Dennis and Maude went camping

 It wasn’t love at first sight that bonded Dennis and Maud together; rather a shared neuroses and a love of complaining about other people. It wasn’t that they were perfect (far from it) but it was far easier to find fault with others than to cast that same critical eye over themselves. Easier? Less painful then… In their eyes, they worked in a den of iniquity, heathens; dirty tramps; and uncool, uncoordinated, bland troglodytes.

They discovered their shared hell by accident during a ‘corporate signposting’ event. “Show me the way to the door!” Maud had whispered out loud, to which Dennis whispered in reply:

“Or to the nearest pub..”

Something clicked; a synaptic gap between them, which was. up until that time insurmountable, suddenly bridged. They looked into each other’s eyes for less than two seconds; but it was enough to know that, yes, there was someone else that shared their penchant for misery.

Maud was deeply religious. To her the Virgin Mary was her ultimate: unsullied, clean; untouched by human hand. Maud would spend her whole life as close to attaining that perfection as possible, living as germ-free as she could. This was her way of reconciling a severe case of PTSD and OCD. 

Dennis had his own form of OCD, though he’d never admit to it… he was fastidious to a fault but on a much more superficial level. He was ‘conscious of cool’… everything he wore, carried had to be 'on-trend' and totally hip. This took a great deal of time, effort and mental strain. No decision was taken by chance; so aware was he of the ramifications. As a child he had been horrified by the ‘butterfly effect’ and worried constantly about how his smallest decision could very easily roller-coaster out of control. So many wasted nights, worrying about ‘what-if’ scenarios; countless hours of procrastination the end result. His attempts at ensuring following the latest micro-trends were his way of controlling his life in a more meaningful (vacuous) way.

The fact that he was also emotionally and mentally insecure meant that they were a ‘perfect’ match…

After the corporate ‘pep talk’ they met several times at lunch, never making eye contact and always at certain designated eating places that were awarded only the highest hygiene ratings, and were impeccably trendy. There was no way Maud would endanger herself thusly; it wasn’t that she had any allergies but she was totally paranoid about the way the food had been prepared. (She always took her own cutlery, for example, and enough anti-bacterial wipes to cope with whatever disaster might arise.) One might wonder why she bothered eating out at all, but Maud insisted that she would not become a prisoner to her own neurosis!

The 'friendship' grew over time and several meals passed; not on mutual attraction but the dawning realisation that they were perhaps the only two sane people left in an insane world. Neither of them had spent much time alone together but it was Dennis that suggested they go away for a long weekend.

Out of the two of them, Dennis was the most promiscuous–his inability to make decisions was unhindered on this level; his prick having the first and final say on the matter. To be fair, his careful attention to every facet of his physical appearance did have a positive effect over the women around him, which he took full advantage of. His fastidiousness was such that he even took great care over how he smelt; and to certain women he was irresistible. Maud found his stench cloying at times but learnt to mask it with the smell of dettol.

Maud was by no means a prude, although she prided herself on her immaculate image. She still had.. needs and longed to be held. Her parents had been heavily religious and believed in the ‘spare the rod’ adage and invented many punishments, making her life hell. One mustn’t think that Maud was an overly naughty child, rather it was her parents that saw sin everywhere; and such sins were considered ‘dirty’.

When her parents died in a car crash she was 24 and felt both liberated and devastated. No longer did she have to suffer this oppressive regime, but, on the other hand, theirs was the only world view she’d ever known. It was then that her OCD started –according to her parents, everything she did was sinful, therefore dirty; so it became a necessity to make amends, constantly living as cleanly as possible –hence the immaculate conception of herself.

With Dennis she saw a way out; she knew his reputation, as she was also a hive of gossip. Just because she loathed the other people around her didn’t mean she couldn’t use them for her own ends. She hoped that he would find her attractive (which he did) and would want to bed her (which he did). For his part, Dennis hoped that she care enough to see beneath his immaculately crafted façade (which she didn’t).

Maud didn’t relish the idea of spending her time in a hotel or B&B; she knew that she wouldn’t be comfortable living under someone else’s cleaning regime –she’d only spend most of the time cleaning it herself. Dennis thought she was joking at this and had initially believed that OCD had stood for obsessed with cleaning disorder. (Dennis wasn’t the brightest match in the box which is one of the reasons why he preferred one-night stands. He had hoped that Maud was on equal terms with his superficiality, but he hadn’t reckoned on the true extent.)

They agreed that they would take the caravan that Maud had bought with her inheritance money. She had never actually used it in the three years since she bought it, but she had cleaned it, without fail, every week –it still had the plastic covers on all the seats. She hadn’t gotten the nerve up to actually drive it anywhere though. It took a lot of insisting on Dennis’s part to finally use it –but she eventually agreed that it was actually the only viable option open to them.

So.. on Saturday 14th they took their caravan on an ill-fated journey –neither of them wanting to travel on the fated day after.. and neither of them had ever driven such a vehicle –Dennis normally drove a mini, so to even contemplate such a behemoth was way out of his comfort zone. Maud wasn’t the most confident driver at the best of times and had visions of crashing, so that was out. To make matters worse, she didn’t relish the idea of Dennis’s grubby hands soiling her virgin steering wheel, but they eventually agreed that Dennis would drive, but only if he wore gloves.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked.. but, no; she wasn’t. It was touch and go whether the van would actually start, as it had been sitting there, unused for so long. Dennis also found it very difficult driving whilst sitting on the plastic seat-wrap, but on that Maud was immovable (as she was on everything).

