Humans, Being E-Book

Gareth Davies

• Herausgeber: Cinnamon Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 382

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Humans, Being follows the lives of two humans, being. Vic and Mia are two fortysomethings struggling to cope with divorce, custody battles, infidelity, money worries and dating sites. Through their friendship, they explore the pitfalls of modern life and their pursuit of happiness leads them to ask what is normal and whether it is okay to live outside the norms that society dictates. Funny, touching, and thought-provoking in equal measure, Humans, Being reveals what it's like to be a middle-aged human in the twenty-first century.

Leseprobe

Contents

Acknowledgements

June 2015

January 2016

February 2016

March 2016

April 2016

May 2016

June 2016

July 2016

August 2016

September 2016

October 2016

November 2016

December 2016

January 2017

February 2017

March 2017

April 2017

May 2017

June 2017

July 2017

August 2017

September 2017

HUMANS, BEING

GARETH DAVIES

Published by Cinnamon Press, Meirion House, Tanygrisiau, Blaenau Ffestiniog, Gwynedd, LL41 3SU

www.cinnamonpress.com

The right of Gareth Davies to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act, 1988. © 2019 Gareth Davies.

ISBN 978-1-78864-088-6

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data. A CIP record for this book can be obtained from the British Library. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publishers. This book may not be lent, hired out, resold or otherwise disposed of by way of trade in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, without the prior consent of the publishers.

Designed and typeset by Cinnamon Press. Cover design by Adam Craig. Cover image: Craig Whitehead/Unsplash.

Cinnamon Press is represented by Inpress and by the Welsh Books Council in Wales.

The publisher acknowledges the support of the Welsh Books Council.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Tim Rhys and Michelle Angharad Pashley for their patience, Nikki for coming up with the title and those who believed in me and encourage me to keep going.

June 2015

Clunk.

There was something in that clunk, something definitive. It wasn’t a slam or a bash, or even a thud; just a deadpan clunk; the death knell of Vic’s marriage. A fifteen-year relationship, ten years of marriage, boiled down to one carefully closed door. Their relationship had been lurching from one disaster to another. It had never quite recovered from the unfortunate incident with a bridesmaid at Kathleen’s wedding. They’d stuck at it out of a sense of duty; staying together for Elis. ‘Working at their relationship,’ the people at Relate called it. But, deep down, they both knew the only work needed was demolition.

During the long sleepless, sexless nights, Vic had imagined this moment. He’d longed for the ecstasy of release, of getting away from the web of misery. A smile crossed Vic’s face as he thought of the possibilities: new women, all the sport he wanted to watch, leaving the toilet seat up, bacon sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner; the true taste of freedom.

Vic stared at the cricket on the screen. He knew exactly what Kylie would say: ‘What are you doing wasting your life watching that rubbish?’

He looked at his watch. It was dinnertime. Was he hungry? Not really but Elis would be. Vic opened the fridge, looked at the bacon and smiled. He took out a pepper, mushrooms and other vegetables. He’d make a veggie sauce, Kylie’s favourite. A long time ago, before they were married, he’d put Worcestershire Sauce in the recipe, forgetting it wasn’t suitable for vegetarians. Faced with the dilemma of throwing the food away, or lying to his vegetarian girlfriend, he’d decided to keep his gob shut and watched guiltily as Kylie cleared her plate. He’d put a few shakes of Lea and Perrins in today, just because he could.

As he chopped the veg, he imagined Kylie behind him. ‘Don’t slice the onions so thick. Hey, you know I like the mushrooms chunky.’ He wouldn’t miss her nagging.

Soon the sauce was bubbling away. He stood the spaghetti in the saucepan. ‘Ten minutes, El,’ he shouted.

He opened the drawer and saw the Star Wars Light Sabre chopsticks that Kylie had bought him. Jesus, he’d opened that drawer a hundred times and not noticed them but, now she was gone, they jumped out at him. He held them next to his chest, fighting the tears and feeling the knot tie a little tighter in his stomach. She was gone.

‘Stop being daft,’ he told himself, ‘ridiculous things, stupid bloody films.’ But knowing that lopsided smile would never be for him again, knowing he’d never get to kiss those cheeks, or touch those breasts, and knowing he’d never taste her veggie curry again, was making his heart crack like toffee. He’d thought of her as the last piece in his jigsaw but, with her gone, it was like the whole puzzle had broken. He had to put it back together, knowing that even when it was complete there would always be a piece missing.

Elis loved those chopsticks, although he didn’t have a clue how to use them. How would he cope when he found out Mum wasn’t just spending a few days at Nana’s?

Vic put the chopsticks back and slammed the drawer. Despite the knot in his stomach, the smell of the sauce was reminding him he was hungry and the pasta must be ready.

He stood there looking at the pasta slumped in the water. Half of it soggy and cooked, the other half keeping its head above water like an inexperienced swimmer; still as hard as when he’d got it out of the packet.

