Push Hands

by Michael Graeme

  What now? Gently he massaged the mouse over Joranda's digitised privates, until finally:

  Joranda: :)

  Pause.

  Joranda: gotta skip out now lover. Cum with me anytime. CU :x

  Sally lay snoring when Phil eventually crept to bed. He felt sick to his stomach and very confused - what the hell had he just done? But there was no harm, surely? He had not known the woman and she could not trace him. He could simply delete all evidence of his avatar and reinvent himself afresh as someone else if he so wanted. And how could he be sure it had been a woman anyway? Why not a transvestite or a bloke having a laugh? My god, it could have been anyone - but that didn't matter either because he was safe in his little house in his little town, no longer the Freedom Phil - but just Phil, though fretful and unlikely to sleep because something significant had happened. A step had been taken, like an admission of something: that maybe his real life was so hopeless, he could stoop so insanely low in trying to squeeze even the tiniest bit of pleasure out of it - when he knew all along it was dead.

  In the morning he felt he had no difficulty in swallowing down the last of the guilt - he even felt quite manly as he left for work, like a smug tomcat that had been out on the tiles, sowing its wild seed. He had not been factually unfaithful to Sally - just virtually, which he assured himself was not the same thing at all. But he was lying to himself, and he knew his bravado would not last. He swung by the orchard, but long before he reached it, he realised he wasn't in the mood for Tai Chi. It was odd, the last few times he'd been Lara had come down to watch, sitting on the deck and making him tea before he'd departed for work. But the thought of seeing her now made him inexplicably sick with guilt. He had looked Sally in the eye and felt nothing, but the thought of sitting with Lara, while remembering himself plugged into his computer while a chick from oz cybered him long distance almost had him in tears.

  He was motoring slowly along the narrow back road and intending to simply cruise on by but then he rounded a bend and saw Penny's Corsa tucked into the hedgerow by the gate. She'd come! And if Phil wasn't quite empty by then, the remainder drained from him and he felt quite cold, felt the ruin of his life not only flaying the skin from his bones but laughing at him as well. Here's Caroline, it seemed to be saying. You couldn't have her once. But now you can. Go on. Here she is,… go on. Go on. Go on.

  Phil's foot hovered briefly over the brake, but then he dropped a gear and sped away. He desperately needed someone to talk to. It should have been Sally, his sympathetic and intimate other half, except Sally had never been that way for him. And there were some things you didn't even tell your brother, let alone your wife.

  Chapter 16

  It was perhaps his imagination, but whenever the stress levels went up, the more he sweated, the more his back and neck ached, and the more his ear rang. His ear rang loudly and steadily day after day now. He'd missed a few Tai Chi sessions, for fear that Penny had begun attending once more, and he steered clear of the orchard too. Doctor Lin was his only lifeline, what with her massage and her acupuncture. But she'd been quick to notice he was missing her classes, this Mr Markham with his stiff upper lip and his nice tie, his polished shoes and his clean skin.

  He was always a pleasure to massage - not all her patients took the trouble to shower and their dead skin had a habit of coming away under her fingers. Yuck! But Mr Markham was very clean in his habits, just not responding well to the treatment. His pulse was also off today, and there were dry, red blotches breaking out on his face, evidence of the fire raging within him - he'd need the fire brigade soon, she thought.

  "Something happen, Mr Markham?"

  "Oh,… you know doctor, this and that."

  "No,… tell me."

  "Nothing really, just work."

  "Hmn,… not practice Tai Chi recently."

  "Erm,… I'm practising at home. I've just been a little busy on Sundays."

  Following a search of the Internet, Phil discovered Dr Lin had some competition, and that there was a guy running Tai Chi classes on Tuesday evenings in the Middleton Leisure centre. This was a fairly new building, a faceless monstrosity peopled by body fascists - ultra fit looking girls who bounced like deranged fools to throbbing beat-music - also crazy badminton players who looked like they were going for Olympic gold and were so screwed up with anger they'd as soon slice your head off with their rackets as look at you.

