Cathexis

by Clay, Josie

  “I think Minette's already eaten” Jasmine said.

  Chapter 11

  Alone in Nancy's living room, regarding the modest manilla envelope carefully propped on the mantelpiece. 'Minette' in tiny, curiously cautious script – an intimate whisper rather than a declaration. She was no longer here, not even on this island. She'd phoned me from the airport on a mobile bought specifically.

  “I'm longing for you”. I could almost feel her breath on my ear. She'd left something for me: two squares of duplicate passport photos. In the first set, she emoted a sultry gravity, a tacit resonance of desire and loyalty, her green eyes glowering with implication, lips a dark, delicious crimson. They spoke of a whorish disdain for anything other than myself, on whom they would feed.

  The other shots, her smiling, laughing no less, playfully winding a dark lock around her finger, eyes crinkled into viridian benevolence, her broad smile revealing even, white teeth and prompting a series of well placed dimples, as if she was laughing in response to something I'd said. I loved to make her laugh. I fished further into the envelope. A substantial nugget sized item , but I left that for now and plucked out a piece of paper torn from a lined notebook.

  ‘Love spoke: Would you jump off that cliff for me,

  And be dashed on the rocks below?

  Yes I replied, for fleetingly I would have flown.’

  Nancy

  Several things here . I recognised the quote from the Astrid Apple song, ‘Love Spoke’. It amused me how Nancy had appropriated it. Now there was distance between us I had a disorientating feeling I didn't know what else might have been appropriated and what was authentic. I gazed around the unresolved room and suffered an uneasy precognition.

  The main thrust of all this of course was she was telling me she loved me. My heart morsed my ardour back at her.

  I retrieved the tissue wadded walnut, a thin chain already escaping like sand onto my palm. A weighty gold heart-shaped locket, engraved with nouveau-style flourishes. I located the button on the upper left lobe and it sprang open, revealing a miniature version of her sultry pout opposite a photo of me laughing which she must have taken in the 'eyes and teeth' session. I wondered who had been summarily turfed out to accommodate our situation; perhaps grandparents, or even better, Todor.

  A beautiful and valuable thing. A declaration which made my skin heat up with wonder. But as I looked at our little faces, they already seemed to be in the past; perhaps that's just the nature of lockets. One day though this will be in the past I thought ...but not yet, please, not yet.

  I stared stupidly at the mobile which was emitting the 'Afro' ringtone I'd selected.

  'Nancy calling' it said, while a tiny green handset rocked around the screen joyfully, much like my heart.

  “Hey, Nancy”

  “Hi, Minette, how are you?” Clearly a snatched moment.

  “OK, you?”

  “Listen, darling, I can't talk for long. I miss you so much, I think about you all the time”.

  “Me too”.

  “I wanted to tell you what happened this morning ...it was the strangest thing”.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, perfectly. I was lying in bed, Todor had just got up.”

  Shot by a green bolt; the idea of them in the same bed, but of course – she had no choice. Just as I didn't have the option to stay with her all night.

  “I was thinking about you” she continued “and ....and”.

  “Go on” I coaxed.

  “And, well, I just came”.

  “But you don't do that”.

  “No, I didn't touch myself, I just imagined you loving me”.

  “Wow, good girl” I said with some admiration. “I got your present Nancy, you are amazing and very clever, the locket is beautiful thank you”.

  “It's my pleasure” she said. “Minette?”

  “Yes?”

  “Minette, I love you”.

  Dead air for a while. I could hear her breathing, sweat like a hand on my breast bone, the virus in me.

  “I love you too” I said.

  She groaned . “Oh God, this hurts. I'm working on a plan to come home earlier”.

  The shriek of children. “Minette ...I think you might be the one”.

  A balloon of longing inflating my chest and blocking my throat so I couldn't speak.

  “Darling, I've got to go” she whispered. “Bye bye, big kisses”.

  Planted on the sofa, attempting to focus on 'The Horse Whisperer' and re-reading the same two pages as a rogue's gallery of punters ebbed and flowed; it was one of Remy's busy dealing evenings. They nearly always stayed for one. Whether it was a loss leader on Remy's part, or a sociable exchange, I didn't know or care. I knew I had to get out of there though.

  Side by side we lay on the mouldy futon in platonic impurity, two wind resistant, ground hugging shapes. I'd stubbornly kept on my reading light, but it made no difference; the Remy bug breathed next to me. I looked at her face in repose. I'd been unkind; in sleep, she looked as we all do, angelic, like one of Toulouse Lautrec's softer paintings. I wasn't staying with her because I was good and didn't want to hurt her. I didn't of course, but I knew what I was: I was greedy, deceitful and a coward to boot. I got up and played Patience on the crusty, itchy carpet, while Nica twitched in dope dreams.

  Nancy calling.

  “Hey!”

  “Hi, I'm coming home”.

  “When?”

  “Tonight ...it's not working Todor and I ...we fight all the time and I don't want to spoil it for the children any more than I have already”.

  “I shouldn't say brilliant should I?” I said. “But brilliant!”.

