stream of consciousness – three good words

March 19, 2016May 16, 2020

outsourced

we need to re-learn how to take care of each other
we have outsourced so much
even the care of those closest to us
those who were, once, beloved.

we have to re-learn how to take care of each other
to offer solace without fear
without plots of retribution
without vitriol and viciousness
but with that rare thing: kindness, gentleness, sincerity.

why has that become so rare?
why is that not something we can expect
why is it the exception, rather than the rule?
a lot has come to my attention recently
about those left outside, alone, ‘to the winds’
freezing with a body warm
utterly lost with Google Maps uploaded.

we have un-learned the language of emotion
we can no longer speak of love without deconstruction
without cynicism and scoffing
we have no vocabulary to articulate the sublime
that allowed a poet, once, to stand on a bridge
and hail the sun, the sky, an entire realm.

we have lost that primal sound of succour
that beating-drum directness that reaches heart and soul
deep down into the darkest parts of the human condition
breaking through the man-made clouds with a ray of
sublime light that others of less sophisticated times
would have called divine.

we need to learn again
this language of love
langue, parole, signifier, signified
all meanings together, wrapped into each other
used in all languages known to man, woman, child
even if they were once warped by Barbara Cartland.

(and so what for the lace and corsets
so what for the gentlemen in bespoke suits
leaving their card at the door?
they have their place in the joyous abandon of make-believe.)

does that lessen the value of a warm hug, a sweet embrace?
that moment where you come together
with someone who is genuinely lonesome
and needs that one thing you can give, freely:
solace, comfort
peace.

September 9, 2015

us, all

and the candle flickers
a quick wobble of light
letting shadows pass unseen
slip silently into the night.

roman letters written
like footprints on white
a sandy trail of thought
dripping grain for grain
into that part
so conscious
before a salty wave of recognition
floods it all.

and in all this
the silence lifting
a tripping beat
tum-ti-tum
life’s relentless drum
beating beautifully
in the sheltered home
of a ‘me’, a ‘you’
together

here and there
us, all.

October 11, 2014May 17, 2020

love, actually

Not PG rated

The sun is milky while she lies sleeping on the cushions. She was reading, the pages lie open on her chest. He carefully picks up the piece, puts it on the table. He sits back on the glass and watches her, the proof that she is real. Some time between the successions of dawn and dusk, pain faded and allowed something else to live between them, opening up the possibility of peace.

There are no sheets. The plains barely clad, cool in their smoothness where dark pillars rise leading down to the source forgotten yet known where he drowns repeatedly tasting the texture of a touch while the heat spreads and silence is no longer a sound.

Under his hands she comes alive reaching under his skin, pulling out the pieces while he looses the last bit of weakness that fills the deep he’s breathing in, steady, steady, in and out, rise and fall, a force of life till time no longer runs and rushes but melts down into heat and darkness filled with light she holds in her hands, pressing the past into his skin, marking his body burning deep past muscle into bone until it comes like fog falling down the mountain before she cries, softly, and the air is free again.

Her body is his blanket, he does not need more against the cold. She has allowed him, released an amnesty for this witching hour where his body felt stripped, without armor, newborn, real. She has turned a blind eye on the truth that they both know for this long moment between night and morning and in her mercy there is no weakness yet he felt no strength of his own.

At a loss now, he searched for paths and ways, roads otherwise traveled that would show him what to do with his life, void and meaningless as it was without her acceptance of those words that made up his apology. The words would need to be said no matter how often he threw them against the walls barbed with silent terror, no matter how often he sent them flying, crashing against the fortress of consequence. Every living thing insisted that they be said, be it just once, otherwise everything worth living for would be dead and what was more sacred than the rise and fall, that steady beat right under the curve of her breast?

‘You haven’t been here yet, have you?’ she asks. I shake my head. We’re at her new place, an apartment she shares with a friend. It looks good, books on the table, some magazines on the easy chair, a couple o’ plants. There’s music coming out of a closed door, she whispers, ‘Eddy’s here,’ grinning like that. Must be her friend’s guy then. She asks me if I’d like some coffee, we almost got caught in the rain. I keep it to, ‘Yeah, why not.’ We talk some about everything while she walks around, those jeans fit her perfect. Like always, I don’t know what to do, exactly. She looks relaxed, she always does, there’s nothing that can really throw Celine. She pours out the coffee into mugs, stirs in milk and sugar and hands me one. She still knows how I take it. Nice.

