Rachel's Holiday
Page 88
‘How?’ I said, a small bit miffed.
‘Because he’s gay,’ Luke laughed.
‘Get lost!’ I was the colour of a tomato. Although, once I thought about it, it would explain a lot.
Except shouldn’t it have been ‘Dada’, rather than ‘Mama’?
‘But he devotes too much of his energy to his drug habit,’ Luke said in disgust, ‘for him to have any kind of sexuality.’
‘Oh right,’ I said, not quite sure what to say, but fairly sure I should say something.
All evening a quiet stream of desire had gently sparkled over the bedrock of certainty we felt for each other. As Luke paid the bill (See? See? Didn’t I say? I’ll take you.) some of the winter snows melted and the torrent increased.
When we got outside into the humid night, Luke asked politely ‘Would you like to walk or get a cab?’
‘Walk,’ I said, all the better to build more anticipation.
On the way, he didn’t even hold my hand, just did the kind of hovery action with his hand over the small of my back, which I thought was very cute. The enforced separation, the so-near-and-yet-so-farness of being next to him, but not touching, served to heighten my longing for him.
As we commenced our final descent to the front door of my apartment block, I had a surge of relief. About bloody time, I thought. The lack of physical contact with him had put a greater strain on me than I’d realized. Joyfully, I geared up for the ‘Will you come in for coffee, f’naar, f’naar?’ scenario.
I speeded up my steps and was all set to burst into the building and start running up the stairs, when he slowed down. Then stopped. He pulled me in out of the way of passing pedestrians and kissed me on the cheek. I was dying to grab him by the crotch, but it had been such a lovely, contained date that I forced myself to wait a few minutes longer.
‘Thank you for a wonderful evening,’ he murmured at me.
‘You’re welcome,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
I smiled politely, but I was thinking impatiently, enough of the messing, let’s hurry upstairs so you can dash me to the floor and stick your hand up my skirt, like you usually do.
‘I’ll see you soon?’ he asked. ‘Give you a ring tomorrow?’
‘Fine,’ I said, but my elation had started to drain away, as if a plug had been pulled. He couldn’t seriously be going to call it a night, could he? The decorum of the evening had been all fine and dandy, but only because I hadn’t for a second thought it was real. And had I really gone to all the time and effort of putting on stockings and a suspender belt for me to be the person to remove them?
‘Goodnight,’ he said, then he leant down and gave me a very brief kiss on the mouth. His lips lingered just long enough for it to feel like a sacred moment. Then he pulled away and my head was full of dizziness and stars.
‘Oh, before I forget,’ he said, and handed me a little parcel that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Then without further ado – or more appropriately adon’t – he turned on his heel and strode off down the street, leaving me staring slack-jawed after him.
For Christ’s sake, I thought in disbelief. I mean, for Christ’s sake.
I gave him a few minutes to turn around and grin and say ‘Ha ha, only joking, do you want to see my knob?’ But he just kept walking.
All I could see was his back getting further and further away from me and the sound of his boots becoming fainter. Then he turned the corner and I couldn’t see or hear anything.
Still I waited, hoping to see his head appear back around the corner as if it was on a stick, but nothing doing.
When I finally accepted that I had no other option, I stamped up the stairs, disappointment bitter in my mouth. ‘What was his game?’ I muttered. Seriously, just what the hell was he up to?
Desperate for some clues as to Luke’s motives, I tore open the little parcel he’d given me, far too agitated to appreciate the beautiful wrapping paper and the shiny little bow on it. But all it was was a book of Raymond Carver’s poems.
‘Poems?’ I screeched, in disgust. ‘I want a ride.’ And I threw the book at the wall.
I slammed and banged things around the apartment. Brigit, the bitch, wasn’t home, so I had no one to complain to.
Viciously, I ripped off the saucy underwear, berating myself for putting it on in the first place. I should have known I was tempting fate. I felt as if the lacy suspender belt and silky stockings and the little knickers were all having a good laugh at me. ‘You’d think she’d have learnt by now,’ they chuckled to each other. Bastards.
Eventually, at a completely loose end, I realized I had no option but to go to bed. Fully certain that I was too revved up to get even a minute’s sleep, I threw my grownup dress on the floor and kicked it round the room a bit. (I’d already hung it up, but I went back into the wardrobe and took it off the hanger, and kicked the crap out of it, as I searched for a scapegoat for my lone status.) In the middle of me breathlessly promising the dress that that was the last time it would ever see the light of day, the phone rang.
‘Who the hell is that?’ I wondered, hoping it would be a wrong number so I could shout at them.
‘I’m not finished with you yet,’ I threatened the grownup dress, where it cringed against the wall, as I went to answer the phone.
‘HELLO,’ I roared aggressively into the mouthpiece.
‘Er, is that you Rachel?’ a man’s voice asked.
‘YES,’ I admitted belligerently.
‘It’s Luke.’
‘AND?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ he said humbly.
‘No wait! Why are you ringing?’
‘I was worried, you see, after tonight.’
I said nothing, but my heart was beating quickly with relief.
‘I thought I was doing the right thing,’ he said quickly. ‘Trying to be a gentleman, I wanted to change the pattern with you and me, you know, to move things forward. But then after I got home I thought maybe I wasn’t clear enough, and that you might just think I don’t like you anymore when I’m mad about you, so I thought I’d ring you, then I thought it might be too late and you’d be asleep, maybe it is too late and you’re asleep…’
‘What are you trying to say?’ By now I was very excited. I could feel his anxiety, his desire to do the right thing. Was a declaration of love on the cards ? Was he going to ask me to be his girl?
