Alexandra, Gone

8

“Bedsprings”

I looked behind the cooker,
sofa and the sink,
got down on my knees
and looked under the fridge
but I can’t find love.
Jack L, Metropolis Blue

April 2008

Dominic had never been very good at relationships. In his thirty-six years on the planet, his longest relationship had been three years. He’d married Bella six months after he’d ended a disastrous but very passionate affair with a dancer called Heidi. She had been twenty-three and liked to take E or alternatively acid on the weekends. He hadn’t bothered to take E in his teens and twenties with his peers, and so he was damned if he was going to do it in his thirties. He’d witnessed a guy in college attempt to hack off his own foot with a wooden spoon while screaming that the eagles had landed after a particularly bad acid trip, so that was out. Besides, as a respectable bank manager, the last thing in the world he wanted was to be found in a club in Dublin drunk and bouncing off the walls or screaming bloody murder while attempting to land himself on the moon. Heidi resented that he didn’t share her interests, and he found it difficult to live with someone who was in a bad mood from Sunday morning to Tuesday night. So class A drugs were blamed for the demise of their relationship. They had fought and she had ordered him out of her flat, and he told her he would not be back and she was happy with that, further promising that if she saw him anywhere near her place again she’d call the police. He pointed out that calling the police would obviously be a bad idea, considering she lived with a drug dealer named Seth and spent half her time either going up or coming down. He walked from her flat to his car and drove to Jane’s house, and she made him dinner and provided a shoulder to cry on, because even though Heidi drove him crazy he would miss her. Jane was a great listener. She was always there for him, even though when she’d needed him most he hadn’t been there for her.
Dominic often regretted the choices he had made at seventeen, but there was a part of him that was also secretly grateful. If he and Jane had married like Rose had demanded at the time, they wouldn’t have made it. He would never have gone to university. If he hadn’t gone to university, he wouldn’t have an extremely well-paid and cushy job in a top bank, and he certainly wouldn’t be living the luxury lifestyle he’d become accustomed to. He could have kissed good-bye his cars and his house in Ballsbridge and his chalet in France and the five apartments he was earning high rents from in an exclusive development in Blackrock. God knows where he’d be, because when he was seventeen his parents had warned him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t go to university and get a degree and follow in his father’s footsteps, he was on his own. At the time he was a kid, confused and scared, and although he was high on a drug called love, the reality of becoming a father sobered him up fast. His parents had insisted he stay away from the girl, who they believed had become pregnant on purpose to trap him. When their offer of financial support on the condition that Jane keep away from their son was rejected by the madwoman who had reared her, they were happy to wash their hands entirely of the girl and child. They were adamant that if Dominic didn’t want to pay for university himself, he would never speak to the girl again. He didn’t want to pay for college himself. He wanted the same free ride that his two older brothers had enjoyed. He wanted the cool apartment he could share with his two best friends, Mint and Brick. He wanted to experience the college lifestyle, the parties, the girls, the clubs, the drinks, the sport, the late nights, the crap food, and mostly the freedom from a life lived under the watchful eye of his strict parents. He easily acquiesced to their demands, and afterward, when Jane tried to talk to him, he ignored her. When she took the hint and stayed away, he watched her grow under her uniform, and although he ignored her it was hard to ignore the terrible sadness in her eyes because she wasn’t given a choice. All that ambition that burned so brightly in her would be lost, and all Dominic wanted to do was run away because Dominic, like their principal, Amanda Reynolds, knew that Jane could have achieved whatever she wanted. She could hold a full-scale conversation with Alexandra during math class, and if the teacher tried to make an example out of her by asking her to explain the theorem on the blackboard, she could do so without even so much as a second’s thought. Alexandra, on the other hand, would stand and make up something so preposterous that the whole class would burst out laughing; she’d take a bow and sit, leaving the teacher too busy trying to regain control over his class to bother correcting her for not paying attention. Jane barely opened a book and yet she maintained a B average. She could have been an A student with the greatest of ease but deliberately maintained her B average because she didn’t want to be associated with the class nerds. She too had been desperate to go to university, and she’d applied to the same colleges as Alexandra, and although it would mean being apart from Dominic, she had secretly hoped that they would both get Cork because then she would get to leave home. Dominic was sorry for Jane and he wanted the best for her because she was cool and they’d had the best two years together, but he was far too selfish to risk his own future to tell her.
