And small wonder the sex had been so fluid and unclumsy: he was an expert, the guy had a black belt in riding. Christ, he even had special bondage ropes! What did that tell me about his dedication?
Then I cringed as I remembered the most embarrassing bit of all – to think I’d asked him to… to call me. All those years listening to my single friends and had I learnt nothing?. You never let on you want to be called. If he says he’ll ring you, you’ve to murmur, ‘Whatever,’ like you so couldn’t give a damn. What you don’t do is throw your hat in the air and burst into ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’. Isn’t it funny how we all know the rules, but we never think they apply to us?
I was going about this break-up lark all wrong. The usual procedure is you feel awful, then a little bit better, then another little bit. And then a big bit. But the more time had gone on since Garv and I had split, the worse I felt. How much further did I have to proceed into this heart of darkness before I came out the other side?
How was Garv getting on with the single life? Was he faring better than me? Or was he as miserable too? Probably not: he was a man, they always seem to find this sort of thing easier. And who exactly was his girlfriend? How serious was it? Those tormenting thoughts which had been dormant for a while were now back in force.
‘I’m giving up on men,’ I said bitterly. ‘Do you know what I’m going to become?’
‘Oh no,’ Emily moaned softly. ‘Don’t say it, because someone round here might take you up on it. Anyway, you have it all wrong. Lesbians are just as bad as men, as far as I can see. They say they’ll call then they don’t. They sleep with you, then ditch you–’
‘I wasn’t going to say lesbian,’ I interrupted. ‘Although it’s a thought.’
‘Νοοοο,’ she covered her eyes.
‘What I was about to say was I’m going to become one of those fabulous single women who go on about choices a lot.’ Bitterly, I pretended to be airy and launched into, ‘“It’s just great being single because I can choose which side of the bed to sleep on. I can choose who I want to spend time with, and who I don’t. I don’t have to waste time on my partner’s boring family or workmates. No negotiations, no compromises.” It’ll be fantastic. I’ll have tons of friends, a huge mother-ship hand bag from Coach, linen drawstring pants and beautifully cut but practical hair.’ Somehow I’d mutated into Sharon Stone.
‘Or maybe I won’t,’ I finished with a sigh. Maybe I’d just end up moving back in with my parents so we could become our street’s version of the Addams Family. I would grow a moustache. Eventually I would bow to the inevitable at the hairdresser’s and ask for an Irish Mammy.
I wanted to go home. I was so hurt and embarrassed by the way Troy had rejected me that I wanted to put as many miles as possible between me and him. For a while, the dazzling Californian sunshine had bleached out the sharp contours of my pain, but my eyes had adjusted until my anguish was just as severe here as it had been in Ireland. Like a painkiller that becomes less and less effective the more it’s used, Los Angeles had stopped working for me. I’d always suspected this would happen, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. I’d only been here two weeks and my initial plan had been to stay for about a month. Ah, well…
I was acutely aware of how much I didn’t belong here. Mind you, where did I belong? ‘Home’ didn’t really exist any longer. But there was so much music to be faced in Ireland that sooner or later I was going to have to bite the bullet and return – and in the wake of my humiliation at the hands of Troy, I wanted to leave for the airport immediately. I looked for my suitcase; I still hadn’t fully unpacked, mostly because I had no closet-space – it wouldn’t take me ten minutes to gather up my stuff and ship out of here. The image of me getting on a plane was as comforting as a padded plaster on a blister.
But what about Emily? How selfish would it be to leave her at this nerve-wracking time? Reluctantly, I concluded that I should wait until we heard from Larry Savage. Either he’d buy her script and she’d be fine, or he’d pass and her adventures in Lala land would also come to an end. Whichever happened, we’d know very soon.
That decision made, I rang my parents to tell them I was homeward bound: the mere act made me feel like I was already on my way.
Dad answered, with his customary terror. ‘Which one of you is that? Oh, Margaret.’ I waited for him to be overcome with the noxious gas given off by the phone, but to my surprise he stayed talking. ‘Have you been to Disneyland yet?’
I hadn’t.
‘You should go, it’s marvellous! And they’ve other ones too. Some Six Flags place. They say it has the world’s highest rollercoaster.’
‘Think of your neck,’ I said firmly. ‘Anyway, how do you know about the Six Flags place?’
‘Read about it on the Net.’ ‘What net?’ ‘The Internet Net.’
‘What are you doing on the Internet Net?’ I couldn’t hide my surprise. Surprise which bordered on indignation.
‘Helen set it up.’
‘He’s never off it,’ Mum’s voice cut in, on the extension. ‘Cruising on the Net, looking at pornography.’
‘I do not look at pornography!’
‘There’s no need to shout. And I know all about what goes on on that Net.’
‘I’m not shouting, I only sound loud because you’re just upstairs from me. And there’s other things go on on the Net besides pornography.’
‘Like what?’
‘Holidays.’
A pause, then a suspicious, ‘Flights?’
‘Yes, flights.’
‘To sunny places?’
I had a clear and unpleasant insight into where all this was heading, and decided to nip it in the bud. ‘I’m coming home soon. In the next few days.’
‘Are you?’ High-pitched and irritated and perfectly in unison.
Just as I’d suspected. Well, hopefully that had knocked that on the head.
But later I spoke to Emily about it. ‘I’ve a bad feeling Mum and Dad might be planning a visit here.’ ‘Don’t be silly,’
Emily said. ‘No, I’m serious.’
‘So’m I. They couldn’t come here because they haven’t had it booked since last November. They’re not exactly spontaneous, are they? I mean, their idea of being mad-cap and spur-of-the-moment would be to plan a weekend break for next spring.’