‘Because he’s gay,’ Luke laughed.
‘Get lost!’ I was the colour of a tomato. Although, once I thought about it, it would explain a lot.
Except shouldn’t it have been ‘Dada’, rather than ‘Mama’?
‘But he devotes too much of his energy to his drug habit,’ Luke said in disgust, ‘for him to have any kind of sexuality.’
‘Oh right,’ I said, not quite sure what to say, but fairly sure I should say something.
All evening a quiet stream of desire had gently sparkled over the bedrock of certainty we felt for each other. As Luke paid the bill (See? See? Didn’t I say? I’ll take you.) some of the winter snows melted and the torrent increased.
When we got outside into the humid night, Luke asked politely ‘Would you like to walk or get a cab?’
‘Walk,’ I said, all the better to build more anticipation.
On the way, he didn’t even hold my hand, just did the kind of hovery action with his hand over the small of my back, which I thought was very cute. The enforced separation, the so-near-and-yet-so-farness of being next to him, but not touching, served to heighten my longing for him.
As we commenced our final descent to the front door of my apartment block, I had a surge of relief. About bloody time, I thought. The lack of physical contact with him had put a greater strain on me than I’d realized. Joyfully, I geared up for the ‘Will you come in for coffee, f’naar, f’naar?’ scenario.
I speeded up my steps and was all set to burst into the building and start running up the stairs, when he slowed down. Then stopped. He pulled me in out of the way of passing pedestrians and kissed me on the cheek. I was dying to grab him by the crotch, but it had been such a lovely, contained date that I forced myself to wait a few minutes longer.
‘Thank you for a wonderful evening,’ he murmured at me.
‘You’re welcome,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
I smiled politely, but I was thinking impatiently, enough of the messing, let’s hurry upstairs so you can dash me to the floor and stick your hand up my skirt, like you usually do.
‘I’ll see you soon?’ he asked. ‘Give you a ring tomorrow?’
‘Fine,’ I said, but my elation had started to drain away, as if a plug had been pulled. He couldn’t seriously be going to call it a night, could he? The decorum of the evening had been all fine and dandy, but only because I hadn’t for a second thought it was real. And had I really gone to all the time and effort of putting on stockings and a suspender belt for me to be the person to remove them?
‘Goodnight,’ he said, then he leant down and gave me a very brief kiss on the mouth. His lips lingered just long enough for it to feel like a sacred moment. Then he pulled away and my head was full of dizziness and stars.
‘Oh, before I forget,’ he said, and handed me a little parcel that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Then without further ado – or more appropriately adon’t – he turned on his heel and strode off down the street, leaving me staring slack-jawed after him.
For Christ’s sake, I thought in disbelief. I mean, for Christ’s sake.
I gave him a few minutes to turn around and grin and say ‘Ha ha, only joking, do you want to see my knob?’ But he just kept walking.
All I could see was his back getting further and further away from me and the sound of his boots becoming fainter. Then he turned the corner and I couldn’t see or hear anything.
Still I waited, hoping to see his head appear back around the corner as if it was on a stick, but nothing doing.
When I finally accepted that I had no other option, I stamped up the stairs, disappointment bitter in my mouth. ‘What was his game?’ I muttered. Seriously, just what the hell was he up to?
Desperate for some clues as to Luke’s motives, I tore open the little parcel he’d given me, far too agitated to appreciate the beautiful wrapping paper and the shiny little bow on it. But all it was was a book of Raymond Carver’s poems.
‘Poems?’ I screeched, in disgust. ‘I want a ride.’ And I threw the book at the wall.
I slammed and banged things around the apartment. Brigit, the bitch, wasn’t home, so I had no one to complain to.
Viciously, I ripped off the saucy underwear, berating myself for putting it on in the first place. I should have known I was tempting fate. I felt as if the lacy suspender belt and silky stockings and the little knickers were all having a good laugh at me. ‘You’d think she’d have learnt by now,’ they chuckled to each other. Bastards.
Eventually, at a completely loose end, I realized I had no option but to go to bed. Fully certain that I was too revved up to get even a minute’s sleep, I threw my grownup dress on the floor and kicked it round the room a bit. (I’d already hung it up, but I went back into the wardrobe and took it off the hanger, and kicked the crap out of it, as I searched for a scapegoat for my lone status.) In the middle of me breathlessly promising the dress that that was the last time it would ever see the light of day, the phone rang.
‘Who the hell is that?’ I wondered, hoping it would be a wrong number so I could shout at them.
‘I’m not finished with you yet,’ I threatened the grownup dress, where it cringed against the wall, as I went to answer the phone.
‘HELLO,’ I roared aggressively into the mouthpiece.
‘Er, is that you Rachel?’ a man’s voice asked.
‘YES,’ I admitted belligerently.
‘It’s Luke.’
‘AND?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ he said humbly.
‘No wait! Why are you ringing?’
‘I was worried, you see, after tonight.’
I said nothing, but my heart was beating quickly with relief.
‘I thought I was doing the right thing,’ he said quickly. ‘Trying to be a gentleman, I wanted to change the pattern with you and me, you know, to move things forward. But then after I got home I thought maybe I wasn’t clear enough, and that you might just think I don’t like you anymore when I’m mad about you, so I thought I’d ring you, then I thought it might be too late and you’d be asleep, maybe it is too late and you’re asleep…’
‘What are you trying to say?’ By now I was very excited. I could feel his anxiety, his desire to do the right thing. Was a declaration of love on the cards ? Was he going to ask me to be his girl?