They left off quite late in the afternoon but barely travelled more than twenty miles before the van sputtered, shook and then died on them. Years of misuse had stacked up against them; Dennis barely made it into an off-road car park. They were at least four miles away from the nearest town, and were situated on the banks of a river. The car park itself was muddy and quite treacherous, Dennis slipped and fell a couple of times, muddying himself up in the process trying to look at the engine.

“You’re not coming in here like that.” Maud scolded as he attempted to climb back in.

“Jesus!! You’re kidding, right?.” The look from her made it clear that kidding was not in her vocabulary.

“What am I going to do then?”

“That’s up to you. You should have thought of that before you left.”

“I left to check the engine!”

“And what did you accomplish?”

“It’s better than what you did…”

“That remains to be seen..”

“Look I don’t want to argue out here; it looks like it’s going to rain in a minute, and I’m muddy enough. Look –if you pass me a couple of those plastic sacks I can put the muddy clothes in them. Would that be acceptable?”

“Only if you leave your shoes outside.”

“But it’s going to rain!” But Maud had already gone to the front of the campervan to dust. Outside the clouds billowed; the wind blew and it started to rain; Dennis’s shoes were going to get very wet indeed.

That evening, cold and hungry (as Maud hadn’t planned on actually eating inside the campervan because of the smells lingering) they just sat opposite each other. Dennis had taken over half an hour to decide on a new outfit, and outside the rain was falling heavier by the minute.

“Just pick one, Goddammit!” Maud shouted; how long did it take to choose what clothes you wanted to wear…

“You can’t rush these things, my dear.” Dennis replied. This was the first time anyone had called Maud ‘Dear’ and had he been there then he would have realised just how little she appreciated it. It was gradual, just a minute tick in her left eye but from there it would soon spread. It had begun.

Dennis was oblivious to this when he sat opposite her; foremost on his mind was when he was going to make his move. He was sure that he’d been brought on this little charabanc for one reason only (and he was right in that respect) and he was trying to figure out the best time to pounce.

To be honest, he was less sure now sitting opposite her then he was when he first met her. She had a habit of meeting his gaze fixedly, unblinking. Every so often he noticed the flutter in her left eye as it became more pronounced. As it was now he didn’t rate his chances.

‘Why won’t he make a damn move? Maud kept asking herself. ‘Why isn’t he taking the initiative? Why isn’t he trying it on?’ She felt the vein in her eye start to throb and kept blinking to try and stabilise it. More minutes ticked by and she felt her teeth grinding with the frustration. The rain started pounding on the roof now and she drummed her fingers in time on the table.

“Make the damn move, won’t you?!” She shouted. “Why do you think I’m just sitting here?”

Dennis sat bolt upright, all thought of seduction and playing the ancient game out the window. He was now face to face with Maud’s wrath and he had no idea what to do next.

It was raining heavily now, as it had done all that week. They couldn’t have picked a worse place to break down; the water level of the river was getting dangerously high, just like Maud’s blood pressure.

Dennis sat down nervously next to Maud who stiffened up immediately. It didn’t matter how much she thought she wanted it, her body said otherwise. He put his hand tentatively on her leg and she slapped him.

“What the hell?”

“I’m sorry! You took me off guard; I’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

He moved in closer to her only for her to shuffle back. Unperturbed he pushed closer and lent in for a kiss. The slap was much harder now and he inadvertently bit his tongue.

“What the?!”

“I’m sorry! Really…. I do want this, but you just need to be patient with me.”

“Patient?”

“Would it help if we just got undressed and went straight into it?”

“Yeah; right – I need to be a bit more aroused before that, you know?”

“What can I do about that?”

“Seriously??”

“You want me to touch it!” The disgust was palpable, she actually pushed herself back.

“What else you going to do? Suck it?” Maud’s reaction made it obvious that was never going to happen.

“Let’s try it again… just try not to hit me this time.” Maud did her best… Dennis placed his hand on her thigh, leaned in and even managed to kiss her. He noticed her trembling as she put her hand on his shoulder, but when he ventured to slide his tongue inside she screamed, biting down. Then she slapped him.

“Right! That’s it! I can’t do this shit any more. You’re crazy – just crazy!” He pushed himself off the seat and away from her.

“I can’t help it!”

“Right; can’t help it.. well, I’m not going to try again… I’m going for a dump.” He started towards the toilet.

“I don’t think so… you’re not going in here. This is my caravan. You can sleep here, in the front, but you are not.. I repeat, are not going to the toilet in here.”

Dennis knew not to push her; she had already slapped him hard for just touching her, despite her apparently wanting it. He dreaded to think what would happen if he tried to push her on this of all things. He put on his wet weather gear, found a spare roll of toilet paper and went outside.

Maud remained seated; her fingers drumming on the table top. The flickerings in her eye had subsided but she was confused over what she was feeling. She had been so sure that she wanted Dennis but his touch was so repulsive it made her skin crawl just thinking about it. What was happening? There was only one thing to do… clean.