‘Fuck it.’

‘You okay, Dad?’

Vic wiped his nose and saw Elis standing in the kitchen doorway, iPad in hand, a concerned look on his young face.

‘Yeah, I just messed up the spaghetti; it’s gonna be another ten minutes.’

‘Cool, more Minecraft,’ Elis said. ‘Don’t worry, Dad. It’s only pasta.’

‘Yes, El, it’s only pasta,’ Vic said, turning away just before a tear leaked.

January 2016

Vic looked out over the audience and wondered what the fuck he was doing there. Out of the sixty or so people in the club,  about ten were laughing, there were some smiles, but mostly stony faces. The office gossip or the girlfriend’s tonsils seemed far more entertaining. At least they were bored, not abusive. He had no energy to deal with hecklers tonight. Knowing his luck, the hecklers would be funnier than he was.

‘You could track my relationship with my wife by the size of our beds. We started with a single bed in my old flat and that was plenty big enough for what we needed. Then, when we moved in together, we got a double. It was only a small double but still it felt huge and we used every inch of it. Then, when we bought a place, we bought a king-size. Oh, how I loved that king-size; lots of room to play, experiment and have fun. Look, I’ve got a photo of it in my wallet. On second thoughts, perhaps I shouldn’t show you that.’

Why didn’t they laugh at that? That usually got at least a titter.

‘I began to wonder what was going on when she suggested single duvets. She used to wrap herself up in it like a caterpillar in a cocoon. It was impenetrable. It was a chastity duvet.’

Nothing.

Bastards!

He pressed on. ‘I knew the relationship was in trouble when she insisted on buying a super king-sized bed…’

He looked out at the audience. He hated every single one of them. He took a deep breath and ploughed on. ‘It was massive. We were basically sleeping in different postcodes. She could have had a lover in her half and I’d never have known.’

Still no laughter.

‘She claimed it was because our son used to come into our bed at night but, when she put the barbed wire down the middle, I began to get the message, it was time to go.’

Three people laughed.

He got the message. Time to go.

‘You’ve been a wonderful audience.’ He left the stage to a lukewarm round of applause.

‘How was your show last night?’ Mia asked.

‘Bloody awful, barely a cackle,’ Vic said. I don’t know why I bother.’

The lunchtime trade was thinning out, leaving the place empty apart from Vic, Mia and the hard core freelancers using the trendy café as office space. Vic stirred his coffee.

‘Maybe I should give it up. it plays havoc with my social life. When am I supposed to meet anyone? I’ve got Elis all week and then work all weekend. It’s impossible.’ Vic looked at his best friend with that hapless look that he’d perfected. He took a mouthful of coffee.

‘You’re lucky. You’ve got the weekends to yourself. Poor Kylie has no weekends. She’s looking after Elis.’

‘But I’m working.’

‘Surely women are throwing themselves at you at gigs.’ Mia toyed with her phone.

‘I wish.’

Mia’s phone buzzed. She looked at it and flipped it over.

‘Well okay, how about the mums on the school run? There must be a few desperate housewives there.’

‘It’s mostly men who drop their kids off.’

‘Really? Any nice ones?’ Mia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled.

‘Haven’t you got Stan?’

Mia looked at her phone again.

‘God knows what’s going on there,’ she said. ‘It’s been two days since he was last in touch. I don’t know if I miss him or if I should report him missing.’

‘I don’t know why you’re still with him.’

‘He’s lovely.’ She hesitated. ‘When he’s lovely.’

‘And a dickhead when he’s not.’

Mia nodded. ‘But he’s all I’ve got and I don’t wanna turn out like you.’ She bit the skin on her little finger.

‘Charming.’ Vic scooped some foam out of his cup.

‘Well look at you, moping around, feeling sorry for yourself. You’ll never get a woman looking like that.’

‘I’m not moping.’

‘Could have fooled me. Smile more. Stop waiting for something to happen.’ Mia turned the phone over and over on the table.

‘Are you expecting a call?’

‘Sorry, just force of habit.’ Mia, put her phone down.

‘Hey—’ Vic looked at his watch. ‘I better go, I’ve got to get back to Bristol tonight. Wish me luck.’

‘Good luck.’

Mia watched Vic leave the café and turned her phone over. Three messages. She smiled. She began to type out a reply, then hesitated. Her little finger rested on her lip. If she pressed Send, there was no going back; the frogs would be out of the box and, even if she did manage to get them all back in, she’d never be able to clean up the mess. But if she deleted the message, she’d be stuck in the box with the frogs forever. What the hell? Surely frogs couldn’t make that much mess, could they?

It’d only taken twenty minutes but felt more like three hours. Mia had been watching the door like a cat ready to pounce. Each time someone walked in, she either cursed them for not being Andy or decided it was a sign she should stop being silly and cancel it. Each minute that passed was another chance to end this foolishness. But she didn’t move. Why hadn’t she told Vic about Andy? She told him everything about Stan; all the ins and outs, all the broken promises and make-up sex. So why not about Andy? Was it because she was ashamed? No, it was because there was nothing to tell. She was meeting a colleague for coffee, that’s all. It was completely innocent and if she told herself that enough times, maybe she’d believe it.