Four years after his son was born, Dominic had graduated from college. He had experienced all the things that came with college life, he was on a good starting salary with the bank of his choice, and his parents didn’t own him anymore. He walked up the steps of his old girlfriend’s house on the day of their child’s fourth birthday. He carried a gift in his hand. Passing balloons tied to the railings, he stopped at the front door and took a moment to collect himself before knocking. He was perfectly prepared for the door to be slammed in his face, but it wasn’t. Jane opened it with their son on her hip, and even though he’d walked up the pathway and knocked on her door, seeing her and his son was a shock to him. He tried to raise a smile, but was ashamed and embarrassed, and so he lifted up the gift and held it out. She looked from him to the gift and then to her son, and she opened the door a little more and invited him in. Thirteen years later, Dominic still couldn’t work out why Jane had found it so easy to forgive him.
The first time they had slept together again was the night of Kurt’s Holy Communion. Kurt was seven, and in the three years Dominic had been a father to Kurt, he and Jane had become close confidants and friends. He was there, dressed in a suit with video camera in hand, when his son came down the stairs dressed in his own little Mini-Me suit and wearing his rosette pinned to his chest. Kurt was embarrassed and hated his suit and begged Jane to gel back his blond curls, but there was no way that was happening, so after a minitantrum at the bottom of the stairs, which was later edited out, they made their way to the church together as a family. Dominic drove, Jane sat in the front, and Kurt sat between his auntie Elle, who was sixteen and going through her Siouxsie and the Banshees “craving for a raw love” phase, and Rose, who kicked the back of Dominic’s seat twice, claiming it was an accident and pretending to be completely horrified that her daughter could possibly think it was anything else.
“I was merely crossing my legs, Jane, and if this car wasn’t the size of half a can of beans I’d be able to do so without nearly losing a knee.”
Afterward they met up with his parents in a posh restaurant in Dublin city center, and despite Rose getting completely twisted before the main course was even served and in spite of Dominic’s parents’ coldness, Kurt was happy to be surrounded by the people he loved, because back then Jane and Dominic were the center of his universe and Elle was the coolest person he knew. Dominic stayed well after Kurt had been put to bed. Together they opened a bottle of wine and toasted their son’s big day. They weren’t even through the first glass when Dominic was taking Jane to her bedroom, the same one that she had snuck him into eight years earlier, and they both crept as silently as they could because at that time Rose still lived in the main house, and although she was in a drunken stupor, neither Dominic nor Jane wanted to risk waking her and receiving her wrath. Once Jane’s door was closed and locked, they kissed and touched, and they were naked within minutes and lying together on the same bed that their son was conceived in, except this time Jane had the coil fitted and Dominic was wearing a condom. Dominic snuck out a few hours later.
The next day he had phoned. He was regretful and hopeful that their actions the previous night wouldn’t ruin the fantastic friendship they’d built. Jane had promised him that nothing would change, and when he hung up he was relieved that once again Jane Moore had proved herself to be so cool. Of course, he didn’t witness her brokenhearted and lying facedown on her bedroom floor crying for hours, nor did he have any idea how much she had hoped that he’d give their relationship a chance, because for Jane what could be better than a happy ending with the man she loved and the father of her child?
