Until Next Weekend

by Rachel Marks

  ‘Do you want me to come home with you?’

  I jolt my head back in surprise. ‘What?’

  She downs one of the shots she poured for me. ‘Let’s just say you’re not the only one in need of some meaningless sex.’

  My breathing suddenly feels more laboured, the anticipation of sex with Mimi causing my heartbeat to accelerate. I mean, Mimi’s stunning. She’s well out of my league. ‘What about the singer?’

  ‘He’s a guitarist, actually. A cheating guitarist, it turns out.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine. I’m not bothered.’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘But you want to have sex with me because …’

  ‘A girl has needs too, you know?’

  ‘So why don’t you just go for Mr Big Shot over there?’ I tilt my head towards one of the two lads, feeling his eyes boring into the side of my face.

  ‘Because he’ll keep calling, wanting to take me out on dates. Either that or he’ll never call and I’ll obsess about why. I know with you it’ll just be tonight and you probably won’t even remember it in the morning, let alone call me.’

  I can’t argue with that. And yet the thought of sex with Mimi feels odd, like overstepping an invisible boundary.

  ‘But … is it going to ruin our friendship?’

  Mimi laughs. ‘So we’re friends now, are we?’

  ‘You know what I mean. I don’t usually sleep with people I …’

  Have said more than a handful of words to?

  ‘Don’t worry. I promise it won’t be weird between us. Purely sex. Unless you’d rather choose someone else in here to go home with. I won’t be offended, well not too offended, anyway.’ She smiles, but she looks less sure of herself than normal.

  ‘If you’re OK with it, I’m OK with it. When do you finish?’

  ‘In about half an hour.’ She takes the shot glasses down off the bar. ‘No more of this, though. I’d like a half-decent performance.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. It’ll be better than half decent,’ I say, even though I’m utterly terrified now.

  ‘Well, I’ll be the judge of that. Now, like you said, I’m working, so can I get on with my job, please?’

  I nod. ‘I need to make a phone call anyway. I’ll meet you back here.’

  It’s freezing outside and I sit on a bench and shiver whilst I wait for Ben to answer his phone.

  Finally, he picks up. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve fallen into the river and need rescuing?’

  ‘No, actually I need a favour. I’m bringing a girl home.’

  ‘So you need me to do my usual disappearing act?’

  ‘Thanks, bro. I’ll text you when we’re just around the corner so you can make a swift exit. And could you just tidy away any really obvious kid stuff. Just throw it in a cupboard. I’ll sort it out tomorrow.’

  ‘OK. Although I’m sure these girls would still want to sleep with you if they knew you had kids. You could just tell her.’

  I knew as soon as I started bringing different women home that I didn’t want them to know about the boys. I have no intention of them ever becoming part of each other’s lives and it just feels wrong talking about them – like revealing a hidden scar. And yeah, maybe I want these women to think I’m just this carefree guy up for a bit of fun rather than a divorced dad trying to forget about the gaping hole in his chest.

  ‘I find it easier to keep my two worlds separate.’

  ‘Up to you. Roughly how long do you think you’ll be? Just wondering whether it’s worth starting the next episode.’

  ‘About half an hour?’

  ‘Perfect. Catch up soon, yeah? And have a good night.’

  ‘Oh, I’m pretty sure I will. You should see this girl’s arse. It’s ridiculous.’

  I don’t even know why I say things like this. It’s like I feel that if I act like a misogynistic twat then no one will cotton on to the fact that I’m hanging on to my sanity by a very thin thread.

  Ben laughs, but I can tell he (rightly) thinks I’m an idiot. ‘Night, brother.’

  *

  When we first get back to mine, it’s a little awkward. We enter the hallway, remove our jackets, I offer Mimi a drink and she declines. Having already verbally agreed what’s going to happen, it’s hard to know exactly how to start things off.

  Luckily, Mimi isn’t backwards in coming forward. ‘So are you going to show me where your bedroom is?’

  I take her hand and then release it, rubbing my clammy palms on my jeans before taking it again. I lead her to the bedroom, going in first, surveying it quickly for incriminating items before turning the light on.

