by Irvine Welsh
As he fucks me I make out my lists:
sugar
jam
bread
milk
beans
rice
herbs
pizzas
wine
tomatoes
onions
green peppers
… then I did something truly visionary: I stopped consuming for its own sake.
The fat started to fall from my body. It started to fall from my brain. Everything was lighter. Fantasising about getting fucked properly was the start. Then about telling them all to fuck off and die. It was the books I starting reading. It was the music I started listening to. It was the television I started watching. I found myself thinking again. I tried to stop because it was only causing pain. I couldn’t.
When all this is in your head it has to come out into your life. If it doesn’t, you get crushed. I’m not going to get crushed.
12 Lloyd
It took ays a while tae get back fae Soapdodge City. Acid, man, fuck that, never again, never until the next time at any rate. When ah get back, The Poisonous Cunt’s coming oot ay ma stair. – Where have you been? she says accusingly. The Poisonous Cunt is getting too fuckin possessive taewards me.
– Glasgow, ah tell her.
– What for? she asks.
– Slam night on the Renfrew Ferry, eh, ah lie. Ah don’t want The Poisonous Cunt knowing my MO …
– What was it like?
– Awright, aye, ah goes.
– Ah’ve got some mair ay they Doves for you to punt, but they’re back at mines, she says.
Great. Mair crap Es tae sell. Ma reputation will soon be so bad that people’ll rather buy their chemicals fae Scottish and Newcastle Breweries. Ah left the other ones in Glasgow wi Stevo, who wasnae too hopeful, but who said that he would see what he could do.
– Right. Ah’ll come up the night, ah tell her. Ah just want to get in and make myself a cup of tea and a spliff. Then ah realise that I’ve left my blow in Soapdodge City, with those Es. – Have you got any blow? Ah need a fucking blow. Ah’m exhausted after that trip. My jaw feels like it’s been broken. Ah need tae mellow out. Even some fuckin jellies wid dae ays. Ah need some thing. Ah need, full fuckin stop.
– Aye. Ah’ve got black and soapbar, she says.
– Right then, I’ll chum you back to yours.
We get up to The Poisonous Cunt’s and Solo is in, as well as a couple of mates called Monts and Jasco. Ah was embarrassed as Solo started talking tae ays. Ah couldnae make oot a word ay it. It sounded like he was forcing his syllables out slowly through his nose. As The Poisonous Cunt went to the kitchen to stick on the kettle and get some blow, Monts stood behind Solo with a smirk on his face and pushed out one cheek with his tongue, in the cocksucker gesture. He and Jasco were like nothing more than two vultures circling over a large wounded animal. Ah found it sad, and ah felt sorry for Solo. It reminded ays ay a piece ay film ay Muhummad Ali ah’d seen oan telly, stricken from his articulate buoyancy by Parkinson’s, probably brought on by the fight game. The Poisonous Cunt, when she came in, reminded me of Don King, manipulation screaming through a smile of searing delight.
– You gaunnae take that gear doon tae Abdab for ays then? she enquired.
– Aye, ah told her. Abdab was an old mate ay mine down in Newcastle. The Poisonous Cunt was sorting him out with some shite and ah was delivering. It was a Paddy Crerand ah didnae feel like running. Ah only agreed to do it to see Abdab and his Geordie mates and have a night oot doon thair. Ah always liked Newcastle. Geordies are just Scots who can’t blame the English for them being fucked up, the poor cunts.
Jasco starts giein ays a hard time. Ehs normally a cool cunt but ehs been a bit nippy lately. Too much freebasin gaun oan wi the cunt. – Listen, Lloyd, if ah’ve goat a heidache ah’ll take some paracetamol.
– Eh? ah goes.
– And if ah’ve goat a bad stomach ah’ll take some bicarb soda.
Ah’m a wee bit too slow oan the uptake the day tae suss oot the cunt’s game.
– Git oaf eh’s case, Jasco ya cunt, Monts sais.
– Naw, listen, Jasco continued, – the point is, ah didnae huv a heidache or a sair stomach the other night. Naw. What ah wanted was tae git oaf my tits oan Ecstasy. So why did this cunt sell ays paracetamol and bicarb? He pointed at me.
