‘Take my advice: let him want you. No kisses until you have a ring.’
‘I promise.’
‘He seems so unhappy. Try to make him smile.’
‘Does he look unhappy?’
‘Oh yes, he has that look of someone who’s never really been shown love. You can do that part.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘I taught little ones for many years and I learned a few things in return. Some of the biggest bullies had eyes just like Marcus. I never mistreated them. I could always achieve so much more by showing them love and tenderness – and by giving them cookies, of course. All kids love cookies.’
‘I’ll fill him up with tenderness and sweet things then.’
‘That’s my girl! Now run along and take him some of the treats I baked today.’
Barbie made up a parcel of cookies and Penny was forced to leave the apartment with it to humour her. She made her grandma swear she would go to sleep, and Barbie promised, her face as innocent as a child’s.
At last, Penny climbed the twisting staircase up to the attic, so narrow with its low ceiling that she wondered how Marcus even managed to get up there. She knocked, excited beyond all reason. He opened after ten seconds, still wet but no longer sweaty. He smelled of soap, a light soap with a faint hint of mint and citrus. He was evidently in the habit of changing without towelling off, because his clean T-shirt clung to his body just like the one before had. He was wearing a different pair of sweatpants and was barefoot. This time, Penny commanded her tongue to remain in her mouth.
‘These are for you from my grandma, but don’t eat them. She put detergent in them, I think.’
Marcus made no comment and pointed to the single table that served for the kitchen, living room and study – the only table present in that tiny space, in fact. Marcus had moved the couch and laid out a rubber mat.
If Penny had been under any illusion that Marcus might have a secret motive in wanting to teach her self-defence, she would have been in for a harsh wake-up call. Fortunately, she hadn’t remotely entertained this possibility, and she trusted him. Somehow she trusted an ex-convict she’d known for less than two weeks, who could put her out of action with a mere snap of his fingers. She’d let him turn her upside down like a doll without fearing for a moment that he might harm her.
Penny listened to him carefully. She learned some basic moves – how to wriggle to loosen his grip, to aim for the eyes, nose, crotch or ankles of a potential attacker.
During one manoeuvre, she suddenly found herself lying on the rubber mat with Marcus on top of her. There were at least three inches between them, but he was closer than ever before to her, and she realised how small and fragile she was in comparison. A delicate little leaf against the solid bulk of an ancient oak.
‘In this position you have to lift your knee,’ Marcus explained, touching Penny’s thigh to show her the movement.
Her mind exploded at his touch, and she blushed, knowing full well that if Marcus had asked or even gestured for them to make love, she’d have no hesitation. It was as if the very existence of Marcus had awakened her from a very long sleep. It no longer seemed a step too far, like scaling the snowy heights of Mount Everest or bungee-jumping off some fearsome bridge. For a long time she had imagined sex as a special skill, a talent she didn’t possess, something one was born with or not. Now it seemed natural, easy, necessary . . .
At that precise moment, the door to the apartment swung open and Mr Malkovich appeared, wearing his usual tattered suit, tie loose around his neck, glasses on the tip of his nose and a pen between his fingers. Marcus jumped like a leopard surprised by its prey. Penny lay there, half paralysed with astonishment.
‘Well, that’s got me reassured,’ the parole officer commented effusively, without so much as a greeting. ‘I’ll admit that after our previous meeting, I did have the slightest suspicion it was all an act – you two being a couple, I mean – but this surprise visit has dispelled all my doubts. And I know you stopped writing to Miss Lopez – good boy. I ran a background check on you, Miss Miller, and I’m very satisfied with what I learned. You’re definitely the person best suited to lead our Marcus down the right path. Right, I’ll be off then and you two can get back to it.’
With that, and without giving Penny or Marcus the chance to utter a single word, he left. Marcus stood up abruptly and whacked his head on the ceiling.
‘Shit!’ he said, massaging his skull.
‘Did he really come in here, or was I hallucinating?’ asked Penny, sitting up.
‘He’s less stupid than I thought,’ Marcus muttered to himself.
‘Except that now he’ll be convinced we’re madly in love and having sex all the time.’
Marcus gave her a smile, and Penny felt something blossom inside her. He smiled so seldom that, when he did, Penny was quite sure the planets shifted from their orbits to contemplate the wonder of it.
‘Get up.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better if we lie down again, just in case he comes back?’
‘Didn’t you lock the door when you came in?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘OK. First rule of self-defence: lock the fucking door of the fucking house.’
‘Sorry, it slipped my mind. I had those cookies and . . .’
‘Next time be more careful.’
‘Will there be a next time?’
The smile wiped off his face and he frowned. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what that pain in the ass expects from me. I have to pretend not to want to see Francisca anymore. She’s going to wonder what happened to me. I’m so pissed.’
Slowly, Penny looked down at the floor. ‘I could do it,’ she said.
‘Do what?’
‘I could tell Francisca that you haven’t stopped loving her, you haven’t stopped thinking about her, you’re just pretending.’
Marcus stared at her as if he had X-ray vision and could see right through her. ‘You’d really do that for me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘Why all the whys? Because I like you.’