  Mimi squints her eyes. ‘Have you got a lamp? That light is a bit intense.’

  ‘Of course.’ I turn off the ceiling light and lean over the bed to switch on my bedside lamp.

  ‘Much better.’

  I sit on the bed and she positions herself beside me then we start kissing. I feel oddly shy, like I’m seventeen again and having sex with Kate for the first time (not knowing what the hell to do, where the infamous clitoris is located, when and how to put a condom on). At the time, Kate had guided me so calmly, so gently, with so much more confidence than I had, despite it being her first time too.

  Mimi is much the same, taking my hand and putting it on her waist, slowly unbuttoning my shirt and then pulling her own top over her head and removing her jeans so that she’s sitting in just her underwear, a plain black bra and a pair of Superdry boxers peppered with pink stars.

  ‘Sorry, I haven’t got my best underwear on. Although it might not seem like it, I didn’t plan on having sex with anyone tonight.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You look amazing.’

  Mimi gently removes my glasses in a gesture that feels so tender, I’m tempted to hand her her clothes and send her packing. But then she slips her hand down the back of my boxers and squeezes my bum and I can’t resist copying the gesture. And after that, there’s only one direction this is going to go in and it doesn’t involve Mimi getting into a taxi.

  When we’re done, we lie on my bed like stickmen, covers kicked off, naked and both glistening with sweat.

  ‘You’re right. That guy would’ve been buzzing your phone the second he got home with sex like that.’

  Mimi laughs and turns on to her side so she is facing me, pulling the cover up and tucking it under her armpit in a touchingly self-conscious gesture. ‘Thank you. I feel much better.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I feel much better too.’

  Mimi scans the room. ‘So this is where you live.’

  I follow her gaze, taking in the lack of curtains or blind on the window, the faded bedding, the pile of clothes in the corner, the empty beer bottles lined up on the windowsill. ‘Yeah, sorry, it’s a bit of a shithole. I’ve not really got round to sorting it out yet.’

  Mimi laughs. ‘Two years, didn’t you say?’

  ‘Well, yeah. But teaching is a full-on job. I don’t have much free time.’

  ‘It’s OK. I still live with my dad so I can’t really talk.’

  ‘Oh, how come?’

  ‘Well, my mum died when I was eight. Brain haemorrhage. So it’s always just been me and Dad really. I’ve never had the heart, or the money, to move out.’

  I nod. ‘I’m sorry about your mum.’

  ‘It’s OK. These things happen, right? In a way I think maybe it was better that way. Sounds odd, but I think losing her as an adult, after all those years of being so close, might have been harder. I don’t know. It would’ve been nice to have a mum through my teenage years, though. I think that’s when I felt it most. Dad was great, but it’s not the easiest talking to your dad about periods and breasts and boys.’

  I wonder if she’s right. Whether it would’ve been easier to lose Mum before I understood what it meant, before I’d had the chance to develop such a deep love for her. My thoughts must be clear on my face because she looks at me and says, ‘Shit, you lost your mum as an adult, did
n’t you?’

  ‘Don’t worry. You couldn’t have known.’

  ‘But I need to learn to think before I speak. I’m always doing this. Saying insensitive things without realizing it.’

  It’s actually one of the things I like about Mimi, that she just says what she thinks instead of filtering it.

  ‘Seriously, it’s fine. Like you said, it’s life, right? We all have to lose our loved ones eventually. It was eleven years ago now.’

  ‘What about your dad? Are you close to him?’

  ‘No. He was hardly ever around. He’d say he was working but I think he spent most of his time at the pub. And then when Mum died, he buggered off and didn’t contact my brother or me for two years.’

  ‘Wow. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. We were better off without him. He’s an arsehole.’

  ‘But still, him leaving you after your mum died. That must’ve been really hard.’

  I shrug, as if it didn’t really bother me when in fact it broke my heart.

  ‘So I’m guessing you’re not in touch now?’ Mimi continues.

  I shake my head. ‘He tried to grovel his way back in but we told him he could stick his reconciliation. It’s been nine years now since he got in touch and we’ve not spoken a word to him.’

