and increasingly aware that I’m not the leader of any kind of uprising.
Macy’s online.
I carry the computer upstairs and climb into bed with it. I lock Amundsen out. I pull off my trousers and one sock, and bring the duvet up to my chin.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘How are you?’
‘Hi. Did you get caught in the office?’
‘Almost. It was close. My boss was talking to me and my dick was out.’
‘That’s hot.’
‘Yeah. And dangerous. I could have lost my job, which I need to support myself and so on.’
‘It was fun.’
‘I wish you were here. I wish someone was here. Or I was somewhere else.’
‘Bad day?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Yes.’ I got punched in the face and mugged, quietly, like an elderly person giving out their credit card details over the phone. ‘Sometimes I think about finding a small, dark space and climbing in, and never coming out. Not for food or water or people or anything. And I die in the space, but it’s okay, because it’s just in the space.’ I’m drunk. I shouldn’t have said that.
‘I think about that too, but then I think about angry hands reaching in to pull me out, and it seems worse than never going in.’
‘I wish people would let other people hide.’
‘I’ve got kids, hon. I know.’ I try to imagine being permanently tied to two miniature humans who require constant amusement and affection. I picture myself lightly holding a roll of yellow tape, walking between trees, testing the strengths of various low branches.
‘That’s horrible.’
‘Haha.’
‘That you always have to be responsible, I mean.’
‘It’s like everything’s narrowed down to right now, and you can’t do what you want. It’s like there’s thispoint where doing what you want starts being selfish.’ ‘What do you want to do?’
‘Anything. I don’t know. Go somewhere hot and exotic, where I don’t know anyone. Somewhere with palm trees and cocktails. Learn the language. Get a bar job. Sleep whenever I want.’
‘That sounds nice. We should do that.’
‘I wish.’
‘Your kids will be fine. Kids grow up quickly now. When you leave, they’ll invent a new kind of social networking and become billionaires.’
‘Haha.’
I don’t know what to say.
‘Where are they?’
‘Bed.’
‘That’s great.’
‘I think we should do a voicechat,’ she says.
‘Do you?’
‘Would be hot.’
‘I think my mic is broken. Or I don’t have one. I don’t know.’
‘Let’s try.’
‘Maybe later.’
Macy is calling you. Oh God. She’ll be able to tell. She’ll realise that I’m a child masquerading as someone worth talking to and she’ll call the police. I’m shaking. I’m drunk. I press accept. A female voice comes into my room. It’s gentle and perfect, like the voiceover on atourism advert for a country where people take afternoon naps and eat outdoors.
I’m scared. The voice says my name. It says, ‘Are you there?’
‘My mic isn’t working,’ I type. ‘I am shouting into it.’ ‘Yes, it is,’ the voice says. ‘I can hear you typing.’ ‘Oh,’ I say out loud. ‘Sorry. I was scared. I haven’t ever done this.’
‘Your accent is sexy.’
‘Yours is nice.’
‘Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.’ She laughs. I try to laugh with her but it sounds quiet and stuttered. ‘You’re nervous. Relax.’
‘I’m trying.’
‘Big scary yacht thieves have nothing to be afraid of.’
I laugh.
‘They get scared of extremely attractive Scottish women.’
‘I’ll protect you from any if I see them.’
‘Ahoy! You’s a one.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Um. Nothing.’
‘Will you describe where you are again?’
‘Okay, wait. I’m going to carry you downstairs. I need to get another drink.’
‘I’ll get one too.’
I pick up the laptop and push open my door. Amundsen’s waiting outside. He rears up and presseshis paws into my belly. I try to bat him away without making any sound. It doesn’t work. I whisper his name and flick his
Macy’s online.
I carry the computer upstairs and climb into bed with it. I lock Amundsen out. I pull off my trousers and one sock, and bring the duvet up to my chin.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘How are you?’
‘Hi. Did you get caught in the office?’
‘Almost. It was close. My boss was talking to me and my dick was out.’
‘That’s hot.’
‘Yeah. And dangerous. I could have lost my job, which I need to support myself and so on.’
‘It was fun.’
‘I wish you were here. I wish someone was here. Or I was somewhere else.’
‘Bad day?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Yes.’ I got punched in the face and mugged, quietly, like an elderly person giving out their credit card details over the phone. ‘Sometimes I think about finding a small, dark space and climbing in, and never coming out. Not for food or water or people or anything. And I die in the space, but it’s okay, because it’s just in the space.’ I’m drunk. I shouldn’t have said that.
‘I think about that too, but then I think about angry hands reaching in to pull me out, and it seems worse than never going in.’
‘I wish people would let other people hide.’
‘I’ve got kids, hon. I know.’ I try to imagine being permanently tied to two miniature humans who require constant amusement and affection. I picture myself lightly holding a roll of yellow tape, walking between trees, testing the strengths of various low branches.
‘That’s horrible.’
‘Haha.’
‘That you always have to be responsible, I mean.’
‘It’s like everything’s narrowed down to right now, and you can’t do what you want. It’s like there’s thispoint where doing what you want starts being selfish.’ ‘What do you want to do?’
‘Anything. I don’t know. Go somewhere hot and exotic, where I don’t know anyone. Somewhere with palm trees and cocktails. Learn the language. Get a bar job. Sleep whenever I want.’
‘That sounds nice. We should do that.’
‘I wish.’
‘Your kids will be fine. Kids grow up quickly now. When you leave, they’ll invent a new kind of social networking and become billionaires.’
‘Haha.’
I don’t know what to say.
‘Where are they?’
‘Bed.’
‘That’s great.’
‘I think we should do a voicechat,’ she says.
‘Do you?’
‘Would be hot.’
‘I think my mic is broken. Or I don’t have one. I don’t know.’
‘Let’s try.’
‘Maybe later.’
Macy is calling you. Oh God. She’ll be able to tell. She’ll realise that I’m a child masquerading as someone worth talking to and she’ll call the police. I’m shaking. I’m drunk. I press accept. A female voice comes into my room. It’s gentle and perfect, like the voiceover on atourism advert for a country where people take afternoon naps and eat outdoors.
I’m scared. The voice says my name. It says, ‘Are you there?’
‘My mic isn’t working,’ I type. ‘I am shouting into it.’ ‘Yes, it is,’ the voice says. ‘I can hear you typing.’ ‘Oh,’ I say out loud. ‘Sorry. I was scared. I haven’t ever done this.’
‘Your accent is sexy.’
‘Yours is nice.’
‘Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.’ She laughs. I try to laugh with her but it sounds quiet and stuttered. ‘You’re nervous. Relax.’
‘I’m trying.’
‘Big scary yacht thieves have nothing to be afraid of.’
I laugh.
‘They get scared of extremely attractive Scottish women.’
‘I’ll protect you from any if I see them.’
‘Ahoy! You’s a one.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Um. Nothing.’
‘Will you describe where you are again?’
‘Okay, wait. I’m going to carry you downstairs. I need to get another drink.’
‘I’ll get one too.’
I pick up the laptop and push open my door. Amundsen’s waiting outside. He rears up and presseshis paws into my belly. I try to bat him away without making any sound. It doesn’t work. I whisper his name and flick his
Similar Books
