The Edge

by Jamie Collinson

  He sat up, reeling, soaking wet. Before him was the dog, a mongrel with big brown eyes beneath thick greying brows. Its head was cocked sympathetically.

  ‘Hello,’ Adam said. The dog stepped forward, and licked his face in long, generous strokes.

  ‘Pmfff,’ Adam said, twisting his neck and flailing at the dog to no avail. ‘Fuckumpf.’

  When the dog had finished, it stepped back and watched him, wagging its tail.

  ‘Good boy,’ Adam said automatically.

  He got to his feet and looked down at himself. He was soaked through, the dank smell of river, dog and goose swirling around him. A thick green substance had smeared the back of his shirt and clothes, and he stank.

  ‘Jesus,’ he said. He raised his hands and waggled them in disgust. The dog was worrying at something, wedged behind a rock in the water. It was Adam’s sandwich.

  ‘You can definitely have that,’ Adam said to the dog when it had retrieved the ruined meal. The empty bottle of water was nowhere to be seen. Just another piece of river trash, Adam thought, guiltily.

  The dog stood where it was, gazing up at him and panting through its nose, the wag of its tail slowing. Adam looked back up at the camp. There was no sign of its owner. No one was looking in his direction.

  He set off up the bank, his trainers heavy with water and smeared in the green-black slime. With each step, he left a wet footprint, and large drops of water fell from him and landed between them. His t-shirt was soaked through, hanging heavily from his back, and the water was dripping down over his brow. He smeared it with the back of his hand, which came away brown. I’m a fucking swamp monster! he thought. The dog, apparently excited to be moving, walked at his heel.

  ‘Fuck’s sakes,’ Adam told it. ‘For fuck’s fucking sakes!’

  He walked through the gate in the chain-link fence, and onto the sidewalk before the bridge. The protestors were blocking it. He’d have to work his way through them to cross to the opposite footpath.

  Grimacing, he walked towards them. The people at the back of the group were fairly quiet, watching the action over each other’s shoulders, shouting only occasionally. When one of them saw him approach, she turned, tapped another on the arm, and suddenly a path was forming between them. Adam only dared glance at them. His shame was too acute to look anyone in the eye. Hipsters, he saw. Of the angry, righteous, politically minded type. Vegans, PETA people. Oddly haired and pasty-faced, and with the cheaper type of hipster clothes, thrift-store stuff; the odd army jacket, faded, skimpy little slogan t-shirts. Lots of facial hair, some dreadlocks, bad jeans.

  ‘Sorry, dude,’ someone said to him. ‘Stay strong, brother,’ a man with shaven ginger hair and stubble and thick-rimmed glasses said. ‘Can we help you in some way?’ a voice said. ‘Is there anything you need?’ asked another.

  A woman, who looked a little like Janis Joplin, thrust her head towards him. ‘That’s a beautiful dog, my friend,’ she said.

  Hipsters, Adam thought. I’m being nurtured by hipsters. The eco ones. The protesty ones.

  ‘Make a path,’ someone said. ‘Look out behind you.’ ‘God bless you, dude.’ A man was writing slogans on the sidewalk in bright, multicoloured chalk. Adam tried not to drip on his work.

  Saved, he thought. Loved. Loved by… hipsters.

  He was almost at the edge of the group, where he could cross the road, when he reached the film crew.

  A short, tanned man with abundant, shiny black hair tapped the cameraman on the shoulder. ‘Here’s one,’ he said.

  The camera swirled around, facing Adam just a few inches from his nose. He could see his reflection in its lens. His awkward, bony neck and staring, frightened eyes. Suddenly, a very fragrant woman, who reminded him of the radio promoter in Denver, was beside him, frowning sympathetically – the presenter.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said. ‘Could I speak with you for a moment?’

  Adam gaped at the camera, in a state of abject terror. He was aware that his jaw was trembling. When he tried to speak, only a strange, strangled sob came out.

