three good words

August 20, 2014May 17, 2020

plus 1

It was raining again, which was good, he liked the rain crowd. They were quieter somehow, saner than what happened when the sun was out. Caden didn’t know what the sun did to people, if they heated up over the day more, so tempers just boiled over by the time they showed up. Summer fights were always much worse than when it rained or snowed. People had less on though, so maybe it was that. Cuts and punches went deeper, looked worse with nothing to soak up the blood. Whatever it was, Caden preferred the rain crowd, they tended to mind their own business more, drinking pints, ordering whatever Siobhan had on the menu, or standing at the boards and tables having a decent time.

It was a quiet day, so Caden checked the taps, the third one was giving some trouble lately. Turns out it wasn’t anything serious, the tubes just got twisted again, Christ he’d told Mike five times to watch out for that. Anyway, after that was fixed, he sorted out the last sign-up, they needed an extra set of speakers and were definitely having an entrance fee, they expected half their fanbase to show up. Caden did the math, and told Becca to get Sean on the tickets.

After that, Caden took three orders, two Guinness one lager for the three at the screen, Man U was playing, but they were Chelsea fans. The Merlot and the Chardonnay for the girls at the pool table, and two pints for the couple in the booth, arguing quietly. After that was done, he checked the menu Siobhan suggested for the next three days and changed the soup. It was bound to get warmer again next week, Steff kept on sending out updates about the weather. Once thought of, Caden couldn’t ignore it anymore. He needed a plus one. Steff had been very clear on having a full table. At the last dinner he couldn’t avoid, Richter basically begged him to come, he wouldn’t survive it otherwise, well, last time it was, ‘I swear to God Steve, if anyone of you fuck’s it up I will kill you. All of you. I mean it. It took me six months to set up everything, this is going to be perfect.’ So, if Caden wanted peace for the next five years, he needed a plus one.

Problem was, he didn’t have anyone to take with him. Sunny was coming anyway, but she wanted to stay free to ‘nab whatever fresh meat’s gonna be there’, which Caden didn’t comment on. So, a plus one. Only who? Sunny said he should ask Marla, but Caden didn’t want to ask Marla. Ever since Vicky got herself carted off to A&E, Marla looked at him like he was part of some Greek tragedy. He knew she was waiting for him to explain, but how start that? It was bad enough that she knew Vicky existed. People always got curious once he started, then they wanted to meet her and then the real mess began. Nah, better not. She still gave him those looks though. And frankly, it would be convenient to have her around. She’d be able to keep an eye on Sunny when he wasn’t looking.

It was after her girls came over again. It was like a ritual with them, once, maybe twice a month, Marla asked if she could have a bottle or two of his wines, always offering to pay, which was ridiculous. So he decanted one and left the other on the counter, half an hour later her girls piled into the house. They were the kind you’d expect on a hen night, loud, laughing, wolf-whistling down the street, especially that Theresa. She looked good, they all looked good actually, they kept themselves well, which was nice to see. He got to see some disturbing things these days. Half of them seemed to have forgotten their underwear. He couldn’t count the times he was faced with some girl, pissed through her brain, her tits spilling out onto the counter all naked. Or the other ones who started jumping around and he ended up hoping she at least had a thong on, some drunks were watching a bit too closely. He did keep a look out, but he couldn’t be everywhere all the time and anyway, it really wasn’t any of his business what they wore, as long as the Met didn’t turn up afterwards.

This time the crowd was quiet, there was no match on so it was just the usual Wednesday crowd, easy to deal with, regular, the kind Caden liked most. Coach Lewis dropped by for a couple pints and complained about Bayern Munich again, and Greggs couldn’t stop ranting about his wife, but it was all right, Caden didn’t mind. He just stood by, nodded when he had to, and wiped down the glasses in the back so he didn’t forget them again. It was an easy evening, and luckily, Marla’s girls were out by the time he closed up the place and went up. She was still in the kitchen though, the lights out, candles on the sideboard and the sill. She had a thing with candles. It was strange though, coming up and having her scrub pans in the sink. It felt like something out of a movie he’d probably seen somewhere. Anyway, he helped her with the last, she still had some wine left, so he poured out two glasses, they drank some and he finally asked if she was busy Saturday two weeks from now. She said, ‘Ah… no, I don’t think so, why?’ So he explained. Marla listened, nodding. He wrapped it up with,

‘You don’t have to but – it’s not too bad. It’s just a bit of a party really.’
‘Ok. Is it very – I don’t know – fancy?’

