by Wade, Calvin
Kelly shook her head. Not in disagreement with me, more in disbelief at her sister’s boyfriend choice.
“She’s changed since she started there. I know you described her as an arrogant bitch the other day, but at least she used to be feisty! This Ray is just making her really, really boring!”
I was enjoying every second of our date so far. Kelly was lively, energetic and fun. I was proud to be seen with her too, every male downstairs on the bus wanted to be me, I could tell. I deliberately went up the stairs before her, it probably seemed like a lack of chivalry, but she was wearing a cream dress above the knee and if I’d have followed her up the stairs, my eyes would have followed the inside of that dress up to her knickers and I would then have had to sit their uncomfortably, waiting for things to shrink!
“Kelly, I don’t ever want to mention this again, but can I just say one thing?”
Kelly looked right into my eyes. Inside I shivered, her green eyes were just wonderful. I was right the other day, I was the luckiest man alive.
“Richie, you have my permission to say whatever you want!”
My mind then played tricks with me. Having permission to say what I wanted was a teenage boys dream come true, my mind wanted to say,
‘I really, really, really want to shag you, Kelly Watkinson!’ but luckily I didn’t say that, I said what I had initially intended to say,
“Whatever Jemma may think, it was not me that slept with her at Joey Birch’s party.”
Kelly took my hands in hers. “I believe you.”
“You do?”
That shocked me, I just thought Kelly had forgiven me for sleeping with Jemma, I didn’t think she actually believed that I hadn’t.
“I think Jemma will always be unsure whether it was you or not, but I know now that it wasn’t.”
“Great,” I held her hands even tighter, “that means a lot to me, Kelly.”
I leaned over and kissed her. It was just meant to be a peck on the lips at first, but it naturally developed into a full blown snog. No tongues, just a lovely, lingering kiss. Her full lips were amazing to kiss. It was the nicest kiss I had ever had. Without a shadow of a doubt. When I pulled away from her, I could see the bus driver looking at us through his reflective mirror.
‘Jammy bastard!’ he was probably thinking!
“Wow!” Kelly said as she came up for air, “I wasn’t expecting that just yet!”
“I’ve waited very patiently for two years to have an opportunity to do that, Kelly, I couldn’t wait much longer!”
Every second of that whole evening was perfect. “Rain Man” was a brilliant choice of film, although I couldn’t help wondering how attracted Kelly was to Tom Cruise. We even managed to keep our lips off each other throughout, although our hands remained sweatily clenched. After the film finished though, we went for a walk rather than catch the first bus home as neither of us wanted the night to end. We walked along for a while comfortably silent before Kelly asked, “Do you think you’ll go to Uni next year?”
“I hope so.”
“Will you go far away, do you think?”
I hoped this was a leading question. I hoped this meant Kelly was thinking we would still be together in twelve months time and she didn’t want me moving too far afield.
“Probably not. I want to go to Manchester.”
Thirty five miles away. A grin covered Kelly’s face. I was right, this was what she had been thinking!
“To study what?” she asked.
“History.”
Kelly smiled even more, “I hate history!”
“How can you hate history?” I asked. “History covers everything! Tomorrow this date will be history!”
“I don’t think you’ll study this date for your degree!”
“No, but every major event that has ever happened is history! How can you hate history? History is knowledge!”
Kelly smiled yet again, I smiled too. It was the night of smiles.
“I like you, Richie Billingham! I like the way you think!”
“Well that’s good, Kelly Watkinson, because I pretty much worship the ground you walk on!”
If there had been any earwigging bystanders, this would have been the point at which they would have stuck two fingers down their throat, but there wasn’t, we were well and truly alone and anyway, there was no point playing it cool, I had spent two years chasing Kelly. I think she had a good idea about how I felt!
Kelly laughed.
“Do you think you are the cheesiest man that ever lived?”
“Well, remember you once said that Risk is your middle name?”
“Yes.”
“Well mine is Cheddar!”