Then I cringed as I remembered the most embarrassing bit of all – to think I’d asked him to… to call me. All those years listening to my single friends and had I learnt nothing?. You never let on you want to be called. If he says he’ll ring you, you’ve to murmur, ‘Whatever,’ like you so couldn’t give a damn. What you don’t do is throw your hat in the air and burst into ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’. Isn’t it funny how we all know the rules, but we never think they apply to us?
I was going about this break-up lark all wrong. The usual procedure is you feel awful, then a little bit better, then another little bit. And then a big bit. But the more time had gone on since Garv and I had split, the worse I felt. How much further did I have to proceed into this heart of darkness before I came out the other side?
How was Garv getting on with the single life? Was he faring better than me? Or was he as miserable too? Probably not: he was a man, they always seem to find this sort of thing easier. And who exactly was his girlfriend? How serious was it? Those tormenting thoughts which had been dormant for a while were now back in force.
‘I’m giving up on men,’ I said bitterly. ‘Do you know what I’m going to become?’
‘Oh no,’ Emily moaned softly. ‘Don’t say it, because someone round here might take you up on it. Anyway, you have it all wrong. Lesbians are just as bad as men, as far as I can see. They say they’ll call then they don’t. They sleep with you, then ditch you–’
‘I wasn’t going to say lesbian,’ I interrupted. ‘Although it’s a thought.’
‘Νοοοο,’ she covered her eyes.
‘What I was about to say was I’m going to become one of those fabulous single women who go on about choices a lot.’ Bitterly, I pretended to be airy and launched into, ‘“It’s just great being single because I can choose which side of the bed to sleep on. I can choose who I want to spend time with, and who I don’t. I don’t have to waste time on my partner’s boring family or workmates. No negotiations, no compromises.” It’ll be fantastic. I’ll have tons of friends, a huge mother-ship hand bag from Coach, linen drawstring pants and beautifully cut but practical hair.’ Somehow I’d mutated into Sharon Stone.
‘Or maybe I won’t,’ I finished with a sigh. Maybe I’d just end up moving back in with my parents so we could become our street’s version of the Addams Family. I would grow a moustache. Eventually I would bow to the inevitable at the hairdresser’s and ask for an Irish Mammy.
I wanted to go home. I was so hurt and embarrassed by the way Troy had rejected me that I wanted to put as many miles as possible between me and him. For a while, the dazzling Californian sunshine had bleached out the sharp contours of my pain, but my eyes had adjusted until my anguish was just as severe here as it had been in Ireland. Like a painkiller that becomes less and less effective the more it’s used, Los Angeles had stopped working for me. I’d always suspected this would happen, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. I’d only been here two weeks and my initial plan had been to stay for about a month. Ah, well…
I was acutely aware of how much I didn’t belong here. Mind you, where did I belong? ‘Home’ didn’t really exist any longer. But there was so much music to be faced in Ireland that sooner or later I was going to have to bite the bullet and return – and in the wake of my humiliation at the hands of Troy, I wanted to leave for the airport immediately. I looked for my suitcase; I still hadn’t fully unpacked, mostly because I had no closet-space – it wouldn’t take me ten minutes to gather up my stuff and ship out of here. The image of me getting on a plane was as comforting as a padded plaster on a blister.
But what about Emily? How selfish would it be to leave her at this nerve-wracking time? Reluctantly, I concluded that I should wait until we heard from Larry Savage. Either he’d buy her script and she’d be fine, or he’d pass and her adventures in Lala land would also come to an end. Whichever happened, we’d know very soon.
That decision made, I rang my parents to tell them I was homeward bound: the mere act made me feel like I was already on my way.
Dad answered, with his customary terror. ‘Which one of you is that? Oh, Margaret.’ I waited for him to be overcome with the noxious gas given off by the phone, but to my surprise he stayed talking. ‘Have you been to Disneyland yet?’
I hadn’t.
‘You should go, it’s marvellous! And they’ve other ones too. Some Six Flags place. They say it has the world’s highest rollercoaster.’
‘Think of your neck,’ I said firmly. ‘Anyway, how do you know about the Six Flags place?’
‘Read about it on the Net.’ ‘What net?’ ‘The Internet Net.’
‘What are you doing on the Internet Net?’ I couldn’t hide my surprise. Surprise which bordered on indignation.
‘Helen set it up.’
‘He’s never off it,’ Mum’s voice cut in, on the extension. ‘Cruising on the Net, looking at pornography.’
‘I do not look at pornography!’
‘There’s no need to shout. And I know all about what goes on on that Net.’
‘I’m not shouting, I only sound loud because you’re just upstairs from me. And there’s other things go on on the Net besides pornography.’
‘Like what?’
‘Holidays.’
A pause, then a suspicious, ‘Flights?’
‘Yes, flights.’
‘To sunny places?’
I had a clear and unpleasant insight into where all this was heading, and decided to nip it in the bud. ‘I’m coming home soon. In the next few days.’
‘Are you?’ High-pitched and irritated and perfectly in unison.
Just as I’d suspected. Well, hopefully that had knocked that on the head.
But later I spoke to Emily about it. ‘I’ve a bad feeling Mum and Dad might be planning a visit here.’ ‘Don’t be silly,’
Emily said. ‘No, I’m serious.’
‘So’m I. They couldn’t come here because they haven’t had it booked since last November. They’re not exactly spontaneous, are they? I mean, their idea of being mad-cap and spur-of-the-moment would be to plan a weekend break for next spring.’