  He turned up just before the class was due to start, to find it was being run by a muscled psychopath dressed in yellow silk pyjamas with red dragons on his collar, also on his special slippers. And in case anyone had failed to properly appreciate his authority in oriental matters, he also wore a long sash about his waist decorated with more dragons.

  He wanted a hundred quid up front for a course of ten lessons, plus Phil would have to buy a set of pyjamas and slippers from him, plus some DVD's at twenty quid a go. On top of that, the dragon man said, he'd have to be a member of the sports club which would cost another £300 a year.

  "Well,… I'll have to think about it," said Phil, having already decided there wasn't much to think about.

  "Don't leave it too long," said the dragon-man. "My courses are very popular."

  "I'm sure they are. Well, like I said, I'll think about it."

  He bade the dragon-man goodbye. He needed somewhere he could learn - somewhere away from the Robin Hill Centre, and away from Penny Barnes. It was a pity this guy was just too "in your face" - to say nothing of being extortionately expensive.

  Before passing through the door, he stepped back and held it open for a woman to come the other way. Was it just his imagination or did she seem to have her face turned deliberately away from him?

  "Penny?"

  "Oh,… erm,… hello Phil. I was looking for Master Evans."

  "Master who? Oh, it'll be that guy over there in the yellow pyjamas. But Penny,… what are you doing here?"

  "Looking for Master Evans, obviously."

  "I know but,… well,… what about Doctor Lin? Have you fallen out?"

  "No,.. but I could ask you the same thing. I thought you liked Doctor Lin."

  "I do. Very much."

  There was a hissing noise as Master Evans turned himself into a blur of yellow silk and performed a set of punching, chopping and kicking exercises that didn't look very relaxing at all. Then, like a human tornado, the martial artist materialised beside them, flicked back his overlong hair and gave Penny an oily smile. "Are you interested in classes?"

  Penny took him in with one slow sweep of her eyes, then looked at Phil. "No," she said, then turned on her heel and walked out.

  Of course this was impossible. Phil had only come here to avoid bumping into Penny, and she'd turned up, hot on his heels. It was eerie, as if something joined them together, made them think about the same things at the same time. His mind worked slowly through the possibilities: was she here for the same reason he was? It seemed that even when they went out of their way to avoid one another, something made sure their paths kept crossing. It was maddening. What was the point? If he'd been a hundred years younger and not married, he would have looked upon this as a gift from the gods. He would have felt blessed. But now he could only conclude that if there was a such a thing as a divine deity, then he/she/it was laughing at them both.

  The leisure centre was a rabbit warren, several big sports halls, all interlinked by miles of squeaky corridor. Phil had struggled to find his way in and now couldn't remember his way out. He paused to get his bearings, saw that Penny was waiting for him.

  "It's this way, I think," she said.

  "Ah,… "

  They began to walk together, or rather Phil held back deliberately a fraction of a step, so that she might lead him. It was an unconscious thing and he noted in his secret diary later on that he had naturally wanted her to show him the way, not just in a physical sense but also metaphorically - to lead him out of his life, his crumbling, decrepit, potholed paint-peeled life - to somewhere brighter and better.


  "You've not signed up with that poseur, have you?" she asked.

  "No, no. Sally would have a fit over his fees. I'm sure he's fearsome in a fight and everything, but that's not really what I'm interested in. And he seems to practice his arts more on the surface, you know?"

  "Exactly, a poseur!"

  He smiled. "You worked that out in a nanosecond - it took me at least ten minutes."

  It was really good to see her, he thought. She looked cosy, in a soft, baggy sweater, very cuddlesome and sweet. She made him feel good, dangerously good!

  She smiled back at him. "Well, that's men for you."

  "Ouch. Look, Penny,… you didn't come here,… well,… trying to avoid me at the Robin Hill place, did you?"

  She stiffened. She didn't know any men who were intuitive and couldn't decide if Phil was one or if that had been just a lucky guess. "You're not as daft as you look, are you? Is that why you're here as well? Thinking you'd avoid me?"

