities they were creating for the kind of man who leaned back in his seat and wanted to appreciate the details of the environment around him. At the same time he could enjoy the delights of music, controlled from the middle of his dashboard. In any but the more extreme weather conditions, there was so much pleasure to be had cruising down country lanes with the lines of trees and the spreading sheets of green on both sides and ahead. The joy of the internal combustion engine. With the sunroof open, the freshness could engulf the car’s occupants and create an envelope of true refreshment and exhilaration, a now traditional English pleasure. You could enjoy the idyllic scenery, the vibrant spread of greenery, embrace the wondrous and not so wondrous smells of nature, while upbeat sounds inside were equally stimulating. To top it all, you could even have your favourite woman next to you and savour the feeling that life could never be much better than this. Inescapable joy.
However, bliss was not quite the word I would have used this evening. The journey I experienced from Abbey Lane was lined with scornful streetlights and ahead of me were a series forbidding red traffic signals, alongside dreary frustrating queues of traffic, with, no doubt, like me, impatient men and women as occupants. The darkness just added a curtain of gloom. My mood was in a sharp and noisy descent and, at this rate, I would be psychotic by the time I hit the city centre.
I found my route into town characterised in an infuriating way by a number of temporary roadworks and every light seemed to be red. “Oh for crying out loud! Somebody’s doing this on purpose.” All I could see ahead of me was yet another soul-destroying stop light, and a lengthy series of brake lights that suggested this delay was going to be more than just a few seconds.” My stress levels were going through the roof. I banged on the dashboard in frustration and looked around me for some kind of help, reassurance, or failing that, a bit of sympathy or undserstanding. “That’s done it. Oh fuck! Fuck, fucking fuck!” When I lost it, I really lost it.
In the full knowledge that I was ten minutes late, ignoring the forbidding double yellows, I pulled up on the corner of Surrey Street, a thriving part of the City Centre, very close to a range restaurants and pubs, expecting tension and some kind of argument with Laura. The omens weren’t good. On those occasions when Laura picked me up, she was never late, and prided herself on her reliability. “Always there when you need me, and always on time,” she would say.
She emerged from a doorway. I watched with some trepidation as she conveyed herself up the road, with enough of an uncharacteristic lack of grace to suggest that she had been more than generously served at the bar. The smile on her face as she approached came as a massive relief. Perhaps there might be no friction tonight after all. Laura wasn’t prone to mood swings, so we might just be OK.
“Hi, baby,” she said as she opened up the door and dropped into the passenger seat. “I’ve had a fab time. Sorry I’m a bit late. How long have you been waiting?” She gave me a seriously wet kiss on my cheek as she settled into her seat belt.
“About ten minutes.” Well, it didn’t hurt to tell a white lie every now and then. “What was your meal like?”
“Ooh, delicious. I had calzone. Fucking perfect.” Laura always swore more after alcohol, but it suited her. Most men like their woman to have a wild dirty side sometimes, and I was no exception.
“And how much wine?
“To be honest babe, I don’t know. Put it this way, I think I’ll sleep well.”
As we drove onto Dewhurst Close, I was inwardly feeling pretty good; I knew the green light of likely intimacy was shining tonight like a divine blessing. Laura had had her hand on my leg for the whole of the journey, caressing my thigh, and I couldn’t help feeling an excitement at knowing that Laura’s nights out often came with benefits. Perhaps I should encourage her to go out more often. Perhaps not. I felt more inclined to have a drink when she was out socializing and, although I felt weak for thinking this, I did miss her usually.
As I unlocked the door, I knew what was going to happen. It had happened so many times before and I knew we were both feeling the same way. I was feeling amorous because I always fancied her beyond belief, whereas she always became frisky when she was intoxicated. Plus, she loved me.
True enough, the door was barely closed when our mouths came together and the energy of attraction took over. We were teenagers again. Our hands were frantically exploring each other. Laura was undoing the buttons of my shirt while I undid her skirt and allowed it to slide to the kitchen floor. Next, she removed my trousers and before they hit the floor she was on her knees looking after me in the way only a woman can while I closed my eyes and rested my elbows on the kitchen worktop to savor the moments. I whipped off her blouse and bra and the rest was a highly enjoyable episode, ending with us both upstairs and under the duvet.
Afterwards, I couldn’t help saying, “That was lovely. Not really expected, but lovely.”
“And how I love you, my beautiful man,” she replied, holding my face in her hands and kissing me wetly and passionately, almost as if the sex was just foreplay for something more intense. We were always like this. A few weeks ago we had managed to have sex three times in forty minutes. I hadn’t even known that was possible. I had almost emailed the Guinness Book of Records.