The second time they had sex again was after Jane’s twenty-seventh birthday. Dominic had been seeing two women but it was early days in their relationships as neither had yet allowed him access to her bedroom. Jane had broken up with an artist she’d dated for six months. They were incredibly drunk, and if Jane had not woken up on top of Dominic, neither of them would have remembered actually having sex. This was rectified the following night when Dominic brought flowers and chocolates to once again apologize for his pesky penis. Jane opened a bottle of wine, and half an hour after Dominic’s apology they were once again in bed together. For the next year they often got together when Dominic was between relationships or Jane was lonely or having a hard time dealing with her mother, her sister, or their son. By that stage their relationship was firmly in the friends-with-benefits zone, which suited Dominic completely, and Jane seemed happy to make the best of it. Then it stopped when Dominic met Gina at a conference held in the Gresham Hotel. She was a country girl, accomplished, nice to Jane and kind to Kurt. They lasted for three years, and Jane was sure they’d marry, but when Gina demanded a ring, Dominic walked away and found himself in Jane’s bed once more. And so their sexual history had continued until the last time they’d had sex—the night he’d split with the tripped-out Heidi.
A week later he had arrived to Kurt’s fifteenth birthday with his new girlfriend, Bella, and one month later they were engaged. Dominic and Jane hadn’t slept together since, and after the night in the car when he’d clearly attempted to seduce her, Jane felt more than a little awkward around him, and so his insistence that she invite him to Elle’s Missing Exhibition made her extremely uncomfortable, especially in light of Kurt’s recent admission that things were weird at his dad’s house.
Elle felt like a new woman since her weekend away with Leslie. She had continued to work for hours every day, laboring over each face as though re-creating it in the presence of God. When the collection of twelve was completed, two of her old art school contemporaries arrived at her cottage to view the works. Fiona and Lori arrived together and Elle greeted them warmly, hugging Fiona and then Lori, and when Lori pointed out that they hadn’t seen her since before Christmas she explained that she had been working very hard. They complained that she hadn’t bothered to turn up to her last exhibition and she apologized for her absence, telling them that she’d come down with the flu.
She made coffee before the unveiling, and Fiona admitted that they’d heard the gossip that Vincent had ended the relationship and that she’d burned out his car.
Lori laughed a little. “He deserved it,” she said.
“Elle,” Fiona said, “he’s a user, always was and always will be.”
Elle poured the coffee. “So what’s the story about the blonde?” she asked. “Caroline. I bumped into them recently.”
“She’s an actress on that stupid drama shot in the UK. What’s it called?” Fiona asked Lori.
“Can’t remember, but I’ve heard that she strips every second episode,” she replied.
“So now he’s living off her,” Elle said, and she grinned. “Lucky girl. Until another source of income takes his fancy.”
Lori and Fiona looked at each other, and Lori made a face.
Fiona turned to Elle. “He married her,” she said.
“What?” Elle said. “No! It’s only been five minutes. No way! Really?”
“Sorry,” Lori said.
Elle was in shock. “He married her.”
“Last week,” Fiona said. “In a registry office, and the afters were in the Four Seasons.”
“It’s featured in this week’s VIP magazine,” Lori said. “Can you believe that? The only thing important about him is the person he’s sleeping with.”
Elle brushed it off, telling her two friends that she wished Vincent and Caroline the best, and then changed the subject. After talking some more they followed her to the studio, and they were both impressed with her work, going as far as to say it would be her best show yet.
“I feel like crying,” Lori said, looking across the twelve faces, including Alexandra’s, whose slight smile made her ache inside.
“It’s genius,” Fiona said, “and it’s such a great concept.”
Now that Elle was finished with her latest project, the girls would accept no excuses and insisted she join them at a party after the exhibition the next night. They left soon after, and Elle sat at her baby grand piano that took up half her sitting room and played some notes and decided that it was time she got back in the game.
Jane appeared later that afternoon, and they packed up the paintings together. Elle told her about Vincent, and Jane called him some names and wished ill health upon him, but Elle was determined to be over him and so her bitching seemed unnecessary. After Jane left, Elle got into a bath and soaked for a glorious hour. When she grew bored she got out and lathered herself in the richest of creams. She sprayed on her favorite perfume, pulled her hair off her face into a tight ponytail, and dressed in her sexiest short dress and highest black heels. She left her cottage and walked up the path toward the side gate that would lead her to the front gate and on to adventure.
Rose was standing outside when she passed.
“You look like a whore,” she said.