“Richie Cheddar Billingham”, Kelly said, “I like it!”
Kelly reached over and kissed me. This was a dream.
“Pinch me, Kelly!”
This was not a mild sado-masochistic request.
“Why?”
“Just pinch me.”
Kelly gave me a gentle pinch on my left arm. She knew what I was going to say but I was justifying my middle name. Live up to your billing, that’s what I say!
“No, I’m definitely not dreaming!”
“I knew this date would go well!” Kelly said “ I’m psychic you see! We’ll go well together you and I, you’re cheese and I’m crackers!”
We caught the bus home, shared a lovely kiss at the bottom of Kelly’s path, I promised to ring her in the morning and then I ran the three miles home, it didn’t seem far at all. It was a perfect summers night. The stars illuminated the sky and lit my pathways home.
Once I got home though, I couldn’t sleep as I kept replaying the date in my head, over and over again. It had been absolutely brilliant.
Eventually, growing tired but with an active mind, I decided the solution
may be to have a little play. I checked over on Jim, he was flat out, not quite snoring but breathing noisily. I slipped my hand under my pyjama bottoms, closed my eyes and pictured Kelly. I pictured us reaching her front door and her saying,
“Come in! No-one’s home, my Mum and sister are on holiday, it’s just you and me…”
Pictured us climbing the stairs to her bedroom, pictured Kelly laying down on her bed, hastily removing her clothes until she was left with just her bra and knickers. Pictured me falling hungrily on top of her, kissing those lovely full lips over and over and over again.
I stopped. I had felt it again. That lump. There was definitely something strange about that lump. There was definitely a lump on my left testicle. No doubt about it. If it had always been there and my left ball had always just had a weird lump on it, surely I would have felt it before? Wouldn’t I? Maybe not. Maybe it had always been there and I was just more aware of my body now I had a girlfriend. I decided against playing around. I tried to go to sleep but my mind was now thinking about health related issues rather than romantic ones. Maybe your privates were a bit like your face, whereby you could get a lump for a few days and then it would just go away. Testicular acne. I had never heard of it but no-one was going to come to school and talk about “Ball Zits”! I couldn’t really think of who I could ask about it without feeling embarrassed, so I just made a mental note to keep an eye on it, then I went to sleep dreaming of Kelly Watkinson and re-living that perfect date.
Richie (six months later)
“What do you think it is?” I asked Jim, I had pulled my boxer shorts down in front of him.
“It’s a bollock! A hairy bollock!”
“I know it’s a bollock, you stupid knobhead! That on it. What’s that?”
“It’s a lump. Does it hurt?”
Jim went to prod it. I backed away.
“It does a bit, yes. It’d hurt if you shoved your fingernails into it!”
“How long has it been there?”
“I’m not sure. I noticed it a few months ago.”
“Have you shown anyone else?” Jim enquired.
“No, you’re the first.”
“Do you think it’s something nasty?”
“Richie, I’ve no idea! Thankfully big lumps on my bollocks are not something I have experience of. Go and ask your Doctor.”
“I’m not lobbing my meat and two veg out in front of my Doctor!
What if it’s nothing? I’d look like an idiot.”
“Don’t go then. When you’re in a hospital bed dying of cancer, see how much of an idiot you look then!”
Trust Jim to put it so succinctly! Did he think it was cancer? I thought it was, Jim obviously did too.
“Anyway,” Jim added, “you quite happily lobbed them out in front of me!”
“That’s different, Jim. We share a room, you’ve had seventeen years of seeing me naked.”
“As I said ‘Lucky Me!’”
“I’m not going to the Doctor’s!”
“Show Kelly then. See what she thinks.”
I was getting flustered with Jim now.
“Jim , that’s an even worse suggestion! I want Kelly to be attracted to my balls and knob, not scared by them.”
“She’ll have seen the one eyed white ghost and goolies before though?”
I didn’t reply. My silence said everything.
Jim continued, “She’s not seen them yet then?”
“NO!”
