Doing It

by Melvin Burgess

  No way! My dad? We’d both sit there in a silent rictus of embarrassment until I got up and left and the matter would never be referred to again as long as we both shall live.

  Maybe I should tell Debs … but I know what she’d tell me to do, so I might as well do it anyway.

  Doctor.

  Fuck it. I just wish so much I didn’t have to do this. It’s so horrible – but the alternatives are so much worse. It’ll be utterly unbearable, utterly horrible, utterly unpleasant but – but at the end when it’s all over, I’ll still be here, won’t I? Oh, OK, the doctor might say it is knob cancer – only he won’t, will he? I know he won’t. This is juju to make the fear go away. But it’s going to work, because – well. Because I believe in doctors, I suppose.

  What’s actually going to happen is this. I’m going to get a new knob and be very, very, very happy.

  I’m going to tell you this as quickly as possible because it was the most painful experience of my life. I can’t bear to think about it, hardly. The suffering was so intense, I’m not sure that I survived intact psychologically. I may be scarred for life.

  I didn’t get an appointment for starters. The earliest proper appointment was the next week – too late. So I went down for the emergency appointments at five o’clock. I got there early to get it over with and sat there for hours and hours and hours waiting for my name to come up, scared silly that the doctor would throw me out for wasting emergency time with a neurotic knob. Well, listen – it was an emergency for me, OK? For all I knew, in the next hour or so I might be facing life with no knob, or certain death or years of chemo and surgery and radio and …

  Or a new knob. If it was just a vein and I was – please God – just mad and not cancerous. But that was the last thing on my mind at the time. I just kept praying that the doctor would be the kind of person who’d not mind you showing them your knob, without actually liking it.

  They called my name. I walked in and there was the worst of all possible worlds. A young female doctor. Very attractive. Short skirt. Legs. It was so awful. As soon as I went in I froze. I couldn’t say a word. I could see it all. She’d think I was a pervert. Even if she did agree to look at it, it’d probably get stiff while she was examining it. They’d be ringing around to see how many other surgeries I’d gone into to have my knob checked out. Prison, untreated cancer, amputation, death. Or possibly even just death there and then, because I was gasping for breath, my heart was cramping. I was going to choke to death on my own embarrassment.

  ‘Hello, Jonathon. Sit down. What seems to be the problem?’

  I stood there shivering. ‘I have a problem,’ I gurgled.

  ‘That’s why most people come to see us,’ she smiled. ‘What’s yours?’

  I stared at her in terror. Was she taking the piss? Did she know? What the fuck did she mean by that ‘What’s yours?’ It was so … so informal. What’s your poison? What do you fancy? How would you like me – over the desk, on the carpet? Please, please, don’t let her try to seduce me!

  ‘I … I have this lump. Well, this bump.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘On. On. In,’ I said. I just couldn’t utter a word. I half stood up and looked at the door.

  ‘Jonathon?’ I made a little movement to go, but I’d frozen to the spot. She cocked her head sympathetically to one side. ‘People come in here with all sorts of problems. I bet I’ve come across yours before. You’d be surprised.’ She smiled at me and opened her palm towards the chair. ‘Sit down. I’d tell you some of them, but what’s said in this room is completely confidential. You should remember that. Nothing that gets said in here goes outside these four walls.’

  I made a noise like a rat being grated alive.

  ‘Please,’ she said.

  I followed her hand and sat down. She smiled.

  ‘Something embarrassing?’

  ‘Ah,’ I croaked. I was trying to think of some other ailment I could lay claim to. The pox? Testicular gangrene? Anything but this!

  ‘It’s very brave of you to come to talk to me about it. Some people go through years of agony just because of embarrassment. But embarrassment can’t hurt you: untreated problems can.’

  ‘Ah,’ I gasped. So! I did have cancer!

  ‘Is it in a private place?’

  ‘Um,’ I agreed.

  ‘Testicles?’

  ‘Nun.’

  ‘Good.’ She waited a bit but I couldn’t speak. ‘Well,’ she went on. ‘That leaves only two other areas, doesn’t it? But down below?’