For about half an hour, we lay in bed talking. Laura had her head resting on my chest.
“I missed you today.”
“I could tell.”
“No, I did. Don’t take the piss. I just feel so close to you right now. I think we’re doing very well.”
“That’s the kind of man I like, utterly dependent. Fuel for my power trip.”
“That’s it. Scoff. Wait till the next time you feel emotional.”
“Sorry, babe. I feel the same way about you. You know how much I’m yours, I’m just not as expressive as you are sometimes. You are a very expressive man. You are a man who can express. Like an express train can expressively move.” She paused, then looked at me. “I’m just a bit tipsy tonight. Everything comes out stupid.”
“You don’t say?” I remembered the conversation earlier. “You didn’t tell me you bumped into Jamie.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. He said you were a bit abrupt with him.”
“What?”
“A bit dismissive. In a hurry? Were you?”
Laura looked at me, bewildered. “I haven’t seen Jamie since Liz and Joe’s housewarming. What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He just said that you were in a rush. You were near the town hall or something. He said you were wearing a black headscarf.”
“That’s weird. He’s wrong. I was nowhere near there yesterday. Black headscarf?”
I lifted my arms. “Listen, don’t shoot the messenger. I wasn’t there.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
“He just said you were in a rush and that you spoke to him. A bit dismissively, he said.”
“Think about this, babe. Does that sound like me? Dismissively?”
“No, it’s strange, unless you were blaming him in some way for some past stuff he had nothing to do with.”
“I wouldn’t do that. Why would I? He probably saw somebody who looked like me. It wasn’t me, at any rate. He’s been off work this week, hasn’t he? I bet he’d been drinking.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “He certainly was enjoying the drink tonight.”
“You know what Jamie’s like. He is just totally obsessed with chasing women and can’t get his head around much else.” She paused. “Anyway, we need to address more pressing matters. What’s next on our agenda?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “To be honest I’m feeling tired now.”
“I don’t mean now, daft head. I mean next.”
“Next?”
“Next.”
The penny dropped. “I don’t know.”
“I really loved the last one.”
“Outside again?” We had enjoyed an episode of intimacy on a walk last week. I turned to face her. Even in the darkness, I could see her eyes widening. “Is this what you want now? Broad daylight sin?”
Laura looked shocked. “I’m talking about another nice walk holding hands. Where is your brain at? Let me guess.”
“Ecclesall Woods?” I asked, ignoring her.
She pulled a face. “Babe, just because we did that doesn’t mean we need to repeat it.” She paused. “That was a one-off. We just got caught up in a moment. It’s hardly safe anyway.”
“You’re right. Especially in the daytime.” I laughed.
“Too much stress for you.”
“I don’t know who was more shocked, that bloke, his dog or me.” I wasn’t very good with embarrassing situations and being caught in flagrante with your wife certainly qualified as that.
“That place was too hilly. Let’s go somewhere more friendly to walkers. Somewhere with trees.”
“Well, if it’s trees we’re after, what about Loxley Common? That’s been fine for us before.” I had grown up near that place. Unbeknown to my sweet demanding wife, as well as my outdoor adventures with her, most of my teenage sexual experience had been gained in that woodland.
“I think that’s the best place anyway. We can do that. Back to just walking though this time.” She patted my arm affectionately.
“Do you want to go tomorrow? It’ll be busier in the early evening, with loads of people walking their dogs and children.”
“What about later? Rugrats will spoil the mood.” I wasn’t sure if I was getting the wrong signals. I decided that playing innocent was probably my best bet.
“Could actually do earlier. I’m free last lesson in the morning so I could leave work for a bit and we could have a lovely lunchtime. There won’t be many people around there then.”
“Let’s go for it, babe. We can have a wonderful walk and enjoy the countryside.”
“My kind of woman.”
In response, Laura gave me a reassuring kiss on the cheek and turned over to face away from me. “It’s a date then. Tomorrow lunch-time.”
Malevolence
I have some intentions. I have ideas and thoughts that I shouldn’t have. Well, that’s what most would say. There are directions that I go in and they are not nice, yet for me they are the right ways to go. I rarely hate my decisions. In fact, I like them because they stop my life being like everybody else’s.
What do you do if you really want something? Do you let it go? Do you nurse your feelings like a sick child and carry that longing into eternity? I don’t. Sometimes, it is easy to target a person who owes, and when somebody owes me, I am more than ready to do some taking.