“You’re a fast mover, aren’t you?”
Jim had a bloody cheek! Up until six months ago, he had not even been anywhere near a girl, then he started wearing black clothing and announced he was a “Goth”.
Dad kept saying Jim looked like a young Johnny Cash, which pissed Jim off no end, he knew Johnny Cash was a decent looking lad in his prime but Jim wanted to look like a Goth not a country and western singer. Nevertheless, the “Gothettes” seemed to like him. Several weekends he had come home, woke me up and related his sexual encounters to me in a little too much detail. Jim thought he was a “Gothic Casanova” now.
“Jim, I’m not like you. ‘Every hole is a goal’ and all that crap! I’m not in a desperate rush to sleep with the girl I’m with before she discovers what an arsehole I am!”
I pulled my boxer shorts back up.
Jim cupped his hand to hear his ear.
“What’s that’s sound I hear? Oh, I know, it’s envy! You’re just jealous, Richie! At least I’m not a hunchback with a lump on my back and a lump on my balls!”
Bloody hell! Of all people, why had I thought it a good idea to speak to Jim about this lump? He had now picked up a newspaper and was rushing around our bedroom trying to squash a fly.
“You know what I don’t get?” Jim asked.
“What?”
“Flies. If I was a fly and someone was trying to squash me into a million little pieces, I wouldn’t just fly from here to here.”
Jim indicated about three inches.
“What I would do,” he continued, “is fly as far away as my little wings would carry me so the big oaf with the newspaper would not get a second chance to smash my brains to smithereens. It’s a stupid creature with a stupid name! “Fly”! We don’t call sheep “Baa” or “Grass Munchers” or dogs “Woof ” or “Sniffers”, because that’s what they do, so why do we call a creature that flies a “fly”? Madness!”
I shook my head. Another pearl of wisdom from my lunatic of a brother!
“What do you suggest we call them?”
Jim sneaked up on a fly and smashed his newspaper down, missing it by a split second.
“Annoying twat!” he muttered.
“Can’t see it catching on!” I replied. “Just imagine mothers teaching their kids, this is a bee, this is a wasp and this is an annoying twat!”
“You’re an annoying twat!” Jim moaned, putting his paper down and accepting the fly had defeated him.
“Look who’s talking, Jim! I asked for some advice on my lumpy ball and all I get is the hunchback insult and some nonsense about renaming flies!”
I had sat down by this time on my bed and Jim now came and sat next to me. I felt uncomfortable as we normally granted each other a lot of personal space. I’d have told him to move but I realised he was about to launch into some brotherly advice.
“Richie”, he began, “excuse the pun that’s on its way, but you need to grow some balls and get down to the doctors and let them have a look at that ball sack. As I said I’m by no means an expert, but I’ve seen a programme on TV about testicular cancer and on that, they said most of the time, lumps are just harmless cysts. They’ll probably just drain it away. That’s not for me to tell you though, Richie, that’s for a Doctor to tell you. Do yourself a favour, Richie and go and see a Doctor! He’s not going to bite it!”
“OK, ok! I will! I will!”
Miraculously, Jim had actually helped. I felt better about it now. I’d never even heard about cysts in your privates, but according to Jim, that’s what lumps normally were. I thought I had cancer, without a doubt, but in all likelihood, it was a cyst. A harmless cyst! Not sure if I fancied a Doctor draining it off though, that didn’t sound pleasant, it sounded humiliating! If it was harmless, maybe I could hold off visiting the Doctor, I decided, for now anyway. If it got a bit bigger or more painful, I would definitely go to see the Doctor, but not just yet. I would probably have to listen to Jim’s jokes about odd shaped balls for fifty years, but that was OK. At least now I felt confident, I would be around to hear them.
