‘Last night was ...’ He trailed off and she could see immediately the familiar confusion burgeoning behind his eyes. It had been a lovely night. Mostly. But how it could have been a different kind of night, that fact squatted between them.
‘Oh, Jake, it was great fun. The restaurant –’
‘I know. But.’
He had interrupted her. But impotently. Into the silence flowed an awareness of the unusual calm of their shared house.
‘So nice to be not hung-over. Or not too hung-over,’ she said, messing with her pillow.
‘Yeah. Makes a nice change.’ He leant on his arm and pulled the curtain back. Examined the scene without. She wondered what for.
‘I think I want to say something, but I’m not really sure what,’ he said, gazing out at nothing.
‘OK.’
‘Ah …’
This stalling unease settled then, came and went with them. It sometimes hung in the air like spores. It was the future. It had stalked them since his return.
Lucy looked at him and knew he was back in the restaurant from the night before. That moment when the pair of them didn’t know where to look and so examined the wallpaper and willed the bloody waiter over to break the tension with his awful banter. All she’d said was something about planning. She thought she’d finessed it. But it could be hard to. Her enthusiasm, she knew, sometimes moved him, or them both, into a tight corner.
Then Jake spoke: ‘Why don’t we have a meeting?’
‘A meeting. Good idea.’
And under the covers they went.
‘Glad you could make it at such short notice.’
‘That’s fine, not a problem.’
‘Maybe I should start with the obvious stuff. This,’ he pointed at the bed, ‘was good, I thought.’
She nodded softly, but definitely.
‘Yeah, a very good showing by you.’ He tipped his hands toward her. ‘By me,’ and he brought them back towards himself, ‘and you know, in a very real sense, by us.’
‘Concur. Concur. Good synergies.’
‘Excellent synergies. I was very happy with all the synergies.’
‘I could tell.’
‘Yes, some very interesting things were brought to the table.’
‘Oh yes, we did dally in the dining room downstairs didn’t we?’
‘We took advantage of an empty house … in every way.’
‘Rather. And then the sofa, and finally here in the bed. Where it’s meant to be done.’
‘Yes, well, you are still British darling.’
‘I am. And it would seem yah gap yaaaah somewhat invigorated you.’
‘Ah, ma gap yah.’
‘Yah, yar gap yar, yah.’
And then after the pause, after the beat they found so easily.
‘… such fun.’
A pause too on the other side. An acknowledgement of just how good they were together.
‘Where are you from anyway? Oh yeah, Canada actually.’
‘Yes, I’m from Canada actually. Listen Lucy, what I’m trying to say –’ But he stopped again. ‘I’m ...’
She laid her hands on him. ‘Jake, it’s OK.’
And then they lay there for a spell. She with her head on his chest, in the comfortable spot found or made three eventful years ago and now, it seemed, unearthed again, after their hiatus. This part was always easy.
‘I’m glad I came back, Lucy.’
‘Me too.’ She kissed his chest. ‘Oh you boys.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
The alternative to his returning went whistling through the room for a second. She continued quickly.
‘There was some innovation too. That was good. Must minute all that. Try some of that again.’
‘Hmm, maybe not the ...’ And he did a rather odd but very effective mime.
‘No no. Not without some, y’know …’
‘Well quite darling. Indeed.’ [hint of the RP again here…]
And the two of them thought about doing that, without any of that which they would need and they both looked at each other and said.
‘Oh no.’
She started fiddling then.
‘Yes all very highly commendable. That is distracting,’ he said; more of an observation than anything.
‘Hmmm.’
‘OK, seriously.’ he said.
She stopped, put on her prim face. Jake turned to face her.
‘Yesterday. All of it was really fantastic. Well most of it.’
He leaned back, flattened out the sheet redundantly and then she saw stillness steal over him the way it did sometimes. He was going to speak and it was going to be either interesting or funny. This was one of his gifts. She waited. This she could do.
‘My Dad didn’t use to say very much. But occasionally, he’d come up with a real zinger. He used to say you got one insight into your own life, every year, maybe two, if you were a man. One or two clear lines of sight son, into how things are and how they’re going to be.’
He looked right into her eyes, managing somehow to heap quiet onto an already still moment, and said,
‘I think I might be catching up. Or catching on.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, at last. That, it’s marvellous. That it’s always been … marvellous. And that we could go on like this, with holidays together and things talked about or alluded to occasionally, for years. Well, for a time.’
‘OK …’
‘But why bother? All that tension and fretting. I mean. I’m not asking you that question. Well not quite. But why don’t I just not meet the stereotype? For once. Just not be a bloke and just speak my mind.’
She stroked his chest hair and then looked up fixedly into his eyes. ‘I hope I’m not supposed to minute all that.’
He laughed and she rolled in closer. She thought about what she would say carefully. It was her turn to speak now. This they understood.
‘There’s a question-shaped gap, then. A light that never goes out?’
‘Ha. Yes.’
Then, almost whispered: ‘We can’t wait too long Jake.’
‘OK.’
‘Because I just can’t. It’s different for me.’
‘I know.’
He placed his fingertip on her fingertip, and then said coolly, almost to himself.
‘Oh Lucy. We could do it all before breakfast – and then just enjoy ourselves,’
‘The whole day through Jake?’
‘Yes, the whole day through.’
He rolled on top of her, entwined their hands together fully. She slipped her other hand around his back.
'Yes. I’ll look after you, the whole day through. If you’ll have me. If you’ll let me.’ With his eyes closed, as if in prayer.
And she said yes. Yes I will Jake. Through eyes as tightly shut as his. And answering. And answering, ‘Yes, I will.’
(c) Michael Carey, 2013
Michael Carey lives in North London and feels, quite frankly, that this should be enough to land a book deal. So far, nothing, but he’s working on it. He can often be found scowling in pubs and also here where he's sometimes funny, often angry…occasionally thoughtful. (https://twitter.com/Menaman1) Michael hopes that one day he'll believe his own hype. http://apparentlyaspark.wordpress.com/
James McNeill trained at LAMDA. Theatre includes Wanda’s Visit (New End), Bank (King’s Head), Of Mice and Men (Shaw), The Merchant Of Venice (The Rose, Bankside) and The Cherry Orchard (White Bear). Film includes The Road to Guantanamo, W.E., Sherlock Holmes: Game Of Shadows, Hyde Park On Hudson.
Lisa Rose is an actress/writer/mother: not necessarily in that order, but they all do inform her creativity. She trained at LAMDA and has appeared on stage at the Leicester Haymarket, Tricycle Theatre, Edinburgh Fringe and Houghton Tower. On screen she has appeared with John Malkovich, Timothy West & Kate Nelligan.
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