by RL McKinney
He glanced at Catriona, who had barely spoken since they left Aberdeen. She stared out the window, scraping her cuticles with her teeth, brooding on the confrontation she had set up for herself. She was also fighting with those big decisions that would determine the course of her future. We all are, he thought. Especially now, with the referendum less than a week away. You could get caught up in the debate and forget that any identity mattered except that of your nation.
But things that seemed so important one day could be overshadowed the next. Wherever you drew your lines on a map, you owed your allegiances to the people closest to you.
White veins of lightning ripped across the sky and a shadow of rain fell. Heavy droplets began to splat onto the windscreen. Calum rolled up his window and turned off the radio.
‘Cat, I want to try to explain myself.’
She pulled her eyes away from the window. ‘How?’
‘I made a decision after Finn died. I was never going to get married and I was never going to have any kids. I didn’t want to have to be responsible for anyone, and I didn’t want to have to watch anyone else I loved die.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Sex, I guess.’
‘Gross.’
‘I was a young man. I wasn’t going to take an oath of abstinence. Jenny and I were careless, that’s all.’
‘I know I was a mistake. I don’t need to be reminded on a daily basis.’
‘Look, the point is we loved you. I loved you so much that it terrified me. When you were little I sometimes thought I’d go into your room and find that you’d died in your sleep. Sometimes I’d just have to go in and check on you, and sometimes I’d just sit there and watch you sleep and think that if I could only watch you forever, nothing bad would ever happen to you. I can look back now and see how irrational it was, but at the time … I didn’t know how to deal with that feeling. So I did what I thought I had to do at the time, which was turn my back and walk away.’
‘Which makes no sense at all.’
‘I know.’
‘You don’t think Mum ever felt like that?’
‘At the time, it didn’t occur to me that she would.’
‘Then you’re stupid.’
‘I was very stupid, Catriona. There’s nothing I can do now except tell you that I wish I’d done things differently. I know it’s not enough.’
She folded her arms across her chest: armour up, tender parts pulled deep into her core. Everything about her was geared for defence. ‘So why bother saying any of this?’
‘Because I want you to know!’ His voice edged upward. His nerves were frayed after last night’s arguments and an uncomfortable sleep on the sofa.
‘But you can’t just come out and say that you loved Michelle more than me. She didn’t want me around and that’s why I never got to come to California.’
‘Michelle would have had you over there in a heartbeat. It was me, Cat.’
She took this in without any response except a clenched jaw. She stared out the window, her breath making a steamy patch on the glass as the rain ran down the outside. She might understand better if he told her the rest: the full details of his breakdown and how close he’d come to the edge in the months afterwards. He was more like Finn than he ever wanted to admit.
Glendarach, June 2011
A mild and unusually dry night, barely touching darkness, scented with gorse blossom and wood smoke. They were a foursome for the first time: Johnny, Abby, Calum and Julie, who had arrived months earlier in a rented van and filled Donald’s old cottage with mismatched art and unformed lumps of stone. Calum had watched her with detached curiosity, attracted and frightened at the same time. They’d taken their time getting to know each other: chatting across the fence for weeks before moving on to cups of coffee and, only last week, a pint in the pub.
‘I am not getting involved with her,’ he’d promised Abby.
‘Oh my God, Calum, a single woman your own age moves in next door, she’s hot as shit, and you’re not interested.’
‘I said I’m not getting involved. I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.’
Now they were on the beach, watching each other from opposite sides of the bonfire, waiting. Heady with music, smoke and whisky, he could almost touch a feeling he’d forgotten himself capable of. Happiness. The word itself seemed pointless except to describe fleeting moments attached to specific things: a fiddle reel, a good film, a fine meal. But as for intrinsic happiness – the ability to be a happy person all day or all year – he figured that he would just have to muddle through life without it.
This is also just a moment, he thought. Tomorrow it will rain and the fire will be a charred ring on the sand. He wanted to keep this and hold it. But how did you? He could feel his hold slipping already.
He was drunk. The bottle of Ardbeg passed into his hands again and he took two big swallows. He wanted to be drunker. While he still had the ability, he put the fiddle into its case and zipped it, then got up and wobbled away from the fire.
From what felt like too far a distance, he could hear the others laughing. Johnny commentating: ‘Oh … a little wobble there … He’s gonna fall … oh … no, he’s saved it … doing the pisshead’s shuffle … Mind the rocks there, boy!’
He waved back at Johnny and tried his best to control his muscles. ‘Going for a walk. Back in a minute.’
He climbed barefoot over the kelp-slick rocks until he was out of view of the fire. Then he sat down and let his feet hang into the water. They were so white they seemed to phosphoresce like strange creatures from the deep. The water was mild, barely cooler than the air, and everything was still. A becalmed respite, like when you dropped down into a sheltered hollow after a day on the mountain and the howling suddenly stopped.
He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there when Julie announced herself with a soft breath.
She eased herself down onto the rocks beside him. ‘I hope you’re not pondering the meaning of life or anything deep and pretentious like that.’