“I plan to act like one,” Elle said.
“Well, at least no one can say you’re a tease,” Rose said, and she headed indoors.
Leslie had spent the week in and out of the hospital having tests to ensure that she was healthy enough to have her breasts and womb removed. She remarked on the irony of the situation to one of the nurses who, having been on her feet for twelve hours straight, wasn’t interested in irony—all she cared about was getting the necessary bloods so that she could move on to the next patient and so on until her shift was over.
Jim had asked Leslie if she wanted him to go with her, but she had politely and firmly told him no. He had a job and a life of his own, and it wasn’t as though she hadn’t been going to medical checkups on her own for the past eighteen years. She was in the waiting area reading a pamphlet on reconstructive surgery and picking at some trail mix when a tall, bald man in his late forties sat down beside her. He nodded hello and opened a newspaper. They both sat reading for ten minutes or so before he closed his newspaper and asked her if she had the time.
She looked at her watch. “Just after three,” she said.
He sighed. “I’ve been here since seven this morning.”
“Hell,” she said.
“Hell,” he agreed, and he smiled at her a big wide smile and she wondered how he could smile with such warmth and how he could carry himself with such cheer when it was obvious he had cancer and was going through chemotherapy.
“I’m Mark,” he said, and he put out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Leslie,” she said, and she shook his hand.
“Are you a patient or family/friend?”
“Patient. Are you starting chemo or near the end?”
“That obvious?” he said, rubbing his freshly shaved head.
“It’s not the bald head—it’s the color of your skin.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Off-putting.”
“Familiar,” she said.
“Do you mind me asking why you’re here, seeing as your hair is your own and your skin looks good too?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Leslie thought about lying or at the very least avoiding the question, but she didn’t know the man, and aside from Jim she hadn’t spoken to anyone about her radical plans, and so she was honest.
“I’m having my breasts and womb removed in a few months to avoid getting cancer.”
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“To avoid getting cancer?”
“I have the gene.”
“But that doesn’t mean you’ll get it.”
“I’ve lost my entire family and my youth to cancer. I’m not willing to lose any more.”
“Except your breasts and womb.”
She laughed. “Except for them.”
“Well,” he said, “I’ve lost both balls.”
Leslie was as taken aback by his honesty as he had been by hers. “Ouch,” she said.
He grinned at her. “Could be worse. I could have my balls and no penis.”
“True,” she said. “That would suck.”
They both laughed.
“Yes, it would,” he said.
“So how does that work?”
“You mean sex?”
She couldn’t believe that she was engaging in such an intimate conversation with a stranger, but she nodded her head to indicate that yes, she did mean sex.
“I can still orgasm, apparently, haven’t tried it yet. Obviously I can’t get anyone pregnant, and I’ll need to inject hormones every few weeks.”
“Ah, it’ll be pretty much the same for me.”
“I see you’re thinking about reconstruction,” he said, looking at the pamphlet.
She nodded.
“They offered me fake balls.”
“Really? Did you take them?”
“No, too weird.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“Then just take one step at a time,” he said.
After a pause she said, “Mark?”
“Yes?”
“Are you married?”
“Divorced.”
“Kids?”
“Two boys, twelve and ten.”
“Is the cancer gone?”
“That’s what they tell me,” he said.
“Would you like to go to an art exhibition with me tomorrow night?”
“I’d love to,” he said.
“Good,” she said, “excellent.”
They swapped numbers and soon after that she was called into her doctor’s office, and the doctor couldn’t help but wonder why she had a stupid grin on her face while he was talking her through the radical procedures she was facing.
Tom fought with Jeanette on the phone in his car. She was pissed off that he wouldn’t allow her to attend the Missing Exhibition, and he couldn’t understand why on earth she’d want to be there or how she thought her presence would be appropriate.
“It’s appropriate because I’m the one sleeping beside you in bed.”
“That is why it is so very inappropriate, Jeanette.”
“It’s not like I’m going to advertise myself. I’ll stay quiet; I’ll bring Davey and I’ll pretend you’re my friend and he’s my boyfriend.”