So immersed was she that Maud never realised how much time had passed, she was almost happy having cleaned the toilet and had now moved into the kitchen area. She had taken everything out of the cutlery drawer to polish. She hadn’t even noticed that Dennis hadn’t returned….

..Until the door suddenly slammed open and a very muddy, very dishevelled, drenched and thoroughly pissed off Dennis staggered into the van. The sense of disgust at this sight was overtaken by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“What the hell happened to you?” She asked, flabbergasted.

“Hell is right… all because of you and your pristine toilet. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve gone through.. The weather’s got so much worse since I was last out there; the rain hasn’t stopped and the ground was like a quagmire. I must’ve slipped and fallen arse over tit at least half a dozen times before I found a place that was safe to take a crap. But what I didn’t count on was the river bursting its banks like that. How I wasn’t swept away for good I don’t know.. but it happened when I was mid-shit as well, just to add insult to injury. I’ve no idea how far I was carried before I managed to grasp onto one of the trees that were overhanging. It’s taken me this long to get back..”

“I hadn’t even realise how long you’ve been gone.”

“That’s charming…”

“Just what do you think you look like?” Despite herself, despite the mess that Dennis had become and despite the floodwaters that were now seeping into the caravan Maud started to laugh, and she laughed hard. So hard that she had to steady herself on the unit where she’d just set out all the cutlery. Consequently she didn’t see Dennis lumber up to her, his muddied shoes squelching on the sodden lino.

Ordinarily Dennis considered himself a calm man, certainly not prone to bouts of temper. His endless procrastination had led him to feel he was the soul of patience and cool. In actuality it made him lightening quick to anger; liable to blow at the wrong set of circumstances… all of which had happened in rapid succession over the last couple of hours.

Maud never saw the slap; just felt it as an explosion of pain across her cheek; felt her head snap back against the kitchen cupboard and then felt nothing else. She fell, twisting violently through the force of the blow, the cutlery clattering around her.

Pushed over the brink Dennis was past the point of no return. He’d had enough; she had humiliated him, dragged him through the shit and no more –she was going to get what was coming to her. Maud was still unconscious from his punch and wasn’t aware of anything until she felt the force of his first thrust. 

She screamed, raked at him with her nails but nothing she did stopped him; just spurred him on. Splaying about on the floor she found one of the knives that had once lived in its own compartmentalised drawer. 

She was in a frenzy, the knife digging deep into this back, his side, at his face when he hollered in pain; kept striking at him when he fell away, trying to push at her, kick her away but now she was the one possessed. She managed to straddle him, pinning his arms and then there was nothing to stop her. 

By now she was covered; the once pristine Maud now debased in blood, mud and shit as the waters around her converged.

Lie To Me

The holiday was supposed to save their marriage, and in a way it did. It was their last day and despite the Augustine promise England was still delivering on its cold, damp reality. Tea on the beach at Lulworth Cove, what could be better, but Brenda was already remonstrating Paul at the way he had ensconced himself atop a rocky outcrop, staring out to sea. 

“You’re always sulking.” She said as the wind was getting up, a chill now in the early evening air and the light slowly fading, but Paul seemed unaware to any of this. 

“Am not.” He mumbled back. This holiday had been Brenda’s idea and this time it felt like it could work, but only because they’d agreed on two principles: No arguing and leave the truth at home. The reality was harsh and unrelenting, and this was a last attempt at happiness.

For twenty years they’d managed to weather the storms and stay together whilst all those around them crumbled, became separated and then worse. Like the rock in front of her now, Brenda was resolute that, regardless of the tumultuous seas that threatened, she would stay with Paul.

“How old are you? And you’re still behaving like a child.” She tutted, trying to stay good natured despite wanting to push him off the rock. Instead, she clambered up, careful that the rock was still slippery, and sat by him. Her blue t-shirt and black shorts contrasted his yellow and white. She wasn’t comfortable and even Paul looked as if he was precariously perched, one foot wedged into the side of the rock below him and the other dangling. He seemed ready to leap off at a moment’s notice. She managed to sit in a semi-relaxed manner: one let outstretched on the rock with the other bent, offering her some much-needed support. They sat almost back-to-back, and it was quite comforting. “So, what’s wrong? Why are you in a huff?”

“I’m not in a… huff.” He replied, almost falling into the age-old trap. “I’m just thinking… and please don’t make any kind of remark.” Brenda stopped herself and just rested her head on his shoulder. “I’ve actually enjoyed this holiday…”

She nearly fell of the rock she was so astounded, when everything else had made it clear otherwise. Although he’d rigidly stuck to both conditions they’d set he was like a petulant child. He very rarely laughed or smiled, for that matter, but then that was normal for him.

“I just don’t understand you.” She responded, exasperated beyond herself. Brenda had enjoyed this week, despite everything. It had been a revelation: lying to Paul was like lying to herself and she understood now when people said: ‘fake it until you make it’. However, tomorrow was the last day, and she wasn’t sure whether this ‘cease-fire’ would last in the harsh reality.

“What’s to understand?” He replied. “I wonder if you’ve ever really tried to get to know me. You seem to expect that I have all the answers and can respond in an emotional way at the drop of a hat. I can barely acknowledge my own feelings let alone anyone else’s.”

