Dark Fiction 2/DarkFiction2.adf/hiddenstory/Loveme.Txt

Text File | 1996-07-10 | 10KB | 185 lines

Andy J Campbell: LOVEME.TXT

My name's Steve Barker, I'm 18-years-old, and I'm on a work experience
placement with a computer training company called MicroSwan. It's my
last day, and I'm supposed to be typing out a series of business
letters for Sophie Drake, the woman in charge here. But I'm not typing
out letters, I'm typing this. I want write down exactly what's
happened to me over the past two weeks and, when I've finished, I want
to go home and forget everything. I don't give a shit about computers
or spreadsheets or databases anyway, it's all bollocks. I'm a writer.
Well, I'm /going/ to be a writer.
  That guy who's glancing at me from over there by the photocopier -
Jonathan Coles - he's the one. He's the reason I'm typing this in right
now. Well, him and that lass over there called Kate Brown, I suppose.
The red-haired one with the short skirt and fishnet tights.
  With guys like Jonathan, what frightens me isn't the front end, its
what might lie beneath it.
  Jonathan's a smart-looking lad, really. Tall, dark, well-built,
neatly-dressed, polite, very talented at design. He hung around with
the majority of arseholes back in secondary school but so what, it was
the best way to survive. I don't hold it against him (well, I didn't).
In fact, if I'd have been his size, I think I'd have done exactly the
same.
  He's got an attractive charm about him, Jonathan, always happy to
help out, very friendly and jokey. He's got strong feelings about
cruelty to animals, apparently, though back at school I once saw him
and a lad called Ross Harris kicking a hedgehog across the playfields,
so whether this is merely some kind of `shallow feature' he adds to
his already impressive personality as a polish-off, I wouldn't like to
say.
  That's one of the main problems, you see. You come up through school
with somebody and you end up being a first-hand witness to the shaping
of their inner-selves. Childhood's where it all starts, where the
intial roots begin to sprount and dig deep. If you get away with things
in the classroom the chances are you'll get away with things out here,
too, in the working world.
  Some of my school friends used to call Jonathan the Good Bad Guy.
Personally, I don't think they were looking hard enough.

As for Kate and I, we were thirteen when we first met. My family moved
into the house next to hers and she came across to call for me on the
very first evening. I'd never played out with a girl before.
  "So what joo wanna play then?" I asked.
  "Hand stands!" she yelled and revealed her blue bunnyrabbit knickers
to the world.
  "Nah," I said, unimpressed. "Let's play Army. You can be Hitler, I'll
be the British."
  "Let's plaaaay... /Kisskats!/" she kissed me and ran off down the
street.
  I can't believe it took me a year to catch on.
  We grew up in a rough neighbourhood, constantly saving each other's
necks and wiping blood from each other's faces. I remember when the
romantic sparks first began to fly between us, so clearly, so vividly.
An injured kneecap, feckles of blood dot-dashed across Kate's leg:
  "S'not on my knee, Steven, it's further up,"
  "But... There's nothin there, it's just blood."
  "/God/, you're /useless/, just give me your hand."
  "But... There's no injury up there, Kate, what're you... Doing?"
  "I don't /want/ you to look at my injury!"
  And then silence as I began to slowly, innocently explore, her eyes
gazing like crystals into mine. Fingers trickled across flesh for
hours, never tiring, never wanting to stop.
  And then two months later, lying in the field together for the final
time, fingers interlocked, we stared up at the scrolling clouds until
we imagined ourselves in orbit around the Earth, looking down on some
vast blue ocean. When I was with Kate, the world seemed like magic.
Without her, it seemed so lonely and brutal.
  Yet she had to go. Her family had to move on.
  "Will I ever see you again?" I whispered as we floated above the
Earth.
  "I don't know," she replied softly, squeezing my hand.
  "I think I might die without you," I suggested.
  "Don't be silly, you won't die." She looked at me questioningly, as
if to say, `...Jesus you won't will you?'
  "Maybe I'll never find anybody again," I gave her a quick glance. She
was staring at the ocean/sky with wide eyes. "Do you think /you'll/
ever find anybody else? /Do/ you?"
  She never answered. She was like that sometimes.

Five years later - two weeks ago - I sat down in front of this very
computer screen and turned and saw Kate sitting beside me. We stared
at each other for so long, Sophie had to shout at us. Everybody in the
room tittered.
  And then later:
  "So, do you want to type or read?"
  "I dunno. I'll read, shall I?"
  "If you want." She passed me the worksheet. "How are you, Steven?"
  "I'm okay. You?"
  "Fine. You look nice." She smiled. "You look nice in that suit."
  "Oh, thanks. You look... Well, you look... Like I remember."
  That wonderful morning, my long-forgotten dreams reassembled. I
crushed past-pain into the ground with new hope. Fantasies and
frustrations resurfaced, begging... Until at dinner time she left with
Jonathan.