  ‘I’ll talk to you,’ said a familiar voice. Adam glanced in its direction to see a man carrying a megaphone. He was tall and very thin, hair in a ponytail pulled back above a high forehead. He stood beside Adam and faced the camera.

  ‘Look at the conditions these people are living in down here. This man has been driven into the filthy river water by the cops. You think this is acceptable? Look at him.’ The man stepped aside and gestured. ‘He’s soaked through in goddamned polluted water and it just breaks my heart. This man hasn’t harmed anyone.’

  ‘What do you say to that, sir?’ said the beautiful, concerned presenter.

  ‘Um, well, I don’t…’ Adam said. ‘I, ah, just came down for a walk. I don’t actually…’ He took a deep, shaky breath and gestured vaguely over his shoulder. ‘I was talking to a nice man about the army killing the frogs, and then a goose knocked me over, trying to escape.’

  ‘OK,’ the presenter said, frowning and touching her earpiece. Adam lowered his head.

  The camera was turned away, the presenter was talking, someone was offering him a blanket, someone else pressed a leaflet into his hand and told him there were places he could stay, and then suddenly he was walking – squelching – across the road and away. The dog peeled off as it did so, wagging its tail again, sandwich still held proudly in its jaws, apparently having sniffed out its real owner.

  A few minutes later, he was walking down Glenhurst Avenue, partially recovered and a little bit drier. When he reached the car, he found he didn’t want to get into it. It would be hot and airless, he knew, and he’d be able to smell himself, sitting in his sodden clothing. And even after that, where would he be? He saw himself in the apartment again, lying on the couch, recovering and stewing. He didn’t want to be there, he realized.

  In fact, there was only one place he did want to be.

  32

  Erica answered the door wearing loose trackpants and a UCLA t-shirt. Her hair was tied up at the back, and she didn’t seem pleased to see him.

  ‘Adam,’ she said. ‘When I said stay away, I meant it. You can’t just show up at my house.’

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said. ‘I can’t just give up like that.’

  She ran her eyes over him. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I fell in the river, basically,’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ she said, nodding. She regarded him for a moment, apparently thinking.

  ‘OK,’ she said, finally. ‘You can take off your shoes. And socks. In fact, just go around the back to the yard.’ She pointed to where a path ran down the side of the house, and closed the door.

  Adam made his way along the gravelled path to a wrought-iron gate. He was standing before it for several minutes before Erica reappeared to open it.

  Beyond was a small, shaded yard with two fruit trees strung with fairy lights, and some chairs around a mosaic-surfaced table. A little hidden paradise that she’d made. Seeing this beautiful place in these circumstances made him feel horribly sad.

  She removed the cushion from a rattan chair, and gestured to him to sit in it.

  ‘You look awful,’ she said, sitting opposite him.

  ‘I feel awful,’ he said. ‘I was drowning my sorrows last night.’

  ‘Look, Adam—’

  ‘Erica,’ he interrupted. ‘I don’t mean to be pushy, but please could I have a drink?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she said. ‘Fine.’

  She walked back into the house, and re-emerged a few moments later with two glasses of white wine.

  Adam sipped his gratefully. ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of all this, Adam,’ she said. ‘It’s just not for me, OK?’

  ‘I don’t think you’re being fair,’ he said.

  She cocked her chin at him. ‘How do you figure that?’

  ‘We’d just met each other, we hadn’t made any commitments.’
/>   ‘Yeah, but you still fucked another woman and then showed up in my hospital looking creepy. Or is there something I missed?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure I was safe.’

  ‘Good for you. I’m just not interested. I hope you get your life together.’

  ‘Erica. You never even asked if I was seeing anyone.’

  ‘Oh, come on. So I needed to do that, did I? Forgive me for assuming that you weren’t seeing anyone.’

  ‘I wasn’t. Before you I was, then I crossed paths with her in Denver.’

  ‘You know, I’m really mad at myself, not you. I knew that you being British or whatever didn’t preclude you from being yet another LA asshole, but I let myself get sucked in anyway.’

