Love in a Blue Time

by Hanif Kureishi

  ‘You’re exactly right.’

  Rocco was greeting people; he smiled unctuously at Vance. They shook hands. Then Rocco guided Bodger into a quiet corner.

  ‘Tomorrow is Friday.’ He was biting his nails. ‘Did you get me the loan?’

  ‘Some of it. I’ll get the rest later.’

  ‘Thank God!’

  ‘No, thank me.’

  ‘Yes, yes. You’ve saved me.’

  Bodger said, ‘Look at Lisa! How could you go anywhere without those shoulders?’

  ‘We owe so much money here, we can’t leave. And where will we both stay in London? I’ve got friends, but I can’t impose her on people. How come you’ve suddenly got a problem with our agreement? Have you been talking to someone? It’s Vance, isn’t it? I thought you had a mind of your own.’

  Bodger blurted out, ‘Take her with you, or I’ll give you no more money.’

  ‘Don’t you know how to love a friend?’

  ‘Don’t you know how to love Lisa?’

  Karen came over with her son. ‘Am I interrupting? Rocco, look at this.’

  She made the boy show Rocco his essays and drawings. ‘Excellents’ and ‘very goods’ danced before Rocco’s eyes. Karen remarked in the posh voice she adopted on these occasions. ‘They push them hard at private schools.’

  ‘I know,’ said Rocco. ‘I am hoping, in the next few years, to make a partial recovery.’

  He wanted his freedom; he didn’t want Lisa. If he stayed the bills would mount up. He would get more frustrated. Other people wanted you to live lives as miserable as theirs. This they considered moral behaviour.

  He thought of the moment the train would pull away and how he would open a bottle of beer to celebrate. Of course, when Lisa did get to London he would have to squirm and lie to get rid of her: as if everyone didn’t lie at times, as if the lie were not protecting something, the integrity of a life. Lying was an underrated and necessary competence.

  From across the room Lisa felt Moon’s eyes on her. She wanted to go with him to the beach. And then she felt she had no control over herself. Her desire made her want to leave Rocco. He would protest, of course. He needed her more than he acknowledged. But she would make plans secretly, and then announce them. It was time to get away.

  Moon and Rocco nodded at one another and went outside to try some weed Moon had been growing using a new method involving human shit. Moon was intending to set up as a dealer, and move to London. He was awaiting Rocco’s opinion.

  Rocco’s bloodshot eyes had closed. Then he started chuckling. Moon nodded confidentially. ‘Cool, cool.’ But after a time Rocco was clucking, and his head started to thrash as he reacted to some welling disturbance or internal storm. He started looking at people with a wild, frightened disposition, as if he feared they would attack him, his guffaws became shriller until he sounded like a small dog. He tried to get up from the table but his legs would not obey him and his right arm started jumping about on the table. Bodger was so alarmed that he and a frightened Moon led Rocco downstairs, supporting his head from behind while Feather held a glass against his teeth, and water spilled onto his chest.

  Lisa was clutching the back of the chair, afraid she would fall, terrified that Moon had told Rocco about them.

  She went to Bodger. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘He’s smoked too much.’

  ‘Not more than normal,’ said Moon hastily.

  ‘What is it, the stuff you gave him?’

  ‘Mellow Wednesday. Because it’s mellow.’

  ‘I’m still alive,’ Rocco moaned, and said quietly to Bodger, ‘If I can get out of here I’ll be okay.’

  Later, they all walked along the front under a violet sky.

  Fearing that Moon might try and talk to her, Lisa tried to stay close to Karen and her son. Fear and dejection weakened her; she could hardly move her legs. But she didn’t go home, thinking Moon would try and accompany her. They went down to the beach.

  11

  ‘I’m going,’ said Rocco at last.

  Lisa took his arm. ‘Me too.’

  Rocco said, ‘Thanks for the smoke, Moon. I’ll do the same for you some day.’

  Moon said he was going in her direction. What a fool she’d been to provoke Moon, but she had been stupefied by desire. Now she had to take the consequences.

  Rocco turned away. ‘I’ve got stuff to do. See you later.’