  I nodded but my mind was going bonkers. Two other places? I couldn’t work it out for a minute, but then it occurred to me; she thought I might have cancer of the arse as well! Did that mean she’d want to get up there too? My God! That would be even more embarrassing! Just seconds before I’d been unable to imagine anything more embarrassing than showing her my willy and now she’d found one within minutes of my coming in to see her. What next?

  ‘At your age I’d say it’s most likely to be your penis. Correct?’

  ‘Ah. Ahes,’ I said.

  She nodded. ‘Where is this lump, on the shaft of your penis, or the head?’

  ‘Jjj. Shi.’

  ‘The shaft. OK, if you’d just go to the couch over there and take your pants down, I’ll have a look for you.’

  This was it. Pants down! Mortified! I went to the couch. She was over by the work surface putting on the plastic gloves. Plastic gloves? I’d washed it. My knob is spotless. Or was this for the arse examination?

  I got my jeans down but I couldn’t do the final thing. She came and stood by me. ‘Come on then, I don’t want to take them down myself.’

  Like a little boy I jerked to attention and pulled them down. Out came the meat and two veg. Poor Mr Knobby!

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Here’s the lump just on this side I know it isn’t very big now but it gets a lot bigger and and and and and harder when I’ve got annnnurrrection.’

  ‘Yes, I see.’ She prodded it with a finger and stood up. ‘That’s a vein,’ she said. ‘Perfectly normal. Penises are very veiny things. This particular vein happens to be close to the surface, that’s all. It means you’ve got a good blood supply.’

  ‘So it’s all right then?’ I said.

  ‘Perfectly normal.’ She’d pulled the gloves off and went to the sink to wash her hands. What did she think she was handling? She needed to wash after the plastic gloves? Were knob germs that deadly?

  ‘So it’s all right then?’ I asked again. I wanted to make absolutely sure, no mistake. I didn’t want to have to go through this again.

  ‘Perfectly fine. The thing about these sorts of things,’ she said, washing her hands and looking over to me, ‘is not to worry about them.’

  ‘Yes. Yes. Right. I see, exactly, sometimes they just get a bit on top of you, I just wanted to get it cleared up. Exactly,’ I said. ‘Thank you very much. Goodbye.’

  I ran out of the door. Just before I closed it behind me she said, ‘Enjoy,’ in a soft voice. As if she’d just given me something to eat.

  On the way home I was dying, just dying. How had I ever managed to do that? It was awful, awful, awful. The hardest thing I’d ever done in my whole life. It wasn’t until I was about halfway back, that I started thinking, Yes, that was very hard, very very very hard. And stupid and horrible. But now, my boy, you have a brand new knob. Thing is, to go and try it out.

  37

  deborah

  Scared? I was terrified. No, really, it was dreadful. I mean, boys and their willies. And girls are supposed to be the delicate ones. Talk about a prima donna – just because he couldn’t get it up. He hardly said a word to me for a week. I mean – I try to be sympathetic but the least he could do was talk about it. You know, I like sex too. I didn’t like to say, look you’re my boyfriend, I expect to have sex with you, what’s going on? It was making me neurotic. I was thinking it must be because I’m overweight. Really, he was being a real idiot about it. Not a word, hardl
y.

  Then, finally, out it came. He was scared he was impotent, he said. Well, I mean, how stupid. The first time he’s ever done it he can’t get it up and he’s impotent! Loads of people can’t get it up the first time. I didn’t say of course, but actually I was really cross. I’m his girlfriend, he can talk to me, can’t he? If he can’t tell me then who can he tell? His mates – do me a favour. That lot. So I had to pretend to be all sympathetic about the ridiculous little thing, even though he’d kept me hanging around for so long I thought I disgusted him.

  Boys.

  I must admit, I don’t really understand it, why they get so worked up about it. He tried to explain to me. He said it was because willies are such temperamental things. What, more temperamental than girls? I asked him.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘If I was with you, and you didn’t get turned on, I’d hardly know, would I?’

  Well, yes you would, I told him, because I’d be dry.