Caden smiled. Fancy didn’t even begin to describe.

‘Steff likes it… just think top hats and cut-aways.’
‘Oh. Ok. Wow. I’ll have to check what I’ve got –’
‘You’ll be fine –’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she smiled suddenly. It always caught him off guard. She had an incredible smile. ‘I’ll get enough help, Theresa’ll make sure of that.’

He liked how easy it was, how he didn’t have to watch out with how he explained it. He needed a plus one to Steff’s second wedding, and thought she’d be good company. Sunny would be there anyway, so they could all show up. Naturally she asked questions, but he could explain most of it without going into too much detail by the time they were done with the wine. She did say,

‘So she’s not really your sister?’
‘We grew up together.’
‘But you’re not related.’
Caden drained his glass and said, ‘No. Definitely not.’

Marla wanted to say something, he knew it, but she stopped herself, finished her wine and said,

‘Ok. I think I should go up, it’s been a long day. Good night.’
‘Night.’

He liked that about her. She really did mind her own business. And she’d stayed much longer in the loft than he expected. Maybe she wasn’t like all the others on the hill, but you never knew really. It could be good for three years, and then suddenly it was all wrong for God knows what reason. He never understood what happened with Ella. From one day to the next, she just got – vicious. Vicky said it was all Steff, dripping poison into her ear ‘like in that play, what’s it called.’ ‘Hamlet.’ ‘Yes, that. Poisoned her brain, that one, you bet your fuckin’ arse on it.’ Caden didn’t know, and it didn’t matter anymore anyway. Ella was history and Steff was getting married, which was two problems solved without much effort.

August 20, 2014May 17, 2020

family

The wide hall was bright, thuds from the punch bags loud in the busy silence. Coach Lewis was giving stern commands to the new kids while twenty men and five women worked the bags and benches, some with their heads hidden in head gear, hands sunk in boxing mitts. Two men were on the mattresses, barefoot in track shorts and shirts, sparring. One held the shields, the second had his hands tied up in mitts, quick with the punches, doubles and triples, the first encouraging earnestly, holding against the punches, instructing him to punch higher, lower, use his left more, keep his weight steady, keep his balance right.

The door opened, there was a short commotion, heads turning, a few low whistles, some murmuring. Coach Lewis shouted, ‘Shut up, all of yer!’ and walked over. Exchanges were made. Coach Lewis nodded earnestly and walked over to the mattresses.

‘Tellis! Tellis! Oi! Tellis!’

The two men finally jumped apart. The one with the sparring shields walked over to the ropes.

‘What?’
‘Someone’s here for yer.’
‘What?’
‘Girl. She’s here for yer. Says it’s urgent.’

Coach Lewis pointed over to the door. There was a girl, no, a woman standing there in heels, coat and umbrella, looking nervous. That looked like Marla. What the fuck was she doing here? Nobody knew he was here, even Sunny had a hard time finding the place. It had to be urgent if she figured it out. And she did look nervous.

Caden climbed down and removed the shields, ignoring the, ‘Oi Tellis, what’s her name?’ and ‘Fuckin’ hell, Tellis, where’ve you been hidin’ that all this time?’ Caden walked over. The closer he came, the more nervous Marla looked. It had to be really bad then.

‘What happened?’
‘What? Oh – Hi. Yes. Sorry. Ahm. I hope I’m not disturbing – ?’
‘What happened?’

She pressed her lips together first, and Caden noticed she was wearing lipstick. She usually didn’t wear lipstick.

‘There was a call. From a hospital. Sunny couldn’t leave, the pub’s packed but –’
‘But what?’
‘They said a Vicky Lawrence is in the –’

Fuck.

‘Where?’
‘What?’
‘Where? Where is she?’
‘I have it here,’ she said, eyes wide, opening her handbag quickly.

It took her ages until she finally found the piece of paper and handed it to him. Caden checked. St George’s. Fuck.

