by Irvine Welsh
– The thing about Lloyd is, I say, well aware that I’m boring her, exasperating her, perhaps even irritating the fuck out of her, but I can’t stop, – is that he doesn’t seem to want anything.
– Everybody wants something. Does he want you? she asks, forcing her attention on me. She’s a wee sweetheart.
– I think so, I smile. This flat’s in a real state. It must look even more horrible to Marie, her on that comedown. I’ll give it a tidy later.
– When are you going to shag him? she asks, then says, – it’s about time you got fucked properly.
– I don’t know. I feel pretty strange around him. Very inexperienced and nervous.
– Well, that’s exactly what you are, she tells me.
– I’ve been married for five years, I tell her.
– Exactly! If you’ve been with the same guy for five years who hasn’t even been fucking you satisfactorily, then it’s like being totally inexperienced. If the sex is just a meaningless ritual, if it means nothing and feels nothing, then it is nothing, and it’s like never having had it. A lot of men are wankers cause they don’t mind bad sex, but for a woman bad sex is far worse than no sex at all.
– What do you know about bad sex, Ms Shag-Artiste? I thought you always sought out the best?
– I know a lot more about it than you think. Remember back in our teens we used to joke about the smash-and-grab brigade? Well, they still exist. A few weeks ago I met this really cool-looking guy, a real hunk; about twenty-five, twenty-six. We’re both on these really nice pills and there was a brilliant love vibe up at Yip Yap. Anyway, I got swept up in it all and ended up on Arthur’s Seat with him. We got wrapped into each other, but he started to go all tense and funny and then just came inside me and got away as quick as he could. He wouldn’t even wait for me. Left me there on top of the fucking hill. A fucking silly bastard in a jerkin walking his dog came past while I was sobbing my heart out. Watch out for this guy if it’s a chemical romance. Go slow. Beware.
– You know, Lloyd played me this record the other day, by Marvin Gaye, one of his less well-known songs. It’s called Piece of Clay. It was saying like, everybody wants someone to be their piece of clay, to mould them, you know. Lloyd doesn’t seem like that. With Hugh, it was like he was moulding me right from the start. Everything I said or thought or did was circumscribed and controlled by his views, obsessions or ideologies, from revolutionary socialism to managerial career advance. There was always a struggle of some sort, identified by him of course, that dictated the pattern of our whole fucking lives. There was no time for us to just act like human beings. Lloyd, though, he’s interested in me. He listens to me. He doesn’t laugh or sneer or cut in or put down or counter-argue with what I say, or, if he does, at least I know he’s heard me. I don’t feel ridiculed or belittled or patronised when he challenges me.
– So Lloyd isn’t Hugh. You’re free, you’re attracted to this guy who sounds a bit of a waster. Nae job, deals drugs, no ambition to do anything else, crackpot pals. That must seem a very tempting world after the one you’ve been in, Heather, but I wouldn’t get too carried away by it all. It won’t seem so glamorous after the passage of time. Just enjoy it as a trip. Don’t give out so much. That’s your trouble, you give out too much. Hold back something for you, Heather. Otherwise you’ll find that they’ll just keep taking. They’ll take it all, girl. It’s one thing winning freedom, it’s another thing holding onto it.
– You’re a cynical fuckin cow, hen.
– I’m trying to be realistic.
– Yeah, you’re right. That’s the big fucking problem. You’re right.
24 Lloyd
It was just so beautiful, beyond anything ah could have imagined I’d ever feel. It was love no sex. Sex was just the starting motor; this was pure love action. Ah felt her essence, ah know ah did. Ah know she did too, ah know she got there like she’d never done in her life, cause she was greetin and hiding her face. She felt like she had never been that exposed before. Ah tried tae put my arm around her, but she pulled away. Ah suppose after her sexual problems with the guy she was married to, it was such a big emotional ordeal and she needed time to herself. Ah could dig that, thank fuck I’m a sensitive cunt. Okay, ah said to her softly, okay, I’ll gie you some time oan yir ain. It sounded a bit fuckin daft but it was all ah could think of saying. Ah went through to the living-room and put on Scotsport: Hibs v. Aberdeen.