‘You’re a strange person. I’ve never met anyone like you before.’
‘Can I see a picture of her? I want to make sure I’ll be talking to the right woman.’
He nodded and started rummaging in the pocket of a jacket hanging from the knob of the bathroom door. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. Penny held her breath, as if it were part of a ritual in which she was miraculously allowed to participate.
The photo was a few years old. It showed a younger and skinnier Marcus with a woman for whom ‘gorgeous’ was an understatement. She was way more than that. She was Jessica Alba’s dangerous twin. In the picture they were close, half-naked – an in-bed selfie. Neither of them was smiling. Penny wondered if they had just made love, and why they looked so serious and like they were consumed by some centuries-old fatigue. Marcus was holding one of his constant cigarettes between his fingers. Francisca was holding the phone and nuzzling into Marcus’s face with a languor that seemed like her natural attitude, rather than just exhaustion following wild sex.
‘She doesn’t like having her picture taken,’ Marcus commented. ‘I don’t have that many of her. She always says photos steal her soul.’
Penny nodded and muttered, ‘She’s very beautiful.’
‘She’s the most beautiful woman I know,’ Marcus insisted.
‘See? You’re romantic in your own way.’
‘I’m not romantic, it’s just a fact. I mean, look at her.’
‘Yes, she’s beautiful.’
‘Would you really do that for me?’
‘Tell me when you want me to go and I’ll go.’
‘You’re really strange, Penny.’
‘I’m the strangest.’
‘You’re not so bad yourself, you know.’
‘If you’re just saying that to soften me up, you don’t have to. I said I’ll go, OK?’
‘W
hat does that even mean, “soften me up”? And I never say things I don’t mean. With me, what you see is what you get.’
‘What I see is already a lot.’
Penny got to her feet. There was a big spiky lump in her throat – seeing Marcus’s mysterious and intimidating girlfriend had made her feel downright terrible. Penny didn’t think she’d fallen in love with Marcus exactly, it was just her hormones talking. The same old story of all her cells and atoms in turmoil – nothing to do with the secrets of the soul. It was so easy to confuse the two. So easy to look at Marcus and think that her thumping heart was more than just lust, when it was nothing other than a twenty-two-year-old virgin’s need to open herself up like a ripe pomegranate for the sexiest man she had ever seen.
At least, she hoped that was the case. Because if there was more to it than that, she was digging her own grave.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to lie down next to her grandma and hug her, hide her face in Barbie’s silvery hair and cry, even though weeping was a tragic and disproportionate and totally pointless reaction to the reality of the situation.
‘Next time I see you, you can tell me where to go and what to say to her.’
‘OK . . . thanks,’ said Marcus, and Penny got the impression that ‘thanks’ was a word he seldom used.
Just before she left, Penny reached up on tiptoe and lightly touched Marcus’s cheek. His skin was freshly shaved, barely roughened by the shadow of dark stubble. He didn’t back away, but seemed troubled by her gesture.
Penny smiled at him and said quietly, ‘My grandma says that bullies need more tenderness than other kids do,’ then she headed back downstairs before he could ask any questions.
Leaning against the wall with one leg bent and a cigarette at his lips, Marcus was waiting outside for her when she left Well Purple. Her stomach did a somersault so fast that, for a moment, she thought she’d done one herself. For four long hours she had survived the fuggy atmosphere of the bar, terrified that Grant would repeat his little trick from the previous night and jumpy whenever anyone came up close. An actual somersault might have helped soothe the sudden rush of adrenaline when she finally made contact with the sweet night air and the scent of rain to come. Penny, however, feared it was Marcus’s presence that was rocking her to the very core – against her will and without him knowing anything about it. How would she be feeling right now if she actually wanted to get together with him? But that was a stupid question that would never be answered.
‘Well, aren’t you just the punctual one?’ she told him as he stubbed out his cigarette, crushing it under the heel of his massive black leather boot. They walked along the street, under a mist so fine it turned to dust before hitting the sidewalk.
‘I don’t like to do a half-ass job when I’m working. Were you OK in there?’
‘Usual story.’
‘Did that asshole show up?’
‘Not tonight.’
‘So what does he look like?’
‘He’s tall, skinny, blond. Well dressed.’
‘You like that type?’
She turned, and looked at him angrily for a moment. ‘I didn’t think you judged women for actually being interested in a man. If I was wrong, I can take myself home.’
Marcus reached out and touched her elbow. It was very brief, but Penny had the impression that this fleeting gesture expressed something like friendship.
‘I’m not judging you,’ Marcus said. He took another cigarette, put it in his mouth, then patted down his body in search of a lighter.
I’ll help if you want.
‘You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Otherwise I’d have to be afraid of you.’
‘You should be afraid of me.’
‘I was at first, but only for a moment; only because I was afraid you were Grant. I was afraid of the dark more than I was of you.’
Marcus found the lighter. The tip of his cigarette glowed orange as it touched the little flame. He took a long draw and, with the smoke still in his lungs, in icy tones he murmured, ‘You should be afraid, you know. I’m not the type who would ever attack you, so you don’t need to fear me like that, but just don’t think this can go anywhere – don’t imagine anything else between us. You pay me and I’ll escort you home. You help me and I help you. It’s a business agreement.’