‘Do you know her?’
‘You here with the car?’
‘Um. Yeah. Sunny gave me –’
‘Are you busy now?’
‘What?’
‘Do you need to be anywhere?’
‘I – well – no, I just came home –’
‘I’ll drop you off. That ok?’
‘Of course. Of course that’s ok.’

Caden just nodded and ran to the lockers. Fuck. Again. Why the fuck didn’t she finally stop with the fucking fags? But that was like asking an alcoholic to stop with the drink. It took ages until stopping even registered.

Forty-five minutes later, Caden was in St George’s, walking down the A&E, they never liked it when you ran. The nurse recognised him though and pointed matter-of-factly, ‘Three two seven, love. Should be stable now.’ Caden nodded and walked over. He knocked and waited, nothing happened. He opened the door and walked in. The air wasn’t as stale as he expected. He walked in quietly. She was asleep. There was a drip. No tubes though, which was a relief.

The curtains were still open, late sunlight spilling in, red and grey. Caden stood at the window first and looked out. There was just the street, black with the last rain that splashed all over the windshield, wipers clacking. He’d dropped off Marla right away, she must’ve known it was serious with the way she jumped out of the car, running in those heels to the house. How did women always manage to run in heels? Probably all the practice. He turned and drove on, it was thirty minutes with the rain. It was the nearest hospital to Vicky’s place.

She moved here once he was back, said they had to stick together. He didn’t know how bad it was then, he was just glad to have her around. She was still like she used to be back then, foul-mouthed and good for a laugh, saying fuck in every other sentence. He remembered that first ‘Fuck’ at the Corrigans, the silence, the stares. He hadn’t known it was wrong, everyone was always saying it where he used to be, nobody batted an eye. Then, at dinner, it was there, loud and clear like a pistol shot, and all four stared at him as if he was some kind of monster.

Caden heard a cough and turned. She shifted a little in the bed. She looked so weak, so grey. Her face was no longer full, the wrinkles were no longer laugh lines. He looked back out, it was raining again, the red brick of the buildings opposite a dark kind of bright, the windows white squares of light, or dark, shuttered. Someone told him that was where the outpatients went, or something like that. He’d never been in a hospital after that first time at the Corrigans. Joan dragged him to a full check-up once a year for the first five he was there, eyes, ears, brain, everything, like he might have some unknown bug after all. He didn’t mind the first time, or the second. The other three really weren’t necessary, but there was no talking to Joan once she set her mind .

‘Fuck, kid, is that you?’

Caden turned back to the bed. Her eyes were open now, tired, watery. She was still in there somewhere, he could still see her, but it was getting harder and harder these days. The worse she got, the more he felt some part of him was slipping away.

‘Hi, Vicky.’

She smiled a tired smiled and tried to sit up. Caden went over and helped her, feeling her thin arms, her whole body shaking when she coughed. It sounded much worse than last time.

‘So they did call you.’
‘Of course they did.’
‘I thought you’d be too busy getting famous to come,’ she smiled again, showing her stained teeth.

They used to be white once, he remembered that. That was years ago.

‘Never too famous for you,’ he said and she smiled, ‘Oh, fuck off,’ pleased.
‘So how are things?’ she asked, coughing.
‘Good.’
‘Still haven’t fucked you over yet from what I see,’ she grinned. ‘That posh slut still trying to get your money?’

Caden sighed. Of course.

‘Vicky, Ella’s been history for years.’
‘I’m not talkin’about Ella fuckin’ Smythe, sweetheart. Whatshername, Steff? She still after you like the rabid bitch she is? What? She’s fuckin’ nuts – ’
‘She’s getting married.’
‘Again?’

Caden nodded, Vicky started laughing that hoarse laugh that was just like home.

‘Poor fucker. Who’s it this time?’
‘Steve Richter.’
‘Ain’t that your mate?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Couldn’t get you so she dug her claws into your best mate? Classy.’

There was no point in starting that so he said, ‘How are you?’

‘Fucked, that’s what I am. What? It’s true. I’m a fuckin’ trainwreck. Look at me. All you need now are some fuckin’ cameras and you got a million-dollar show for yourself, so I’d say you start cashin’ in right now. ’

He couldn’t help it, he did smile. Vicky chuckled, pleased, but another cough stopped that.

‘Fuck.’
‘You all right?’
‘No? I’m not fuckin’ all right.’

