She shrieked. He saw a flash of bare skin and in his mind lights flared in a hospital room but vanished as she retreated. He sprang to his feet, alarmed.
‘You’re still here,’ she called from behind the closed door.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘Let me get some clothes on.’
He stood in the living area breathing deeply. His shoulders were tense. He had seen a hint of something, the thing he did not want to see, she did not want seen. He needed to take control. He stared at the door, waiting for it to open.
She came out in a robe. He looked at her intently, and smiled.
She pulled the robe closer about her. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to still be here.’
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t decide what to do, so I stayed. I hope it doesn’t sound creepy.’
She looked at him. ‘No, just surprising.’
He stood awkwardly in front of her. ‘Can I make you a tea?’ he said.
She nodded. ‘That’d be a start.’
He stepped into her kitchen area, filled the kettle and took two mugs from the cupboard. ‘I can go if you want.’
She sat on a stool. ‘I don’t really mind, it’s just I have to do my washing and stuff. I won’t be much fun. You’d just be hanging around.’
He wanted to do little more than that.
‘I feel embarrassed now,’ he said. “I must look like a sick puppy, hanging about.’
‘I’ve had worse,’ she said. ‘I had to actively kick one guy out once. I mean actually kick him to make him leave. In the butt. I think he even liked it.’
Geoffrey dropped his head to the floor.
“I feel stupid,’ he said. He raised his gaze to her, and a wave of admiration washed through him. ‘This last fortnight has been, well, the craziest most upsetting thing in my life. You must think I’m a real nutter. But a fortnight ago I was the talk of the town and had just met the most wonderful woman who I suddenly just wanted to be with, and the next moment I’m running around seeing, I dunno, ghosts, visions of dead people, whatever. It’s driven me insane. I haven’t been to work, I’ve lost friends, I’ve been at the scene of fatal accidents goddam it, and the funeral. And the only constant in all this has been meeting you, and the silly dates we’ve had and I’ve mucked you around. I should go.’ He started to move towards the door but felt her hand on his forearm.
‘No really,’ he said. ‘I’ve troubled you enough.’
She looked up at him. ‘You don’t have to.’
He sighed. ‘Your life is in order. I thought mine was, but hell, I don’t know where I am now. And there’s no reason to burden you with my … insanities. You’re too good a person. I’d fuck everything up. I have already.’
‘I wanted to go on the dates with you,’ she said. ‘I wanted to sleep with you. I wanted to comfort you at the funeral.’
‘Yeah, but it’s greater than that. It’s the insane stuff, the stuff that shouldn’t be happening. I really appreciated your care at the funeral, and I really adore you, you know, your hair and smile and your smartness and the brightness you bring to life. Why the hell you’re single is beyond me, but I’d only spoil that. Me being round would only ruin that, and I don’t want to see someone as good as you stained by my sorry story.’
She put her hands on his shoulders and stared him in the eyes. He saw a light within her, a guileless candour.
‘I’m not so straight,’ she said. ‘Don’t be a lovesick puppy. I have faults, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. I’ve been ghosted many times after just one date. You don’t think me turning up at the funeral was a bit desperate, wanting to look like the caring partner too soon? Or jumping into the sack on our first date?’
He thought, God she’s amazing. He said, ‘But this is different. This – what I’ve experienced – shouldn’t be happening. It’s impossible.’
The kettle had boiled. She filled the two mugs, opened the milk out of the shopping bag he’d left on the bench and added it to the tea, then passed a mug to him.
‘Like you, I crave order,’ she said. ‘You’re an auditor, I’m a public servant, that’s our lives. But we also crave the irrational. Which you’ve had a heady dose of this last fortnight. I get it. I don’t understand it, but I get it. And I’m not disturbed by it.’
She leant back on to the bench and sipped her tea, keeping her eyes on him. He thought of the Mona Lisa again, and focussed on her lips, and held her gaze. ‘In fact, quite the opposite,’ she said. ‘I’m actually intrigued. I like the idea, I like the possibility, and while I obviously haven’t felt the same distress, I am curious to see where it goes.’ She lowered the mug from lips and added, ‘I think that’s why I decided to let you back in when I saw you at the airport.’
His heart leapt. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. An outsider completely unfazed by what he had experienced, apparently at ease with the implausibility of it all.
‘But -’ he said, but she waved her mug at him.
‘I don’t want to know,’ she said. ‘Because it’s part of my irrational. The uncertainty of when means we live on the fly, unattached to anything, despite doing our best to order our lives and build a meaning. You’ve just been shown a new type of order, a knowing of when it occurs. It’s irrational only because it’s unique. But in reality it is a new form of order. You have a reference point now. You know how many years you have, how long others will live, and you can plan around that, measure your yearly budgets, optimise profits, audit your days. I don’t want that. I want to see it when it is, not when it will be.’
She sipped her tea again, keeping her bright eyes on him. He wondered if she was challenging him, daring him to see her on her death bed, daring him to control himself around her. He breathed in falteringly and smiled. She had created a tension for him, to see and not see her, to heed and ignore her, to feed her and deny her nothing.
‘You can go if you want,’ she said. ‘I’m happy for you to stay. I like you. But as I said, I’m just doing laundry and the like. Drink up while you decide.’
He picked up the mug she had filled for him. The tea was no longer hot.
‘’Why don’t we do this?’ he said. ‘You do your washing, and whatever else you need to do, and I’ll ring you in a few hours. We can check in then and decide what to do.’
She put her mug on the bench and moved close to him. He smelt her perfume, the heat of the flight still present. She placed her hand on his cheek.
‘Do you really adore me?’ she said. ‘So soon?’
He smiled glumly. ‘Poor puppy,’ she whispered, pulled him to her, and kissed him resolutely on the lips. ‘I like being adored. It makes it easier for me to adore back.’
She pulled away. ‘Happy?’
He nodded.
She turned to head back to her bedroom. ‘See yourself out. We’ll talk in a few hours.’
As he left he heard her say, ‘Thanks for the milk by the way. Very thoughtful.’