‘Hello Mia.’

Mia had abandoned her vigil for less than a minute and that was when Andy walked in. At least she hadn’t been staring at the door like one of those love-sick teenagers in her class. She looked at Andy’s boyish grin and smiled. The butterflies flitting in her stomach suggested this meeting wasn’t innocent.

‘What can I get you?’ he asked.

‘Oolong tea for me, please.’ Jesus, where did that come from? She’d never drunk oolong in her life.

‘Oolong, ooh, there’s posh,’ said Andy, with a smile.

She smiled back and watched him as he sauntered over to the counter, completely at ease with himself.

This could be fun, Mia thought.

‘Fancy coming back to mine? I’ve got a lovely bottle of wine.’ Andy said, when the drinks were done.

‘No, I’ve got work to do,’ Mia said.

‘Fine, I’ll have to drink it myself.’

‘Okay but just wine. No funny business.’

‘Do you have a cleaner?’ Mia said, looking around Andy’s flat.

‘No, why?’ Andy held out a glass of wine.

‘Thanks. I’ve been to single men’s flats before and yours is suspiciously clean.’

‘Okay, you caught me.’ Andy stepped in closer. Mia knew what the look in Andy’s eyes meant. She’d let him kiss her but nothing more.

Andy’s tongue explored her mouth. ‘Let’s go through to the bedroom,’ he suggested.

Mia nodded but promised herself she wouldn’t let this go too far, she’d keep her knickers on and her legs crossed.

Mia listened to Andy panting next to her. She stroked his hairy chest. He cwtched her closer. She looked at the condom and thought how funny they looked after use.

Her phone buzzed. Now, she thought, typical. She sat up and reached for her bag and looked at the screen.

‘I’d better go,’ she said.

‘Stan?’

‘No, it’s my son. Wondering where I am.’ She swung her legs out of bed.

‘Let’s do this again.’ Andy kissed her bare back. ‘Soon.’

As she drove home she wondered what Andy was up to. He didn’t seem to care that she was with Stan. Was that weird? Maybe it was a macho thing. Maybe he thought he could win her. She sighed. Never mind what Andy was up to, what was she up to?

It was beginning to rain as Vic left the club. It had been another hit and miss night. The routine about Kylie not having a shadow had gone down well but the bed material was getting worse. He put his head down and crossed the road.

‘Hey!’

Vic looked around and saw a young woman across the street. Assuming she was a prostitute, he kept walking.

‘Vic,’ she called out.

The young woman was smiling and heading towards him.

‘I loved your set. It was hilarious. I thought I’d say hello.’

This wasn’t happening, this didn’t happen, not to Vic. It might happen to other comedians but not to him. The rain became more intense.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘I wondered if you’d like to go for a drink?’

The woman was older than he’d first thought but pretty, really pretty.

‘What, now?’ He looked at his watch. His first instinct was to say no, go home and watch YouTube videos. But he remembered Mia’s words. Don’t wait for things to happen. Vic softened his voice. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’

The pub would have been completely empty if it hadn’t been for the old timer at the end of the bar, drinking himself to an early grave. They took a seat in a booth at the back. Vic smiled, sipped his sparkling water and picked up a beer mat from the table.

‘Did you really cook only half the spaghetti?’ Toni asked.

Vic nodded. ‘Yep.’ He tapped the mat on the table.

Toni laughed a little too enthusiastically and touched Vic’s arm.

Vic looked at her. She reminded him of someone. He couldn’t place who.

‘Why don’t you have a beer?’ she asked.

‘I’m driving.’

‘I live just around the corner and the kids are with their dad. You could sleep at mine.’

Vic could guess she wasn’t expecting to do too much sleeping. He couldn’t remember a woman making the first move, ever. He had to pick up Elis tomorrow and he didn’t have his toothbrush or interdental sticks. One night without them would play havoc with his gums. God, sometimes he needed go into a dark room and have a word with himself. He was being offered sex and he was worrying about his gums.

‘Great,’ he said, ‘I’m gasping for a beer.’ He pointed at her empty glass. ‘Same again?’

She nodded.

While Vic was having a pee, he took the opportunity to get some supplies. He looked at the machine. Jesus Christ! Three pounds for two condoms, what kind of price was that? He had no choice; he put the coins into the slot.

‘Hey, calm down, tiger,’ Toni said, interrupting their kiss. ‘We’ve got all night.’

Vic moved away. He felt his face flush.

‘Don’t stop!’ she said, pulling him back. ‘Just no need to do everything all at once.’