These days, she could switch from fun to raving in seconds. Caden just waited. She coughed some more then sighed,

‘They want me to stop with the fags. Yeah, yeah, I know, but how’s that supposed to fuckin’ work? I live on the fuckin’ things, the only fun I have left – what?’
‘You really should stop.’
‘For what?’ she snapped bitterly. ‘It’s all I got left. You famous and Dickie off with that fuckin’ Riley slut –’ but she stopped herself, coughed a little and sighed. ‘Sorry, kid. I get carried away these days.’
‘Are you all alone up there again?’
‘I’m ok.’

Caden knew she was lying. Every time she started picking lint off something she was lying, and she was picking something invisible off the sheets. He’d asked her countless times to move in with them, showed her the loft and everything, but all she said was ‘This is way too fuckin’ fancy for me, kid, I’d just stain up the walls.’ Which was true, but at least that way he’d have been able to keep an eye on her. She refused though, but she was close, so he dropped by once a week. If he could. Sometimes he really did forget. She just slipped his mind, like she’d never been. He didn’t mean to, it just happened.

This was probably how people felt when they forgot to call up their Mum. It’s not like you hated her. It was… it was walking up those stairs into that apartment, seeing the dirty dishes piled up in the sink, the empty beer cans and vodka bottles on the table, the stubs spilling out of the ashtray, the TV on some shopping channel again and having one of her neighbours sitting on the sofa with his gut out, shouting, ‘You got any more beer left, luv?’ It was that. And hearing her cough like that. And having to blackmail her to the GP.

Last time she couldn’t pay the rent. She loaned it all to some fuckwit down the hall who never paid it back of course. So she called him up. Promised she’d do anything for this favour. So Caden went over, heard the predictable, idiotic story, and said he’d pay if she went to the GP and got a decent check-up. First she snapped he was ‘a fuckin’ tightarse’, and when he refused to budge, she shouted he was the ‘same sadistic shit’ like all the others. Then she coughed something bad, she hardly got any air. For five seconds he thought she’d suffocate right in front of him, but she finally could breathe again. Once that was over, she collapsed on a chair and cried, ‘I’m such a mess. Why d’you even put up with me?’ He waited until she was done crying and said, ‘Ready?’ She wiped her eyes and nodded and he drove her to the GP, he already got her an appointment, there was no point in asking her to do it herself.

It was that. And having to see her face that was nothing like the one on the pictures he had on the kitchen wall. She used to be so full of life. She used to be this… brightness. Ease. Laughter. By the time he got his acceptance letter, he genuinely looked forward to seeing her again. She was a real breath of fresh air, foul-mouthed, smoking like haystack, downing shots with him at The King’s Head on the high street, laughing loud.

He didn’t want to see her like this, remember her like this, thin and grey, just this side of bitter, coughing so hard he half expected her to literally spit out her lungs. He couldn’t stay away though, he had to come. She was all the family he had left.

August 19, 2014May 17, 2020

zero gravity

There were moments now,

usually just before she fell asleep.

Then Marla felt her life had become a very broad space.

No longer clustered with drama, but a wide hall with little parcels of busyness and excitement, sadly never really connected. Like dots on a painting, there were bright splashes on the broad canvas

But when you looked at it,
the colour only projected the wide gaps

in between
the endless white
the quiet space.

But they were only moments,
flashes of thought, feeling.

Marla allowed the melancholy to linger only for so long.
Then she found she was being ungrateful.
She had a good life, she could not complain about anything much.

Yet there was that.
Like a bubble of water in zero gravity.

It was so strange, so hard to explain.
It wouldn’t leave her alone.
It moved and shifted, always.

If it came too close
she felt it in all its liquid clarity,
soft and cohesive and not entirely pleasant.

If you were used to sterile, neutral spaces.
Well, sterile was maybe a bit harsh.
There was a certain uniformity in her life.

Like a Bauhaus mansion.
It irritated Marla’s more romantic senses.
Romantic in the literal sense.

Sublime wilderness
oceans, crags and thunderstorms
getting caught in the pelting rain.

Everything was structured, cubical, geometrical, mechanical, precise and accurate. As if life in its essence wasn’t organic.