“No.”
“So that’s it?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Don’t expect me to be waiting for you when you get home.”
“Okay.”
“Bastard!”
She hung up and Tom drove on, wondering how he had allowed himself to get into such a stupid and dangerous situation with a young woman who had a schoolgirl crush on him. I’m so sorry, Alexandra. If only you’d come home to me, this nightmare would end.
He pulled up outside his mother-in-law’s house and beeped. She appeared at the door, and he ran up the path and put his arm around her shoulders.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
She smiled at him. “You’re a liar but I appreciate it.”
Alexandra’s father had decided not to attend the exhibition. He didn’t feel comfortable in arty circles. Instead he would spend the evening as he always did, with his friends in the pub avoiding his new reality. Alexandra’s sister, Kate, and brother, Eamonn, were attending with their spouses and traveling separately.
Tom helped Breda into the car and walked around to his side, got in, and took off down the road.
“It’s very exciting,” Breda said, “all this good work in Alexandra’s name.”
Tom agreed. Jane had been very pleased with the media interest, and when Elle had insisted that any proceeds earned would go to the National Missing Persons Bureau, it had been a major coup for them and a news story worthy of reporting. The fact that Jack Lukeman was taking time out of his busy touring schedule to come and play led to further interest, including a TV magazine show that wished to film a song from Jack and an interview with Tom. He was pretty sick at the notion of having to talk to a camera, but Breda assured him he would be great and that Alexandra would be so proud.
Jane was waiting at the door. She greeted Tom and Breda with hugs and ushered them inside. They were early enough to see the pieces hanging from the wall without interruption. Breda stood in front of the painting of her daughter for the longest time. Silent tears rolled down her hollow cheeks. Tom took her hand.
“I still feel her,” she said. “She’s still with us.”
“I know,” Tom said, but he didn’t know, and every time he ventured into the dark place, he left it hoping she was gone rather than enduring ongoing torture.
Leslie appeared with Mark a few minutes later. Jane welcomed them both and then asked Mark to excuse Leslie for a minute.
Leslie followed her into the back room.
“What is it with you and bald men?” Jane said.
“Is that why I’m back here?”
“No. Elle’s missing. I was hoping you had talked to her today.”
“No. I haven’t. I don’t believe it.”
“The press is relying on her being here.” Jane was starting to freak out. “I can’t let everybody down now.”
“You’re not letting anyone down, bloody Elle is. I’ll kill her.”
Just then Elle appeared in her short dress and high heels. “Kill who?”
Jane let out a sigh of relief. “Where were you?”
“I have no idea. On a boat and a long way from land, if that helps.”
“You nearly gave Jane a heart attack,” Leslie said.
“Sorry, Jane. Sorry, Leslie.”
“Don’t be smart,” Leslie said.
Elle hugged her. “I met a boy and I liked him. Of course he’s gone now, sailing away on the high seas as we speak.”
“Well, good,” Leslie said, “good for you. Now go home, change out of the dominatrix gear, and have a wash while you’re at it.”
Elle saluted, and Tom was given the job of driving her home to wash and change before the exhibition.
Jane introduced Breda to Leslie and explained who she was and what she had done to help them find Alexandra. Breda was very grateful, Leslie humbled, and Mark incredibly impressed by his altruistic new friend.
Then Eamonn, Kate, and their spouses arrived, and Jane welcomed them and offered them wine and watched as they migrated toward the picture of their sister. Eamonn and Kate stood together, shoulders touching, looking into Alexandra’s eyes. When they turned to face the crowd, Kate’s eyes were damp and Eamonn looked like he was in physical pain.
Mark wasn’t drinking, so Leslie merely sipped on a glass of wine. She asked him if he felt well enough to stay, and he said that he did. She told him she wouldn’t ask him again so if he wanted to go he had a mouth and he could tell her. He liked that she didn’t fuss over him. Dominic appeared with Kurt and Irene in tow. Jane was delighted to see her son and wondered what had brought about his sudden interest in one of Elle’s exhibitions.