  ‘But I’m not an LA asshole,’ Adam protested. ‘I know I fucked up, but I tried not to make it any worse by sleeping with you and putting you at risk.’

  Erica glanced over her shoulder, towards the closest neighbouring house.

  ‘You keep your voice down, or you get out,’ she said.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Are you seriously suggesting what you did was OK?’

  ‘No. I’m suggesting you give me another chance, because if you and I actually get together I will never do anything like that again.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘I lost my appetite for it.’

  ‘Oh, fuck off,’ she said, taking a deep sip of her wine.

  ‘And I’m falling in love with you.’

  ‘You’re ridiculous,’ she said, more quietly.

  ‘I might be ridiculous, but I mean it, and I’m deeply sorry for what I did. And if you give me another chance I will never do anything like it again.’

  Erica was looking over his shoulder. Her anger had dissipated, but now she looked miserable, which was worse.

  ‘I knew something was up,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When you stopped me, in the bedroom. And I could tell you’d lied to me about why. When does a man ever stop a woman from doing that?’

  ‘I meant it when I said I didn’t want to fuck it up,’ Adam told her.

  ‘It’s what my ex used to do,’ Erica said. Her eyes had welled up. ‘He didn’t want to sleep with me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘That was how I knew he didn’t want me to move away with him… That was how he told me.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Erica,’ Adam said. He thought of Sofia. Why don’t you want to have sex with me any more?

  She dabbed away a tear as it ran down her beautiful face. ‘I need some time to think about it all, Adam,’ she said. ‘Just leave me alone for now, please.’

  * * *

  Stef’s screen door flew open as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, and smacked loudly into the wood frame of the house.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she yelled, standing in the doorway. ‘What the hell happened to you? You were on the TV!’ She gaped at him, then cackled uproariously. Adam was fumbling his key in the lock by the time she’d stopped.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, grinning at him. ‘It’s just too wild.’

  ‘It was horrible,’ he said.

  ‘Let me help you. Oh God, you poor kid.’

  Inside the apartment, she helped him peel off his t-shirt.

  ‘Go shower,’ she said. ‘Shall I make you, like, a tea or something?’

  ‘Whisky,’ he said. ‘In the cupboard.’

  ‘Right, yeah,’ she said excitedly. ‘Like a medicinal nip, right?’

  Adam grunted, and padded into the bathroom. He showered for almost fifteen minutes, soaping and rinsing his entire body three full times.

  When he’d finished, he dried off and dressed in a clean t-shirt and shorts. Stef was in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch and flicking through channels on the TV. Beside her were two wine glasses with a large measure of whisky in each. The bottle was on the floor beside her bare feet.

  Adam took a tumbler from the cupboard, sat beside her and poured his drink into it.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, glancing at him and smiling again. ‘I didn’t mean not to get it all proper for you, fancy-pants. I guess I got you confused with some type of bum.’

  Adam necked the whisky, and poured himself another.

  ‘Attaboy,’ Stef said.

  ‘What was that about the TV?’ he asked, when the glow of the whisky had lit in his gut.

  ‘That’s what I’m looking for now. Oh my God, it was so cool.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Adam said. ‘Was it a big station? Will people have seen it?’

  ‘No, it’s just the local news,’ Stef said, flicking channels. ‘Not so many people.’

  ‘Shit,’ he said, dropping his head into his hands. ‘My colleagues.’

  ‘Those kids?’ Stef laughed. ‘Those little fuckers don’t watch TV, dude. Especially not the news. As long as you keep it off Instagram you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Yes,’ Adam said hopefully. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Shit. It’s not on here. Let me get my laptop.’

  She disappeared for a half a minute, and returned with Beans the cat, who sashayed around Adam’s legs. He was allergic to cats, but, in his current state, his craving for affection outweighed the fear of the coming reaction.

  Stef drained her glass, and typed excitedly into a browser on her MacBook. She pushed a strand of grey-blonde hair aside.

  ‘Pour me another one, that shit’s delicious,’ she said.

  Adam did so.