If Marla mentioned such thoughts to Theresa
Theresa said Alicia was right,
Marla should go out more.

August 18, 2014May 17, 2020

the list

Caden looked at the number. If he took the call he would not say no. If he didn’t take the call the noise would never end. The song wouldn’t stop, the screen blinking madly. He really didn’t want to. But if he didn’t, Joan would call and he didn’t need to hear, ‘What’s wrong, darling, why’s Steff so cross?’ He took the call.

He was shaving when he heard it, ‘Oh come on! Are you serious?’ Next, three knocks, quick, loud. Caden said, ‘Yeah?’ and Sunny opened the door, waving a piece of paper in her hand. It looked like the list. Well, no wonder.

‘What’s this?’
‘What’s what?’
‘I thought you said you wouldn’t do it again.’

He cut a long swath through the shaving foam, flicked the razor in the water and started again. Three more to go.

‘Caden. You said you wouldn’t do it again.’

Another clear broadway through the white. Fred had shown him first. Matt wasn’t too happy, but Matt had nothing to shave off. It’s not like he pressed a button and started earlier just to spite him. Caden stopped a second. He hated how that still could annoy him, even now.

‘It’s good money,’ he said, after finishing the last stroke.
‘Yeah and they’re complete arseholes.’

Caden unplugged the sink, and watched the soapy water drain out. He remembered, clearly, the first time he forgot to rinse out the sink. Joan saying, really loud, ‘Who did this?’ as if he’d firebombed the house.

‘They talk down to you, Caden,’ Sunny said. ‘Like you’re some kind of… some kind of… I don’t know! Something they can just order and stare at. I hate that.’
‘It’s just an evening, Sunny,’ he said, bent down and rinsed the last of the foam off.
‘That’s a whole day, Caden. A whole day. Catering.’

She said it like it was something way below his dignity. Caden kept down a smile. Sunny had this thing that, if it wasn’t helping bands build a fanbase, or seeing the pub didn’t run dry, it was nothing.

‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Mike’ll be there and Becca and Siobhan’ll –’
‘Oh, I’ll do it. I just don’t see why you have to give in all the time – and don’t say it’s good money. I don’t care about the money. We don’t need it anyway.’
‘Yeah and I don’t need the noise.’

Sunny just stood there pouting. Sometimes she was sixteen all over again, Caden wondered if that would ever stop.

‘Look, you know how it’ll be if I say no. I don’t need that right now, so – it’s just an evening. There’ll be a band and an open bar, she said you can have what you want.’
‘Oh, how generous! M’lady deigns to let us drink her precious wines which are ours anyway for fuck’s sake. How can you put up with that?’

Caden smiled. It was nice, seeing her annoyance. It was genuine too.

‘I know it’s a pain, kid, but I don’t have the time for arguments. We’ll set up everything by five and you can leave by nine, so that’s just four hours, five max if it takes longer.’
‘Yeah, but what about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Caden, that’s a whole evening with those twats, why’re you doing that to yourself?’
‘I’m not doing anything to myself,’ Caden said, flicked a towel off the heating rack and dried down.
‘It’s still –’
‘I’m just delivering some drinks, Sunny. You really don’t have to join up if you don’t want to, but it’s done anyway.’

Sunny just made a face and shook her head, strutting off like he was an idiot to give in again.

He’d have preferred not to do it, but if he said no he wouldn’t just have Steff all up in a miff, it’d be all of them breathing down his neck again. They’d been quiet for some time now, he didn’t need to change that for no reason. It’d be ok, he’d drive over, drop off the drinks and glasses and pick everything up the next day. He’d probably have to stop for a tumbler and palaver about something, anything. It was dull, but bearable. Steff had some chef on for the food, she just wanted the right wines, so it wasn’t a big deal really. It was strange though, how none of them ever got the hang of wines.

Adam had taken him to the South of France back then, Sunny in tow, fourteen and pissed off all the way until she saw the beaches, then they hardly saw her for the three weeks they were down there. It was business really, Adam was visiting some people he knew, a few microbreweries were staging an event, trying to break into new markets and Adam wanted to know what they had. There was that pavilion with smaller distilleries showing their latest single malts and single casks, they ended up buying a crate full of several different bottles. After that there were the wine cellars and the vineyards they went to, Adam speaking his seriously awful French, everybody winced when he started talking, telling Caden, ‘Try it son, try it,’ so he tried what was offered. He got the hang of it after the third cellar, and with Maurice adding the meals, it made sense.