  ‘I must talk to you,’ said Moon, when he’d gone. ‘You’re playing games with me.’

  Lisa said, ‘But I’m depressed.’

  ‘That’s not going to stop me fucking you this evening. Otherwise what you’ve been doing will get around. People round here will certainly be interested, you know what they’re like. In fact I think I’m going to fuck you today and tomorrow. After, you can do what you want.’

  Lisa stopped at her front door. It was getting dark. She listened to the steady sea roar, glanced up at the star-strewn sky and felt she wanted to finish with everything.

  ‘You’re right, I’ve messed you around.’

  She walked rapidly away and then turned up a side street leading away from the town. Pale patches of light from illuminated windows lay here and there on the road and she felt like a fly, perpetually falling into an inkpot and then crawling out again into the light. Moon was following her. At one point he stumbled, fell, and started laughing.

  She turned. ‘Not in my house.’

  12

  Rocco had decided to spare Lisa all the lies at once. He would spread them out. He had also had another brilliant idea: to tell Bodger that she was going to accompany him, and, at the last moment, announce that she wasn’t well enough. If Bodger wouldn’t give him the money he’d leave anyway, hitch-hiking to London and sleeping on the street. After yesterday’s embarrassing paranoid fit, staying in the town was impossible.

  Having decided this he felt better. He would visit Bodger for lunch, and charm him, and put him at ease. As soon as he walked in he saw Vance and Feather.

  Before Rocco could get out, Vance said, ‘How d’you feel after your little fit? I thought only women had hysterics.’

  ‘Hysteria is ridiculous, yes. But most people recognise that paranoia is a kind of language, speaking to us but in a disguised way.’

  Vance was looking at him with contempt. ‘You’re hopeless. Always scrounging money and talking rubbish.’

  ‘What? What did you say?’

  ‘You heard.’

  Rocco went into the kitchen where Bodger was preparing lunch.

  He began to yell, ‘If you haven’t got the money, just say that. But don’t go round town telling everyone about my problems! Don’t you know how to keep a confidence? I suppose, as a doctor, you tell everyone about your patients’ illnesses!’

  Bodger threw a wooden spoon at him. ‘Come back later!’

  Rocco rushed out of the kitchen.

  ‘Everyone’s spying on me now!’ he cried. ‘There’s nothing better for people to talk about! I borrow money! I ask someone to help me! And for that I am crucified! Then people say I get paranoid … End this surveillance now – that’s all I’m asking!’

  Bodger followed him out of the kitchen, red-faced with rage. ‘No one accuses me of such shit!’

  Feather began to laugh.

  Rocco shouted at Bodger, ‘Just leave me alone!’ He looked at Vance. ‘Particularly you – you fascist Burger Queen.’

  ‘Sorry? Did I hear you right? I think I might have to kick your head in.’

  ‘Try it.’

  This was the moment Vance had been waiting for. He took it slowly.

  ‘Not your head. Maybe I’ll break a few fingers, or an arm. It’ll be educational for you.’

  Vance moved towards Rocco with his fists up. Rocco stood there. Bodger extended his arms between them.

  ‘But you can’t even fight,’ Vance told Rocco across Bodger. ‘I don’t think there’s anything you can do.’

  ‘No? Burger Queen – bring me some French f
ries too. Two French fries and a knickerbocker glory! Ha, ha ha!’

  Vance said, ‘I’m tempted, but I’m not going to fight you now – because I might kill you. I’ll fight you tomorrow.’

  ‘I used to be a skinhead.’

  ‘Ha! See you tomorrow morning. On the Rim. No rules, skinhead.’

  ‘Bastard, I’m going to stick your head in a bun and eat it with onions and relish! Ha, ha, ha!’

  Vance smacked his fist into his palm. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to get damaged. Badly. Oh, oh, oh, you’re going to cry!’

  ‘Can’t wait,’ said Rocco. ‘And by the way, can I have a green salad on the side?’

  A few drinks made Rocco feel even better. And when his mood declined he had only to recall Vance’s sneering face, manicured hands and Nigerian shirt to lift himself. How could a fool from a nothing place upset him? He would get the first punch in, and stamp on the bastard.