She’s sitting on her desk chair now, facing me. I’m on her bed, she’s still got the best I’ve ever seen. Probably coz I know she’s usually in it. I’d like to stop this waiting. She finally looks back at me. She stops talking, I don’t know what she just said. She takes a sip of coffee and puts her cup down on her desk. Then she turns back to me, gets up and straddles me slow, pulling off my scull cap just like she used to. Her hands fit light on my head. She says, ‘I really like these studs on you.’ I kiss her before she starts thinking twice about it, it’s happened before. Or worse, back then, way at the beginning. Half the night talking, arguing, fighting until she was crying, shouting, ‘Why don’t you even try to get me! Why won’t you even try to understand!’ She was so pissed… Her eyes all wet, and that look on her face like I was fucking up her life on purpose. That whole weekend was – bad. Just bad. I didn’t know nothin’ then. I don’t want that now. She looks too good now.

She’s smiling when I pull her closer. Her lips are as soft as ever. Just kissing her again is… why’d nobody say you had to know stuff early? That it could happen before graduation? That your girl could just know, really know what was out there? Why’d no one say?

We used to spend whole nights just doing this, hidin’ out in her room, her folks wouldn’t let her stay out after ten, especially with me. Her old man… that guy was tough. So, she’d sneak me in when her folks were sleeping, and then… Learnt to wait with her, wait until she took out one from that pink case in her drawer next to the bed. She got me used to them, she wouldn’t let me otherwise. ‘I love you Alec, but I don’t want your babies just yet.’ She meant it to. We made plans. After, with her all curled up nice, her skin perfect, her heartbeat this steady real thing right under my hand. We’d talk about it, that house, those cars, that pool. Having everyone over for cookouts, getting Nate for the barbecues. We’d had it all planned out. ‘Xcept I thought she was just dreamin’ it up. She meant it from the start.

I remove everything on her after she pulls off my sweater, taking the shirt with it, she always does it like that. She smiles, ‘Still working the gym I see.’ Her hands are warm, perfect, why’s it with her that she just knows? I lay her out on her bed before I go for her breasts. I’ve missed them like nothing else, she’s got the most perfect pair. We both get her out of her jeans, lingerie – holy shit – wait, wait, I wanna see that – fuck… I have to ask,

‘Where’d you get this from.’
‘London.’
‘London? Like, London, England?’ books 2
‘Yeah. We have this mandatory thing where you have to leave the country for at least two weeks. I can’t do a full term so I took the two weeks Literary London. That’s how Professor Bernard calls it.’

Sometimes I just want her life. It’s always just a second, but it keeps on turning up and then I just want that way of being at the right place at the right time. Just knowing how it’s done.

‘When was this?’
‘Two months ago.’
‘How was it?’
‘Really nice. I got to see a lot.’
‘And buy this.’
‘Yeah.’

She smiles there, pulls me down – her lips are still the softest. And she did come back. She always comes back.

I go for what’s waiting between her thighs, smooth, her legs are endless with these tiny feet. There’s nothing like what she tastes like. I stay till she’s there, right there, she’s easy on her voice, her hands on my head, her feet rubbing up and down my back and I want her to black out, make her come so hard she just falls apart. I got her crying once, but now’s not the time. I’ll split open if I don’t do something – that’s new. Probably from over there. Did she –? Now’s not the time. Fits too, and I sure hope she still has a few coz I love being inside this woman. I love fucking her so much I always want to marry her right after. I’d ask her too if I didn’t know she’d just look at me and roll her eyes like I was bullshitting. Or smile that smile from that other world she lives in, which’d be worse, but now’s not the time.

. . .

‘Alec?’
‘Hm.’

That was just too good. Maybe I should move back up here again.

‘Do you still write?’