She was a bit distant and nippy eftir that, and she went back over tae hers. Ah suppose she just needed time tae git it sorted oot. Ah made up a Bobby Womack tape fae Shaun’s collection and took it up tae ma Ma and Dad’s.
25 Heather
It was a nightmare. Our first fucking time and it was a nightmare. The most horrible thing was that I was so close to getting there. I never got close with Hugh, so it didn’t really bother me. I got close but I knew I wasn’t going to, so I cried with frustration, and that selfish bastard Lloyd did fuck all except blow his load and roll over, then walk around with a stupid smile on his face all day, talking hippy bullshit and watching football on the telly.
I had to go.
26 Lloyd
This time it was even better than the first time, for me and for her. Ah didnae realise it, but ah fucked up big style the first time. She telt me how it felt for her. It was a bit ay a shock. Ah think it’s because you always want to get the first one over, there’s too much at stake when it’s someone you’re really intae. The first shag stands alongside yir fledgling relationship like a big question mark, when it’s somebody you really care for, really love. Then once you get it oot the road you can settle down tae making love. Things like foreplay can come mair intae their ain. It’s funny how there’s nae embarrassment aboot stickin yir cock intae a strange lassie, but like licking and caressing her are a bit dodgy the first time. Ah should’ve got E’d up the first time ah made love tae Heather, eh. E makes it great for strangers, the barriers come down so that sex with a stranger on E is magnificent. See wi someone you love though, the barriers should be down anyway, so the chemicals shouldn’t make any difference. Eh, no? This is what ah want tae discuss with Nukes when he comes up.
Ah make some tea and build a spliff and put on the video of the Orb, the one wi the Dolphins. Keep it psychoactive, there’s sex things ah want tae confide in wi Nukes. The spliff is good for Edinburgh soapbar and Nukes is up at my door on cue. Ah’ve goat ma love tape oan: Marvin, Al Green, The Tops, Bobby Womack, The Isleys, Smokey, The Temptations, Otis, Aretha, Dionne and Dusty. It melts ma fuckin hert, man. Jist git that oan and apply it tae yir ain life n ye’d huv tae be a deid cunt no tae feel as emotional as fuck, eh no. Barry.
– Awright, ma man, Nukes smiles.
– Glad ye came ower, mate, thir was somethin ah wanted tae talk tae ye aboot.
– Aye?
– Ah jist wanted tae see if ye fancied comin up tae McDiarmid Park for the BP Youth game the moarn’s night. Ally’s takin the car, eh.
– Na, cannae be ersed. Snooker tourney doon the club, eh … by the way, you cowped that bird yit, Lloyd?
Ah like Nukes, ah lap the cunt up, but see the day? The day ah wish it wis Ally or Amber that had come roond.
27 Heather
When I get home I can hardly keep the smile off my face.
– How was it then, Marie asks me, toking on a spliff.
I’m looking around the flat. It’s a total wreckage. Ashtrays full, curtains still drawn, cassettes and records out of their boxes and sleeves. It’s been some night round here. – Let me get me coat off first! I smiled.
– Fuck the coat, how was it? she insists.
– He’s a total shag, I told her.
– Ms Cheesy Grin herself, Marie smiles.
– Well, darling, if you’d been sucking on a cheesy cock you’d have a cheesy grin too, I say to her.
– C’mon then, I want all the details.
– Well, he’s hot on fingers and tongue stuff, once he relaxed and stopped trying to please me,
stopped being so …
– Performative?
– Yeah, that’s the word I was looking for.
– He didn’t give you head …
I smiled and nod, curling my lips inwards and tremble in delicious recall.