Penny nodded as she poked around in her coat pocket. Marcus’s words sounded right. They were certainly preferable to those of other men who might come into Penny’s life and invent a million stories to gain her confidence, as Grant had done. She preferred Marcus’s sincerity, even if it hurt her heart.
‘Here,’ she said finally, taking out five ten-dollar bills. ‘Your first paycheque.’
Marcus shoved the bills into his pocket with no hesitation. Further demonstration of his frankness. A transaction – there was nothing else between them.
‘Now, tell me what I have to do to go and see Francisca.’
Marcus was silent for a few seconds, then told her about the prison where Francisca was locked up. It was about two hundred miles away. The best day of the week for visits was Sunday: there were more people and the checks were less thorough. She’d have to be ready for a full-body search and to be questioned on why she was visiting.
‘When Malkovich finds out, he may ask why you went,’ Marcus said, almost to himself.
‘He’ll think it’s a gesture of friendship. Do you think they listen in to conversations?’
‘No, they don’t take things that far. They’re not the Taliban.’
‘Well then, I’ll tell Malkovich that I went to tell her it’s over between you two – that you didn’t have the guts to do it yourself. He’ll believe that.’
‘He’ll believe it because that’s what he would do. Because he’s a mediocre government employee who’s probably wanted to divorce his wife since who knows how long back, but can’t work up the courage and would be happy if someone else did it for him.’
‘Or else he’ll believe it because he knows how much you love Francisca, and he knows that seeing her in tears would kill you.’
‘Francisca would never cry over such bullshit.’
‘You think the love of your life leaving you is bullshit?’
‘You’d never understand.’
‘What? What exactly wouldn’t I understand?’
Marcus turned abruptly, once again reminding her of some pent-up wild creature. ‘What it means to survive. Anyone who’s cried out all their tears by the age of twelve will never shed a single tear again. She cares about me all right, but if I let her go, she’d come out of it stronger than before. I’ve never once seen her cry. And anyway, it’s completely hypothetical, because I have every intention of dying at her side.’
Penny made no comment. She had always believed that love was about living with someone, not dying, but she said nothing. His truth was something else – for him, life was a struggle and love was a weapon. Standing together in the face of harsh adversity, and not just being together for the wonder of it. She had no idea what had happened in their pasts, what Marcus and Francisca had suffered and shared, but surely that kind of love was all they could allow themselves.
It’s certainly more than I’ll ever have.
‘How do I get there?’ Penny asked.
‘How do we get there, you mean.’
‘You’re coming too?’
‘I’m not letting you go alone. You never know what might happen.’
‘Are you trying to supervise my mission?’
‘That’s one way to put it.’
Right then, the rain began to hurl itself from the sky, the heavy drops forming dense sheets of water. Marcus flicked away his cigarette and grabbed Penny by the hand, dragging her towards the door of their building. Her legs felt like clay and she was as wet as a chick in a puddle. Marcus ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, making a hail of drops fall on to the floor.
‘Go and get changed,’ Marcus urged her. ‘If you get sick we can’t go anyw
here on Sunday.’
‘How very selfless of you.’
‘I need you and I want you to stay healthy – till this Sunday at least.’
‘Then I can crawl off and die?’
‘Be my guest.’
Penny muttered something under her breath and set off up the stairs. As per usual, the switch wasn’t working, so Marcus took out the powerful little flashlight from his pocket and its warm beam lit up the stairwell.
But when Penny tried to open her apartment door, she realised something terrible had happened. Barbie had drawn the chain. The door opened a short way but then resisted. Unless she could magically morph into a sheet of paper, Penny would not be getting through any time soon. She stood there, paralysed in front of the crack that was taunting her. Then Marcus said from behind, ‘I can break that right off for you – fittings like that are no good to anyone.’
‘Can you do it quietly?’
‘It’s an iron bolt, not a cookie made with detergent. It will make some noise.’
‘My grandma would have a heart attack this late at night – and the same thing would happen if I tried to phone her to let me in.’
‘So what are you planning to do then?’
She turned and looked at him nervously – worried about what she was about to say. ‘It’s easy. I’ll come sleep at yours.’
Marcus started in alarm, a surprising reaction for a man of his size. ‘Forget it.’
‘OK then, I’ll stay right here, get pneumonia, and Francisca will keep thinking you’re an asshole.’
‘Francisca already knows I’m an asshole. Can’t you ask another neighbour for their hospitality?’
‘I don’t know anyone well enough to ask.’
‘You don’t know me well enough, but you’re still asking.’
Penny tilted her head to one side and stared at him provocatively. ‘So what’s the problem? You think I’ll jump you in your sleep?’
Marcus gave a mocking laugh and brought his face close to hers. He whispered into her ear, their cheeks touching, still damp from the rain. ‘Don’t play with fire, monkey. You’re the last girl in the world that I’d touch if I had all my wits about me, but you jump me at night and I might not be such a perfect gentleman. I’m all man and my gears are in full working order, so watch what you say.’
Trying Not To Love You Page 6