  Mimi doesn’t say anything further and we lie in silence for a while, both seemingly lost in our own thoughts. Then she props her head up on to her elbow so that her eyes can meet mine. ‘Well, that was a cheerful conversation. Want to have sex again?’

  ‘Um …’ She must hear the fear in my voice because she starts laughing.

  ‘I’m joking, Noah.’

  ‘Good. For a moment there, I was worried about my manliness. I’m sure some men must be able to manage immediate repeat performances, but I’m definitely not one of them.’

  Mimi smiles. ‘Right, well, I suppose I best call a taxi.’

  It feels so easy. I wonder what the catch is.

  ‘Do you want a coffee or anything before you go?’

  She sits up and supports herself against the headboard. ‘No, it’s OK. I’ll grab a glass of water on my way out.’

  She leans over the side of the bed and picks up her jeans, reaching into the pocket and pulling out her phone. Just as she’s finished her call, I hear the pitter-patter of feet coming down the corridor. Shit. I push Mimi down the bed and pull the cover over her. ‘Quick, hide.’

  Before I have the chance to explain, Finn is in the bedroom.

  ‘Daddy, I had a nightmare. There was a monster,’ he says, half-asleep, and climbs up on to the bed into my arms, laying his head on my shoulder.

  Mimi lies motionless and I try to imagine what she might be thinking whilst also feeling slightly uncomfortable that she is down there, under the covers, her face very close to my naked appendage. Within minutes, Finn is asleep again so I struggle to put my boxers on, get up and carefully carry him back to bed, lying him next to Gabriel, and then return to my bedroom where Mimi is getting dressed.

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Your private life is your private life.’ She’s acting nonchalant, focused on the task of pulling on her socks, but I can tell she thinks I’m a dick for hiding the fact I have kids from her.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to be duplicitous. It just never came up in conversation, I guess. I have two boys. Finn is four and Gabriel is eight. I have them every other weekend. This is my weekend.’

  ‘And yet you’re out drinking with me?’ She says it with a smirk and I know I’ve dropped even lower in her estimation than I already was. And, weirdly, that bothers me. I don’t want Mimi to think I’m a total scumbag.

  ‘They were asleep when I left. I didn’t sacrifice any of my time with them. And my brother was babysitting. He left a second or so before we arrived.’

  ‘A well-oiled machine, hey?’

  I shake my head. ‘It’s not like that. I was …’

  ‘You don’t need to explain, Noah,’ Mimi cuts me off. Then there’s a beep from a car horn outside. ‘Right, well, thanks for tonight. It was very enjoyable.’ She grabs her bag and then kisses me on the cheek before heading out the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A couple of weeks later, I am sitting in the staffroom enjoying my delightful school dinner (I think it said beef hotpot on the menu but it’s hard to tell) when one of the midday supervisors, Tracey, peers around the door. I look down at my phone, hoping beyond hope she’s not looking for me.

  ‘Mr Carlton, have you got a minute?’

  I hate the way the lunchtime staff address us using our surnames, as if having gained a teaching qualification makes us somehow superior, but however many times I ask them to call me Noah, they won’t.

  ‘Yep. Just on my last mouthful. One second.’

  I know before Tracey says anything that it’s going to be about Harley. It’s always about Harley. I put my tray on the side, go over to her and, sure enough, when I glance over her shoulder I see Harley, arms crossed and red-faced, sitting on the chair outside the office.

  ‘What’s he done this time?’

  ‘He bit Cody on the shoulder. There’s a pretty big mark. Cody’s in first aid at the moment. Do you want me to bring him up?’

  ‘No, it’s OK. I’d like to have a little chat with Harley on his own. Leave him with me.’

  ‘OK, thanks,’ she says, the relief at being able to pass him on written all over her face.

  I take a seat next to Harley. ‘What happened?’

  He wraps his arms more tightly around himself and dips his chin. He has two dents at the top of his nose and his bottom lip protrudes like it’s been stung by a bee.