They kissed again and this time Vic tried not to rush things. Slowly, slowly, he repeated to himself. He moved his hands with more purpose, taking time to explore her body over her clothes. He nuzzled her neck, the way Kylie used to like, but didn’t get much response. So he gave up and went back to her lips. She started undoing his shirt and running her hands through his chest hair.

‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she said, wriggling her ample arse as she made her way towards the sitting room door.

A shower? Why was she going to have a shower? Vic was just about ready to do the deed and she was off to have a shower. Did she expect him to have one, too? Was this her way of saying she didn’t trust his personal hygiene?

Vic looked around. There were children’s pyjama bottoms and toys all over the floor. He guessed Toni’s kids must be about the same age as Elis; maybe they could have play dates. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He picked up a copy of OK! magazine and thumbed through it.

‘Come up,’ Toni shouted. ‘There’s a towel on the rack and shower gel in the cubicle.’ So, she did want him to shower.

Clean and naked, Vic wandered into the master bedroom and put his new purchase on the bedside table. He smiled at Toni, who was lying naked on the bed. It wasn’t what he expected. Released from her clothes, she didn’t look as shapely as she had when dressed; she seemed to have spread like melting butter. He forced a smile; it was too late to back out. He lay down. Her skin was soft and damp, tender to the touch. She moaned as he stroked her; she was more sensitive that he remembered Kylie ever being. She turned him on his back and started to kiss his chest, moving down to his stomach. He expected her to stop there but she didn’t. He closed his eyes and relaxed, enjoying this surprising turn of events. A few minutes later Toni was straddling him. He sat up and eased her away.

‘What’s wrong?’ Toni said.

‘Condom,’ Vic replied.

‘No need,’ she said, pulling him back towards her.

‘I’d prefer it.’

‘It’s fine, I’m on the pill.’

Vic was tempted but moved her away and reached for the contraceptives.

Toni rolled her eyes.

Vic lay awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to Toni’s snore. Had he enjoyed that? It was sex; everyone enjoyed sex, didn’t they? She’d seemed to. She’d certainly made a load of noise and had shaken like an earthquake before collapsing back onto the bed and falling asleep. But Vic wasn’t so sure. It was different. With Kylie it had become safe, a choreographed routine to be performed once a month. But Toni was a wilder beast. Vic hadn’t felt in control. He’d still been trying to make love to Kylie but she wasn’t here. He felt limp and dirty. He couldn’t wait to get back into his car, drive home, have a shower and wash the experience off. But he couldn’t go now. For one, he was still over the legal limit and, two, it would be rude, wouldn’t it? He pulled at the duvet and tried to get some sleep.

The rain wasn’t heavy, just persistent. The windscreen wipers made a steady rhythm. The morning had been a nightmare. Toni had given him an overly milky cup of tea and made it abundantly clear he’d overstayed his welcome. Vic left his business card on the table, like it had been an audition. He didn’t expect a call back; he hadn’t passed the test. Vic tapped the steering wheel in time with the windscreen wipers and started singing an old Transvision Vamp song.

Why was he singing that? It must have been ten years since he’d last heard it. Then it dawned on him. He smiled. That’s who Toni looked like. Wendy James. Not the Wendy James of 1988 when he’d had an almighty crush on her. But how Wendy James might look now, melted butter and all. Not a bad reintroduction to the world of sex.

‘Damn,’ he exclaimed, slapping the steering wheel. He’d left the unused condom on the bedside table, one pound fifty up in smoke.

Vic picked up some toys scattered around the room and put them in Elis’s toy corner. His son seemed to be dealing with the new circumstances better than him. It probably still felt like an adventure, living with his dad in the new flat Monday to Thursday and going to his mum’s for the weekend. For the first time in ages, Vic had read to him that evening. After Elis had dropped off, he watched him quietly. Watching that innocent face sleeping was Vic’s favourite time of the day, a time when he thought he might like another child.

Vic poured himself a glass of wine and sat on the sofa. Maybe he was starting to get used to the new circumstances, too. He opened his laptop, stared at the screen, trying to remember the ideas he’d had during the day for some new material. Nothing. Maybe thirty minutes of cyber-slacking would get the creative juices flowing. He opened Facebook.

‘No way, no fucking way,’ he exclaimed. ‘No fucking way.’ He stood up and walked around the room, his hand on his forehead. He couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. He circled the room and went back to the computer to check he hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t. He felt sick. He took a mouthful of wine but it tasted bitter on his tongue. He paced the room again. He could feel tears welling in his eyes.

According to Facebook, Kylie was ‘in a relationship’ with Natalie. Natalie, the bridesmaid from Kathleen and Alfie’s wedding. The one he’d been flirting with all night. Kylie had got the right hump with him. Stormed off in a huff, she had. He hadn’t done anything, not even kissed her, so he’d always thought Kylie’s reaction was over the top and now he knew why; she’d been angry with Natalie, not him.