Maurice lived in Nice and was a dictionary on food, wines and several obscure schnapps. They spent a week at his house, Sunny at the pool day and night, Adam and Maurice talking about their days working for Citroën which was how Adam could save up for the pub, he’d had enough of desk jobs and office life. Adam’s former office was one of Citroën’s suppliers, and Maurice was usually the one on the other end of the line. Over the years they started talking about more than car parts, velocity, pressure valves and tires, and finally became friends. They’d been visiting each other for years by the time they went over that summer, and it was nice seeing Adam laugh so much. That was about a year before the heart attack.

Now Caden had a pretty good list of whiskeys and wines, though he only used it for ‘The von Arseholes’ as Sunny called them. Sunny at sixteen was a full-out Goth. It was a phase, but the wrong phase to meet the Corrigans in. Steff was derisive, Joan horrified, and Fred just stared at her, asking, ‘Is something wrong with her? Why’s she so pale?’ Matt cackling out loud. Sunny heard it all and hated them ever since.

Sunny was convinced he was selling out, to Caden it was just business. The Corrigans had acres of friends and acquaintances who needed good drinks for their dinners and parties, they seemed to have one at least once a week. They knew to get the food right, but they were hopeless with liquids. So Caden got that sorted, and from the calls he was getting, he was doing a good job about it. The best part of it was that the more ridiculous the price, the more willing they were to give him the job. Nowadays, one evening catering to Steff and Joan’s friends was enough to stock up O’Connor’s for a month. Matt’s people were no different, and Fred’s could buy out all his whiskeys if Caden didn’t watch out. With all that, Sunny could huff all she wanted, business was business, and they weren’t all bad either. Well. Some were ok. So there was really nothing to worry about.

Caden was just done with his coffee when the front door opened and Marla walked in. Now there was a real problem. He still didn’t know why he agreed to it. She’d looked harmless. Pretty, yeah, but nothing to worry about, at least not like that. Turns out he was as wrong as he could be. She smiled, ‘Hi’ and said, ‘Going down?’ Caden nodded, and left it at that. He knew he didn’t say much to her, but it was a conscious avoidance. It was her breasts. There were a bit too there. And those clothes. They showed off everything. And in general the fact that she was everywhere. The house was tidier since she moved in. He kept on finding things quicker. Sunny didn’t leave all her stuff lying around anymore. And she was always cooking, it wasn’t bad either. And she smelled good, which was something Caden did not want to notice.

It was annoying actually. He didn’t want the changes. He’d start getting used to them, and then what? This was temporary for her, he knew it. Women like her only stayed a few months in a place like upstairs. And he knew Sunny had no clue. He’d have his work cut out for him once Marla moved out again, Sunny grew so attached to people. Moped for three months when Ella stopped coming over, like he purposely fucked up her life. Granted she was seventeen, barely out of school, still undecided. With Adam gone and Ella out of the house… he got that, but still. Caden wished he’d thought about that before he agreed to have Marla move in, but now it was too late.

Sunny loved having her around though, he hadn’t seen her this happy in months. She kept on giving him updates of whatever Marla was doing, ‘Marla’s on the hill right now, but she’ll be back by seven.’ ‘Marla lived in India for five years, crazy isn’t it?’ ‘Marla’s out with her girls, they’re really nice.’ ‘Marla used to work in New York, I wonder why she moved back here.’ ‘Marla’s going shopping, she asked if you needed anything.’ ‘Marla’s really quiet, don’t you think? I thought she’d be the louder sort.’ ‘Did you see Marla’s sari? It’s gorgeous isn’t it?’ It was constant and there was no way to make her stop. Caden didn’t want to know anything about Marla. The less he knew the better. She’d be moving out soon anyway, so why bother, but Sunny didn’t care.

