I keep thinking about that night. And then I hear Massive Attack. When there’s trust, there’ll be treats; when we fuck we’ll hear beats.
Funk. Weird.
When I stroke my belly and push up my shirt and feel the landscape of my skin, and when I feel myself, I hear myself breathing. When I pull off my shirt and my hand reaches down into my underpants and I feel warmer and warmer in my belly I get this feeling like, What’s going to happen now, and I feel the hair between my legs and start moving to the rhythm of the music. Laura, I think then, as I breathe in and out. And all I want is her hand on me and to kiss her and not wait any longer.
Fucking isn’t the same as making love. It’s not about pink hearts and daisies.
And then I want to be loud, but I have to be quiet because Mum and Dad are light sleepers and the music won’t drown out my sounds. That’s when I want her here and it makes me crazy that she is on the other side of town, because she doesn’t belong there.
When we fuck we hear beats. Here, right here. This is how it’s going to be.
***
Today. Today is Friday.
I’m supposed to be at her place at eight. But at seven she arrives at my house with that look on her face.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She goes out to the balcony, and I put on my pants, first one leg, then the other, and I pull them up and do them up.
She’s lit a cigarette and she looks out over the neigh-bor’s roof where a skylight is shining. It’s Rudi next door, building his model airplanes upstairs.
“Tell me.” I sit down beside her.
“I SAID IT’S NOTHING!”
I sit there and try to pull my legs up, but the bench is too narrow.
“I told Phil I was coming over. He’ll be here soon.”
That’s just great.
I go down to the basement and grab a couple of bottles and take them back up to my room. My father never notices how many beers there are.
“Mi, I...” Laura starts.
I stand there with the bottles in my hand and wait, but she doesn’t say anything more.
Then she takes me in her arms and holds me tight.
We don’t talk much. Why do you need to talk when you can just look at each other, or hold each other’s hands and feel each finger, feel how warm this other person’s skin is, how it reacts to your touch. And when the music fits, the way it does now. Every song fits. Every song says, “Laura is here.” Every song says, “Laura has landed, landed on my little planet, and she’s here to stay and kissing me and smoking on my balcony.” Every song tells you how good these moments are.
When Phillip comes, everything gets weird. We haven’t said what we want to do so we just stay at my place, lighting candles and sitting on the balcony. The three of us, even though I imagined this evening would be different. We just sit here listening to music — Laura and I holding hands, Phillip wearing a sweater he’s borrowed from me.
It’s all so weird. It feels like the last night at summer camp, but I don’t know why. Everything is very peaceful. Everything feels right, here on the balcony. Everything feels right.
Laura stays after Phillip leaves. She stays until late. She doesn’t leave until after Mum and Dad are in bed. We say good night. A good-night kiss. And then another. Then more smiles and more kisses and more good-nights. Don’t ask whether she’s coming back or when we’ll see each other again, just say sleep tight, just look up at the sky again and hold her hand a bit tighter.
Good night, Laura, good night.
Good night, Mi.
When I close the door, Dennis is standing there.
The hall is dark. Only the outside light shines through the glass of the front door. We stand there in silence.
Then he says, “Want to go back up to the balcony?”
I nod.
Dennis and I sit beside each other on the bench and freeze.
He starts to smoke.
Then he says slowly, “It’s okay. Mum’s right. Even if it’s none of my business, it’s okay.” He holds out his cigarette so that I can take a drag. “Are you all right?”
I nod.