“What you and Elle are doing for your friend, well, it’s really cool, Mum,” he said.
“Yeah, Jane,” Irene said. “Every girl could do with a friend like you.”
Jane was taken aback. “Thank you.”
She was still a little miffed, as Kurt had known about the show for months and he’d never seemed particularly interested or impressed before.
“Dad showed us pictures of you and Alexandra when you were our age,” Kurt said.
“Can’t believe you were a Megadeth fan,” Irene said. “I love Megadeth.”
Jane looked at Dominic. “What’s this?” she asked, feigning a smile.
“Your mother wasn’t half sexy in her day,” said Dominic.
“Too much, Dad,” Kurt said, “seriously, too, too much.”
Irene explained that Dominic had shown them the pictures of the Megadeth concert in Antrim that they’d gone to one year before Kurt was born. Jane remembered the pictures: she was smoking and straddling Dominic, and Alexandra was drinking from a bottle of cider and giving the camera the finger.
Kurt nudged his mother and grinned at her and followed Irene to the drinks counter. They picked up a glass of wine each and raised them to her. She turned to Dominic and shook her head.
“What were you thinking?” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Showing them those pictures.”
“Why wouldn’t I? They are part of our past.”
“Kurt sees me and you and cigarettes and booze and—”
“And he’ll run off and get his girlfriend pregnant?”
“Don’t make fun of me!”
“I would never do that. Look, all I’m saying is your life isn’t his life, so just relax.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about.” Jane pointed to Irene, who was rubbing the back of Kurt’s neck and whispering in his ear. “It’s her.”
“What will be, will be, Janey.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said, and went to talk to a representative of the National Missing Persons Bureau.
Jack Lukeman arrived on schedule. He was dressed head to toe in black and his long coat swung behind him. Leslie greeted him with a hug and introduced him to Jane.
He put his hand out and she shook it. He cupped her hand, tipped his head to the side, and viewed her as though he was viewing a painting. She blushed. He grinned and let her hand go. “Nice to meet you, Jane.”
Jane told him how lovely it was to meet him and about the many times she’d seen him play, the where and when, how she had gotten there, whom she had gone with, and how fantastic each show had been. Jack nodded as though he cared.
Leslie sighed and shook her head. “Jesus, Jane, as if he gives a shit.”
Jack laughed a giddy, dirty laugh and put his arm around Leslie.
“Sorry,” Jane said.
“You’ll have to excuse her,” he said. “She doesn’t mix well.”
Later Jack and his guitarist played an acoustic set, surrounded by paintings of the Missing, to a captivated crowd. They sat on chairs under a painting of Alexandra. The guitar player strummed gently and Jack leaned forward, closed his eyes, and sang “Metropolis Blue” into his microphone.
Sometimes I ask myself how did I get here?
Country boy with no change for his fares and city girls are so expensive.
I wanna go back to the girl that I love, I would go back there if I could.
I know I should. I need you. My lips ache for your kiss.
I need you and not this hungriness.
I just spend my time hanging around here with the boys, drinking whiskey drinking beer,
Fool I was thought adventure was near, those easy thrills are so elusive I fear.
My heart sings for the one that I love. I would go back there if I could, I know I should.
I need you, my tune lacks your melody.
I need you, my eyes no longer see.
I am floating like an autumn leaf, on the whim of a breeze I float
I would give almost anything, a thousand jewels, an enchanted view, a billion poems but I’m a fool.
I can barely write a note but we live in hope. I need you for all eternity.
I need you, you are you my destiny. I need you. I need you.
The audience was silent as though in church and clapped and cheered only when Jack opened his eyes and smiled. Tom wiped tears from his eyes. The TV cameras rolled. Elle was back, clean and in a subdued black outfit, standing quietly and respectfully to the side with Jane. When Jack had finished his set and the photographers were snapping and the crowd was clapping, she leaned in toward Jane and whispered, “We’ve done well, Janey.”