‘Why would I do something as silly as that?’
‘Because you’re like me. Your default colours are dark. We can’t help it.’
He smiled. ‘You’ve figured me out.’
‘Mmm.’ She sat for a moment, looking across at the dark profile of the Cuillins. She was a hot ember beside him, restless and combustible. ‘Can I ask you a question? It’s a biggie.’
‘Do I have to answer it?’
‘No.’
He shrugged. ‘Okay then.’
‘Do you ever just sit here and think about diving in and floating off into oblivion?’
‘You mean suicide?’
‘Yeah. The S word. The ultimate sin against thy father, thy mother and thy God.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes were hard on him, sparking coals.
He shrugged. ‘I guess I do too. Not … like I want to do it. Two years ago I really wanted to. I sat beside the sea, just like this, and played Hamlet. To be or not … and all that shit. I actually wrote down the reasons for and against. I still have the list.’
Julie giggled. ‘You wrote them down.’
‘It’s my engineer’s head. I need to put a plan on paper. I planned myself out of doing it.’
‘What swung it?’
‘Probably the idea that I wouldn’t be any bigger loss to the world than a bug splatted on the windscreen.’
‘Okay. That’s not arrogant or anything. Jesus.’
‘That’s not quite what I meant.’ He laughed, mostly at himself, ran fingers through moist, salt-stiffened hair, swished his ankles in the water. ‘I have a daughter. I thought … if I jumped off that cliff, I’d only be confirming all the bad thoughts she had about me. Nothing would change for her. If I didn’t jump … if I came home … maybe I could fix things with her.’
‘But you don’t see her. Abby told me.’
He sighed. ‘I think we’re both … waiting for the right time.’
‘I don’t know.’
Julie went quiet for a minute. Then she said, ‘I have a daughter too.’
He looked at her.
She took a deep breath. ‘She was a glitch in the experiment. I never got regular periods. I thought I couldn’t get pregnant, but then I did. She was mine for nine months, and when she was born I handed her over to a stranger. I remember they let me hold her. She was a scrawny wee thing with black hair that stood straight up from the top of her head, and she was ugly as a troll. Then they took her away and I’m sure she made some other family very happy.’
‘And you’ve never heard of her again?’
‘No.’
‘Would you want to?’
‘No. Am I awful?’
‘No. So … what swings it for you, then, Julie?’
‘It’s pretty simple. In between all the shit that happens, I actually quite like being alive.’
‘And do you like it here? Has it been a good move for you?’
She turned towards him, placed her hand on his cheek and moved her thumb along the ridge of his cheekbone. ‘The neighbours are okay.’
Catriona stirred, shifted in her seat, rubbed her eyes and looked out the window at the patchwork of fields. A blue sign in a green field said Yes, and on the other side of the road a red sign in a field of yellow wheat shouted No Thanks! Scotland felt like a rig straining into a North Sea howler, fighting with itself while far bigger forces assailed it from all sides. Support for independence was slipping as last-minute fears took over. Calum knew how it would go. The 18th of September would bring a result of almost-but-not-quite, and everyone would shrug their shoulders and say, Ah Scotland. We play our democracy the way we play our sports, he thought: in pursuit of second best. Still, a process was happening that could not be undone. People were asking questions they had never asked before. Something would change, eventually. What would Scotland’s yield point be? Mechanical engineering lesson number one: all things have their yield point.
‘Will you come to the café with me to meet Kyle?’ she asked abruptly. ‘I want you to come.’
His eyes darted off the road and he had a briefly thrilling vision of himself landing a right hook on Kyle’s nose. ‘I don’t want to end up getting done for assault.’
‘You won’t. You don’t even have to sit with us. Sit nearby and pretend you don’t know us. I just … I’d feel safer if you were there.’
‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’
She nodded. ‘That’s what I want.’
AS IF NOTHING BAD COULD EVER HAPPEN
She had picked the café deliberately. It was light, expensive, scented with cardamom and cinnamon, populated by academics and creatives who held forth in a dozen languages. You could sit all day on a sofa or at a communal trestle, reading and drinking strong coffee, and be forgiven for thinking nothing bad could ever happen in the world. They got there before three and she chose their seats strategically: a table for two tucked in a corner for herself and Kyle, a stool for Calum at the bar just behind her. He could sit with his back to them and watch their reflections in the window without appearing to.
Calum settled himself with his laptop and his coffee. He’d gone quiet and she could see by the pulse of his jaw muscles that he was grinding his teeth. She watched for Kyle out the window, her stomach churning, and rehearsed what she was going to say. It was the only way to do this: to script her words and rehearse them like lines of a play. Except of course there was no way to know what Kyle might say. He wouldn’t touch her here in a café that he and his friends frequented. Probably he would try to sweet talk her, and certainly he would deny it. He might laugh. He might even cry. What would she do if he cried?
She couldn’t allow it to matter. She had to control the conversation, say what she needed to say and leave. Nothing Kyle said could be allowed to make a difference.