  “Yes, it was my plan. I have done this on purpose ...to come back to you”.

  I felt myself shape-shift to accommodate this calculating creature. She wouldn't be back till gone midnight, so I left bread, milk, cheese and ham and a bottle of Champagne. As I lay on the mouldy futon, I imagined her face, illuminated in the fridge light, her lips moving in thanks. Me a phantom child beside her, hungry and empty.

  I came to her each morning and evening. She would throw a bag or package at me and march from the room, it was her way of giving me presents, which I found hilarious. One day, however, she sat down beside me and earnestly placed a small, black velvet box on my knee. “For you” she said, pushing a hank of curls behind her ear. A Russian wedding ring, three interlinked bands of white, red and yellow gold. It was her grandmother's.

  “Nancy, it's beautiful but it's too much. I can't take this, it should stay in your family”.

  She placed her finger on my lips.

  “Don't protest, I want you to have it”. Withdrawing her finger.

  “But...”. She quickly replaced it, raising her eyebrows in reprimand.

  “Ssss” she said. “I love you, take it”.

  The following evening I came to her dog-tired. It was our last before the family regrouped and I prostrated myself on the living room floor, weeping with exhaustion and resentment, head roaring with fatigue and aching in every way.

  Taking me by the hand, she led me to the bedroom. While the water thundered in the en suite she peeled off my stiff clothes and examined me closely, turning my hands in hers, inspecting my palms and kissing the calluses, steering me around, kissing every contusion and scrape she could find. There were many and I sat on the bed while her lips found the bruises on my shins, her hair brushing my feet. I remembered the first time she'd examined me, surprised that I shaved my legs, believing all lesbians were politically hairy.

  Climbing into the bath behind me, she washed my hair and soaped my body. I leant back on her, it must have been uncomfortable but she held me until I awoke with a jolt, slapping the water with my hand. Then I was in a huge towel, my hands and crevices dried diligently. She shook out a fresh towel on the bed and I collapsed on my front. The whisk of her hands rubbing together, she pushed almond scented oil into my skin, massaging and manipulating each part of me with eq
ual attention, probing and dimpling with finger tips, before her big hands grabbed my buttocks and squeezed and kneaded, spreading them and squashing them together.

  “Amazing” I groaned, dribbling onto the pillow. Her oily thumb grazing my anus and I turned my head to the side, where I could see our tableau in the floor to ceiling wardrobe mirror. Her hair tumbled forward, obscuring her face, leaving just the edge of her profile. Kneeling between my legs, rocking as if in prayer, holding my buttocks apart, I could tell she had decided to do something surprising. Her tongue traced the length of my arse crack as she rubbed my sphincter with her thumb.

  Not normally a fan of bottom stuff, but her worshipping reflection impaled me with a galvanised horn. She inserted her tongue. God she was dirty , but all I felt was a disquieting urge to poo. The image though, captivated me. I blinked slowly like a camera shutter to retain it forever.

  “Do you like that?” she breathed into my crack.

  “I'd prefer it if your attentions were redirected”.

  “But I love to do it” she purred.

  “Perv lady” I sighed. She giggled and proceeded to fuck me from behind in the more traditional hole and so unequivocally that I, usually silent in sex, groaned in a sequence of baritone expletives, rising to soprano as I came, colossally.

  “Very melodious” she said, pleased with her composition.

  The chirping muddle of dawn , then muted light. Her face pulled into focus on the pillow, regarding me in green fields.

  “You snore” she said. A sleep plumped smile for me which met my lips, my only opportunity to besiege her body in the night squandered, out so cold, oblivious to the warmth beside me , but happy at least to have woken to her petals and tangles. I took refuge in the canopy of curls. I'd always have this morning.

  Chapter 12

  Todor and the children returned and things had to change. I couldn't visit her in the mornings anymore and we had nowhere to go; our affair became tortuous and hard to steer. We found ourselves in a series of difficult situations, at best uncomfortable, at worst untenable, but mostly somewhere in between. It was thus.

  Side by side like conjoined twins in front of the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes and looking out on the garden I'd made for her. The children behind us, Sasha colouring at the breakfast bar, Nikolai on the floor, crashing his cars. Her shoulder and hip lower than mine. Briefly, she inclined her head so that her hair grasped at my arm.

  “Mummy” enquired Sasha slyly. “Are you going to kiss Nette?”

  Nikolai cracked a munchkin giggle.

  “Nette kiss Mummy, Nette kiss Mummy!” he chanted. Sasha joined in, hammering her fist on the breakfast bar.

  Camped on the enormous sofa watching 'Charlotte's Web', Nancy covertly holding my hand under her thigh. My arm around Sasha and Nancy cuddling Nikolai.

  “Nette?”

  “Yes, Sasha”.

  “I think you guys are the same”.

  A Sunday afternoon in a pub in Primrose Hill. Todor had the children at home. Nancy with my hand under the table moved in to kiss me .