And Jane looked at Alexandra’s mother smiling a genuine smile and her sister and brother clapping and charmed by the talented Mr. Lukeman, who had managed to make them forget their loss if only for a few minutes. She caught Tom’s eye, and they smiled at each other. She turned to Leslie, who was laughing with the latest bald man in her life, and Jane felt happy.
Jane was about to go to bed when the doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole and it revealed Dominic. She thought about ignoring him, but he pushed on the buzzer again and held it down. She opened the door.
“Go away.”
He held the door open. “Please let me in.”
She let him in.
He sat on the sofa and hugged a cushion. “I think my marriage is over.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“The bitch just kicked me out of my own house. I mean, is that even legal?”
“Well, it’s her house too.”
“My arse it is! I’ve had that house ten years—we’ve only known each other five minutes.”
“Which begs the question as to why you married her in the first place.”
“She was pregnant. She lost the baby at eleven weeks.”
Jane was shocked. She hadn’t ever guessed.
“As soon as I found out, I proposed, because I didn’t want to be the same f*cker I was to you. I wanted to be a good dad, a good man, but I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I’m really sorry.” She sat down beside him.
“Don’t say anything,” he said, “just kiss me.”
“Dominic.”
“Please, Janey.”
And so she kissed him and she straddled him like she had done so many years ago at the Megadeth concert, and they had sex on her recently re-covered sofa.
After he came and the condom was quickly disposed of, they sat together and he looked into her eyes and asked her, “Do you think we should try for another baby?”
For a second she thought he was talking about him and her, but then the truth dawned. He was talking about his wife, the woman he had married, baby or no baby, and something inside her died. She stood up and fixed her skirt and asked him to leave.
“But I’ve nowhere to go,” he said.
“I don’t care.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“I loved you for all these years. I was in love with you, but no more.”
She walked him to her front door. She handed him his shoes. She bade him good night. She closed the door and walked to her bedroom, and once in bed she covered her head. She didn’t cry because she had done that too many times before. Instead she just lay there and embraced the pain in her heart and told herself, enough now.
Elle had smiled for photographers and made nice with the interviewer. She had shaken Jack L’s hand and they had posed together. When her work was done, she joined her pals Fiona and Lori at a private party in a club she used to frequent.
“Well, if it isn’t Elmore,” one partygoer said. “Long time no see!” Two air kisses followed. Elle signed all her paintings “Elmore,” but only the biggest a*sholes within her circle referred to her as anything but Elle.
She moved through the club and toward the pool table where some guys were playing, and she sat on the sofa nearby, and a waitress took her drink order. She drank and watched the guys play. One guy in particular interested her. When he finished his game she asked him to join her and had a drink waiting for him.
“I’d really like to have sex with you,” she said.
“I’d like that too,” he said.
“Of course you would.”
“Are you playing with me?”
“Absolutely not. Tell me, do you like doing it outdoors?”
“It depends,” he said. “What have you got in mind?”
“Come with me,” she said, and he followed her through the club, outside, and down the street. They crossed the road and as they approached the police station he began to wonder about her, but she pressed a finger to her lips and when the coast was clear she opened the gate that led to the back of the station.
He pulled away from her. “You’re insane,” he said.
He heard some noise out front and she pulled him onto the ground under a window through which he had seen five or six men and women, some sitting at desks, some roaming around, one at the coffee machine, and another kicking the fax machine.
“We can’t,” he said, but she could tell that he was excited because he was leaning against her, and so she unzipped his pants and released him. After that there was no going back, and if any of the officers had taken a moment or two to look up and out the window, they would have seen a white, freckled bass player’s ass appear intermittently. Afterward, invigorated, she returned to the club, where she joined Fiona in the loo for a few lines of coke. She drank shots with Lori, and as it was a celebration she paid for six or seven bottles of champagne for all twenty of her new best friends.
Kurt woke up around seven. He yawned, stretched, scratched his balls over his boxer shorts, and headed into the main bathroom. He peed, shook himself off, and flushed. It was when he turned around to leave that he saw Elle. She was lying in a bath filled with water. She was completely naked, her lips were purple, and she was either asleep or dead.