There will be some suffering in the time ahead, but it won’t be mine. For too long in my life I have been waiting, needing or preparing for changes, and here comes a big one.
I want better. There are things that have to alter and that will come soon. The world has something better in store for me.
Living my life has not been easy. So I don’t think smooth. I’ve done too much fighting over the years, too much reaching out. I’ve not always won, but I’ve won most of the time. Too many have known me and too many have known me to their cost. I quite like to create a victim out of a fool. There are a lot of fools.
I once came into possession of a dog once, a poor pitiful creature whom nobody else wanted and it was obvious why. That was a few years ago now but it is still strong in my mind. I don’t know why, since I don’t do sentiment. This mutt had a desperate, needy ill-bred face with sticky out ears. and was so disturbingly hungry for something that nobody with a heart could do anything but give it some affection.
I gave him affection. I enjoyed stroking his fur, loved the walks we went on, and the creature seemed to like me too. He was some kind of cross-breed, possibly something like a Staffordshire Bull Terrier crossed with a whippet, which meant he had an interesting combination of strength and speed, but he still had that vulnerability of a creature needing love. I gave him love. Truly I did. For weeks I fed him, walked him and gave him shelter and I guess he felt like he had finally been welcomed by someone who would give him a home for the rest of his time on the planet.
Of course, it could not last. I know who I am. I could see ahead of me and would not be held back. I grew tired. Doggy had outstripped his welcome.
The creature seemed content enough at the end. It was a dark winter evening when the programmes on TV were at their worst, all repeats and patronizing bullshit. The poor mutt was laying in front of me, perhaps enjoying the TV, perhaps looking forward to ‘walkies’ the following day, maybe even dreaming of some in-season bitch in one of the local parks. Either way, he knew no suffering. It was all very humane, I suppose, for all those do-gooders out there who care so much about dumb creatures, so there is some reassurance to be had there. When I brought the blade down in that one quick arc of silver beauty, he did not have time to even see it, never mind think about it. I wonder what his last thought was? What was the last image in his mind?
Death came very quickly. The blood went everywhere, but that was to be expected. There were splashes of red on three of the four walls of the room, with a massive pool of blood on the floor so I was left with a permanent reminder of how things had been. I got through so many paper towels, it was untrue. It took me ages to get the floor apparently spotless, but never really so. I could always see the redness. I still see the red blemishes. Sometimes it seems that the redness has spread through this little house, that it has spread into every room like a virus but that’s impossible. My mind is a bit like that, though.
It is hard being me. And, as I said, I do have these really bad intentions.
Happy Family
On another ‘glad to be away from work at last’ evening, I was on my way home, singing loudly along with Queen’s ‘We are the Champions’, wishing I was old enough to have seen Freddie Mercury on stage. Appreciating heritage was always fine and I did loads of it, but what must it have been like to have experienced somebody legendary like him as a reality? It must have been pretty awesome. I was tapping away dramatically at the steering wheel as I gave vent to my tone-de
af accompaniment. Perhaps up there, he was enjoying my version of his song. Yeah, right.
I had enjoyed myself all the way here, right back from the traffic lights at the bottom of Ecclesall Road and had not stopped singing since then. I credited this to how things were right now. Lunchtime with Laura had been lovely, and a nice break. As we had hoped, the woods had been deserted and we had had another lovely relaxed walking experience. No sex, but very sexy.
I looked at the dashboard clock to realise I had arrived just before six-o’clock, the first time in ages that had happened. I had left school early for the best of reasons. Normally, I stayed in school marking and preparing lessons until at least half past six and I tried to make sure that that would leave the rest of the evening for my real life with Laura. However, even now that wasn’t always so, since at least one weekday night every fortnight, I had to mark assessments until midnight.
I parked in front of the garage door, knowing that Laura’s Audi would be inside. I was going to make a point of leaving earlier than she was tomorrow, so I wouldn’t need to park on the road today. As I retrieved my briefcase from the boot, only glancing at the tell-tale brown packages alongside it, waiting to be retrieved and hidden away at an opportune moment, I was smiling broadly. In my mind I was appreciating the fact that I was home with no work to do. On the minus side, however, I was now thinking about the evening in we were going to have, not an easy one.
I made my way straight into the living room. As I opened the door, Laura was looking through some papers that she had laid out on the dining table while she sat there, with a cup of coffee for support. She had a massive smile on her face as she acknowledged my presence in the room. Hurriedly, she started to put the papers into one neat pile, before putting them into a light-brown manila folder that was at the side of her on the settee. She held the folder tightly on her knee.