He took another gulp of wine. He’d known the two of them were friends, he’d even known Kylie had moved in there when she’d walked out on him, but she’d told him Nat had a spare room. He’d assumed Kylie and Elis were sharing; obviously, that wasn’t the case. He looked at the photos of the two of them. How hadn’t he seen it before? It was so obvious, the holding hands, the smiles. Christ, they were all over each other. It had all looked so innocent when he’d believed it was but now, now he saw it in a whole new light and innocent it wasn’t.

Fifteen years and she didn’t even have the decency to tell him to his face. Did everybody else know ? Did Elis know? Of course he bloody did. Vic shook his head.

He slammed the lid of his computer down, dragged his hand across his eyes and went to get himself a new glass; whisky was the only answer, whisky and music. Surrounding himself with the Housemartins, Bronski Beat and Duran Duran always put a smile on his face; that and half a bottle of whisky.

‘Come on, Eileen, blah blah blah blah.’ Did anyone know the words?

A movement, a flash of redness broke into Vic’s reminisces.

‘Dad?’

Vic looked round to see Elis standing there in his Spiderman pyjamas, with his pink pig dangling by the leg.

‘Oh, Sorry Elish, did I wake you?’ Vic staggered to his feet and scooped up his son. ‘Come on, let’sh get you back to bed.’

‘Dad, are you okay?’ Elis looked quizzically at Vic as they lay next to each other in Elis’s small bed.

‘I’m fine, El,’ he sniffed.

‘It’ll be all right, Dad.’

Elis was asleep in no time. Vic got up, did his teeth and went back to lie down next to his son. The luminous stars on the ceiling blurred in his vision.

Vic watched Debbie come back from the toilet. He couldn’t believe he’d let Mia talk him into a blind date, but, after the disaster of Toni and the shock of finding out about Kylie, it had been decided he needed to be back in the game. Mia had said Debbie was pretty in a kind of 1980s way and she was. She looked like Sheena Easton in her pre-Prince days. But why on earth had she agreed to this date? She had her arms crossed firmly and if she’d sighed once, she’d sighed a million times. She kept reminding him she was missing Coronation Street for this.

‘Want another drink?’ Debbie asked. Vic knew he should say no. Make up some excuse about an early start in the morning. Say something, anything, to get him out of there.

‘Go on then,’ he said.

The bell for last orders. Vic felt it was signalling the end of a bruising boxing match, a bout Vic had lost on points. He’d spent the last hour speaking to her head, the side of her face, and her chin, but never to her eyes. At last, he could go home.

‘Your place or mine?’ Debbie said.

‘What?’

‘Well, Mike’s got the kids. I thought you might like to come back.’

This was crazy, she’d barely managed a smile all night and now she wanted sex. Is this what being middle-aged and single was all about? Get your kicks while the kids were with the ex? Company for company’s sake? It was cheap, it was demeaning. He didn’t really like this woman; there was no way he was going to shag her.

‘Yours,’ he said.

They barely spoke on the short walk to Debbie’s.

‘I’ll just take a shower,’ Debbie said, as soon as she closed the front door. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’

Debbie came down in her dressing gown. ‘There’s a towel in the bathroom for you. I’ll be waiting.’ She smiled for the first time that evening; it transformed her face.

Did all forty-something women have a shower before sex? Vic pondered as he washed his bits. If so, why? He remembered the thrill of undressing women when he was younger. Remembered half-clothed sex, up against the bedroom door or on the stairs, or even in the lane before they’d reached the house; all this showering was washing away part of the excitement. As he was drying himself, he realised Kylie had started having showers before sex, too. She hadn’t in the beginning. It had started after Elis was born. There must be a reason behind it.

Like Toni’s, Debbie’s body was nothing like he’d imagined it to be. How did women manage to look so different clothed and naked? Who knew? Did he look different in clothes to out of them?

Debbie was more submissive than Toni; she bordered on lazy. Vic decided to cut the foreplay. He reached for a condom.

‘No need,’ Debbie said.

Twenty years ago, if Vic had suggested unprotected sex, the girls would have kicked him out of bed and called him an irresponsible bastard. These days, the female of the species was encouraging it. Did they want to get pregnant and trap him? Did they like playing an STD version of Russian roulette? Another wonder of the modern world.

‘I prefer it,’ he said, knowing condoms helped him last a little longer. In fact he was indebted to the prophylactic for making him a much better lover than he otherwise would be.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever.’

‘You’d better go,’ Debbie said. That was brutal, he’d only just removed the condom. ‘Mike’s bringing the kids over early. I’ll call you a taxi.’

Vic was only too happy to escape. Best to leave before it was back to awkward conversations and uncomfortable silences. Funny how showering made it easier to get dressed. There were no socks on radiators and T-shirts thrown over backs of chairs; his clothes were in a neat pile. He listened to Debbie drone down the phone and then they waited in silence for the cab. They said the goodbyes of people who knew they would never see each other again.