Bang on three he appeared from the direction of the Meadows, walking with that same floaty, untouchable stride, tanned and gorgeous, the sun casting a golden sheen over his hair. He saw her by the window, waved, grinned broadly. He had no clue. Not a bloody Scooby.
‘Here he is,’ she muttered to Calum.
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes followed Kyle with lupine attention. Catriona opened her lungs and drew in as much air as she could. Kyle drifted over and paused to see if she was going to stand up and hug him. She didn’t, so he slouched onto the chair across from her and leaned forward.
‘You look fit. You been working out?’
‘I’ve been working,’ she said vaguely.
‘Do you … uh … want a coffee or anything?’ Her icy tone had unsettled him.
‘I’ve got one.’ She tilted her mostly empty cup.
‘Oh. So … ’ he raised an eyebrow, bounced his knee, ‘I take it we’re … not cool.’
Catriona pressed her hands flat onto the table top. ‘I wanted to talk to you about what happened at the party.’
‘What party?’
What party. Jesus. ‘That party at your mate’s house out of town. In the woods, wherever the fuck it was.’
‘Mikey’s?’
‘Yeah, that’s it. That party. The last time I saw you.’
‘Oh what? I can’t even remember that night, I was so far gone. That was out of control. His mum and dad were completely ballistic the next day. He’s gonna be paying that one back for … ’
Shut up, she thought. Shut up shut up SHUT UP! ‘Kyle, I think you probably remember carrying me to the shower.’
‘Did I?’ He grinned with half his mouth. ‘And what did I do to you in the shower?’
‘You had sex with me. I said I didn’t want to and you didn’t listen to me.’
His smile vanished. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Calum was watching their reflections intently. Catriona hoped he was watching Kyle’s life change forever.
‘Cat … ’
‘I said no and you held me against the wall, Kyle.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘I’m not trying to say anything. I am saying you raped me.’
He laughed, but it was a terrified sound. He looked around to see who was listening but the conversations around them were boisterous and unheeding. His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘You can’t just … Catriona, you can’t just say that. I was drunk.’
‘So was I, but I remember perfectly and so do you.’
‘No, I … didn’t do that.’
He looked pitiful but she couldn’t let that in. She hoped his guilt would follow him forever, silently, like one of Doctor Who’s Weeping Angels. She hoped that it would petrify him slowly from the outside in, cock first. It was a vengeful thought, and a comforting one.
‘You did.’ She leaned forward. ‘That’s all I wanted to say to you. I want you to know what you did. I want you to know that because of you, I’m not coming back to university and I may never want another man to touch me ever again. Maybe you’ll find a way to live with yourself or maybe you won’t. I really don’t care. Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear your voice.’
‘Are you going to … ’ His voice was barely audible. ‘Are you going to the police?’
Catriona paused before answering. Facing him changed things. It brought that night into sharper focus. They had not been alone in that house. Of course they hadn’t. Other people had seen him carry her into the shower. There were witnesses. She had screamed and shouted at him to stop. Somebody had heard. Surely, somebody had heard.
‘I don’t know, Kyle. I’m still thinking about it.’
‘You could destroy my life.’
All she could do was stare at him. Three or four stunned seconds passed before she stood up and took her hoodie from the back of the chair. Yes, she thought. I could. Kyle started to rise but she poked a finger towards him. ‘Stay there and stay away from me.’
As she turned to leave, Calum slid off his stool, placed his big hand heavily onto Kyle’s s
houlder and whispered something in his ear. Kyle’s face lost the last of its colour and he looked genuinely horrified. Catriona began to shake. She shot out the door and walked away as fast as she could without breaking into a run, back towards George Square where they’d parked. She subsided against the bonnet of the Land Rover, legs burning, holding herself up with her hands. A wave of nausea came over her. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe it away.
Calum came up slowly behind her. ‘That was some performance. I couldn’t have done what you just did.’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I told him if he ever came near my daughter again I’d rip his prick off and shove it so far up his arse it would come out his mouth.’
‘You didn’t actually say that.’
‘I had to. I’m sorry.’
Catriona dropped her elbows onto the bonnet, covered her eyes and shuddered with spasms of something she couldn’t describe if she tried: laughter, devastation and profound relief.
Calum stood beside her and waited until it subsided.
When she could breathe again, she straightened up and looked around, scrubbing below her eyes with her palms, smearing black mascara onto her hands. The new term hadn’t started, but there were still groups of students buzzing back and forth, laughing, English and American voices cutting sharply over the din. The square seemed distorted, the sun too bright, the people too cheerful or busy or oblivious. She could never be one of them again. She was a ghost here. She remembered what Calum said that day in the graveyard. Some things happen and they set your life onto a new track forever. She understood now. You didn’t just make different decisions than you would have done otherwise. You actually became somebody new and stepped into a different life. Nothing could ever be as it was.
But that didn’t mean it had to be awful. She felt lighter, as if she’d handed at least some of the burden back to Kyle. She wondered what else he might have said if she’d allowed him to respond. He might even have apologised. She was glad she hadn’t given him the chance.