  He glanced away, blushing. "Well,… I don't mean it to sound bad or anything - I think you're lovely - I suppose I'm just a bit vulnerable at the moment. And we seem to keep bumping into one another. It's like it means something - that's silly I know,… "

  "It's not silly Phil. I feel the same."

  Penny knew he was vulnerable, and now she knew he was avoiding her. Why would a man do that, if he wasn't simply angry with you? Well, it's obvious, stupid: he's trying not to fall in love with you! Or if not love exactly, then lust. But how could he? She was Penny - forty years old, two kids, stomach like a roll of suet, hair like dried straw, and a huge arse, all dressed up in a bag-lady's cast-off's? Was he insane?

  He was looking at his feet now, like a shy teenager. He wasn't exactly Michelangelo's David, but he did have something. Philip Markham was still,… what? She could only think the word she was looking for was "alive". He was still searching for something. He had not given up, not settled for a bland nothingness.

  "I've wondered about what it might mean," she said. "It could even be romantic, except it's about twenty years too late for me."

  He laughed. "Me too. So, you were trying to avoid me!"

  "Oh, yes."

  He brightened. "You were?" then he frowned. "I mean, you were?"

  "Yes,… yes. I'm sorry Phil."

  "It's all right. I understand."

  "No you don't, you're just too polite to take offence. If it's any comfort I think you're lovely too."

  "Thanks. Look, I'm really not stalking you or anything. I know it seems as if I am."

  She smiled. Bless him. She didn't mean to, but she found herself reaching out for his sleeve. She touched it lightly with her fingertips, then realised what she was doing and drew back gently so as not to alarm him. "I know you're not stalking me."

  She liked his face. It was not the face of someone hopelessly lost - just temporarily confused and there were rays of laughter around his eyes, waiting to make light of the darkest situation, which was both a strength and a weakness. He brightened now. "Perhaps we should exchange diaries, then we can make a better job of avoiding each other."

  "Perhaps we should."

  The lines faded and the lightness sank into a faraway look, a philosophical look, a thoughtful look. "Except, why should we?" he said.

  He wanted honesty? "Because you're vulnerable Phil, remember, and so am I. And neither of us are looking for an affair."

  "Yes, yes. That's right. But aren't we? I mean I don't think I'm looking for an affair. But do people really go out looking or do they just wake up one day to find they're having one?"

  "You think about things too much, you know?"

  "I suppose so. But listen, Penny, I'm not going to go out of my way to avoid you any more. I'll be at Robin Hill on Sunday mornings doing my Tai Chi because it's the only thing these days that makes me feel good, and I trust Doctor Lin. I will also be in Lara's orchard most mornings around eight."

  "You've been avoiding the orchard, too?"

  "Yes. I know you've been going there. When I see your car I always drive on past."

  She was astonished. "I've been doing the same if I see yours!"

  Phil's head was spinning. Someone up there really was laughing at them. "And I'll tell you something else: I'm going to start doing my shopping at Freshways again because I can't find my way round the other place, and it's been doing my head in."

  "But I quit Freshways weeks ago. I'm at Tesco's now."

  "To avoid me?"

  She nodded. "Of course."

  "Penny,… what's happening?"

  "I don't know."

  "It'll probably stop now."

  "You think so?"

  "I'm sure. We both know its game now. It knows we're wise to it."

  "Maybe. It's funny though; when I was a girl, and really wanted someone to notice me, they were never around. I never bumped into them, even though I went out of my way to contrive a coincidental meeting. And now,… when I'm absolutely trying to avoid someone, I'm falling over them all the time."

  "Caroline."

  "Who?"

  "I used to call her Caroline,… that person you're talking about. I desperately needed her to notice me, but she never did. It was all sorts of different women, sometimes more than one at the same time, but eventually I recognised them all for what they were, you know, the same projection of something inside of me - something I was looking for desperately but that probably didn't exist."

