(a week and 9 hours before)
(Blindfolded)
A: Legs akimbo.
H: This is gonna hurt, right?
A: No, luv, trust me. It’s won’t be that bad.
H: (almost crying) It’s gonna hurt so bad … I know it will.
A: Husten, you fucking wimp, keep your legs akimbo.
H: Don’t show me that fucking grin, you bitch.
A: How would you know?
H: You left enough for me to see.
A: I know I did. I’m just too nice, aren’t I?
.
(a quiet pint in a local pub, Boy and Husten waiting for A, killing time with (what by no means turned out to be) small-talk)
Boy: A tells me you’re well-read.
H: Not at all. Are you?
B: Read any Ian McEwan?
H: Can’t say I have. Do you like him?
B: Just finished one of his novels. It was all right.
H: Do you like reading, do you?
B: I do. But you’re the expert apparently.
H: I am not at all. It’s just my old-fashioned education. And you, young people being puzzled coz of your lack of it. Well, that’s what I say to A rather.
Boy: (smiles)
…
H: (whispering) Between you and me, I fake it like, all the time.
Boy: (whispering and winking) A said you would say that.
H: (still whispering) She’s easily impressed.
B: (still winking) She is not, but here is this, Husten. Tell me: phylogeny or ontogeny?
H: Good question. In any case, not for me to answer. I’m not that well-read, I’m afraid.
B: But you know what I’m talking about?
H: Yeah, yeah, yeah … Nature vs. Nurture and all that.
B: So, you do … A. was right, you do have a bit of an ego, haven’t you?
H: (laughs, loudly) A bit? Are you clearly seeing the middle-aged, mid-life crisis, bespectacled guy sitting in front of you?
B: Ahuh.
H: But clearly?
B: (smiles) I do.
H: Not pissed? Don’t need my glasses?
B: (laughs) No.
H: Well, the biggest dilettante in the world, I am. Right here in front of you. You should ask for my autograph.
B: Always pretending, aren’t you?
…
H: Ever read Middlesex by Eugen …?
Boy: Loved it.
H: There’s your answer about that nature-nurture thing.
B: A …
H: I gave that novel to A.
B: Was gonna say … I know you did.
H: You do?
B: She gave your copy to me. That’s why I asked.
H: I doubt it if she ever made it past the first 20 pages.
B: It’s one of her favourite novels.
H: Because she’s only read about 2, right?
B: (sort of a giggle)
H: Don’t ever have a conversation with her about ontogeny and phylolologeny … fucking hell, I can’t even pronounce it.
B: I know you don’t mean that.
H: …
B: …
H: Sorry, that was an awful thing to say about your girlfriend.
…
B: Come on, Husten. You explained it all to A about Middlesex recently and then she told me. Why pretending?
H: Must have been pissed.
…
B: I don’t understand you.
…
H: I am mightily impressed that she even … I don’t … I … have no idea how to take this … Whatever you are trying to tell me, I am not even gradually, slowly getting it … Come on, what do you want from me?
…
B: I am doing my best, that’s all.
H: Doing your best? Your best with what?
B: Making sure she is happy.
H: Making sure she is … ? You are not even middle-class.
B: We’ve talked about this before and I will never get it, Husten.
H: There’s no such thing as happy. I mean “happy”?
B: Making sure you are.
H: Making sure I am? What? Happy?
B: …
H: You love her that much, do you?
Boy: Stop faking it.
H: …
…
Boy: You are a bit too harsh on her sometimes.
H: I’m awful to her all the time.
B: No, you are not.
H: I am. Whatever … fucking … bitter … thing … I may say to her, she will smile, but she takes it at … to … whatever … heart, I know she does.
B: Do you love her?
H: No, man, I’m just …
B: She loves you.
H: …
B: …
H: Don’t be ridiculous.
B: …
(Four seconds later)
A: Hey! … You two! All right? (kiss … and … kiss) A dry white wine for me, please!
(5 minutes later)
A: Now … this pub quiz … Boy … (cuddle), … whatever answer Husten gives … it’s gonna be the wrong one. Trust me, he’s useless and knows fuck …
H: Hold on a minute …
A: Especially if he has been drinking.
…
(10 minutes later)
A: Very good, Husten, you seemed to have known at least …
H: Fuck off.
…
(30 minutes later … Boy goes to the loo)
H: Kiss me.
A: I can’t now!
H: You heard me … kiss me.
…
H: That’s not a proper kiss.
A: We …
H: Try again.
A: …
H: You … too fucking late, Boy’s coming back from the toilets.
(blindfolded)
A: Is this gonna hurt?
H: Legs akimbo.
A: It’s gonna hurt, right? Husten, you fucking arsehole.