I kiss her instead of answering, I don’t want to have to explain that. I keep it long, but after I let her go she asks, ‘You still write, don’t you?’ I can’t answer that. She sits up a bit and looks at me. It’s her look, the one only she has, that special mix of anger and disappointment that she tops off with that tone as if she doesn’t know who I am anymore.

‘Why don’t you write anymore? Alec? Why don’t you write anymore?’
‘There’s no point.’
‘Why? You love to write, why’d you stop?’

She’s sitting up straight now, staring at me. If I’d said I’d robbed a place she’d look just the same. I still say it,

‘That’s not me anymore.’
‘Of course it’s you –! Alec, that’s like the one thing – ’
‘Carmine.’
‘What?’
‘Carmine. In the city, people call me Carmine.’
‘Why?’
‘Dunno. Just started.’
‘Carmine?’
‘Yeah. Or Car.’
‘Car? You mean, like, the thing you drive in?’
‘Yeah.’

I can’t help smiling. She looks really surprised.

‘But, Alec, you’re not a machine.’

It’s stuff like that, these things she says that make it so crystal how no matter what I do, I’ll never get her and she’ll never get me. Maybe Nisha’s right and street stays street, no matter what you do to get rid of it. Yeah, it says Alec Bellamy on my license, but that ain’t really me. At least not all me, and Celine here… she never got that. And I don’t think she ever will.

October 10, 2014May 17, 2020

together, apart

Man, that was too much – wait, what the – table’s laid, candles. I know Aly’s with J. Some concert, they’re always at some concert or reading or whatever. Lemme check first. Yep, Nisha’s in the kitchen, playin’ cook. Ok. First get rid of this – I should really get that fixed. Any deeper and the stuffin’s out. How did she get in? I say ‘Hi’ anyway. Nisha turns and smiles wide. She looks good. And she’s in that mood again, wrappin’ her arms around my neck and kissing me like that’s so normal.

‘How’d you get in?’
‘Aly borrowed me her key.’

Thought so.

‘So what is it?’
‘What’s what?’

I nod at the stove. Nisha smiles.

snack ‘It’s a recipe from my Moma – don’t worry, I know how to make it.’
‘I’ll take a shower first.’
‘Sure. Take your time. Still got half an hour.’
‘Cool.’

The water’s hot and good, Aly’s place always has good pressure. I don’t get what Nisha’s up to. She hasn’t talked to me for over a month, six weeks actually. For all I know she’s been fucking that studio guy since we fought. So why now?

She must have memorised her Moma’s recipe, coz that was seriously good. We’re on the couch now, and watching a movie. I think she’s trying to make this out like some kind o’ date night. Yeah, I’m surprised, this ain’t the Nisha I know, but I keep it down. Nisha’s been honey sweet all evening, course I don’t trust it. She’s up to something. Movie’s about done, she’ll probably start right after. Unless I can catch her off guard.

‘Nisha.’
‘Hm.’
‘What’s goin’ on.’
‘What?
‘You’re here.’
‘Yeah, course I am.’
‘Why’re you here?’’
‘Coz I missed you,’ she smiles and squeezes up against me. Yeah, right. She must’ve seen it, coz she ups it with,
‘So I hear you’ve been goin’ out some.’
‘Really.’
‘Yeah. Some white girl downtown.’

Shit. I better call her up, check if she’s ok. You never know with Nisha. She’s got sources.

‘Says who?’
‘Who cares? I heard it. It ain’t true, is it?’

Nisha’s way too calm about this. I really should check on her, Amanda. Longer you say it, better it gets. Last thing she needs is Nisha on her case. Knowing her, she wouldn’t know how to deal with that. I keep it to,

‘So, why’re you here?’

Nisha straddles me and starts kissing my face.

‘I missed you, baby, ain’t that enough?’
‘Hm.’

I watch her take off her top, bra, her tits plop out nice. When she leans down again I can’t help myself. ‘Tanisha, why’re you here?’ She sits up and looks at me like I’m a fuckin’ asshole for asking.

‘What’s so crazy about me wanting to see my boyfriend?’
‘I thought we’d quit?’

She didn’t expect that.

‘Coz you see, someone told me you’re fucking that guy from the studio.’

She rolls her eyes and smiles, a bit too sly.

‘Oh come on, baby, that was nothing.’
‘Tanisha.’