Kurt roared. “Mum! Mum! Mum!”
Jane woke up with a start. Kurt was still roaring. She jumped out of bed and followed his yells to the bathroom, where he had remained frozen.
“Oh my God,” Jane cried. “Oh my God, Elle!” She ran to her sister and touched her cold skin and shook her hard.
Elle’s eyes opened, and she yawned.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“Oh Jesus,” Jane said, and sank to her knees. “I thought you were dead.”
“I am really cold,” Elle said, realizing that she was in a bath of freezing water.
Kurt exhaled and sat on the toilet seat. “Holy shit, Elle.”
Jane asked Kurt for a towel. The only one he could find there was a hand towel, which he handed to his mother. She responded with a dirty look.
“Come on, Elle, time to get out,” Jane said.
“I can’t seem to move my legs,” Elle said, and she giggled.
Jane looked at Kurt.
“Oh no,” he said, because lifting his naked aunt out of the bath was above and beyond the call of duty.
“I need your help,” Jane insisted. “I have to get her out now.”
Kurt nodded at his mother and walked over to the bath, flexing his neck and trying not to focus on his aunt’s bush. Elle gave him her hand and smiled at him, and her purple lips partially stuck to her teeth. Jane took the other arm, and together they pulled Elle up.
Kurt closed his eyes when he felt his aunt’s breast against his chest. “Oh Mum, this is so wrong.”
Elle giggled again.
“Here,” Jane said, “I’ll take her from the front, you go around—”
“Don’t even say it,” he said.
Jane and Kurt pulled Elle out of the bath, and while Jane held her up Kurt ran to the towel warmer and piled his arms high with bath towels. Jane wrapped Elle in a towel, and Kurt helped his mother carry her into Jane’s room. Once she was dry and safely snuggled in bed with the electric blanket on, Jane went to the kitchen and boiled the kettle to make some tea for Elle.
Kurt followed his mum into the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” Jane asked her son.
“My eyes, Mum, my eyes!” he said, covering his eyes and pretending to be blinded.
He was playacting, so Jane relaxed, content that he wouldn’t be scarred for life.
“I’m sorry, Kurt. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”
“It’s fine, Mum. If it ever happens again I’m moving to France, but it’s fine.” He was smiling, which suggested he was joking, and after his coming into skin-on-skin contact with his naked aunt that was the best she could hope for.
“I got lucky with you,” she said, and Kurt blushed just like his mother often did.
“Whatever,” he said.
“Kurt?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that Irene didn’t wake up?”
“She wears earplugs. She says I snore like a pig and you should have had my adenoids out when I was a kid.”
“How does she hear you snore from the spare room?”
“Oh crap!” He grinned and held up his hands. “She’s on the pill, I wear condoms, and I’m turning eighteen in two weeks.”
Jane sighed. “I give up.”
“About time.” He waved her away and headed back to bed to sleep off the image of his aunt’s tits and ass.
Jane handed Elle the tea. It was too hot, burning her frozen hands, so Jane kept hold of it and fed it to a shivering Elle until it was gone.
“What’s going on, Elle?”
“Just wanted a bath, Janey.”
“You could have frozen to death.”
“I was just really tired. Big night.”
“Did you take something?”
Elle nodded. “I was having a good time—but I won’t do it again.”
“Do I need to call Dr. Griffin?”
Elle shook her head. “No. I’m just cold, that’s all.”
Jane sighed and tucked the blanket up under her sister’s chin. “What am I going to do with you, girly girl?”
“Just love me, Jane, even though I don’t deserve it,” Elle said, and then she turned around and fell fast asleep.
Jane sat in the room, touching her sister’s hand every few minutes, until she returned to a normal temperature. She turned off the electric blanket and the light and then made her way to the kitchen.
Through the intercom she heard Rose calling.
“Jane, Jane, Jane! It’s your mother!”
Jane put her hands over her ears, and if she hadn’t been scared of frightening her son for the second time that morning, she would have screamed until her voice was gone.