– Moan tae fuck, Jasco, ah said defensively, – they wirnae brilliant Es, granted, and ah telt ye that fae the off, but they wirnae that shite. I kept it light cause it was like Jasco was in the mood where he couldnae decide whether or no he was bein serious or havin a jokey wee wind-up.
– Did fuck all fir me, man, he moaned.
– Hundred and twenty milligrams ay MDMA in them, the boy telt me, The Poisonous Cunt said.
That was bullshit. You were lucky if there was fifty mills in those Doves. You had to neck them two at a time for any buzz at aw.
– Aye, right, Jasco said.
– Fuckin wis. Rinty got them fae Holland, The Poisonous Cunt maintained. It was cool, her getting involved, because it stopped Jasco nippin at me.
– In ays fuckin dreams the cunt did. Scottish fitba clubs have spent longer in Europe than any pills youse cunts have been puntin, he grumbled at her.
Ah knew that the conversation would go on and on like this aw night and ah shot the craw as soon as it was possible. When ah got oot intae the street, ah saw this boy and bird gaun doon the road thegither, obviously really intae each other, no oan drugs or nowt. Ah thought, when wis the last time ah wis ever like that wi a lassie, withoot bein aw eckied up? In a fuckin previous life, that’s when. Ah kicked a stane and it bounced up and rattled, but didnae brek, the windscreen ay a parked car.
part two
The Over-whelming Ecstasy Of Love
13 Heather
He’s going to say something. Brian Case. Something like he says every other morning. He’s going to say something creepy. Mister Case. What am I going to do? I’m going to smile like I do every morning. Like I have a spoon stuck in my mouth. Smile. Smile, when you feel like you’re being stripped naked, exposed, held up for ridicule. No. I’m over-reacting. I have to take responsibility for how I react. I have to train myself to not physically react that way, to not physically cringe inside. To not do that. It’s my fault. I must control how I react.
– How’s the light of my life today? Case’s usual question.
I prepare to mouth my usual answer: fine, but something happens. – What makes you think I’m the light of your life?
Fuck. What am I saying? I can’t say this … why can’t I? Yes I can. I can say anything really. If he makes a strange, inappropriate comment I can ask for him to expand, to tell me what the fuck he actually means. What lies behind that comment?
– Well, seeing you every day certainly brightens up my life.
Try as I may, I can’t stop the bad Heather talking. She’s only been thinking before. Now she’s started talking. I’m schizophrenic and the bad Heather’s taking over … – That’s strange really, I mean the sheer imbalance of it all. Seeing you every day has absolutely no positive impact on my life whatsoever.
The significant moment; when something I couldn’t say becomes something I can not say. My rebellion has moved from inside my head to into my world. Yes! No! Yes! Fuck.
– Oh, he says hurt, it’s not pretend hurt this time, this wretched thing is actually genuinely hurt, – it’s like that, is it?
– I’m not sure what that is, I tell him, – it’s like I see it and like I feel it.
– Listen, he says with an air of concerned confidentiality, – if anything’s wrong you can talk to me about it. You don’t have to bite my head off you know. I’m not all bad, he says simperingly.
– How good or bad you are has nothing to do wi me. That’s for you to think about. Nothing’s wrong with me. In fact, it couldnae be more right.
– Well, you’re just acting a little strange …
I maintain a calm air,
– Look, your behaviour towards me has been based on an assumption you’ve made that I actually care about how you think I look. It’s nothing to do with anything. You’re my manager in the organisation, an organisation which is concerned with getting the job done rather than aesthetics or sexuality or whatever. It’s none of my business and I don’t intend to make it my business, but if how I look brightens up your life in the manner you suggest, I’d take a long hard look at myself and ask how much of a life I had.
– Oh, well thanks for putting me in the picture, he sulks, – I was just trying to be friendly.
– Yeah, well it’s me who is apologising. This is nothing to do with you. By acquiescing to your childish and boring behaviour I gave you the tacit impression I approved of it, which was wrong of me. I’m sorry for that, I really am.
He nods and looks a little bit bemused but then he smiles bashfully and says, – Right … I’ll just get on then.
He smiles bashfully. Mister Case. Jesus Christ!
I sit back at my computer and feel euphoric. At lunchtime I stride into the East Port Bar and reward myself with a gin and tonic. I sit by myself, but I don’t feel alone.