She sighs loudly and sits back again.

‘What’s your problem, Car?’
‘I don’t have a problem. I’m just surprised you’re here.’
‘Why?’

She really doesn’t understand. I push her off my lap and get up.

‘Where’re you goin’?’ Like I have no right to leave.
‘Bathroom.’

Her sigh sounds relieved. She probably thinks I’m getting a Trojan. I close the door, it still smells like Aly’s perfume in here. Now, either I let Nisha have her way then she’ll leave me alone, or I say no and it’ll be some serious shouting till 3 a.m. Today was way too long for that. Aly really needs to stop giving Nisha my key.

Aly’s bed is awesome, seriously, where’d she get this mattress from? Even better than Amanda’s and that one’s already too good. Nisha’s on me doing her work with a smile. First time I’m glad the Trojan’s between us. I watch her, tits bouncing, her arms stretched out, hands flat against the wall. She looks good like this, but I know it’s over. I don’t want this anymore. Even fucking her ain’t half the fun it used to be. Yeah, that’s givin’ up one hell of a blow, but it’s not the same no more. All that noise after, I don’t need that right now. And after Aly and J. and that You really think you’ll make it? There’s no point really. Nisha’s almost done, but what’s there is Amanda sleeping in her bed. She sleeps like a kid, happy in a way. I like that.

Light flashes like stars up close and he holds up a hand to protect her from the stares. She said he needed to get out, show his face, prove that he was back again. He wants to open the pavement and slide back underground where it is warm and silent with sounds that make sense. She keeps his hand in hers and smiles when she hears the questions, pulling him on, down the broad red line, passed giants with beetle eyes into a cave full of diamonds. Heart beating he asks for some peace and quiet and she tells him that he will be all right. They take chairs in the shadows, the stage is alight. He hears words that ask him what he wants, he thinks ‘her body in mine’, but says nothing and hears her voice instead. She orders something simple for two, he leans over to her, yet she turns too soon and he meets her lips instead of her ear. She smiles and asks him to relax, that is all he needed. He leans back, looks and recognizes faces. They smile back at him, their eagerness irritating. There is structure here, obstructing. There are lines and patterns, circles and squares, and she moves among them with ease while he feels every inch and corner, every sharp edge on his skin.

It’s the 7^th and a Sunday, which is good, that gives me time. Six hotdogs, the Special. Four should do, but you never know, watching water always makes me hungry and it’ll be a whole day out there. They guy packs them tight in the box bag. The lining keeps them good for at least three hours. It takes two to get up there, one and a half if the traffic’s ok. I pay, and walk out, the car’s already rented, that way I know it’s clean and won’t break down on me half way. Plus, it’s nice driving something you’re not used to. An SUV this time, what do they call it, champagne, with off-white seats and awesome headboard.

Look at him check me out. Yeah, that’s my ride. He’s impressed man, seriously impressed. Aly hates it how people get all worked up about cars, but man… One day I’ll get one on my own. I’ll drive it to work and pick the kids up on my way home. A big house with one of those kitchens where you can have a real breakfast with the kids, cook a big dinner and lay out the ribs for some serious BBQ. One of those long dinner tables for Thanksgiving, get Ma and Gran over, Uncle Vince, Ricky, Cam, Nate and everyone else. An awesome den for the Superbowl. A back yard you can put a pool in and have the kids’ friends over for their birthdays. Two, Junior and my girl. Maybe three if she’s up for it. Yeah, one day this won’t be rented. With Takeshi and Bruce around, it’ll work, I know it, and I’m definitely going to that dinner. Kesh said there’d be some people there who’d give me some good pointers, he’d already told his Dad I was coming, and Aly promised she’d help me figure out the suit, so that’s covered. Richardson said my business plan looked solid, meant it too, plus, I aced that Macro exam, so yeah. One day, this’ll be mine.

Traffic’s fine. Player’s on Jigga, but I’m keepin’ it low, I need to be solid once I’m there. It’s like changing gears driving up there, stepping back, cooling down. Calm, yeah, that’s what it is up there. And they expect you to tone it down, but it’s like I’ve lost a layer when I’m there, like it’s all gone once I get out o’ the car. It’s getting better though, way better than before.