H: Keep your legs akimbo.
A: Don’t show me that fucking grin.
H: How would you know?
A: You left enough for me to see.
(on the phone)
A: That wasn’t very nice of you earlier.
H: I know. I had a bad evening, my conscience and all that.
A: Boy is worried he said something wrong to you.
H: You’ve put it right to him … with … to, with, for, whatever, I meant Boy, you know what I mean, right? Soz, my English is all over the place.
A: You pissed?
H: Does a bear shit in the woods?
A: Of course I put it right.
H: Thank you.
A: You were more nasty than your usual self though. Did I say something to upset you?
H: As if you ever could. Can I speak to Boy? I’d like to apologise.
A: He left.
H: Left?
A: He’s gotta work tomorrow morning.
H: You didn’t go home with him?
A: No, I wanted to stay out. But tomorrow is our big night out.
H: Where are you off to now?
A: …
H: …
A: I don’t know any of these people here.
H: You wanna come to mine?
A: Taxi booked. Time of the month over. So sweet how you tried to sound all innocent there.
H: Now, really? How long for the taxi?
A: 20 minutes, tops.
H: By the time you get here, I want you to be wearing no knickers, got that? I swear to God, if they are expensIve, you better take them off.
A: Husten …
H: I’ll promise you, right here, right now, you won’t make it to the top of the stairs. Time of the month or not. Lube or no lube.
A: If only Boy could be like you.
H: Shut up and do as I tell you.
A: Shall we fill the remaining time with small talk?
(hangs up … pours another whiskey)
.
Had to come home early tonight. Had to. Was out with lots of people. Most of whom I had never met. Most of whom … what does it matter?
Husten, come to your senses, man.
Nevermind.
But Boy and A were there too. They were having a good time. Smiling and laughing and giggling and being luvvy duvvy. I saw, overlooked, judged and approved.
All my work.
Then.
Boy started talking to me. Wish he hadn’t. Saying how he was so glad to have come to know me better because of A. How A is introducing him to all these interesting people. How much he enjoyed watching the dynamics between A and me.
The dynamics?
The fucking dynamics?
I thought I had reached my level of Catholic guiltiness.
Obviously not.
Wish I still believed in confession.
When I decided to take my sudden leave, A wasn’t too pleased. She knew why. She knows me better than my own mother does. Her words. But she doesn’t understand. I’m simply, quite simply not as strong/devious/mature/straightforward/whatever … take-your-pick/ as her.
Another argument ensued. Boy looking onto and into with amusement. I tried to keep on smiling. Didn’t work. Boy now pleading for me to stay as well.
I miss L. I do. I mean at least it was uncomplicated then. Sort of. I mean … just because A and Husten come from the Land of Plenty? All my own doing, my own fault, my work.
Milena would kill me.
I know what I need. A good, decent, steady, middle-class girlfriend who makes plans to set up shop/house/family/kids/what-the-fuck-ever. As if. As fucking if.
Milena would kill me even more.
(whispering)
A: If he asks, I will tell him.
H: A, listen to me, please, you cannot ever tell Boy.
A: I can’t lie, Husten.
H: Look into my eyes … I said, look into my eyes … you can NEVER EVER tell him.
A: He probably won’t ask.
H: A, no not probably, ah fuck it … I can’t have a conversation like this with Boy next-doors.
A: He’ll understand.
H: No, he won’t, that’s the effing point, don’t be naive.
A: Stop telling me what to do in my own relationship.
H: I’m not tell …
(suddenly … opening of a door)
Boy: Anyone fancy a cup of tea?
A: …
H: …
Boy: Did I interrupt something?
H: No, not at all, we were huh …
A: … arguing.
Boy: You two … honestly … You remind me of a brother and sister constantly having a go at each other.
H: I’ll be the sister.
Boy: What do you mean by that?
H: Dunno … Ignore me … I’m talking out of me arse.
A: He usually does.
Boy: Will you leave him alone?
H: Exactly. Heard that, A? Leave me alone.
Boy: My God, if looks could kill, I’d say A just decapitated both of us with one glance, wouldn’t you, Husten?
(early evening)
(on the phone)
H: How is Boy?
A: He is fine. Aren’t you, Boy? … He is nodding his head in agreement.
H: Soo, no questions about last night then?
A: None.
H: Can you go somewhere we can talk?
A: No.
H: What about last night?
A: Leave it to me.
H: But …
A: I said … leave it to me.
H: Ok. Love you.
A: Speak soon.
…
(what gave me the confidence to give it to L.)
(proper)
(a couple of days ago)
(a conversation. an enlightening one)
H: Why are you not in touch with L. anymore?
A: Coz he’s an arsehole.