It really was annoying. Coming up to the flat used to be a way to wind down. Now closing up the pub just meant having to face her afterwards. If she was awake that is. Caden was actually relieved when she wasn’t. She was still up there though, and it didn’t help knowing that. She had this really bad habit of running around in her bathrobe in the mornings. It was quick, yeah, she only did it to grab some toast and tea before she ran back up again, but he still had her right there, in front of him, and it was… fucking irritating. She’d looked harmless. Pretty yeah, but nothing to worry about. At least not like that. Pleasant, that was it. He remembered thinking, ‘Yeah, she’s fine.’ Sane, put together, someone who’d mind her own business. And she was sane, she was put together. She really did mind her own business. She still ran around in that tacky bathrobe where you saw everything. Not on Sundays though, thank God. It was weird, sitting with her at the kitchen table, having her flip through a newspaper or some magazines left over from the week, telling him something completely random she found in the pages. Sometimes he was sure she just wanted to start a conversation, but he wasn’t starting that. He didn’t want any habits to grow, any traditions to spread. It’d be hard enough dealing with Sunny once she moved out again, he didn’t have to get used to things as well.

August 18, 2014May 17, 2020

at the window, 2

He did look surprised.
Granted she was wearing a sari.

Yes, she had one.
She looked like a natural too.
It was the hair. And the cheek bones.
And her eyes were dark, darkest dark, with nice lashes.

She had great lashes, she had to admit.
Really great lashes.

She made pastries and wrapped them in papier-mâché,
pink, yellow, blue and green.

Caden was in his office, looked up from his computer and quite nearly stared.
He had the strangest eyes, they had all colours.
Really, all of them.
He didn’t say anything though.

She put the wrapped pastry on the desk, she hoped he liked them,
they were a little on the sweet side.
She was certain he thought she was out of her mind.
It was that look
Hard to describe.
But he did say thank you.

Sunny’s reception was much more pleasant.
Marla walked in, Sunny gasped and jumped to her feet, ‘Oh my God, Marla! That’s incredible!’
She asked a lot of questions, how it was tied, where she got it from, it was unbelievable, really, where did she get it from?

Sunny surprised Marla with a present herself, a little bracelet with tiny flashing shamrocks. ‘I know it’s not Hindu or anything, but it’s for luck. You don’t have to wear it, but we live above an Irish pub, so – ’ Sunny shrugged and smiled.

Marla turned to the screen.
So it had happened.
What she never understood was why.
Go somewhere else.
The pool was a wide space, but no.
It was a movie after all.
And there he was,
sitting so scenically on the white.
Anyway.

Marla just had the girls over.

It was the fourth time now.
They came over, loud and laughing, congregating around the scrubbed wood table, waiting to be watered and fed.

The first time they came, Sunny dropped by to say Hi, just before she changed to go down. Marla offered her a drink, Sunny accepted and in the ten minutes she stayed, Theresa asked and Sunny answered and Marla found out that Caden had refurbished the loft single-handedly, ‘That was his way of getting over it.’

Of course the girls got curious. Sunny was happy to explain. She’d been at her Mum’s again, and when she came back three weeks later, the door to the stairs was gone, there was a carpet and the loft was what it looked like now. There had been no workers, but with Caden’s Dad being an architect and all ‘it kind o’ made sense’.

Marla caught meaningful looks from Theresa and Val. She ignored them. All four had already seen her loft and praised the space. Apparently they could ‘see she lived there’.

Once Sunny left that evening, the questions began.
Marla refused to answer.
She would not discuss Caden Tellis.
That didn’t stop them.

The stub glowed red.
The night was a dark, city bright.
The cup in her hand, still warm, smooth.
Downstairs someone opened a door,
guitars and voices spilled out, loud.

Every time Marla’s friends came to her place, every time they saw her actually, they started again.

This time it was the very simple, the harmless fact that Marla left a pasta casserole to warm in the oven. She’d noticed her housemates liked it the last time she made it, and busy as they were with the band today, she made one. It wasn’t much effort, she was cooking anyway.

Of course the girls noticed.

Irene asked if Marla’s plan was to insinuate herself into the man’s head via his stomach. Marla pointed out that the casserole was for Sunny as well. This did not matter. In fact, it just showed she was being clever about it. Marla rolled her eyes.

Theresa wanted to know how it was to live with him, was he orderly or messy and did he run around naked? Irene wanted to know if he drank a lot and if he had many women. Val just gave her that look. Marla never liked that look. Beth in turn asked if Marla thought he’d be interested in anyone over 25, it was so hard these days now that she had that three, not that she was really thinking about him or anything, but you know it was ‘just a thought.’