Car’s parked, I’ve got the bag box, keys – yeah. All set. There’s no one on the pier though it’s pretty warm for now, some wind, but low. The sun’s behind the clouds. The benches are empty, but I sit down all the same and smell the sea. That’s the most in your face smell, seaweed. You can’t mix it up with anything else. pier And the sky. It’s grey today, kind o’ flinty. Yeah, they’d say flinty to that. – There. Fuck, already. But I don’t turn until I hear the steps stop and look up. She doesn’t smile right away, but she does smile. That smile. Really, that smile. Then she says, ‘Hi, Alec,’ right after.

‘Hi, Celine.’
‘You been waiting long?’

I shake my head. She sits down next to me and looks at me, eyes wide. They’re this deep, deep black with whites like milk and endless lashes. Movie eyes, in close up, that’s what they are, beautiful just ain’t enough. Last time we’d hugged by now and she gave me two of those French kisses, quick and soft on my cheek. I don’t know anyone else who does that – there. One, two. Her lips are as soft as ever.

‘You look good,’ she says, smiling. ‘Those new?’ She reaches out, pinches my earlobe.
‘Yeah.’
‘Nice. Look at you, all urban chic.’

She laughs there, showing off that smile. Really, that smile. Nothing beats that smile.

‘Yeah, it’s good, pretty tricky actually as it’s all stream of consciousness and you have to really allow yourself to get into the character, you know, find your way into Stephen’s mind and forget that you’re in the twenty-first century, but that you’re this Irish kid who went to a really strict Catholic school. He had a hell of a time there and he’s got all these issues when it comes to women anyway – did you get to the part with the prostitute? Yeah? Weird don’t you think? Imagine us living there, I mean, course, it’d be different for us, but think we’d be some Irish kids back then, I mean, we couldn’t just sit here eat hotdogs, drink coke and just talk about, well just talk really. Y’know? There were all these rules, all these do’s and don’ts, all this stuff you weren’t allowed to look at, all these things you weren’t allowed to think about or speak about. I always feel that back then people were surrounded by this huge web, no, labyrinth of forbidden stuff and you had to navigate through it without making a wrong move, y’know, like in Indiana Jones, when they’re looking for the Holy Grail and he steps on the wrong stone and falls through? Yeah, something like that. Say the wrong thing or go to the wrong place, basically be interested in something you shouldn’t be interested in, something people say you shouldn’t even think of, and you’re done for. Unless you’re really strong, but I don’t know if I could be that strong. Not just muscles you know, but that inner strength, sticking things through coz you know that’s what’s for you, or like J. used to say, ‘your truth’, y’know? I think that’s really tough. Are they still together by the way? That’s great, he needs someone like her, at least she gets him. Anyway, I went off on a tangent there, sorry. It’s great that you’re reading it, that’s awesome. I know I had to really put myself back while reading it, really forget myself, you know, and try a different mode of thinking, see the world, or rather Stephen’s world, through his eyes, and not my interpretation of it. It wasn’t easy, but it was cool. It got tedious at times, but still it’s worth it. And it’s a great start for Modernism, though you better read a bit of Pound and Woolf if you want to get the whole thing, and then there’s Eliot of course but I don’t know. We just did Prufrock – it’s this loooong poem about a guy who’s nuts basically, it’s kind of depressing, but the images are good and it takes ages to interpret anyway, but it’s ok and my professor’s great so it’s not too bad. That’s really cool that you’re reading it, Portrait I mean, I’d really love to hear what you think of it when you’re done.’

She smiles then, that happy, satisfied smile that comes from that other world she lives in, where you spend a night listening to Mozart and Beethoven, where you talk about culture and revolutions over dinner, where every minute of every day is spent improving yourself, seeing more, hearing more, reading more, filling yourself up with more and more, but she never seems to get enough of it, or get bored. It’s as if the more she finds the more she wants. She’s got another new book in her bag, some Argentinian I basically should read asap, it sounds like something Hayworth would put on people. And there’s these guys from France with an awesome new track she wants me to check out. She’s always got something new, every damn time she’s found something everybody already knows about and I’ve never even heard of. It doesn’t bother her though, not knowing. She doesn’t mind finding out, I think she enjoys it, figuring out what’s out there, even though it’s fuckin’ endless. And it’s not like she got bored with what we’ve got, but more like our stuff makes her think of something else she needs to figure out. I wish I could do that, y’know, not get bothered and just take up everything like that, just soak it up like she does and deal with it.