H: Like suddenly, out of the blue, after all this time, that’s your analysis of him?
A: Let’s talk about something else.
H: No. I want to know. To understand. You owe me that much.
A: New York was awful. He was always telling me what to do, where to go, and if I suggested something he had a better idea.
H: I do that.
A: You don’t. But this is your self-confidence thing again, Husten.
H: …
A: No, Husten, no way it was the same. It was … like a dictator.
H: But that’s how he is. You knew that. The emperor of his little empire.
A: I was looking forward to seeing New York …
H: You …
A: Don’t say it, Husten, … whatever you’re gonna say now, just don’t …
H: …
…
H: Can I talk now?
A: It depends.
…
H: Wish you would have told me this before.
A: You learn. From experiences like this.
H: Oh, lovely, lovely … I’m so sorry.
…
A: You never ask questions, do you?
H: I do now.
A: I love you so much.
H: Don’t get sentimental on me.
…
(a couple of glasses of red and white wine later)
A: I mean I wanted to go shopping. And we did. But you would never look at your watch. … you would never be embarrassed if I tried on an expensive dress in an expensive shop, even if it was obvious for all to see it didn’t fit me. He made me feel so humiliated, so fat.
H: I like going shopping with you.
A: You do, don’t you?
H: I love it.
A: I could never have a conversation with Boy about this.
H: He doesn’t like shopping?
A: You know what I mean.
H: I’m sorry.
A: Come here, you big, fat teddy bear, give me a big, fat hug. I’m so sorry. I’m a stupid bitch, aren’t I?
H: (muffled) Fat? Me? What about you?
A: I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.
Because.
She comes from a land.
Up North.
Because.
She comes from a land.
Of Plenty.
Insomniac as I am.
What was not argued. This time.
H: You or Boy never told me he worked in that sandwich place.
A: That’s why he recognised you. Remembered you with your weird foreign taste. Your sandwiches full of fucking mayonnaise.
H: Boy talked to you about this?
A: Have a guess.
H: This is months’ ago. But why did he …
A: … He’s embarrassed about working there, Husten, don’t you understand?
H: No.
A: You’re so fucking slow.
H: Should I go somewhere else from now on then?
…
H: Noticed I washed my duvet?
A: I did, Husten, smells fresh, but you know.
H: Yeah, I know. Time of the month and all that. Could still fondle your breasts.
A: A kiss will do.
H: On your earlobes … your neck … your nipples …?
…
A: You are forever the kid, aren’t you?
…
H: What about down under? Can’t ignore that.
A: No. Not tonight. But, you can … it’s not in your drawer, get the lube, will you?
H: You know, technically we are …
A: Oh, bloody hell, Husten … not cheating? You and your Catholic morals.
H: Would you terribly mind not upsetting the delicate status quo of me religious upbringing?
A: Here we fucking go again. Get on with it.
…
A: Where did you find it?
H: Who cares? In the bathroom. You left it there last time.
A: Liar.
H: This is fast turning into a massive turn-off.
A: Not from what I can see.
H: Fuck you.
A: My arse will do.
H: Why do you have to be so rude sometimes?
A: We love it.
H: True.
A: Where’s the vibrator?
Enter who?
A’s boyfriend.
[From now on called "Boy". He's gonna need an "Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée du Fall On Me", the impression being given lately he may well be around for quite some time. Not in the least thanks to my self-denying, self-sacrificing and philanthropic efforts. Not that he would know. I want him to know though. But not just now. Later. After A and Boy have split up. But that's for later. Much later.
Anyway.
A does. Know. Realise. Should be grateful. For saving my soul. Hers. My sanity. Hers. Ours.
S.O.S.
Save Our Sanity.
So should he. The Boy. His. For now.
But if she was ever to read this, I'd be a dead man.
Nevertheless.
Nonetheless.
True though.
Come to think of it, I'm just too good for this world.]
So.
Bumped by accident into Boy this morning. In a sandwich shop. Was pleased to see him. I like him. A lot. Partly because he always seems to do his own thing. Doesn’t fit in with the rest of the Boys and Girls. The Young’ns. Partly, mostly, because A really likes him. Or. At least tries to. Is trying to. Sometimes.
Just doesn’t fancy him. Oh, I know.
But.
She has to.
Because I tell her to.
S.O.S.
At least try to. Am trying to. Sometimes.
Anyway, this post is not going where I want it to go.
So.
Let’s try again.
___
Enter who?
Bumped by accident into Boy this morning.
In a sandwich shop.
I said, “Hi!”.
As well as.
Winking.
As well as.
Slapping him.
Happily.
On the shoulders.
In a friendly way.
Too happily.
Too friendly.
Because I come from the land of plenty
He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich.