“What a load of…”

“There you go. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this discussion. Normally its right before we argue. Either I haven’t responded the way you expect me to, or I respond in the wrong way. But either way you’ve never understood how difficult I’ve always found it.” Brenda had to concede this point; it wasn’t the first time Paul had broached this point, and it was then that she’d say he was just being difficult. But what if he was being honest and she hadn’t listened?

“Is that true?” She asked.

“I know we’ve said that we were going to lie to each other this week… but somehow, it’s because of that I’m able to be honest with you. Perhaps for the first time.” Even though he looked out to sea she could hear every word, and they were like barbed darts, hitting home 

every time. She looked out and noticed that even the sea was listening, coming in for a closer look.

“Does that mean you’ve lied to me in the past?” Brenda wasn’t sure whether she really wanted the answer. Things were slowly spiralling back to the reality she’d tried so hard to escape.

“Yes, but not in the way you think.” Paul paused. This was a line he swore he’d never cross. It was ridiculous that he was going to now… “Do you remember Jane?”

“That trollop? Why are you bringing her up now?” Brenda was incredulous. Part of her wanted to leap into the infringing sea.

“She never existed….” Paul didn’t need peripheral vision to know how Brenda was reacting. “Do you remember how it all started? You caught me buying a ring… or jewelry of some kind.”

“You know damn well what you were buying!” Brenda snapped.

Paul turned round to look at her, with an odd sheepish expression. “It was for you.”

“Pull the other one!”

“You wouldn’t listen to me then either. You already had it in your head that I was cheating on you, simply because I was sneaking around trying to get you that damn present.”

Brenda really didn’t know what to say. She could feel the waves starting to lap up against the rock below, but it didn’t register. Nothing made any sense. That happened over 7 years ago and at the time she thought she’d been so mature in forgiving Paul. Forgiving but never forgetting and making him pay… and now?

“I’ve got it with me now, y’know.” Paul continued. “I’ve always wanted to give you the damn thing but there’s never been the right moment. You never would have believed me for one thing…”  He held his hand out and there was a small blue velvet box in the palm. For a few seconds she couldn’t take it from him, her hand was shaking too much. When she finally opened the box she was shocked to see a small agate dragonfly.

“I just wanted to surprise you with it… it turned out to be a surprise but not the one I was expecting.” He explained.

“All these years.” She whispered under breath. What made it worse was she chastised him about it that Christmas. She’d even moaned that he never paid attention to her because he never bought her the dragonfly, even though she’d made such a fuss. “Why have you stayed with me when I’ve treated you so badly?”

“I’ve always wanted to treat you right, luv… but I’ve only ever been the clumsy oaf rather than the romantic hero you’ve pined after.” This wasn’t Paul being sarcastic but for the first time he was opening up to her, and it was breaking her heart. Could she have been this selfish?

“But why? I just don’t understand. I’ve been such a bitch to you, all these years.”

“I love you. It’s that simple. I’ve seen all that you’ve had to go through, your sisters being the apple of your parent’s eye, taking everything away from you. Your mum being the ultimate gorgon. I don’t honestly think you’ve ever had a break, luv….”

“Why now?” The water level was rising higher now as if the tide was rushing to meet them.

“Because I can see how things could have been if your mum had never been involved. I see you in that same way as when I first met you. I know I can’t get my words together; I’ve never been good at that… as you know.” He hung his head.

“Oh, Paul. How could I have been so blind? How can you not have hated me all these years?”

“It’s not you that I hate, luv… it’s your mum… She never looked after you, but in my own way I’ve always tried to do right by you.”

“And you have. I can see that now.”

“The irony is we’ve been lying to each other all the time.” Paul looked at her, kindness in his eyes. “Worse than that, we’ve been lying to ourselves.”

“When dad left it crucified mum and tore apart our family…” Brenda admitted. “I swore I’d never let the same thing happen to me.” 

“Is that why you never wanted children?” Paul asked and stretched out his hand which Brenda took, squeezed and let go.

“Yes. Can you imagine what kind of mother I’d have been?”

“Better than you can imagine. It probably would’ve given you the kick up the arse I never could.” Brenda smiled at that. “I doubt you would’ve repeated the same mistakes your mum made.

“No, I’d probably have made even worse ones.”

“Here’s a radical idea…” Paul exclaimed. “We’ve both admitted we’ve been lying to each other for years and making each other miserable.” Brenda laughed at that. 

“And to ourselves…” She chipped in.

“Yes.. so why not be truthful? We’ve lied to each other and been unkind in the process…”

“So let’s learn from our mistakes and be kind to each other in future?” Brenda agreed, as bizarre as it sounded this made perfect sense.

“And to ourselves… I think we need to be a lot more forgiving… and forget about the past.” Brenda nodded and laid her back on Paul’s shoulder. Paul leaned into her more. “We need to stop being an island to ourselves, luv.”

“Oh… that’s a point. Look! We’ve been so busy bloody talking we’ve totally lost track of the time.” They looked around them, the beach had now been swamped by the swelling sea. “What are we going to do, Paul? I can’t swim!”

“I think it’s too deep now to carry you on my back… and it’d be pretty precarious getting both of us back to dry land.”