  Teapot was in the pub and when Rocco told him about the fight they went into a field and practised karate kicks. It had been some time since Rocco had kicked anything but Lisa out of bed, and he kept tripping over even as he imagined his boot meeting Vance’s balls.

  Struggling for breath, he got up and declared, ‘It’s desperation not technique that’s required. I’m going to rely on insanity.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Teapot. ‘Go mental.’

  ‘Now fuck off.’

  He was glad to be alone. But when it got dark he became uneasy. He wanted to be in bed, but knew the night would be sleepless. He would have to think about Vance and prepare the lies he had to tell to Lisa. It was better to go from pub to pub.

  He had been doing this for some time when Teapot tracked him down.

  ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you,’ said the teenager. ‘Come here!’

  Rocco tried to swat him away. ‘I’m saving my energy for tomorrow.’

  Teapot almost picked him up and dragged him out of the pub. Rocco had no idea why Teapot should be in such a hurry. Teapot pushed him through the town’s narrow streets to the beach and along the wall. There, Teapot took his hand and told him to be quiet.

  Bewildered, Rocco followed him, and was helped onto the top of the wall. They lay down; at a sign from the ever-helpful Teapot they peered over the top. In the gloom Rocco could see Moon lying with his head between a woman’s legs. Looking at the sky, she was humming to herself, as she liked to. He had imagined she only did that for him.

  13

  Bodger was ashamed of his outburst. He wanted to apologise to his friend and explain that fighting was childish.

  Searching the pubs he stopped and sat down several times, recognising that it had been Rocco who’d insulted him and that he’d always done everything he could to help him.

  When he opened the door of his house, Bodger heard Vance and Feather.

  ‘Tomorrow there’s going to be a fight,’ Vance declared. ‘We’re civilised people, but we want to beat each other’s brains to porridge. The strongest will triumph. Love and peace – out of the window! The thought of a fight – it’s frightening … but don’t we love it?’

  Feather said, ‘Strength and wisdom aren’t the same.’

  Bodger hurried in. ‘The weather will spoil everything anyway.’ He sat down. ‘We have to care for one another. Yes! Otherwise we lose our humanity.’

  Vance went on, ‘We have the weak – people like Rocco – dominating the strong with their whingeing. They want others to do everything for them. But they will deplete our strength and drag us down. Selfishness, wanting something for oneself, is the law of reality. But if I benefit, others will benefit.’

  Feather took all this equably. ‘Who says who is weak and who is strong, and in what sense?’

  ‘Him, presumably,’ said Bodger. ‘The new God enterprise.’

  ‘Get real,’ said Vance. ‘Half the people who drag themselves to your surgery are skivers. They watch soap operas day and night. Why should we spend valuable resources keeping them alive?’ He turned to Feather. ‘I hope you’re coming tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m a pacifist.’

  He smacked his fist into his palm.

  ‘That’s just voluntary ignorance. You should come and see what life is like.’

  14

  Rocco lay on the sofa and became aware of an unusual clattering sound. Wondering if children had got in upstairs, he ran to the stairs. No, it couldn’t be that – the entire atmosphere had altered, as if there’d been a collision in space and the world would be extinguished. He moved to the window. The earth had turned grey. It was raining on the hard ground. Tonight surely, was the end of summer. The evenings would draw in; no one would lie on the beach or gather at the War Memorial; the coach parties and foreign tourists would leave. Only they would remain.

  For most of his life, at this time of year, he would be returning to school, and a new term.

  He remembered as a kid running into the garden with two girls and getting soaked. They had snuggled up to one another in fear. No longer was he afraid of thunderstorms and now he ruined girls. Never had he planted one tree and never had he denied himself the opportunity to say something cutting or cruel, but he’d only wrecked everything.

  Already aching from the exercises he had attempted with Teapot, he would feel worse tomorrow. What did it matter? He would encourage Vance to do him in, not only to break his arms – which wouldn’t affect his brain – but to destroy his spirit and remaining hopes. It would be a relief.

  It seemed not long after that Teapot turned up with his motorbike and spare helmet. He and Rocco smoked some of Moon’s Mellow Wednesday, practised some kicks, and went off.