Jemma
Richie Billingham was back on the scene! To give him his due, as far as I was aware, he had not been near another girl in two years, the only girl he had eyes for was Kelly. It was hard to know how to feel about him though, he was obviously smitten with Kelly. If he had just held his hands up though, admitted to sleeping with me and apologised, both to Kelly and myself for what he did, I think I could have at least partially forgiven him. An apology, however, was not forthcoming. Thus, I would have been happier if Richie had withdrawn from the scene and left Kelly alone, but it appeared very unlikely that this was going to happen.
One Monday night, just before I was about to get into bed, Kelly came into my room.
“Are you alright, honey?” she asked.
“Fine thanks, Kelly, just off to bed.”
“What time are you up in the morning?”
“I normally get up about seven, have a shower and do my hair before work. Why?”
“Fancy getting up at six?”
Kelly was not one for asking daft questions. I would not want to get up at six just for the hell of it, there was obviously something going on.
“Why?”
“Last Friday, I set Richie a challenge. He had to come here for fourteen days on the trot, just in a bra and speedos and sing me a love song from below my window at six a.m! He’ll be here in the morning! Fancy watching?”
“You are making him wear a bra and speedos?”
“Yes! I’m testing him! I want to make sure he’s true to his word when he says he’ll do anything for me!”
Suddenly I had a flashback to a bizarre conversation I had with Vomit Breath on Saturday afternoon.
“How long has he been doing this?” I asked.
“Three days so far. It’s really funny, you should see him. He’s really cute!”
“Kelly, you bitch!”
Kelly looked hurt despite me saying it in a tone that implied I was only joking.
“I’m not a bitch, Jemma! I’m telling you, I’m just testing him. He says he’ll do anything for me, I want to see if he really will.”
This did not sound like the best of plans to me.
“Kelly, you can’t do that! You decide whether you like them by gauging how strongly your heart beats when you see them and how much you miss them when they aren’t there. You don’t put people to a test to see how much they will endure for you. You’re just tormenting the poor lad!”
For a split second, it looked like Kelly was going to cry.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Are
my ears deceiving me? Are you calling Richie Billingham a poor lad? You, of all people!”
“It just sounds like a mean thing to do. Vomit Breath was calling me a slag on Saturday because she reckoned she’d come across some hunk on the path who she’d caught red handed leaving my room, post-shag apparently! She even mentioned that I’d tied my bra around his thigh! I presume this was Richie?”
Kelly’s head bowed a little.
“Yes. Am I awful, Jemma?”
Kelly looked at me, her face flush with embarrassment.
“Do you really want to know what I think, Kelly?”
“Please.”
“On the one hand, I do think its harsh, but on the other…. I think it’s bloody hilarious!”
Kelly looked at me and we both cracked up. I laughed so hard, I nearly wet myself. When we finally calmed down, Kelly asked,
“So do you want waking for tomorrow’s performance then?”
“Absolutely! I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
Kelly woke me at 5.45 with a cup of tea. Five minutes later, I was sat on her bed as she peered through her curtains, awaiting Richie’s arrival and five minutes later again, she excitedly announced,
“He’s here! He’s here!”
It felt like she was announcing the arrival of a beardless Father Christmas in speedos! Kelly pulled her curtains apart, then opened her window.
“Good morning, Mr.Billingham!” I peered out besides Kelly.
“Morning”, replied Richie, he appeared a little downtrodden, perhaps because I was there or perhaps it was because some old couple and their dog had stopped at the end of our path to watch him. Whatever the reason, I did feel sorry for him. Despite the “Phantom Fucker” episode, despite laughing my tits off the previous night when I heard about this bizarre routine Kelly was subjecting him to, I did truly felt sorry for him. I just wanted to run down the stairs and give him a hug. Not a romantic hug, just a sympathetic one. He looked so silly in his speedos and white bra that had obviously been manufactured to prop up a bosom far more ample than Richie’s! He looked pale, but his body was really attractive, long, muscular legs and an athletic, young man’s torso with just a hint of a six pack. For me, this was just confirmation that Richie was indeed “The Phantom Fucker”, but my insides did not well up with hatred, there was just calmness and acceptance.