I feel really high and happy that afternoon and when I get home Hugh has left a message on the machine: Honey, I’ll be a bit late tonight. Jenny and I are working on another presentation for the team.
14 Lloyd
Ah’d had a good one wi Abdab doon in Newcastle, but ah wis fucked. He’d gied ays mair than a few grams ay coke for The Poisonous Cunt and the packet burned a hole in ma poakit oan the bus up. It was come-doon para stuff but ah kept thinking aboot Nukes and half-expecting the DS tae come oan the bus at every stoap. It didnae happen. Ah goat hame and made some soup.
Later on that night ah went up tae Tribal wi Ally. Ah was just wanting tae crash but the cunt insisted that ah came along. Ah even had tae take a couple of my ain Es which was bad news. This batch were different again, like Ketamine or something. Ah was pure cunted, ah couldnae dance. Ah sat in chill-out and Ally spraffed with me. – How you feelin, Lloyd?
– Fucked, ah sais.
– You should try some ay that crystal meth ah’ve got back at the hoose. Didnae even fuckin well blink eftir ah’d snorted that. Ah hud a fuckin hard-on man for three days, eh. Ah wis gaunnae abandon this quest fir love n brek ma vows and bell Amber tae come roond n sit oan ma face. Didnae want tae fuck wi her heid even mair man though, eh.
– She in the night?
– Aye, she’s upstairs. Her and that Hazel and Jasco. Jasco’s been knobbin that Hazel, he observed with rueful bitterness, blowing air out through his teeth and pushing his hair back, – Ah might have tae move in thair masel, man.
Amber didnae take long to locate me. She relieved Ally, letting him have a spell upstairs on the floor. – Ye dinnae huv tae sit wi ays, ah slurred. – ah’m awright. Jist a bit cunted …
– Sawright, she snapped, holding my hand in hers, before thoughtfully adding, – aw aye, that Veronica wis lookin for you.
As usual, it took ays a second or two to work out who she meant, then it hit me. Veronica was the tasteless nickname some people occasionally gave tae The Poisonous Cunt.
– Is she in here the night? ah asked with some apprehension, checking Amber’s watch tae see if we could make the curfew at Sublime or Sativa if it was a yes.
– Naw, this wis earlier at the City Cafe, eh.
Thank fuck. Ah took another pill and Ally, Amber and this young guy called Colin came back tae mine. Ah tried a shift oan the decks but ah was too fucked tae dae anything. This gig would be comin up soon n aw. We hud tae turn it doon cause the yuppie scum acroas the landin whae shouldnae be in Leith in the first place complained aboot the noise and ah didnae want the polis roond eftir what was gaun oan wi Nukes. It was a bit embarrassing as Amber was trying tae get intae Ally and this young Colin cunt was trying tae get intae her. If ah had a wee bit mair sexual ambivalence and energy, ah’d have tried to get intae the young guy just tae wind every cunt up even mair. Eventually, he went, then Ally did too and ah wanted Amber tae but she sat up all night playing music. Ah was cunted, ah telt her that ah was fir crashin. When ah woke up in the morning she was at the other end ay the bed, her feet in my face.
– How you doin, Lloyd? Amber asked.
She was pulling her trousers on, looking dead young with her make-up faded and ah was feeling a bit like some paedophile cunt, aye right ye are ya dirty wee fuckin stoat-the-baw cunt that ye are.
– Fine, ah goes.
– Dinnae look fine tae me. Your feet are boggin, by the way.
– It’s good ay ye tae say so. That’s real mates for ye. Ye want a coffee?
– Aye … sound. Dinnae go aw huffy but, eh, Lloyd. Everybody’s feet smell eftir a night ay kickin it in trainers.
– Ah ken that. Take yours for instance. Fuckin mingin, they wir, ah say, rising to make the coffee, as she gies ays a long, contemptuous scowl.
Ah was feeling pretty ropey. The coffee wisnae daein it for me. Ah had tae see The Poisonous Cunt. Ah hud no tae see The Poisonous Cunt. This was getting oot ay hand. Ally had left some ay that crystal meth and ah was intae giein it a go. Ah needed a hit ay something before gaun tae that place. – Ye want a snort ay this? ah asked Amber.
– Nup, widnae touch it.
– That’s sensible, ah said, chopping up a couple of lines.