“Save yourself, Paul… You could probably make it on your own.”

“I’m not leaving you, if that’s what you think.” Paul looked around and saw that there was no way off the rock for the both of them.

“But what other way is there? Do you think we’re going to be safe where we are?” The water nipped at her toes, and she pulled her leg in closer to her. She could feel Paul trying not to panic.

“Do you want the truth?” He asked.

“No…. lie to me.” Brenda responded with a desperate chuckle.

“Then we’re screwed….”

Pent up

I always have the window open whilst driving, even in the coldest weather. With the window closed it's too much like driving a four wheeled tomb; I get tense, claustrophobic and then manic. I don't like passengers so don't get many complaints.I ran over a kid a few years ago, not my fault you understand, but since then I don't even like having the seat belt on, it's so constrictive.

They say things happen in slow motion in a life or death situation but that's not true; that happens later during the action replays, like a channel that's on endless repeats with a broken remote control. The car breaking even as the kid hits the bumper, almost cartwheeling into the windscreen, fracturing it into a unique spiders-web. Luckily I never saw his face as he hit, just heard his screams later on. Since then my window is wound all the way down so I can feel that there's an outside world, so I'm not totally disconnected to what's really going on. I'm not this tiny metal box on wheels...

I mean, you ever notice when someone's in an accident they identify with their car? “You hit me!”... nope, not at all. My car collided with your car, no physical contact between our respective flesh and blood bodies took place. People get very possessive about the slightest thing happening to their car. Their wives and kids... ah, who cares? Touch their car and there will be hell to pay.

Me? I had to drive, I didn't necessarily enjoy it. My job was off the beaten track -a pre-fabricated office built in the grounds of a working farm, on the site of an old slaughterhouse (I kid you not!) and my girlfriend lives about an hour away from me, so I need a car and as she doesn't drive, and can’t be bothered to travel to see me, I don't have much choice!

Anyway, this particular night I've finished work and am driving to see her; over an hour away, and we have tickets to see a film. It’s one I'm really not bothered with seeing, but we're going with a couple of her detestable friends and she wants to show me off. Both of us were kind of undateable and met on this website for the terminally clueless, and actually made a pact to stick with the relationship no matter what. She's in her 40's, is about eleven years older than me, and no longer wants to be single. Going for a trophy boyfriend means she can push me around, and she constantly makes me wish I had never made the vow.

Twenty minutes into the drive and it starts to rain. Hard. I don't mind getting wet sometimes and it takes a lot for me to wind the window up, but this time there's a strong wind blowing the rain right into the car and I'm getting soaked. I have no choice now. I try winding it down a crack but it's no use, I'm still getting wet; brilliant! It's an open road and no cover, and it's pretty much straight for the next half an hour. Remember to keep breathing deep and level...

I'd love to say that the relationship has some perks. I mean, the first date was great, don't get me wrong. We spent the whole night talking and had so much to say, we just clicked. Six hours just flew and then she said, “Well, I'd normally invite you home as I don't believe in waiting for a few dates to fuck, but I'm tired. Maybe another night?”

I was bowled over to say the slightest. I wasn't even sure whether I found her attractive, but she'd already moved on to the next stage. The irony was, she was happy to fuck but not to kiss. Intimacy problems? Just what was I getting involved in?

I found out the next night....

Seems she didn't even want to wait for the next date. It was the only time she visited mine and she just turned up at my doorstep with a bottle of wine in her hand. I don't even recall giving her my address....

Anyway, we screwed for most of the night. I was woefully inexperienced but she actually liked that and enjoyed teaching me. But no hugging or kissing...on the mouth anyway. The sex was great though and I wonder if that was what kept me going back.

The traffic stalls with half the journey still to go and the film starting in less time than it takes to get there! I said to her not to get the early booking, but she did it deliberately. I'm her boytoy to do her bidding as she sees it. She'll pout, but if I try to exert any control then she just laughs. I just can’t stand my ground to her, hence tonight.  She's an inferior decorator or an unemployed museum curator. Her friends have more money than sense and want to go to an arthouse film where all you see is those annoying closed captions and stilted images; where you need to either forget what you’re watching or get thoroughly confused with who's fucking who. I mean, that's all those films are -sex, sex, sex- and if it wasn't for the fact that it turns her on more than usual I wouldn't bother going. (I'd much rather see the latest Danny Dyer film).

However, because Tracey and Paul are going they'll act as a damp squib -the intellectual equivalent of viagra. They should be distilled, bottled and given away to sex maniacs as a curative. They're actually grotesque in their saccharine falseness and complete insincerity. It's obvious that they care as much about each other as they do themselves, but they act like two newlyweds in a carry on film.. .but they look like bloated warthogs..

This isn't good.. I can feel my mood changing; I can feel myself getting really claustrophobic, I need to open the damn window! Need some fresh air or else I'll start going crazy and tonight is not the night for that to happen. The road ahead blinks in Morse code as more brake lights flicker and then dominate the landscape. We're going nowhere until the traffic clears, and it's still whipping up a storm and I can't open the window in case the car gets flooded.

That doesn't stop me from trying the passenger window though -genius!