  “Don't” I warned, but it was too late. We'd caught the attention of a group of rugby players who sent forth a labrador puppy as a sweetener. Nancy hugged him, delighted. She liked dogs. One of them drew up his sweat pants over his maturing paunch and sauntered over, clumsy and excitable in much the same way as the puppy.

  “Is he yours?” Nancy said. “He's adorable.”

  The man hunkered down.

  “So are you” he said, swinging his heavy arm around her shoulders. She looked at me pointedly, humouring him, until he placed his meaty paw on her thigh and ran it towards her body, pulling back her skirt as it went. She froze.

  “Don't touch her” I said calmly.

  He looked at Nancy for confirmation. Moving her leg away, she smoothed her skirt.

  “Take your hands off her” I said, now with menace.

  Withdrawing his arm, he gathered himself to his full height.

  “Fucking dykes” he spat contemptuously. “Come on Snipe”, retrieving the puppy. He was posh.

  Locked in the bathroom, mouths locked. The children in Nikolai's room pawing over Pokémon. Nancy rubbing me and pushing inside me. The front door clattered open.

  “Where is everyone?” Todor shouted.

  At 'Bo Peeps', a lesbian bar in Islington, unable to converse over the U-boat music. Opposite us, a rotund geezer bird was devouring a fake tan femme. We didn't belong here.

  Fucking each other awkwardly in the Saab, we'd ended up at Alexandra Palace. The face of an Asian man at the rear window watching us. Nancy fired up the engine and reversed, the tyres spitting up gravel before we lurched off, unsure if we'd run him over.

  Chapter 13

  Message. Read now?

  “Give me tomorrow afternoon darling. Please x”.

  Debating whether to use the keys I still had to let myself in the basement when the Saab pulled up. Nancy hurrying towards me up the steps, fists above her head, roaring a silent yes in triumph and jubilation. Apparently, this was not all about me; she'd just completed her final ‘Focus and Motivate’ session, leaving her animated and hyper, which pleased me as it meant she would have lots of energy.

  We kissed in the hallway, long, fat tongued lunges and placed our hands over each others' hearts, seemingly in an act of devotion, but I wondered if Nancy's motive was akin to mine - to check if she still thundered in the same way she always had when we kissed...she did.

  “Come” she said, leading me by the hand to the bedroom as usual. She pushed me down on the bed playfully and reaching under it, placed a thick, yellow carrier bag on the duvet.

  “Do you love me, Minette?”

  I sensed a test. “Yes”.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “...yes”. The upward inflection betrayed me.

  “How far would you go for me?”

  I thought about it.

  “At least to Nottingham” I said earnestly. She snorted and clouted me with a pillow.

  “I'd like to try something different”, her mouth spread in a salacious grin.

  “You don't want to whip me do you?” Picking at a callus in trepidation.

  “No...” she smiled, “Not today anyway”. Her eyes fell to the yellow bag, inferring I should open it. I pulled out a black, foam block and tugged at the zip that ran around three sides.

  “Oh ...my ...God” I said, as a silver camcorder dropped onto the duvet. “Absolutely no way”. My hands in a warding off gesture. But there was that grin again. She moved to the wardrobe and withdrew an assemblage of sticks, which hinged into a tripod.

  “No, Nancy, I'm sorry, I can't do it”, shaking my head emphatically.

  “I know, I know, it's pervy as you would say, but it's just for me, so I can see you when you're not here”.

  “No, Nancy, I can't bear the thought of my stupid faced being filmed in the throes of sex”.

  “It's not your stupid face I'd be filming, stupid” she said, kissing me all over my stupid face.

  “I can't”.

  “Yes, you can. You’re a very beautiful woman, Minette, you have a fantastic body and you must do it for me, for us, for when we're old and saggy so we can see how exquisite we were”.

  “I really can't imagine wanting to see that when I'm in my forties. Anyway, you may be exquisite, but I'm not. Plus, the whole point of sex is that you lose yourself. If I'm hyper aware, it won't work. And supposing Todor finds it – or the children”. I was clutching at straws.

  “Nobody will find it”. She straddled my lap and ran her thumbs over my nipples, letting her hair engulf my face.

  “Come on darling, please ...for me” she whispered.

  “Well” I said, exhaling ostentatiously. “I'm going to have to get very drunk then ...but I'm not promising anything”.

  “Stay there, I'll get some booze” she said, sprinting off down the stairs.

  Mulling the idea over, I remained horrified. Eyeing the tripod sceptically,
I nudged it with my toe. I examined the camera, turned it on and pinched off the plastic lens cap, which dangled from a cord and peered through the viewfinder, noting the fully charged battery sign; she had prepared.

  Panning across the room, a brief blur while the autofocus kicked in. There was me, sitting cross legged on the bed, reflected in the wardrobe mirror, autofocus sighing as I zoomed in on my face. The top of the tree outside the window, the sky blue today. There were my boots, casually kicked off on the floor by the door. I really loved them, they were Blundstones. And here was Nancy, standing in the doorway, holding two hi-ball glasses and a bottle of schnapps, autofocus wheezing as I captured her dirty mouth. She poured a copious amount of schnapps into each glass.