She takes out her second hotdog, unwraps the foil, takes in the smell, sighs and smiles, ‘God, these are the best.’ She takes a bite and closes her eyes, chewing. I always liked how she just enjoyed her food. She was never picky about what she could eat, date nights were seriously easy with her.

‘So you and Tanya?’ she starts.
‘Tanisha.’

She nods and takes another bite of her hotdog. She’s changed her hair. Her braids reach to her back now, all black. They’re so tiny the few that came out whip around her head in the wind. Her skin’s still as smooth as ever. I’ve never met a girl with her kind of skin. It’s flawless, like those toffees poured out smooth.

‘You still see her?’ she asks. I don’t know what to say. I haven’t seen Nisha in a while. I told Aly to stop giving her my key. Word has it Nisha’s livid but she hasn’t come to shout, at least not yet. I’ve been busy anyway, finals kept me locked up in the library most days. Now that’s over and I’m pretty sure I got everything covered. It wasn’t easy, they really take it out on you, like, drain your brain with those questions, but I answered all of them like in the mocks and I aced almost all of those, so yeah. And Hayworth keeps on nodding and smiling when he sees me, so I should be ok.

‘So you’re not?’ she asks again.
‘I don’t know.’

She chuckles a little and wipes a small smudge of mustard from the corner of her mouth with her ring finger, she still does that. Her nails are short, manicured, she’s not wearing rings. The studs in her ears might be real diamonds and she smells just like she used to.

‘Are you seeing anyone?’

She nods her head in a yes-and-no.

‘I’ve been pretty busy, but there’s this guy who’s quite nice. We go out for drinks and stuff, but it isn’t really serious.’
‘Do you…’

She looks at me and smiles before she takes a sip from her coke. I don’t know what that smile means. I never did really.

She doesn’t say more and I watch the sea. The waves are blue, green, grey, black and yellow and white. They’re all colors actually. The air’s that real, deep ocean smell that’s all fresh and stays in your head for days. waves 2 I take out the last of my three and we both eat silently for a while. We could always do that, just sit together and not talk without anything getting awkward. Celine can talk like a book, yeah, but she can be real quiet too. And warm, all curled up, her skin so fucking smooth under the sheets, but there’s no point remembering that anymore. When she’s done with hers, she leans into me and drinks from her coke. Her head’s warm under my chin and the wind died down a little. She still smells like she used to. Just like home.

October 8, 2014May 17, 2020

going out

Not PG rated

It’s five past six and the doorbell rings. Dana looks up, surprised. She was positive he would forget. Nervous, she presses the buzzer and opens her front door. He comes up the stairs, looking cool and relaxed in his scullcap and wide black jacket. He walks in and looks her up and down, surprised. Dana tries to explain.

‘I thought you wouldn’t come.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen you for so long and…’

Dana stops talking when he smiles. ‘It’s ok,’ he says. ‘Just get ready.’ Dana smiles, relieved, ‘I’ll be right out.’ She runs to her bathroom and takes a very quick shower, hoping her small apartment is ok and not too ‘lived-in’ like her Mom always said. Once done she runs to her wardrobe. She doesn’t know what to wear and asks,

‘Where are we going actually?’
‘It’s nothing big, there’s this thing at a friend o’ mine.’
‘Thing?’
‘Open mic night. They’re tryin’ out their tapes. Unless you’re not into that.’
‘Oh no, I love rap!’

Dana blushes. That came out wrong. She doesn’t turn around, but she can feel his eyes on her while she dresses. She smells coffee. It’s nice that he can keep himself busy. Some guys just became helpless. Dana doesn’t put on a lot of make up, fills up a small handbag with the essentials, and finally steps out into the middle of the room with a smile. ‘Done.’