And for a while it works, the fresh air calms me right down but then I see the bloke in the lane next to me. He has his window partially wound down and I can hear his music  playing; it's something like Coldplay or something equally as depressing and crass, and he's arguing with the woman in the passenger side so he turns the volume up even louder and I'm starting to get a headache now. Part of me wants to shout at him but I shut my window again and try to find something to concentrate on.

It's unlikely that I'm going anywhere for a while now and I know that I'm going to be late and miss the first part of the film. She'll see it as a personal attack because I don't like her friends and there probably won't be any sex tonight -which is, I think, the only reason I put up with her shit.

Our pact means nothing to me. It was something else that she got me to promise in mid-blowjob. It had been years since anyone else had willingly done that and with her mouth inches away from my begging cock I would have willingly sold my mum into slavery.

There was only one thing I could do now though and that was ring her.

She wasn't happy, and that was putting it mildly. Imagine the voice of a Dalek crossed with an angry Roseanne Barr and you're close... Of course, those Warthog friends of hers would be listening in and passing comment in the background. They never approved of me in the first place as I saw them for the frauds that they really were. She wouldn't let me have a word in edgeways and the crackling of the phone made her voice sound worse -if such a thing were possible.

The rain pelting on the windscreen and windows, the brake lights flashing out an epileptics nightmare, the car closing in on me and the idiot next to me still rowing with his wife, readying to strike her and then the bastards behind start honking their horns –none of this is conducive to my worsening mood!

And then she gets inventive with her nagging. Why not? I'm a captive audience and her friends are giving her fresh ammunition, constantly feeding her nuggets. Apparently I've no imagination, no money, inexperienced in bed and I wear a raincoat.... I kid you not, she actually said that she hated the fact that I wore a raincoat. She's embarrassed to be seen with me when I wear that 'thing', she thinks I look like a degenerate... That's it... the Mac was a gift from my parents and I love wearing it (it reminds me of Humphrey Bogart!) and with everything else that's happened on this journey so far, everything that I've kept bottled up since meeting her, everything that's happened in my whole life, I finally let it rip. It’s a brilliant, cascading hate filled, bile flooded tirade; a wonderful waterfall of pent up frustration; the damn finally swept away.

The rain ceases.

The bloke in the car next to me stops trying to hit his wife and turns the music off.

The frantic brake lights relent and the traffic actually starts moving again.

“Got to go, darling.” I say and hang up on her now hysteric sobbing. Guess I’m no longer her little miracle worker....

I pull off at the earliest opportunity and head home with the window open, singing along to Queen's 'Keep yourself alive' at the top of my voice. Back at home I have the best wank of my life; completely guilt free. Bliss!

Past saving

“You were never like this thirty years ago.” And that was true; thirty years was a long time.

“Well, congratulation; you’ve finally found the real me. You always said there had to be more to me, and now you know you’re right. Just like you used to be.”

Spend enough time anywhere, Len always maintained, and even Heaven would feel like Hell, especially if it was with the wrong person. The thing is, it didn’t start out like this.. or did it?

“What do you mean, used to be?” He snapped. It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon; a trip to the seaside; a walk down memory lane before they demolished the pier and eradicated the last of their happy memories.

“Well, you used to be right. Or, at least, you used to pretend you were right, and I suppose that I used to pretend as well.” Dot had taken some persuading, the news of the pier being demolished had hit her harder than he had realised. He was saddened by it, certainly, but she seemed almost inconsolable; nor did she want to talk about it; or indeed anything, which was very unlike her.

“Anything for a quiet life, I suppose.” He muttered. “How ironic.”

“What did you say?” She snapped suddenly.

“Steady on, old girl. What’s the matter?”

“Go to hell!”  I can’t, he thought, already there.. and what was worse, he knew that she felt the same. Neither of them wanted to end up this way, but it had still happened; slowly, inexorably: minute by damned minute. This trip might well have been a mistake, but what was one more? Unless this was the final one.

“Seriously, Dot, what’s wrong? You know I don’t mean it.”

There were still times when Len’s truth surprised her, where his real caring nature shone through, like it always used to. Not only did it make it easier to love him, but she knew that she could tell him anything, well.. almost. Now is where she would put it to the test.

“Do you remember Justin? He used to work at Wentworth’s with me for a while.”

Len shifted a little, uncomfortable with the way the conversation had suddenly turned.

“Yes, I vaguely remember him –or at least you mentioning him.” He lied.

“I found out that he passed away a couple of days ago. On Facebook, I mean… I found out that on Facebook that he passed. The funeral was yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“I went.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It wasn’t that she had gone without him; he had never stopped her living her own life. He had tried to make her happy, even if it meant that she did things on her own; but it was the fact that she hadn’t even told him. She’d never had any reason to be secretive before.

“I don’t know. I didn’t know whether I could go through with it myself, to be honest. I didn’t know… what I felt.”

“What do you mean, Dorothy?”

“Why is it that you only call me Dorothy in that tone of voice? You used to whisper my name during love making.”

“Don’t change the subject, what else haven’t you been telling me?”

“But I’m not changing the subject, don’t you see? As above, so below; one of your favourite sayings. Look at the detail to see the root of the bigger problem. We’re growing apart, Leonard. We’re not talking anymore, not like we used to. We bicker, but not talk… Justin and I.. well, we had an affair.. of sorts.”