Well, Mia, I tried, Vic thought, as the taxi sped through the rain, but I don’t think I’ll trust another one of your blind dates.

Vic looked around the café. There were two hipsters spread across his usual spot. He took a seat by the window and waited for Mia. Vic saw her walking towards the café and smiled to himself; she always made him smile. She pushed open the café door, waved at Vic and made her way towards the counter.

‘How did it go with Debbie last week?’

‘Weird,’ Vic said.

‘Weird how?’

‘Thought the date was going horribly, then ended up in bed. Is that how it works?’

‘Hmm, not usually. But you got a shag out of it.’

‘Yeah, I suppose. Talking of shags, have you seen how expensive condoms are?’ Vic took a mouthful of his latte, giving himself a foam moustache.

‘Not recently. I don’t buy them.’ Mia pointed to her top lip: ‘Foam Mo.’

Vic wiped the milk away. ‘Thanks. You use them though?’

‘Yes of course. Well, he does,’ Mia said. ‘I haven’t got the hang of femidoms yet. So, how much are they?’

‘Three pounds for two in the pub vending machine, not much cheaper in Boots; a tenner for twelve. That’s nearly a pound a go.’

‘Lucky you’re not getting any action, then,’ Mia said. ‘You’re saving a fortune.’

‘It doesn’t work like that though, does it. Even if you’re not getting any action, you’ve still got to buy the bloody things, just in case.’ Vic poured more sugar into his coffee.

‘Why don’t you bulk buy?’

‘I’ve thought about that, and it is cheaper. But it’s bad luck.’

‘Bad luck? Why?’ Mia shifted her seat to let a woman with a double-buggy squeeze by.

‘They’d mock me, wouldn’t they? They’d sit there in my drawer, laughing at me. You thought you could get through twenty condoms? Foolish man. Our expiry date is three years away. Think you can use us before then? No chance.’ Vic laughed.

Mia didn’t. ‘Are you trying out new material on me?’

‘Yeah and it obviously needs work.’

‘It’s too long winded but it’s got potential,’ Mia said. ‘Maybe that’s why Stan doesn’t want to shag me. He’s saving money on johnnies.’

‘Things still dodgy?’ Vic asked.

Mia nodded. She bit her finger. ‘I don’t get it. It’s great when I see him, but he’s reluctant to see me. It’s barely once a week. A woman has needs you know.’

‘I think we’re too available,’ Vic said.

‘Charming!’

‘No, not you. We, us. Twenty-first Century, middle-aged people. We all chat to each other on text and Facebook and on the phone, so why bother getting together?’

‘Especially when he has the rugby to watch and the darts to play and his mates to drink with. I’m just an afterthought. Something to do at the full-time whistle.’

‘Not good.’ Vic shook his head.

‘It isn’t. He makes me feel second-rate,’ Mia said. ‘Jesus. I don’t need a man to do that for me. I can do it myself.’

‘I still think you should ditch him, Mia. There’s got to be someone else out there for you. What about that Andy bloke you’re always talking about?’

Mia felt her face flush as she recalled the previous night with Andy. She bent her head. ‘He’s a sap.’

‘Shame, you could do with some excitement.’ Vic looked at his watch, ‘I’d better go, meeting Ash for a pint tonight.’

‘What, Lily is letting him out?’

‘I know.’

‘Off you go, I’m going to do a bit of work,’ Mia said. ‘You boys have fun.’

She watched Vic cross the road and disappear into the car park. Jesus, how did he know about Andy? Had she been talking about him without realising it? Why didn’t she tell Vic about him? She didn’t know what to tell him, that’s why? What was Andy? Her bit on the side? A new boyfriend? A Stan replacement? She liked Andy; he was caring, considerate, but a bit shifty. He wasn’t the dependable rock she’d got used to with Stan.

Mia paid the bill and headed out to the street. Her phone buzzed in her handbag. She’d texted Stan earlier, to see if he was free, but Andy usually texted the day after sex; he was nice like that. Who would she prefer it to be? That was the billion-dollar question. It’d be good to know Stan was still interested but a text from Andy would make her feel warm and fuzzy. It might be from her son, or from the bank. The moment of truth.

It was from Stan. He did have time for her, would wonders never cease?

Stan certainly didn’t have a cleaner. Mia moved a pair of jeans from the sofa and sat down. Stan appeared with two plates. An action movie and a chilli: Stan’s idea of a romantic night. It was true, he made the best chilli in town and Mia didn’t mind the odd action movie now and then, but it hardly got the pulses racing.

Mia put her empty plate on the table and poured herself a glass of wine. She watched Stan balance his beer glass on his belly.

‘Who’s he?’ she pointed to the new characters on the screen.

‘Sssh, watch the film and you’ll find out.’

‘But I don’t understand how he managed to get hold of the codes.’

‘Sssh,’ Stan repeated.

Her phone lit up, she checked it, turned the phone face down on the arm of the sofa and sighed. She’d just been to the toilet, so she’d need to wait at least half an hour before she could read the message.