– You’re mental, Lloyd. What dae ye dae that fir?
– Dinnae ken. There’s something missing in ma life. Ah’m an auld cunt now, compared tae you at any rate, and I’ve never really been in love. That’s fuckin sad, ah telt her, snortin the lines. They are rough and fiery as fuck on my nasal lining.
Amber said, – Aw Lloyd … and gave me a hug and ah wished that ah could be in love with her but I’m no, so nae sense in kiddin oan aye cause that’s shite fir every cunt and aw yi’ll get is a ride oot ay it and a ride is never worth a good friendship.
She left just as my head blew apart.
15 Heather
The doctor has given me Prozac. Hugh agrees that I should take the Prozac.
– You’ve been a bit down in the dumps and this will help to tide you over, the doctor told me. Or was it Hugh who said that? I can’t remember. It was them both.
Tide me over what?
– I’ll see, I tell Hugh, – I don’t like the idea of taking drugs in that way, becoming dependent on them. You hear so much about it.
I’m late. Late again for my work. I can’t get out of bed.
– Hu-neh-eh … the doctors are professionals. They know what they’re doing, he tells me, as he swings his bag full of golf clubs over his shoulder. He’s on a day off on flexi-time today. – God, I’d better go. Billy-boy’ll be wondering where I’ve got to. We’re on tee at Pitreavie today, just cause I slaughtered him last week at Canmore. That’s Bill, Hugh shrugs. – Maybe we’ll nip round to his and Moll’s later, eh? Hugh kisses me and departs, – Bye, Honey.
I phone my pal Marie. She tells me to take the day off work sick and get the train over to Haymarket Station in Edinburgh. She’s going to take the day off as well. It seems the easiest thing in the world to just agree.
At Dunfermline station I wonder why there’s only one train an hour into Edinburgh, when Inverkeithing down the road has three or four. Thankfully I’ve only fifteen minutes until it’s due and then it’s only ten minutes late which is pretty good going.
Marie and I go around the shops and then back to her place and sit and drink tea and blether all afternoon. She skins up a few joints and I feel giggly. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to but I have to make a move to Haymarket Station.
– Stay here tonight. Let’s go out. There’s a club on in town. Let’s get E’d up and go out, you and me, Marie says.
– I can’t … I have to get back … Hugh … I hear myself bleat.
– He’s old enough to look after himself for one night. C’mon. Let’s do it. You’ve got Prozac, that’s brilliant. We can take them after the
Es. They prolong the effects of the Ecstasy while destroying the toxins in the MDMA which may or may not cause brain damage in later life. Therefore Prozac makes E completely safe.
– I don’t know … I’ve never taken drugs in years. I’ve heard a lot about Ecstasy …
– Ninety per cent of it’ll be bullshit. It kills you, but so does everything, every piece of food you ingest, every breath of air you take. It does you a lot less damage than the drink.
– Okay … but I don’t want to hallucinate …
It’s no like acid, Heather. You’ll just feel good about yourself and the rest of the world for a while. There’s nothing wrong with that.
– Okay, I agreed tentatively.
Like a coward, I left a message for Hugh on the answer-phone at home. Then we went out to a pre-club bar and then onto the club. I felt a bit foolish dressed in the clothes Marie had looked out for me. She was the same size as I was and she and I used to swap clothes when we were students. When we dressed the same. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt like a clown in the clothes, the short skirt, the tight T-shirt. But they suited Marie, and we were the same age. At the club, I thought everybody would be staring at me, but nobody bothered. I was a bit bored at first. Marie hadn’t let us drink in the pubs. It’ll spoil the E, she told us. I craved a gin for my nerves.
I took the pill in the club. It came on strong at first and I felt a bit sick in the stomach. I felt a bit bad, though not as bad as I was making out to Marie. – You’re making yourself feel bad by fighting it, Marie whispered, smiling at me. Then I felt it in my arms, through my body, up my back: a tingling, rushy sensation. I looked at Marie and she was beautiful. I’d always known that she was beautiful, but I had come, over the years, to look at her in terms of decline. I looked for signs of crow’s feet, extra pounds, signs of greying. If I found or didn’t find these it didn’t matter. The point was that I had been looking for them in Marie, and by implication, in myself, and blinding myself as to how she, and I, really were in totality.