“For God’s sake, why tell me now?”

“Don’t blaspheme!”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, your timing is as impeccable as ever.”

“Please, Leonard, don’t blaspheme.”

“Leonard, eh? Touché, old girl, touché. You know, I’ve often wondered why you got more religious the longer we’ve been together. What am I, the anti-christ?”

“Hardly… you’ve always encouraged me to find my own truth; the same way you have. You’ve never told me what to believe, and I suppose I’m grateful. But where you’ve found solace and truth and peace of mind, I’ve seen only emptiness.”

“You never did understand that life is what you make it; you only get out what you put it. You’ve never invested in your Self.”

“Well, neither did you…”

“I gave you your freedom. I’ve allowed you to be what you wanted; to have what you wanted.”

“Have you..”

“well… except that.”

“At least the church gives me a sense of purpose, tells me who I am.”

“I’m sorry that you need such a scaffold; I had hoped that you’d find the strength to do that on your own.”

“I must be a great disappointment to you.” Dot turned to look out at sea.

“Do you have to be so daft? I married you, didn’t I? Despite not believing in it; doesn’t that count for something? I’m still with you… I still love you; doesn’t that say something?”

“I don’t know any more.” She replied.

He took a deep breath, watched the gulls cawl and hackle at each other. “Are you going to tell me about him then?” He asked. “About what happened?”

“He was only there as a temp; six months. He was ten years younger than me but always looked at me with.. I don’t know… there was a wistfulness  in his gaze; something alive for me. I wasn’t unhappy, you mustn’t think that. At least, I don’t think so. You’ve always been distant… I know that you always loved me; but I don’t think you’ve ever been in love with me. You don’t put as much effort into the relationship anymore.”

“It’s always been about what you want, though Dot.” He interjected. “And I’ve never denied you anything; but, equally, I learned long ago that you’d never be completely satisfied. Early on you defined our relationship as being best because of the way I made you feel; not about me per se; but it was always about what you got out of it, or what I did for you. So I supposed he was different then.”

“He courted me, would you believe? Gently though, allowed me to time to make up my own mind. Strangely he didn’t want anything from me, just to give me love, and loving. We were together only for four months; on and off.. mostly off.”

“I know.” The silence struck her, it was as if the sea itself had stood still. She had never dreamed that he knew. All that time. “Well… obviously, I didn’t know the details, but I certainly suspected.”

“But why did you never say anything? Oh.. of course.”

She was quiet for a bit. The world carried on as normal; the sun played hide and seek with the clouds as children ran along the pier behind them. The smells of candyfloss, donuts and fish & chips would soon be nothing more than a tidal memory; an eddy on the minds of the lucky few who would remember.

“It wasn’t love that we felt.” She finally said. “At least I don’t think it was. We loved each other in the moment and then went our separate ways. The irony was that he was married as well; happily too, as I was led to believe, and with two daughters; and that was where the real rub was. He knew what I so desperately wanted and that was probably why he never slept with me. We enjoyed each other but never went all the way; even with him I was denied.

“What made it worse was the way he spoke about you… I mean, obviously we talked, but the more I explained about you and us, the more admiration he showed for you. How you’d given me flow; freedom and choice. And I suppose that’s true, otherwise I would never have met him.

“Of course, he moved away when his contract was up. We knew that we’d never keep in contact, and our last meeting was very much the same as our first… I swore that I’d never tell you; that I’d keep our secret to the grave.”

“And you have, pet.”

“Yes, I suppose I have.”

“And what do you feel now?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I never wanted to hurt you. I guess I felt empty when he left. It was about that time when you were researching hermeticism and I picked up the Bible, and just thought ‘why not?’ At least someone will love me.” She sobbed now, gently, like a lost soul might weep.

“I’ve always loved you, but –in hindsight- maybe not the way that you needed it. You want love like a child; constant attention. The only reason you want a baby so much is so it can take you away from the emptiness you’ve always felt. But it’s only ever a passing felling; you have to do that yourself.”

“But why? You’ve never really told me why you don’t want children. You must tell me, Len, I can’t go on not knowing. I can’t have them now anyway; please tell me.”

He looked at her then, his eyes full of compassion. Part of him wanted to say no, but that would have been unbearably cruel. He sighed.

“Once, when I was a boy of no more than thirteen, I went to a ghastly wedding.” He said, looking out to sea again. “It was with a bunch of family I didn’t know or care for; cousins, distant something or rathers. The reception was being held at some awful, run-down hotel when they didn’t seem to care about customer service or value for money. It was dingy and expensive.

“Anyway, I was claustrophobic –even back then- so I went outside. There was a veranda overlooking the Downs and a few younger children were playing, making lots of noise. I didn’t take too much notice; the view was so stunning.

“One of the children had a kind of motorised bird that flapped its wings when you threw it. This boy was deaf and had some form of mental retardation; I don’t know what kind –we were more ignorant about that kind of thing, back then. I was taller than most of the other kids, and he wanted me to throw this damnable bird, this flappy toy, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept tugging at my sleeve.