  ‘Here!’ she said. A video player had filled half the screen, the rest of which was made up of a bewildering array of TV logos, adverts and thumbnails for more news clips. Stef clicked play.

  ‘There you are!’ she said. Adam watched as the camera swung onto him. He grimaced at himself, grimacing and mumbling on the screen. It was over much more quickly than it had felt at the time.

  Below the player was a comments section.

  ‘Scroll down,’ Adam said.

  ‘Oh right,’ Stef said excitedly. ‘Comments.’

  There were only three. A good sign, Adam thought.

  Just because this guy is white and like a LIL bit betta lookin than most bums they pick HIM out for tha tv thats bs, said Bey420.

  They go down there, someone calling themselves Sad_Liberal had said, to prey on lost girls.

  wtf was that australian guy gonna do to a goose?! said Pepe666.

  ‘Ha,’ Stef said. ‘You are good-looking. For a bum.’

  ‘Well,’ Adam said. ‘At least it doesn’t seem to have gone viral.’

  ‘So, what the hell happened?’ Stef said, turning sideways on the couch to face him.

  Adam told her everything that had taken place over the previous, tumultuous days.

  ‘Woah,’ she said, when he’d finished. ‘And I thought you were just the quiet dude who lived in my rental.’

  ‘It’s not always like this,’ Adam told her.

  ‘It’s kinda rock ’n’ roll actually,’ she said. ‘Apart from the falling in the river bit.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘The thing is, though, you didn’t really do anything wrong, did you? I mean, has this chick dated in LA before?’

  ‘I think I sort of sold myself as not an LA type of person.’

  Stef laughed. ‘Adam – an LA type of person would have let her give him head, then gone out for frozen yoghurt – not to the goddamn sex clinic.’ She sipped her whisky. ‘Am I allowed to use this in a script?’

  ‘No you are not.’

  ‘So what’s the plan now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well,’ Stef said, draining her glass. ‘Then I guess this is the part where you wait by the phone.’

  * * *

  He did receive a call that evening, but it was from his sister. He answered it reluctantly, and largely out of loneliness.

  ‘I had a call from the hospital,’ she said after they’d exchanged pleasantries. ‘Mum’s getting worse. Or rather, she’s already worsened.’

&nbs
p; ‘Yes,’ Adam said. ‘I spoke to her again a couple of days ago.’

  Elizabeth tutted. ‘They never give me all the information. I take it it didn’t go well?’

  ‘No,’ Adam said. ‘She was very angry, and quite wired. I’ve never seen her like that.’

  ‘You could’ve told me,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve been a bit caught up here.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, sceptically. ‘Well, we might have some decisions to make.’

  ‘Yes,’ Adam agreed. ‘I suppose we might.’

  ‘I think one or both of us should go back. I mean, one is enough to help look after her, but if we want to have any sort of quality time with her, before the end…’

  ‘Yes,’ Adam said.

  ‘Are you serious about making some changes?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘If you do move back, I suppose it wouldn’t be to Somerset?’

  ‘I haven’t really given it much more thought,’ Adam said.

  ‘Well, I need to decide whether to turn down this job. I mean, I’ve already accepted it, but I can change my mind. And I’m the elder sibling after all.’

  ‘It’s not about that, though, is it?’ Adam said. ‘It’s not just a question of duty.’

  ‘Exactly,’ his sister said.

  ‘I’ve been thinking it would be nice to all be closer to each other again.’

  ‘The three of us,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Barely qualifies as an “all”, does it?’

  ‘Not even three,’ Adam said. ‘More like two point five.’

  Elizabeth laughed, a sound he loved. ‘Ooh, dark,’ she said, approvingly.

  ‘I’ll do some thinking,’ Adam said.

  ‘OK,’ Elizabeth said. ‘For what it’s worth, I think I’ve made up my mind. The career can wait for a bit, and anyway, I can do translation work from anywhere.’

  A wave of anxiety passed through Adam as the new reality crystallized.

  ‘Might be a bit harder on you, workwise,’ Elizabeth said.