  Lisa had returned as it was getting light and had fallen asleep on the sofa with a coat over her. Rocco kissed her face and smoothed her hair.

  There had been a moment – Moon was lapping between her legs and her mind was running free – when she’d projected herself into the future and looked back. She saw that these people, like the teachers and children at her first school – all pinches, curses, threats and boisterous power – were in retrospect just pathetic or ordinary, and nothing to be afraid of. She knew, at that moment, that she had already left.

  When she thought of what she’d been through she didn’t know how she hadn’t gone mad. Her own strength surprised her. How much more of it might she have?

  15

  Feather rose early, meditated restlessly, and started out with a rucksack and stick. Why was she going? It was ridiculous for a pacifist to be present at such an event. But she was curious. She thought of Rocco. He had suffered; he understood something about life; he liked people. There was no cruelty in him; yet he fucked everyone up. And the person he made suffer the most was himself.

  She stopped on the way to eat and drink; she washed in a rain-filled stream. For a change the air was moist. She wondered why this journey wasn’t more enjoyable and when she sat and thought about it she realised she was tired of being alone; it was time to find a lover, particularly with winter on its way.

  The others drove as far as they could and then walked up the chalk downs, until they could see the town in the distance, and the sea beyond.

  She was walking up the Rim when a car approached. It was Karen, who was distressed. But Feather didn’t want a lift.

  She walked to the very top, a flat area with a pagan pedestal. The first thing she saw was Vance unpacking new running shoes. He wore sweatbands around his head and wrists, a singlet and a pair of shorts. Rocco hadn’t given a thought to what he would wear, and had turned up in his ordinary clothes. He noticed that Bodger had arrived, but refused to acknowledge him.

  Teapot rushed over to Vance. ‘Please, Mr Vance, Rocco’s terrified. He’s shaking all over. Don’t hurt him. He’s had some Mellow Wednesday. You can’t beat up a man in that condition.’

  ‘I’ll teach him a lesson,’ said Vance, hawking and spitting. ‘After the beating he’ll be an improved person.’

  ‘Look at him.’

  Vance g
lanced over at Rocco and guffawed. ‘He’s disgusting, it’s true. But that doesn’t change anything.’

  Teapot said, ‘And he’s upset.’

  ‘So?’

  Bodger was standing nearby with his doctor’s bag. ‘What about?’

  ‘He saw his girlfriend being fucked – last night.’

  ‘Who by?’

  Teapot leaned towards them. ‘Moon.’

  Bodger went pale.

  Across the way, practising his kicks and trying to make himself usefully mad, Rocco twisted his ankle. Teapot helped him up, but Rocco could barely walk and, when everyone was ready, Teapot had to cart him to the fighting place. Rocco stood there on one foot, breathing laboriously.

  Karen stood a few feet away, tugging at her hair. She was watching her husband but seemed, also, to be thinking about something else.

  Vance was dancing around and when he turned away to give Karen the thumbs up, Rocco, windmilling an arm as he’d seen guitarists do, took a tremendous swing at him, which missed. Then he hobbled towards Vance and attempted a flying kick.

  Rocco collapsed and lay there shouting, ‘Beat me, Burger Queen. Kick my head in. Kick, kick, kick!’

  ‘Get up. I’m not ready yet. Get up, I said!’

  Vance reached out a hand to him, and Rocco got up. Then he tried, once more, to attack Vance who danced around him until, taking aim, he landed a nice punch in the centre of Rocco’s face. Rocco fell down and Vance bestrode him, picking up his arm and bending it back over his knee. Rocco refused even to whimper but his face was screaming.

  Bodger, with his hand over his mouth, murmured, ‘Don’t, don’t …’

  ‘A fight’s a fight, ain’t it?’ said Vance.

  ‘Please, Vance, you’re just making more work for me.’

  ‘Kill me, kill me, Queen,’ begged Rocco.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Vance. ‘I’m on my way.’

  Suddenly there was a sound from the bushes. Feather, naked but covered in dirt and mud, rushed screeching into the space and began to dance. Vance stared at her, as they all did, but decided to take no notice – until Feather took up a position in front of him and held up her hands.