I’ve eaten already, she said from inside. Thank you.
He nodded to himself, pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, walked away from her door, and then walked back again. He shook his head and knocked on the door again.
Can I come in? he asked.
Sure.
He opened the door and found her sitting up against the headboard with her laptop on her lap. The window was open. He stood in the doorway, not entering, one hand on the doorframe. She tilted her head to one side enquiringly.
I fixed the shower, he said.
I noticed that. Thank you.
She returned her attention to whatever she had been doing on her laptop. He continued standing there, looking unsatisfied.
Are you mad with me? he asked.
No, I’m not mad.
I feel bad about what happened earlier.
Don’t worry about it, she said.
He rubbed the doorframe under his hand, still watching her.
Do you really not want me to worry about it, or are you just saying that? he asked.
What do you mean?
You’re acting a bit off with me.
She shrugged. He waited for her to say something and she didn’t.
See, like that, he said. You’re not really talking.
I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s your business what kind of porn you like to watch. But it is unfortunate you left the page open because I found it disturbing.
He frowned and said: I wouldn’t really say it was disturbing.
No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.
What does that mean?
Looking up at him now with a rather fierce expression, she said: What do you want to hear, Felix? You like to watch videos of horrible things happening to vulnerable women, and you want me to say what? That’s fine? I’m sure it is fine. You’re not going to go to prison for it.
And you think I should, do you?
What I think is really none of your business, is it?
He laughed. He had his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. Lightly he tapped his shoe on the doorframe. I suppose there’s nothing embarrassing in your search history, he said.
Nothing like that, no.
Well, you’re very superior, then.
She was typing something, no longer looking up at him. He watched her.
I don’t think you really care about those women, he said eventually. I think you’re just annoyed that I like something you don’t.
Maybe.
Or maybe you’re jealous of them.
They looked at one another for a moment. Calmly, she said: I think it’s a shame you would speak to me like that. But no, I’m not jealous of anyone who has to degrade themselves for money. I consider myself lucky I don’t have to.
Your money hasn’t gotten you very far with me, though, has it?
Without flinching she replied: On the contrary, I’ve had the pleasure of your company for the last three days. What more could I ask?
He glanced behind him, into the living room, and then rubbed his hands down over his face in a gesture of total mental or physical exhaustion. She watched him neutrally.
Is that what you were after, the pleasure of my company? he said.
Yes.
And you’ve enjoyed it, have you?
Very much, she said.
He looked around, shaking his head slowly. Finally he walked into the room and sat on the empty side of the bed, with his back turned to her.
Can I lie down for a second? he said.
Sure.
He lay down on his back. Next to him she continued typing. She seemed to be writing an email.
You’re making me feel incredibly guilty over something I don’t think was that bad, he said.
Still typing, she answered: It’s nice to know you care so much about my opinion.
If you think that’s bad, whatever, he said. I’ve honestly done a lot worse. I mean, if looking at something on the internet is enough to put you off me, we were never going to be good friends, because that’s nothing to me. I’ve done horrible things compared to that.
She stopped typing then and looked at him. Like what? she asked.
Loads of things, he said. Where would I even start. Like, for example, you’ll hate this one. About a year ago I brought some girl home after a night out, and then I found out later she was still in school. I’m not just saying that to fuck with you, I’m serious.
Sixteen or seventeen, I think she was.
Did she look older?
I want to say she must have. But I didn’t think about it. We were both drunk, she seemed like she was having fun. I know that’s a horrible thing to say. It wasn’t a case of me going after her on purpose because she was a kid, I never would have touched her if I’d known that, but obviously it was still wrong what happened. And I’m not saying, oh, it was just a mistake, it could have happened to anyone. Because actually, it was my own stupidity from start to finish. I’m not going to go on and on about how bad I feel about it. But I do feel bad, okay?
Quietly, she said: I believe you.
And honestly, I’ve done worse than that. Worst thing I’ve ever done, if you want to hear—
He broke off, and she nodded for him to continue. He looked away into the room as he spoke, grimacing vaguely, as if staring into a light.
Worst thing I’ve ever done, I got a girl pregnant when I was in school. She was in Junior Cert and I was in fifth year. Have you ever heard anything worse than that? Her mam had to take her over to England. I think they got the boat over. She was like fourteen or whatever, a little child basically. We weren’t even supposed to be having
sex, I talked her into it. I mean, I told her it would be fine. There, anyway, that’s the worst thing.
Did she want to do it, or did you make her do it?