– Heather! The second date!
– It wasn’t the second date, it was the sixth date. It was the second shag, remember?
– Go on.
– I came bucketloads, woke up the whole of Leith. It was fucking marvellous. So good, in fact, I did it again. I could feel him right up in my stomach. It was weird, I thought it was because he was bigger than Hugh, but they looked about the same size. Then I realised that it was because Hugh had only been fucking me with half his cock, the poor bastard. I was just so tense with him I’d never open up properly. With Lloyd, though, he just opens me like he’s peeling a fucking orange. What a wide-on I got … you could’ve got a convoy of lorries up there.
– Lucky cow … no, you deserve it, hen, you really do. I’m just jealous. I fucked a coke-head last night. It was good for him and shite for me. So fucking cold, she shook her head ruefully.
I went over to her and gave her a cuddle, – It’s awright … it’s just one of those things …
She rubbed my wrist, – Yeah, next time …
28 Lloyd
Ah’m sittin wi Ally and ah’m telling him: – Ah’ve never been sae fuckin scared in ma puff, Ally. Mibbee huv tae chill on this relationship thing a bit. It’s gittin too heavy.
Ally looks at ays and shakes his heid. – If you run fae this, Lloyd, make sure it’s fir the right reasons. Ah see ye when yir wi her. Ah see how ye are. Dinnae deny it!
– Aye, but …
– Aye but nowt. Aye but dinnae you start actin the cunt unless thirs something ah dinnae ken. That’s aw the fuckin aye buts you need tae listen tae. Dinnae be feared ah love, man, that’s what they want. That’s the wey they divide. Dinnae ever be feared ah love.
– Mibbe yir right, ah say. – Ye fancy daein some eggs?
29 Heather
The thing about Lloyd, though, was that he was never around during the week. It started to get to me. The weekends, it was great, we were E’d up and we made love a lot. It was big party. But he used to avoid seeing me during the week. One day I confronted him about it. I went round to his, and I didn’t call him first.
When I got there the place was a tip. Worse than Marie’s at its worst. – It’s jist thit ah’m intae a different scene during the week, Heather. Ah know myself. Ah’m just no good company, he told me. He looked terrible: worn-out, tense; dark circles under his eyes.
– I see, I said to him. – You come out with all that bullshit about how you love me but you only want to be with me when you’re high at the weekend. Great.
– It isnae like that.
– It is, I heard my voice rising, – You just sit here during the day, all depressed and bored. We only make love at the weekend, only when you’re E’d up. You’re a fake, Lloyd, an emotional and sexual fake. Don’t touch what you can’t emotionally afford. Don’t lay claims to emotions you can’t feel without drugs!
I’m feeling guilty at giving him such a hard time, because he looks in such distress, but I’m annoyed. I can’t help it. I want it to move on.
I want to be with him more. I need to.
– It’s not fuckin false. When I’m E’d up it’s like ah want to be. It’s no like anything’s been added to me, it’s like it’s been taken away fae me; aw the shite in the world that gets intae your heid. When I’m E’d up I’m my real self.
– So what are you just now then?
– I’m a fucking emotional wreckage, the waste product of a shitey world a bunch of cunts have set up for themselves at our expense, and the saddest thing of all is that they can’t even enjoy it.
– And you are enjoying it?
– Maybe no now, but at least ah have my moments, unlike these cunts …
– Yeah, weekends.
– Aye, right! Ah want it! Ah want that. Why the fuck shouldn’t ah be able to have it!
– You should be able to have it. I want to give you it! I need you to give it to me! Listen, just dinnae phone me for a bit. You can’t do without drugs, Lloyd. If you want to see me, do it without drugs.
He looked totally devastated, but he can’t have been as devastated as I felt when my anger subsided and I got home. I waited for the phone to ring, jumping out of my skin every time I heard it.
But he never called and I couldn’t bring myself to call him. Not then, and not later, not after I’d heard what they said at the party.