‘Who was that from?’ Stan said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

‘Oh, just my bank,’ Mia replied.

Stan grunted.

They watched a superhero throw a villain across the screen. The villain got up and came stamping back.

‘I’m thirsty,’ Mia said. ‘Will you get me a glass of water, please?’

‘You’ve got wine there,’ Stan said.

‘But I want water.’

‘Get it yourself.’

‘Stan?’

Stan let out an exaggerated sigh and pressed the Pause button, leaving a villain suspended in mid-air. As soon as he’d stomped out, Mia turned her phone over and found herself looking at the picture of Andy’s cock. She’d been hoping for something a little more romantic, but at least he was thinking about her.

‘Don’t forget the ice,’ she called as she typed a reply. ‘And can you bring the Pringles?’

She clicked the phone button, darkening the screen just as Stan returned.

‘There you are, Your Majesty,’ he said, handing her the water and the crisps. ‘Anything else I can get you? A pillow? A duvet?’ He sat down and pressed Play.

Mia curled up into him. ‘Thank you, my prince,’ she said and kissed him on the cheek.

February 2016

Ash and Vic sat in pub, nursing pints of Guinness. A Depeche Mode song played on the juke box and both men attempted to sing along.

‘So, have you shacked up with Mia yet?’ Ash asked, taking a mouthful of beer.

‘Certainly not.’

‘Come on, she’s crazy about you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.’

‘Bullshit. She’s got Stan and she’s always trying to set me up with other people. Not exactly the actions of someone who’s crazy about me, is it?’

‘You mark my words,’ Ash said, ‘if you clicked your fingers, she’d come running and, in my humble opinion, you’re in denial because you like her too.’

‘Since when did you become Denise bloody Robertson?’

‘Ha ha. Are you working this weekend?’

‘Yeah but here, so no overnighters.’

‘I’d come and see you but we’re going to a dinner party Saturday night, over at Jo’s. Such fun.’

‘Sounds wonderful.’ Vic said. ‘Hey, as I’m in town, fancy going to the rugby on Saturday?’

Ash looked down and sucked air in through his teeth. ‘Hmm, not sure. I promised Lily I’d go to IKEA. I’ll see what I can do.’

Vic knew that was a no. ‘Want another pint?’ he said, pointing at the two, almost, empty glasses.

‘Go on then but it better be my last.’

Before the divorce, Vic hadn’t minded going home at ten p.m. Before the divorce, he used to get invited to dinner parties. Now, going home at ten felt lame and the invitations had stopped. Not that Vic particularly wanted to go to a dinner party but it would be nice to be asked. He smiled at the barmaid, who smiled back as she put the beers on the bar. One day, he’d build up the courage to ask her out but she’d probably say no, after all, she had to be about half his age.

Vic didn’t make it to the rugby. As predicted, Ash had not been able to escape traipsing around IKEA, looking for bathroom furniture, and Vic couldn’t face going on his own. Of course, he wished he’d gone but it was too late. He thought about Ash’s world; he’d be at that dinner party now. Vic used to hate them, especially when the other guests found out what he did for a living. ‘Tell us a joke,’ they’d say and they’d never laugh. The joke was on him: being single disqualified you from such things. Vic wondered if Kylie and Nat got the invite, instead.

‘Have you played Bristol recently?’ Colin Eagle, a fellow comedian, woke Vic from his thoughts. ‘Last time I was there, I ended up going back to this lovely lass’s flat. She was gorgeous. Remember Wendy James? Transvision Vamp? She looked like her. Not in her prime, obviously, but still. And she was a right little goer. We did it three times and once in the morning as well. And, she made me a cracking fry-up before I left.’

Vic felt his insides tie in a knot.

‘You mean, Toni?’ asked Wally. ‘Yep, I’ve had her. Gorgeous arse on her.’ He outlined the curves with his hands.

Vic looked at Wally with disgust. He was a sleazy, sexist comedian with routines straight out of 1972. He could understand Toni enjoying Colin but Wally? Really?

Vic’s mind drifted again. He’d thought he was special but she was obviously working her way through all the comedians on the circuit. And what was all this about three or four times and breakfast in the morning? For Vic, it had been once and a quick cup of tea before being shovelled out of the door.

‘Talking of cracking figures, have you seen the barmaid in here?’ Wally said, curving his hands over his chest. ‘What I’d give to get my head in between those, eh, Vic?’

‘I’m sure she’s a lovely girl,’ Vic said.

‘Who cares?’ Wally said. ‘As long as she’s a goer.’

Wally and Colin laughed.

Vic looked down at his phone.

‘Ooh, look at you. Who died and made you a feminist?’ Wally made like he was holding a handbag. ‘Are you jealous that I didn’t notice your knockers?’

‘No, I just… Oh, it doesn’t matter.’