Marla finally sighed and said that if anyone wanted dessert they should change the subject right now. They did, eventually, though Val did whisper, ‘I know you’re hiding something,’ when the others weren’t looking.

mary janes Marla wasn’t exactly hiding something.
There were women.
Val would have called them ‘decent’.
Theresa would have shrugged,‘Oh well’.
Beth would have not been pleased.

They would come and kiss him as a greeting, stand at the counter admiring everything, Caden most of all, trying to look cool, aloof and much too good for anyone until Caden found time to leave.

He never brought them upstairs and they never lasted long.

She would have liked to know where he met them.
They were all not the kind who entered O’Connor’s voluntarily.
West-End was more their habitat.
Wine bars and chic cafés, that kind of thing.

Sunny had dropped a few hints about an Emma or Ella or something like that, from a couple years back. She seemed to have been around for a while, but Marla didn’t think it right to ask.

That was just about everything she knew.
Marla had no problems communicating everything to the girls.
That only made things worse.
Now they were convinced he had been mistreated by that Emma-Ella person.
He was possibly so jaded he could no longer commit etc. etc. etc.

It never ends.

Marla stubbed her cigarette and closed the window.
She drank another sip of her tea and looked at the screen.
The police were investigating.

All those controlled bodies,
level looks, fresh young faces.
How was it when they got angry?
Genuinely drunk?
How did they cry when no one was watching?

Val wasn’t wholly wrong though.
There was one thing Marla didn’t tell anyone.
It was simple: every Sunday morning, Marla and Caden had breakfast together. It really was that simple. Breakfast.
There was nothing outrageous about breakfast.

Sunny was a late sleeper and always went partying on Saturday nights.
She either slept till four or stayed at whichever of her boys she was currently seeing. The pub didn’t open till two. The Sunday crowd was always a little quieter than the rest.

Mondays were closed.
Caden was usually out making errands or doing whatever it was he did.
Yet for some reason Sundays were the days they had breakfast.

She remembered the first. She came down and he was already making coffee and they simply went about their own business. When she came down the second Sunday the kitchen was empty, but he walked in moments after she started the kettle. That, she guessed, was how it started. And even that didn’t sound right.

coffee 6

At first Marla thought it was a coincidence.
It was three months now and it still kept on happening.

She always went down between ten and twelve.
Ample room for fluctuation.
Either he was already there or showed up a short while later.
If she came later he would start some eggs and fry more bacon without asking. If he came later she naturally did the same.

She would have to admit that she at first thought it rather sweet of him. Then Sunny came in last one Sunday and was given equal treatment. There was no need to feel disappointed, it just showed he was generally considerate.

There was movement on the screen.
One of those long, slow conversations.
Staged without being stale.

To spend a summer in the South of France.
But a nice one. Without all that mess in the end.

Her mother would be visiting soon. Saturday in fact.
Marla tried to look forward to it.

Ever since Alicia came to visit that first time, Marla was never safe from questions about ‘that man you’re living with’. She was not spared warnings of such ‘obviously handsome men’ who very likely were so used to ‘having their own way’ with women, which made them outright dangerous.

One look and Alicia Whitman-Brandon was convinced that Caden Tellis was last person Marla should be living with. She actually said, ‘Such men can never be responsible. Don’t look at me like that. They’re used to getting what they want. Not safe. Definitely not safe. ’

Theresa must have told her something.

Alicia had called it ‘his influx of women’ and that suspicious behaviour of never taking them home, though you never knew what that Emma-Ella person had done, women could be so cruel sometimes, but it was good Marla stayed away from him, it would only disturb their living relations if all that business came in between, one of them was bound to take it too seriously, these weren’t the old days anymore, nothing was casual. Marla should much rather find someone else and move out, that would be better for everyone, Sadie and Terry were together for five years now and apparently there were hints of marriage, not that she really cared, it was much better for taxes though and Sadie would keep her name as a matter of course, in fact but for taxes there really was no reason, but it was kind of silly that her sister would be married before she was, wasn’t it, really Marla why didn’t she go out more?

Marla sighed and drank her tea.
At least she still had tomorrow.