Marie and Jane and me at a party, and my blood running cold in the kitchen as I hear some guys talking about a guy named Lloyd from Leith and what he was supposed to have done and who with.
I couldn’t call him.
Epilogue
I was dancing away at The Pure, kicking like fuck because Weatherall’s up from London and he’s moved it up seamlessly from ambient to a hard-edged techno dance-beat and the lasers have started and everybody is going crazy and through it all I can see him, jerking and twitching under the strobes and he’s seen me and he comes over. He was wearing that top. The one he’d had on when we’d met. The one he put around me that night. – What do you want? I roar at him, not missing a beat.
– Ah want you, he said, – I’m in love with you, he’s shouting in my ear.
Easy to say when you’re fucking E’d up. But it got to me, and I tried not to show that I was moved, or that he looked so good to me. It had been three weeks. – Yeah, well tell me that on Monday morning, I smiled. It wasn’t easy, cause I’m well E’d and feeling so much. I would never be fucked around by a guy again though. Never. The noise was getting to me. It had been so good, but Lloyd had turned it into a grating grind with the piece of shit his simple words implanted in my head.
– I’ll be round, he shouted, smiling.
– I’ll believe it when I see it, I said. Who the fuck did he think he was.
– Believe it, he said.
Oh Batman, my Dark Fucking Knight I do not think. – Well, I’m away to find Jane, I told him. I had to get away from him. I was on my trip, in my scene. He’s a fucking freak, a fucking sad freak. I should have known. I should have been able to tell. Lloyd. Go. I moved to the front of the house. I was trying to get back into the music, thrashing, trying to forget Lloyd, to dance him out of my mind, to get back to where I’d been before he appeared. The crowd are going crazy. This mad guy’s in front of Weatherall giving it loads and standing back and applauding as the man responds, taking it higher. I got really hot and breathless and had to stop for a bit. I moved through the mental crowd and hit the bar for some water. I saw Ally, Lloyd’s mate. – What’s Lloyd on tonight, then? I asked him. I shouldn’t have asked him. I’m not interested in Lloyd.
– Nowt, Ally said. He was sweating like he had been really kicking it, – he’s just had a couple ay drinks. Didnae want a pill, eh no. Sais eh wis gaunnae take six months oaf n aw that shite. Didnae want ehs perspective damaged, that was what the daft fucker sais. Listen, Heather, man, he says with an air of confidence, – hope yir no gaunnae make him intae a straight-peg, eh.
Lloyd is not E’d up. A thousand thoughts shoot through my head with the MDMA. Weatherall took it down and I started to feel a bit giddy.
– Listen, Ally, I want to ask ye something, I say, touching him lightly on the arm, – Something about Lloyd. I told him what I heard, at that party. All he did was to laugh loudly, slapping his legs before composing himself and telling me the real story.
I felt a bit daft after this. I fingered my second pill which I had taken from my bra and slipped into the watch pocket of my jeans. It was time. But no. I saw Lloyd talking to this guy and these lassies. I nodded to him and he came over. – You talking to anybody special? I asked him, shrinking inside from my own voice: catty, jealous, sarcastic.
He just smiled softly and kept his eyes focused on mine, – Ah am now, he said.
– Want to go? I asked.
I felt his arm slide around my waist and his wet lips make contact with my neck. He squeezed me, and I returned the embrace, standing on my tiptoes, feeling my tits flatten against his chest. After a while he broke off and swept the hair back from my face. – Let’s get the coats, he smiled.
We turned our backs on the chaos and headed downstairs.
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Copyright © Irvine Welsh 1996
Irvine Welsh has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
Lines from ‘I Need More’ and ‘The Undefeated’ by Iggy Pop are used by permission of James Osterberg, copyright © 1996
First published in Great Britain in 1996 by Jonathan Cape
First published by Vintage in 1997
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780099572343