Outside beneath the flyover, waiting for the bus:
  "What did you and Kate talk about, then?" Jonathan coughed. "She sez
you're an old friend, or something."
  "Yeah," I shut my eyes. Didn't want to talk. "Yeah, I'm just an old
friend."
  "Did you used to go out with her?"
  "Not really."
  "Open your eyes, Barker."
  I did. And I looked at him. He pushed me against the wall, hard.
  "Don't /ever/ think about it, okay?"
  "Think about /what/?"
  "You know what I'm on about, Barker, don't act thick," He held up
his finger and thumb. "I'm about this far from shagging her, this far.
If you fuck it up for me you little twat, I swear down I'll make your
life a misery. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
  I nodded reluctantly.
  "You wouldn't have a chance, anyway," He laughed. Even his breath
smelt nice. "But just stay away, alright? If you keep off, you won't
have any problems. I don't want to /touch/ you, mate. I don't want to
do /anything/. But Kate's out of your league. Is that clear?"
  I nodded again.
  He let go of me and brushed himself down. I wiped feckles of spit off
my face and straightened my tie.
  We continued to wait for the bus.

Although my mind was buzzing with romance and my heart was burning like
fire, I hadn't assumed /anything/, nor had I attempted to relight the
emotions that Kate and I had - during our childhood - felt for one
another. I knew that if it was going to restart it would do so on its
own - and that if it wasn't to be - if our time had passed - I would
have the strength to accept it.
  I wasn't sure, however, if I could accept Jonathan as Kate's boy-
friend. Not now. Not after he'd revealed to me his true self. His
vicious, greedy, blackened soul. I felt sick just thinking about it.
Purity captured by gloved claws and she just didn't have a clue.
  But what could I do? I was nothing here. Just another head beside a
VDU. Once a spacewalker in orbit with the young woman who now sat
beside me.
  Jonathan stared between screens as Kate and I progressed through the
worksheet. `Don't touch her.' he transmitted. `Don't even fucking try
it, Barker Boy.'
  `Keep her,' I angrilly mindwhispered back. `If she sees something in
you, Coles, keep her. And /I'll/ keep the memories of two innocent
children who found love in its purest form. Keep her, Coles, for as
long as you can. She's all yours.'

She'd come back six months ago, she told me. I asked her why she hadn't
looked me up but she didn't answer. She's like that. Everywhere she
goes she leaves questions impending; smiling sadly, I wondered if one
day she'd present all the answers at once.
  I asked her if she remembered that evening when we went into orbit
around the Earth. She said no... Then yes, and gave me a quick nod. I
asked her if our time together still meant anything to her. She didn't
answer. But I told you, she's like that.

Yesterday I followed Jonathan through town during our lunchbreak,
gently rubbing my fingers against a knife in my coat pocket.
  I caught up with him and told him I hoped everything worked out.
  "You, know, with Kate and stuff."
  "Oh, well, cheers pal," He grinned. "Yeah, should do."
  "I'm sorry if I looked as though I was chatting her up," I said. "I
wasn't, honest, I was just working with her. Besides," I lied,
realising it might /never/ be true. "I've got my eye on somebody else."
  "Wahey, gonna spill the beans, Barker lad?" His eyes sparkled. "Hey,
come on, tell us who it is, I'll see if she's interested."
  "She isn't, I don't think." I shook my head.
  Amused, Jonathan whacked my shoulder and told me to look on the
bright side and asked me if I'd like to join him for lunch at the
sandwich bar.
  I politely declined.

She's sitting over there, now, beside him. They kiss from time to time
and laugh and giggle a lot. Sometimes I even feel happy for them.
  I catch Kate staring at me now and then. There's only an hour left
until the end of work, maybe that's why. Perhaps she's wondering -
like me, now - if we'll ever cross paths again.
  It might happen, you know, one day. She might wake up in bed beside
Jonathan and realise he's not quite the man she once thought. Maybe
when he's tired of her and found somebody else - somebody prettier,
somebody better - she'll pick up the magic glasses and walk the
streets as I do: with a third eye open.
  Then, maybe she'll come looking. Maybe she'll come knocking on my
forever-open door. And maybe, maybe she'll see me - as I am, and used
to be before.


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