“My cousin, Bobby, was there and he was enjoying it; really winding me up; so I picked up this bloody bird and threw it as hard as I could out of spite, see? I never wanted to get involved but he wouldn’t leave me alone!” He could feel the tears now, a memory he’d hoped was forgotten was still just as painful. “The wind… I didn’t bank on the bloody wind taking it, did I? I mean, how could I have known?” My God, it was still so raw, it could have happened yesterday. Was it still happening now?

“What happened, Len? Please tell me, it’s ok. Let it out, it can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Oh.. and how do you know? You want to know what happened? I killed that poor lad, just as if I’d put a gun to his head; it was my fault. I threw that bird, that fucking bird.” People were staring at him; look at the old fool blubbing, well.. let them! “That bird, flew so very high on to the roof. I bet it had never flown that high in its life, and now it was stuck out of reach, never to fly again. There was no way I could get to it, nor did I have any inclination to, but the boy was having none of it. He wanted me to go and get it; after all, I was the one who had lost it. But there was no way I was getting involved; I hadn’t wanted to throw it in the first place, had i? So I tried walking away, but he wouldn’t let me; he tried stopping me… kids… we can be so cruel; all he wanted was his damn bird… He tried to grab me, tried dragging me back; he didn’t seem to understand that I didn’t want to know…  but he soon did though.”

“What did you do? What did you do to that poor boy?”

“See; you’re just the same. The poor boy…he was a menace. What I want to know, and what I’ve often wondered about afterwards, is where were his fucking parents? Why weren’t they looking after him? They were probably enjoying the free booze, getting pissed.”

“What did you do?” She persisted, quietly.

“Nothing.. pushed him away; that’s all.. and then walked away. Thankfully he didn’t follow. He fell to the ground, but I didn’t bother going to help him; to me the matter was over, but for him it had only just begun.

“I wanted food; I was hungry. Even back then I comfort ate, and by the time I’d laden up my plate I’d almost forgotten about it all… almost.  Then Bobby ran over to me, distraught. The boy.. he kept saying; The boy.. sobbing. I ran out with him. The boy hadn’t forgotten about that damned bird, after all. Seems it was his favourite toy and he wanted it back, so he tried climbing up the side of the building. Those old hotels; they all have the fancy walls with lots of hand-holds, and this boy tried scaling them. Obviously he fell; no one looking after him, no one caring and he paid the price.

“He didn’t fall far but the way his little body was twisted he must have snapped his neck. At least it was quick… But then, like the ultimate irony, that fucking bird came flapping back down because of a stray gust of wind. It landed on his body but he would never play with it again. That poor, poor boy.”

“But it wasn’t your fault, Len. How can you continue to blame yourself?”

“No one blamed me. Not even his parents. All the witnesses saw him hassle me, none of them remembered me pushing him down, but all saw me try to reason with him. The parents looked almost relieved that their torment was over. What they must have endured over the years, and the one time they turned their back something happened.

“I was inconsolable for weeks afterwards; I still saw his face accusing me. The parents let me keep the bird, they didn’t ask why; perhaps they understood.”

“No..; that’s.. you mean, that’s why you keep that mangy toy in the corner? I thought it might have been your favourite toy as a child; I never dreamed..”

“I swore that I would never put myself in that position again. I despised those parents; all the parents that turned a blind eye to that poor child. I despised myself for the same, and I knew that I could never bring a child into such a life.”

“But you wouldn’t have done. You would have been different. Oh, Len.”

“Really? I caused the death of that boy; I was the catalyst. I don’t know whether I could’ve gotten that bird or talked the boy down from getting it; but I didn’t want to know. I hated children, Dot… don’t you see? I despised them. Now? I don’t know; I pity them; they don’t stand a chance and things have gotten so much worse.

“Don’t you see? Our child.. had we… it wouldn’t have stood a chance. Between us, you would’ve smothered it before it could even get out of the crib and I would have abandoned it. Together I’m sure that we make a whole, but I couldn’t have subjected an innocent soul to that kind of torment. Far better to bear it myself.”

“But you haven’t, have you? I’ve had to bear it as well. This is why you’re always so distant.. why you’ve striven so hard to find meaning; and you’re just as empty as me. Oh, you put on these graces, tart it up in language to dazzle me but you’re still the same thirteen year old boy.”

“Yes.. yes..” He nodded, ashamed, but also relieved to finally have disclosed what he felt. “You’re right, of course.”

Dot smiled despite everything, or perhaps because of everything. Despite the pain, the recriminations, she actually laughed.

“That must be the first time you’ve ever said that… and meant it.” She said, still smiling.

“Do you think people can change, Dot? Do you think that we can? Or are we like this damn pier; just a skeleton; we weather the storms and high tides until its deemed we’re too unsafe and have no functional value. What do you think? Are we still of value to each other?”

“Justin dying has made sense of a few things, clarified them. I don’t think either of us have ever lived for the moment. We’ve both sought sanctuary elsewhere; escaping what we think is the inevitability of other peoples failings; but it needn’t be that way. What have we got to be scared of anymore? We’ve been scared to love because of what we might have to lose, but what have we really gained?

“I want more, Leonard. I want more from you, damn you. I want more love from you; I want to love you more.”

“Ha – that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear, m’love. Maybe there’s hope for you yet…For us. Do you think that we can change?”

“I fucking well hope so.”