  She felt cold of a sudden and stared at him in disbelief. How could he possibly understand any of this? "I called mine Gabriel."

  "Your Gabriels never noticed you? Well, shame on them."

  She blushed. "Stop it Phil. I'm not a bit of a girl you can flatter. I'm not Caroline."

  "I know. I wish you were. That way I'd be very unlikely to keep bumping into you. I'm not sure who you are really."

  "I'm a stranger in the mist, remember?"

  "Hmn?"

  "That time on the moors, we said things, like we're saying them to each other now, things people don't normally share so easily face to face. It's easier when you think you'll never meet again, like talking to someone on the Internet I suppose. We part in the mist, then go our separate ways. You're tempted to reveal all aren't you?"

  Phil remembered his last "conversation" on the internet and blushed. "Erm,… yes,… quite."

  "Then you get married and you stop revealing anything at all except a censored version of yourself because you're with this person for keeps and you want them to go on loving you, so you pretend you don't have the thoughts that you have. Except there comes a point when you realise they don't see you any more. Either they don't know you, or they don't want to know you, or maybe they even want you to be something you can't be."

  "I understand, Penny."

  "We'd be like that, Phil."

  "Hmn?"

  "If we had an affair. If we wrecked our marriages and set up together. Sooner or later we'd stop talking. We'd no longer be strangers in the mist, you and I. I'd end up nagging you to take out the dustbin and you'd get grumpy if your tea wasn't on the table when you walked in of a night."

  "And I'd forget what it was like to touch you. Yes,… yes,… perhaps you're right."

  "So aren't we lucky? We can avoid all that by having the foresight to head it off in the first place."

  He nodded, chuckling to himself. What a wonderful woman! And how wonderful it was to be talking to someone - really talking, really sharing intimate things like this. But how soon before the intimate things were all talked out? He supposed he and Sal had exhausted their intimate secrets in the first year, and Penny was right, in a marriage you can easily cease sharing your most intimate current self and present instead the carefully censored mask of who you want to be seen as, or eben more damaging, who you think you're required to be.

  They were by the exit now and they'd paused looking out across the carpark, through the drizzle and the fading light, both of them contemplating their evenings ahead, both reluctant to part company. Pe
nny felt it like a rising panic, like she'd better not lose him to the darkening night and the rain. She had to see him again. And all right, she knew she would she him on Sunday morning, or in Lara's orchard sometime, but then he might be a different Phil, a cool Phil, a remote Phil and that would kill her. She had to have him, all of him, right now! But that was just the stupid side of her talking.

  Phil's heart was cracking against his ribs. Surely she could hear it? Maybe she wouldn't come to the orchard. Maybe she was stronger than him and she'd stand at the opposite side of the hall at the Robin Hill Centre not looking at him. In his experience women were stronger in situations like that. Through his own panic and over the racket of his ringing ear, he almost failed to notice that she was speaking to him.

  "If you could have your Caroline, Phil, what would she be for you?"

  "My Caroline," he mused. "Well,… from being about fourteen I've always needed an intimate woman friend. Someone with supernatural insight, who knows what I'm thinking and what I'm feeling all the time. That's who Caroline is. What about Gabriel?"

  "The same,… an intimate male friend with supernatural insight."

  "That lets me off them."

  She noticed the rays around his eyes again - melting his fears by casting light upon them, by making light of them. So, he wanted to be her friend. Then why not let him? He was a lovely man, a decent man. Let him in Penny! No, we're married to other people you stupid woman!

  "If I told you I was interested in Buddhism, Phil what would you say?"

  "Buddhism?"

  "I don't mean I want to become a nun or anything, but just get to the bottom of it - the philosophy, the idea, of seeing things the Buddhist way."

  "Well, I don't know much about it, but speaking as a decadent westerner, Buddhism probably has a lot of insights that we could learn from, like how to stop killing each other and how to ease our personal suffering. I could probably do with reading up on it myself. It might help me to stop feeling so guilty and worn down all the time when I'm at home."