I’m just standing there, my arm held fixed in the air. I don’t care what she’s sayingto me, something probably like I’ll call you . It doesn’t matter. In a few moments, she will sit back down, open her M&M’s and eat them in priority order of favourite colour. And I will pass through the bus station, tell the homeless beggar to fuck off, and then enter the piss-stained washroom and kick in the cubicle door as hard as I can.
That night, I wake slowly. Mark’s breath on my face, a mix of beer and toothpaste. His gentle fingers brushing the hair off my forehead. His skin close to mine, heated and rough. I nuzzle my face into his. My mind slowly rousing from sleep. But then suddenly my eyes rip open. Reality strikes me like a swift kick to the head. I’m at home in my room, it’s dark, and that’s Mitch’s face, not Mark’s, inches away from mine.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell, and at the same time I’m bounding out of bed, pulling the sheet off with me. Mitch is standing now, stunned, his mouth is hanging open like he’s about to say something but doesn’t. The smell of alcohol hits me hard.
“Get the hell out of my room, you disgusting bastard, you motherfucker!” I start throwing words at him, my strength increasing as I see him shrinking, helplessly, like some drunken bum. He turns to go, but I move in behind him, push him so hard he stumbles forward and hits his head on the door. It’s then that I see Elsie at the entrance. I see her lips wildly moving but I don’t hear anything because my head is pounding. I concentrate on her mouth until the sound becomes clear.
“What are you doing!” Elsie yells.
I look to Mitch, who’s looking at me, and then I look back to Elsie. I realize that she’s saying this to me, like I’m the one with the problem. “What?” I scream at her in disbelief. “He’s a fuckin’pervert. He was in my room, kissing me. Fuckin’ pervert!” I spit on the ground, my gob of saliva hitting Elsie’s bare foot by mistake. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him,” I shout, grabbing the scissors off the dresser and moving forward through the door. But Elsie moves in and blocks my way, grabbing my arm.
“Don’t be a stupid fool,” she says, her voice eerily calm. “He wasn’t doing nothing. Just saying good night.”
I am stunned. I can’t believe she’s saying that. Can’t believe she’s not believing me. All those times I stuck up for her, lied for her, and this one time that I need her to back me up, just this once, she doesn’t. “Are you fuckin’ crazy? You don’t believe me?” I stare at Mitch, now leaning up against the far living-room wall, arms outstretched and fingers spread as if he were bracing himself. He looks like an animal caught in headlights. He lowers his eyes to the floor. “Deny it! Deny it! Try to, you fuckin’ pig!” I yell, tears now coming down my face, my body starting to crumble. “A fuckin’ pig!” Elsie keeps blocking the doorway, but my shaking body is hardly worth the effort. “If I see you again, I’ll kill you! I swear to God!”
“It’s okay, it’s okay . . .” Elsie repeats, half holding me back, half hugging me. “He’s going home. We’ll deal with this in the morning,” she assures me, and then gently but firmly pushes me back into the room. “Go to bed.”
The door closes in my face, and I stand there stunned, unable to comprehend what exactly just happened. I fold my arms in front of my chest and start bawling and wheezing, dropping to the ground as my back scrapes along the wooden door. I expect Elsie to open the door any minute, expect her to come in after he’s gone. But after a while she doesn’t appear, so I go to the bathroom to wash my face, scrubbing it hard with soap. And when that doesn’t seem like enough, I press my toothbrushagainst my skin, scraping my lips and cheeks and forehead till all of Mitch is off me.
Back in my room I prop a chair up against the door and crawl into bed.
That night, I wake slowly. Mark’s breath on my face, a mix of beer and toothpaste. His gentle fingers brushing the hair off my forehead. His skin close to mine, heated and rough. I nuzzle my face into his. My mind slowly rousing from sleep. But then suddenly my eyes rip open. Reality strikes me like a swift kick to the head. I’m at home in my room, it’s dark, and that’s Mitch’s face, not Mark’s, inches away from mine.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell, and at the same time I’m bounding out of bed, pulling the sheet off with me. Mitch is standing now, stunned, his mouth is hanging open like he’s about to say something but doesn’t. The smell of alcohol hits me hard.
“Get the hell out of my room, you disgusting bastard, you motherfucker!” I start throwing words at him, my strength increasing as I see him shrinking, helplessly, like some drunken bum. He turns to go, but I move in behind him, push him so hard he stumbles forward and hits his head on the door. It’s then that I see Elsie at the entrance. I see her lips wildly moving but I don’t hear anything because my head is pounding. I concentrate on her mouth until the sound becomes clear.
“What are you doing!” Elsie yells.
I look to Mitch, who’s looking at me, and then I look back to Elsie. I realize that she’s saying this to me, like I’m the one with the problem. “What?” I scream at her in disbelief. “He’s a fuckin’pervert. He was in my room, kissing me. Fuckin’ pervert!” I spit on the ground, my gob of saliva hitting Elsie’s bare foot by mistake. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him,” I shout, grabbing the scissors off the dresser and moving forward through the door. But Elsie moves in and blocks my way, grabbing my arm.
“Don’t be a stupid fool,” she says, her voice eerily calm. “He wasn’t doing nothing. Just saying good night.”
I am stunned. I can’t believe she’s saying that. Can’t believe she’s not believing me. All those times I stuck up for her, lied for her, and this one time that I need her to back me up, just this once, she doesn’t. “Are you fuckin’ crazy? You don’t believe me?” I stare at Mitch, now leaning up against the far living-room wall, arms outstretched and fingers spread as if he were bracing himself. He looks like an animal caught in headlights. He lowers his eyes to the floor. “Deny it! Deny it! Try to, you fuckin’ pig!” I yell, tears now coming down my face, my body starting to crumble. “A fuckin’ pig!” Elsie keeps blocking the doorway, but my shaking body is hardly worth the effort. “If I see you again, I’ll kill you! I swear to God!”
“It’s okay, it’s okay . . .” Elsie repeats, half holding me back, half hugging me. “He’s going home. We’ll deal with this in the morning,” she assures me, and then gently but firmly pushes me back into the room. “Go to bed.”
The door closes in my face, and I stand there stunned, unable to comprehend what exactly just happened. I fold my arms in front of my chest and start bawling and wheezing, dropping to the ground as my back scrapes along the wooden door. I expect Elsie to open the door any minute, expect her to come in after he’s gone. But after a while she doesn’t appear, so I go to the bathroom to wash my face, scrubbing it hard with soap. And when that doesn’t seem like enough, I press my toothbrushagainst my skin, scraping my lips and cheeks and forehead till all of Mitch is off me.
Back in my room I prop a chair up against the door and crawl into bed.
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