Wally sucked in his abdomen. ‘Talk of the devil. Alright darling. I’m free after the gig if you fancy some fun.’

‘Can I get you gentlemen any drinks?’

Colin and Wally ordered beers, Vic, a sparkling water.

The barmaid smiled at Vic before leaving.

Vic inclined his head.

‘You jammy bugger, I think you’re in there, son,’ Wally said

‘No accounting for taste,’ Colin said.

‘Leave it,’ Vic said.

Out front, the compere had warmed the crowd up, Colin had gone down a storm and the MC was just beginning to introduce Vic. He stood, took a deep breath and made his way to the stage.

‘What’s the deal with date nights?’

Silence.

‘Is anyone here on a date night?’

A few people murmured.

‘For those of you who don’t know, a date night is what couples do when their relationship starts to become boring. They have a night out together. Isn’t that right, sir?’ He pointed towards a man who was sitting with a woman on the front row.

The man scowled at him.

Vic’s words tumbled out of his mouth without much thought. This must have been the thirtieth time he’d done this material. He used to love it but the words felt bitter on his tongue. Writing a routine about Kylie had seemed like such a good idea. He thought he would find it cathartic but it was doing the opposite. He was living in the past, reminding himself every night of what he was trying to forget. He’d go back home, or back to a sterile hotel, and feel miserable.

He ploughed on. ‘My wife and I did it; it was her idea. She said all we did was sit in front of the television screen, grazing, barely talking to each other. So, what did we do for our date night? We went to the cinema. Spent thirty quid on a baby sitter, twenty quid on tickets and popcorn, and ten quid on parking, just so we could sit in front of a screen, grazing, barely talking to each other.’

Nothing. Not even a polite giggle. The smug bastards.

He had three minutes left in his set. He contemplated wrapping it up early. Would anyone notice? The manager would and he was already glaring at him from the back.

Vic snapped. ‘Look at you lot. I fucking hate the lot of you. You’re exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a bunch of idiots. Go out on a date and come to a comedy club. Anything’s better than talking to each other. Even listening to me!’

Vic was shaking now. Being off script was exciting. He hadn’t got any laughs but his usual stuff wasn’t going down any better and at least this was fun.

‘So, next time you guys go out, why not go to somewhere where you can talk? Let me recommend a marriage guidance counsellor. My name’s Vic Bead. Thank you very much. Good night.’

Vic stood by the bar watching Wally take all the laughs.

‘He’s a pig, isn’t he?’

Vic looked around to see the barmaid standing behind him.

‘I couldn’t possibly comment,’ Vic said.

‘Well I can,’ she said, ‘and I want to slap him. He’s not funny either.’

‘No comment,’ Vic smiled.

‘You were feisty tonight,’ the barmaid said. ‘Not like you.’

Vic was glad to see she was smiling. He shrugged.

‘I’m Amanda.’

‘I’m Vic.’

‘I know.’

This was the moment. The moment when he should ask her to go for a drink. He thought of Ash and how easily the words would slip off his tongue. He thought about Mia’s words. He worried, that was the problem. He thought too much. What if she said no? What if she laughed in his face? What if she called him a sexist? A barmaid should have the right to work without being pestered by men. What if she was flirting with him? She was flirting with him, wasn’t she? Or was she just being friendly?

‘Fancy a drink after you finish?’ He’d said it and he wanted to crawl into a hole.

‘I’d love one,’ Amanda said. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘I’m sorry the place is such a mess,’ said Vic, dashing round picking up T-shirts and toys.

‘Don’t worry,’ Amanda said. ‘I didn’t come here to judge the cleanliness. I came here to get dirty.’

Vic smiled, put his arms around Amanda’s waist and planted a kiss on her lips.

They manoeuvred themselves through rooms, still locked together at the lips, finally collapsing together on the bed.

They’d been kissing for a while and clothes were being shed. This was more like the good old days, no mention of showers or soap.

He thought too soon. Midway through removal of her bra, Amanda said, ‘Can I have a shower?’

‘Now?’

‘Come with me.’

Vic didn’t want to but what could he say? Had these women read something in Cosmo that said sex was better after a wash? For Vic, it made no difference; it didn’t affect his performance. Maybe he should write a routine about it.

‘Don’t worry,’ Amanda said to him, ‘It’s a compliment.’

Vic stared at the ceiling.

‘I’d rather it was over in a flash. Better than you grinding on and on.’ She laughed and kissed his cheek.

Vic continued to stare at the ceiling.

‘It happens,’ Amanda said and kissed him again. ‘He’ll be up again in no time, you’ll see. And meanwhile you’ve got other tools at your disposal.’

But it never did get up again and Vic didn’t sleep well that night. He’d finished quickly before, so that hadn’t been a surprise, but he’d always bounced straight back up. This time he’d come in seconds but didn’t come back and nothing Amanda had done could raise an encore. She’d teased him, saying it was just resting, but he knew full well it wasn’t resting. It was kaput.