  ‘Yes, but, it wouldn’t be so obvious. And if I tried to stick it in anyway, I probably could, couldn’t I?’

  ‘I hope you wouldn’t!’

  ‘No! But all you have to do is lie there – you don’t have to make something all stiff, do you? If it doesn’t work for you it just means you’re not in the mood.’

  So maybe you weren’t in the mood, I said, and he said, ‘I would be if I could, though.’

  What am I supposed to make of that?

  That’s boys for you. You know, I do really wonder if it’s maybe something to do with me – no, don’t laugh – because this isn’t the first time this has happened to me. Yes, really. This other one wasn’t as bad as Jonathon though. At least he told me what was going on, how he felt. You’d have thought he was being sentenced to death. He was so depressed, I felt so sorry for him, but there was nothing I could do. We tried everything – no, you mind your own business what. Well, use your imagination. But nothing worked. It would be sticking up straight as a poker and then as soon as he got anywhere near you-know-where, down it would go. He got so desperate. You know, he wanted to look at some porn pictures while he was putting it in! Yes! No way, I told him. Imagine it – him turning the pages over my shoulder. I said, If I’m not good enough for you in the flesh, what do you think them paper girls are going to do for you? Well, I tell you how he justified it. Oh God, this is so embarrassing. He said, he said that if he could be looking at someone’s fanny at the same time he reckoned it would stay up, and since it couldn’t be my fanny, it had to be a paper one.

  Oh God! Imagine! No, of course I wasn’t angry. He was desperate, poor boy. He was dying. He did it from behind in the end, that seemed to work. Once he got back into his stride it was all right. It was all in the mind, you see. So when it happened to Jonathon, I thought, Oh no, not again! Jon was only my second, you see – that’s a 100% per cent can’t get it up rate! It doesn’t exactly do a lot for your confidence. I have a problem too. Well, I’m not exactly six foot two and size 6, am I? I don’t care enough to actually do anything about it, but I do like my food too much. Whenever I have problems with my boyfriends, I start to think straight away it’s because of that. I do! I know it’s stupid. Lots of boys like a bit extra, you know? ‘I like to see a bit of movement,’ my old boyfriend said! A bit of movement, oh dear, what am I saying? So I do worry about it, but it’s just the same for everyone else, we all worry about our bodies. It’s true. Even the thin gorgeous ones, they all think they’re overweight. That’s girls for you. With boys, it’s their willies – with us it’s our whole bodies. As soon as anything goes a bit wonky, I think it must be because I’m disgusting. It’s a wonder people ever get to have babies at all!

  So by the time we had another chance I was as scared as he was. I mean, if it went wrong again, what then? Maybe he’d never speak to me again! Maybe he’d have a nervous breakdown. He can talk the hind leg off a donkey, that boy, but hardly a word out of him for weeks. Oh, I love that boy. He makes me laugh, I’ll go anywhere for a laugh. I’ll do anything – within reason. No, don’t look at me like that, I’m only joking.

  There was another chance – my parents going out again – but I didn’t dare say anything because he was so worried. I was just thinking, O-oh. I mean, it took him long enough to make up his mind if he wanted to go out with me in the first place. What if he didn’t really want to? Maybe I was moving too quick for him. Because he comes on all talk and he’s very clever and funny and all that, but deep down, I don’t think he’s got much confidence. And he thinks too much of himself. Does that sound strange? Maybe it is strange, but it’s what I think. He’s got a big ego and no confidence, exactly.

  And then – it all changed overnight. Yes – just like that. Bang! One minute he could hardly move he was so worried, the next he was trying to push me out of my seat with his stiffie. He wanted to do it right there and then. I said, No way! Here on the floor with my mum in the kitchen? He just grinned, he was absolutely ready for anything. Something must have happened, but I don’t know what. He never said. Never said a word. When I asked him, he just said he woke up one day and everything was all right. I said, Just like that? Well, I don’t believe it. I wonder if there wasn’t maybe something medical, but what? Maybe he thought he had a dose of something – no really, well, there has to be something behind it, doesn’t there? But he wouldn’t say.

