Legit house party (pt3/3)

Hill walks out of the upstairs bathroom and looks down the stairs. A couple are standing by the front door, talking to a local homeless man who is standing on the front step. Rogan is well known in the area and Hill remembers watching a documentary about him some years ago. In the documentary, Rogan was filmed smoking heroin in an abandoned boathouse, filmed smoking heroin in a bedsit, filmed smoking heroin outside a post office, filmed smoking heroin in a pub car park, and filmed in a local café, appearing earnestly incredulous at being asked to pay for a fried breakfast.

Hill watches as one of the group, a man with long black hair and a thick beard, reaches down and picks up three bottles of Doom Bar, passing one to Rogan and one to a woman with a skinhead. Rogan looks up, sees Hill looking at them and makes a cheers motion with his bottle. The other two turn towards Hill and laugh before returning to their conversation.

Fucking Rogan, Hill thinks.

Hill turns and looks down the upstairs corridor towards a bedroom. Trudy, sitting on a beanbag, has a MacBook on her lap, the screen light glowing, reflecting onto her face. She turns and looks at Hill.

Hey, hihihihi, Trudy says.

Hill walks into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the futon. He looks around the room and sees a pile of books, a small desk, a rail with some clothes on, and an empty wicker bin.

I think I feel empathy for whoever lives in this room, Hill says.

Are you enjoying yourself? I’m going to put some music on, Trudy says.

This is great, all of it, Hill says, his head in his hands.

Truly legit house party, Trudy says.

It’s incredible, Hill says. Everyone seems so aggressive and forthright with their opinions. Also so serious and defensive. I know that’s probably exactly how I’m being perceived, but I don’t think they realise how they’re behaving. It’s fine. I’m having a good time.

Have some of this, it’s really weak, Trudy says, passing Hill a small, half-smoked joint. Do you want to look at something on YouTube?

Not as much as I used to, Hill says.

Trudy gets up from the beanbag and sits next to Hill on the futon. She plays a video clip of a Welsh language children’s drama from the late nineties.

This looks so cheap and fun, I like it, Hill says. The aesthetic.

No, no, no, look at her, Trudy says. The denim jacket with the mousey hair. Ha. Look at her.

Oh, is that you? Hill says. Oh my God. You look great. I mean, you look so dumb. But you look good on camera. I feel surprised that you haven’t told me about this before. You used to be successful.

Thanks, I paid my parents’ mortgage off over the five years I was on that programme, Trudy says. I got to keep the clothes. Well, I used to steal the clothes. Everyone at school hated me for a while; I got punched in the mouth once and chipped two of my teeth. I made a lot of money in exchange for being punched, basically.

Trudy takes a long drag from the joint and passes it over to Hill.

But you were successful, Hill says. I’m really turned on by how successful you used to be.

You’re so charming, Trudy says. I think acting is okay, problematic in so many ways but whatever. I think it’s okay to be on TV, but I was just reading lines, had solid timing, bleep-bleep bloop-bloop blah-blah.

Right, Hill says.

Hill watches Trudy pause the clip on an image of her and two other girls playing pool with colourful plastic tennis rackets.

Too funny, Trudy says.

Trudy stares at the screen for a moment then slowly closes the laptop.

Hill, Trudy says. In a couple of months I’m going to Australia for a year, maybe longer, for the PhD. I’m saying this to you, I’m saying this because of … I suppose what’s going on here.

Well, that’s fine, Roger will just have to die alone, Hill says.

I want you to be okay with me going, Hill, Trudy says. Hill?

Sure, Hill says.

You’ll be with him, he’ll want you there, you’re his family, Trudy says. I was reading about the Norwegian whaling season, a whale called Heiko followed a shoal of fish under a narrow bridge that the whaling ship couldn’t fit through. The people of Lofoten took her to their hearts; the first time most of them would have seen a living whale. I don’t know, humans are generally an abomination, but there’s always hope. I really believe that, Hill.

Hill stares at a small area of peeling wallpaper directly above the clothes rail. There isn’t a radiator in the room, only single glazed windows, a small single bed, peeling wallpaper, and a clothes rail with ~six items on it.

Why did you let me film you at the beach and not tell me you were a professional actor? Hill says. That’s incredibly fucking manipulative.

What? Trudy says. Are you being serious?

I complimented you in good faith.

You ‘complimented me in good faith’? Hill, that’s ridiculous.

Hill repeatedly attempts to speak but can’t get any words out, his eyes drawn to the small ‘Doom’ scrawled in biro beneath the window ledge. He looks at Trudy and shakes his head. After a moment’s pause he leans over and buries his head into her lap, closes his eyes, and listens to her stomach rumbling, drowning out the sound from the party downstairs.