At just gone seven my heart darkened. She heard me stop typing, waited for some minutes, and then asked “What's happened?”
“I need to score,” I said.
“You're kidding, right?”
“No.”
“You must be! It must be a fucking joke?! You spent all day telling me of how you had had enough... How you were going on at least a week's break.”
“I know, and I meant it... Then. But now, now I want to score. Something's happened.”
“What? What's happened?”
“Just something in the air. Did you hear the rain? Did you smell it when you opened the window? That's what happened. Something blew on in.”
She didn't speak for a moment after that. I sat staring at the words I had been writing on the computer. The light was fading and there was something sulphurous out there in the night, like the city had a whole life going on that I was missing out on. When she next spoke the room was in darkness and I was camouflaged by it.
“Well, how can you score? You've no money. You've never any money.”
“I know, but I'll have money one day. I have an article that will be ready for Monday and a few bits to collect from a few people.”
“So, you want me to pay for it?”
“No, that's not what I want. I never want you to pay for it. But you could lend me the cash until my cheque comes through.”
“And what if I don't want to? What if I ask you to just go two days?”
“Then I'll do it. I'll have no choice. But it won't change anything and those days may bring in hell.”
“You're a shit... a real fucking shitbag! I was so happy watching you write, thinking of tomorrow...”
“We'll still have tomorrow. We'll always have tomorrow. But today I'm sorry.”
She took her purse up out her bag, counted through whatever money she had in there, then closed it again and sat like that, in the dark, hoping the horror would somehow end. I pretended to be editing, but really I was staring at the clock on the computer, hoping she'd give in quickly and not make this any more difficult than it needed to be. After half an hour I broke the silence.
“So, will you lend me it or not?”
“Do I have a fucking choice?”
“You always have a choice. Come on... Get yourself ready and come with me.We can run through the rain and get a coffee up on the hill. We can look at the lights and be thankful for all the success we never had.”
“You go. I'm not going. It was so peaceful here. You keep your dreams to yourself tonight.”
“No, you've got to come. We'll ride the metro one last time and tomorrow will come so much quicker like that.”
She rose, slowly. She smoked a cigarette and she stood near the window. She scrunched her cigarette out until every ember was done cold. She went into the bathroom and she pee'd in slow motion and then washed her hands and creamed them and changed her clothes at a thread a time. She did everything slowly, wanted to run time out and to somehow stop the unstoppable. When she was finally all out of things to do she came in and took up her purse and, without making eye contact, she gave me the notes and another little piece of her waning love. I wanted to die and I wanted to laugh. I took the notes and I held her, like the first time and like forever.
- - -
A full Memoires text coming soon... X