He’s leaning against her table, a cup of coffee in his hand and smiles when he sees her. He removed his jacket, he’s wearing a light sweater and dark jeans with those white Nikes they all seem to have. He still has his skull cap on and she notices the studs in his ears, they flash in the light. They look really good on him. ‘Is it ok?’ Dana asks, turning, and he smiles like that again, nodding. He puts the cup down, picks up his jacket and they leave her apartment. Dana closes the door while he waits behind her. When she turns he kisses her. It’s a long kiss and Dana is full of smiles inside.

There is a lot of glass and light. She never leaves long enough to be completely out of sight. She makes him eat and talk, they go out for walks with Hunter. She keeps the questions away from him, but sometimes he hears the calls. As long as she is there he is able to ignore them. He always wears a hat and a scarf when he leaves the house, it’s still very cold outside.

Evenings are spent with a fire burning and shadows dancing on her face. She reads and he listens, all he wants is her voice. In the morning she lets him lie in bed until she wakes him with coffee, eggs, bacon, jam, butter and toast. She sits next to him on the sheets and watches him eat, she doesn’t leave until he’s finished. She leaves the door open when she showers and when she cooks she always talks to him. Every now and then however, the void fills every sound inside and he has to hold her, touch, feel and smell her skin. Eyes closed her scent is filled with sound, the darkness fades into something close to light and he can open his eyes again. At night it is worst. Then the silence is thick and heavy and sweet to a point that it sickens him and he has to breathe deeply to hold down his dinner. He doesn’t wake her then, his body is almost dead in these awful moments, motionless without any air.

One morning he found her crying over the kitchen sink. He felt his body go numb. She looked at him, tears streaming down her face, colourless and bright. Her shoulders were shaking, bare under the thin straps, her whole body faint with a lack of tension, all loose ends in sight. Memories sprouted, taking root and spreading like ivy on forgotten walls. In another life he would have walked to her, taken her up and carried her safely away, but then a world stood between them that had no doors for either to enter.

I think she’s enjoying it. It’s probably not the place she’d go to, but she seems to like it. She’s moving to the beat, eyes on the stage, yeah, the boys are good tonight. Vaughn’s people have this huge basement and every other week they stage some acts. It’s cool, people like it. Vaughn gets some good money out of it. Sometimes Delroy shows up, collects some tapes for that studio downtown. I haven’t seen Nisha, so that’s cool and there are enough drinks, so it’s all good. Amanda looks good. Came from a small town somewhere and got lost here, happens all the time. She ain’t got that edge yet, but that’s good somehow. And that skirt fits her damn fine.

The beats are coming through the walls. She’s all smooth and soft under her – if this goes on – hard not doin’ it with her hands all over – she’s all ready to – where’d she get that from? She smiles, all sweet, ‘I thought I should take one, just in case.’ Good thinking – Fuck – damn woman, where’d they make you? I want her to say something, like last time – all naked on pink sheets – fuck that’s good –

Back at Jermaine’s. It was closest and he’s outta town anyway. She’s sleeping now and all I can think of is Nisha and all that shouting. You really think you’ll make it? What the fuck? Why doesn’t she see it? Aly made it. And yeah, J.’s not exactly normal, but who’s normal anyway? Wonder how they are up there. Aly sounded ok on the phone. Nisha hasn’t tried anything, she can be tough like that. I won’t call. I always call.

What the – oh, yeah, she’s still here. Amanda. What kind o’ guy calls his kid Amanda? Some Rob or Hank, maybe even a Ted. Probably got married straight outta college, steady job, wife ‘n’ kids, two cars, barbecues, football, the whole thing. It’s not bad though, Amanda. Manda. Mandy. Nah. Amanda. Aman. Ama. Am. Manda. Yeah. She’s got really long hair. And she sleeps like a kid. She’s a fine girl. Not the kind to be all her on her own though. She’d be good with some banker, lawyer, someone up in those offices. She’d look seriously good in – Aly called it somethin’ – Where’s my effin’ LBD? Yeah, one o’ those. Can’t have her all up in my street though. Manda. Amanda. Sounds better the more you say it. Maybe that’s it. Better keep it down though. Nisha all pissed… Nah, better go. No need to make it worse.