  So, the big day came. My parents were out. Oh, they do car boot sales. Yes! Very handy! I told Jon to come round at eleven. No need to hurry, is there – it wasn’t a job – not like being a postman or something! I wanted to make myself ready. I had a shower. I made my room up. Changed the sheets. That made me smile, because of what my mum always says.

  ‘I’m a woman and when I change the sheets on the bed, it means something.’ That’s what she says, so if I ever see her changing the sheets in her room, I just give her a wink and she gets all flustered.

  I put a little vase with some plastic flowers on the bedside table and tidied up. Actually, I think Jon’d have felt more at home if I’d heaped smelly socks under the bed and spilt tea and milk on the sheets – or worse – and kept the windows closed for a week. That’s boys – the ones I get to go out with anyway. And I got some little bits in from the supermarket, some hummus and stuff and some rice and a bit of curry I’d made for the family at the end of the week. I always cook once a week, sometimes twice, when my mum’s at work. And I made the room a bit dim – but not too much. I was worried that once I took my clothes off, he’d see all my lumps and bumps and that’d put him off, even though he says he likes my lumps and bumps. He says they’re womanly. But I didn’t want to make it too dim, you know why, because a lot of people, a lot of boys, they like to see what they’re getting. It was a bit of a dilemma. Oh, God; this is embarrassing. Jon always likes to a have good old look, you know?

  What am I like? Why am I telling you this?

  So of course, I thought he’d be scared stiff again – I mean, scared not-stiff! But when he turned up, he was just great. He was in such a good mood. I was so surprised. He was jumping about and laughing and joking and teasing me. It was him who put me at ease! Normally he’s so insecure. Sometimes you can see it in his face, he says the wrong thing or someone snaps at him and he looks confused and upset as if he doesn’t know what’s going on. He gets like that a lot. But this time, he’d been so weird for days and now suddenly everything was all right. I took him through to the kitchen and asked him if he wanted a drink, tea or coffee, and he said, No, why didn’t we go straight through to the main course.

  ‘I want to prod you with me stiffie,’ he said, which made me laugh. He grabbed hold of me and kissed me and cuddled me and nuzzled my neck and tickled me. Such a good mood! So we went straight upstairs … and it was great. No problems. He made me feel good about how I looked, and how nice the room was. Well, he came almost at once, which was OK. He was a bit worried about that, so I told him I was flattered! That’s how much I turned him on! And then we did it again almost at once and it was really lovely. Really
lovely. He was so happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy with me before. Usually he’s a bit cagey, you know? A bit anxious or withdrawn, ever since we’ve been going out together, but that day he was Mr Happy. Why? I just wish I knew. If he had some problem he got it sorted out, I can tell you! There was no stopping him after that! Every chance we got, he was all over me. It just goes to tell. Boys! What’s going on in there? I think they’re all mad. I know Jonathon is – oh well, so am I. You know what? I just fancy that boy so much, I think maybe I’m in love with him.

  38

  ben

  I wasn’t sure if I’d recognise her. The station wasn’t exactly heaving but there were still a fair few people about and a lot of them were getting on a bit. I’d found photos of her – I’d stolen one, actually. Ali’s flat was full of them, she’d never miss one.

  ‘Still keeping her beady little eyes on me, even in the bedroom. Even in the bloody toilet,’ she used to say. It was true – I never thought about it until she pointed it out, but there was a picture of her mum in every room of the flat. Sometimes two. Her mum had given her them and hung them up or put them out. Once you looked there were thousands of them, it was scary. They all seemed to stand out and stare at you and follow you round the room. I asked her why she didn’t take them down, but she said her mum knew them all by heart and kicked up such a stink if they were moved, it wasn’t worth it.

  I pinched a piccie from a drawer, but I didn’t know how recent it was. She might have changed her hair or her make-up or her whole face for all I knew, but I spotted her all right. She was smaller than I expected, in a purple tweed coat and her hair up. She had one of those suitcases on wheels which was half as big as she was, but she was rattling along like some sort of rodent. I was a head higher than her but I had to hurry to catch up with her.

  ‘Mrs Young?’