  ‘I’m going to talk to your mummy in a minute and I’d like to be able to explain to her why you bit Cody, but if you won’t tell me anything, I’m going to have to say that you were just being unkind for no reason.’

  The dents at the top of Harley’s nose deepen. ‘I just wanted to.’

  ‘So Cody didn’t do anything to you?’

  ‘I don’t like him. He’s stupid.’

  ‘But did he do anything to you, Harley?’

  Harley snaps his head away from me.

  ‘Right. You need to stay here until I get hold of your mummy. You are not allowed back into class this afternoon.’

  I pop into the staffroom where Mrs Watson is sitting eating a bulbous cream cake. ‘When lunch finishes, do you mind just having the class for a bit? I need to get in touch with Harley’s mum. He’s bitten Cody.’

  Mrs Watson wipes the residual cream from her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘And what exactly do you want me to do with them?’

  Use your initiative.

  ‘I’ve got the instruments out ready. You could put that “ Dinosaur Stomp ” song on and get them to try to tap a steady beat in time with the music.’

  The colour visibly drains from her face. In her defence, I know what I’m asking her to do is not as easy as it sounds – that I am setting her up for an afternoon of painful, discordant noise and tantrums over instrument allocation, but Harley injuring the other children is becoming a daily occurrence so I can’t keep letting it pass.

  ‘I’ll try not to be long.’ I leave the staffroom and return to the office before Mrs Watson has a chance to devise one of her many ingenious excuses for why she can’t do what I’ve asked of her.

  After six phone calls to Harley’s mum and two left messages, I give up.

  ‘Do we have another number on record for Harley?’

  Our school administrator, Verity, a tall, spindly woman with definite power issues, glares at me as if I am not, in fact, asking her to perform one of the duties that her job requires.

  ‘It’ll be in the file. Top drawer.’ She doesn’t even extend her finger into a full point, instead flicking her arm in the general direction of the filing cabinet.

  ‘Thanks so much for your help.’

  She smirks, evidently picking up on the sarcasm that I don’t bother trying to disguise.
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  I find the file and locate Harley’s details. His second contact is listed as Amelia Thomas. In brackets, it states ‘Aunt’. It’s not ideal, but perhaps ‘Aunt’ will give me more than the usual grunts I get from Mum.

  Just as I pick up the phone and start to dial, there’s a crash from outside the office and I peer through the screen to see that Harley has removed his shoes and is launching them at the glass panel in the hall door.

  ‘I need to deal with Harley. Give his aunt a ring, will you, and see if she can come in now. Just say there’s been an incident with Harley and another child.’

  Verity pushes a puff of air through her lips and I take on the joyous task of calming an irate Harley.

  *

  It’s not until she’s halfway through the door that I recognize her. She’s wearing a jacket with the hood up, rain dripping from the fur trim on to the floor.

  ‘Mimi?’

  ‘Noah?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  And then the penny drops, albeit a little bit slowly. Amelia Thomas.

  ‘I came here to pick up my nephew, Harley. The office rang and said his teacher wanted to see me. There’s been an altercation in the playground or something.’

  ‘I’m Harley’s teacher.’

  Mimi looks me up and down as if she’s trying to make sense of the information I’ve just given her. ‘Oh, right. Well, this is a bit awkward.’

  I feel Verity’s beady eyes spying on us through the screen into the office so I usher Mimi and Harley into our school Nurture Room, the comically titled cage where we put the kids who are trashing the classroom or attacking staff.

  Whilst Harley throws himself on a beanbag in the corner, I sit on the chair on one side of the desk and Mimi sits on the other – an uncomfortably formal configuration considering the last time I saw her she was naked.

  ‘I haven’t seen you in the pub for a while.’

  ‘No. I’ve just been busy, with work and stuff.’

  Mimi nods, a smile on her face that says I-know-you’re-talking-shit. And she’s right. I am. It just seemed simpler to find a new watering hole rather than tackle a slightly embarrassing ‘let’s pretend we haven’t had sex’ conversation. Thanks to the Fates, I’ve got to face that now instead, in my place of work, stone-cold sober. Some might call it karma.