The Limits of Enchantment

by Graham Joyce

‘And what about the cottage? Will you keep that on?’

  ‘I’ll fight to keep it. And I’ll try to find a way to pay you back for the rent.’

  Bill froze for a second. Then he said we needed more beer. He gathered up the glasses and rushed to the bar. But he was too late, because I’d already seen that it was his turn to blush.

  At chucking-out time Arthur offered to walk me home. Though it was chilly out, it was a lovely clear evening so we walked across the fields instead of going by the lanes. I felt warm enough, wrapped in my death’s-head leather jacket that Arthur seemed to have forgotten belonged to him. We walked alongside the church and up past the motte-and-bailey earthworks. We sat on the hill of the earthworks, and it was while I was looking for a satellite in the night sky that Arthur kissed me. The kiss went on. When it stopped I looked back across the lighted village and I heard my blood pumping in my veins.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Arthur asked me.

  ‘I’m very all right.’

  We walked on and he held my hand and I don’t believe he noticed I was trembling. When we reached the cottage he kissed me again at the gate, and then he made to go.

  ‘No Arthur, I want you to come in.’

  ‘Ahey?’

  ‘I said I want you to come in.’

  ‘Yeh, I heard you.’

  ‘Well?’

  When we got inside he took off his jacket. ‘I’ve got funny memories of being here the last time,’ he said.

  ‘Undress me.’

  He swallowed hard, but we went upstairs and he did undress me. He was all fingers and thumbs. Then he got naked, and I didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved that he didn’t have the broom handle he was showing the last time. We got into my small bed. He looked agitated.

  ‘It’s the Bottle Kicking, Fern. I’ve been running around so much all day I don’t think I’ve got anything left.’

  I let my head fall back on my pillow and I laughed out loud.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not laughing at you. Honestly. It’s all right. Really. There will be other times. Just hold me and kiss me.’

  He fell asleep pretty soon after that. I did, too.

  I woke up in the slate-grey light of pre-dawn. He slept on but his cock was hard again and I felt it creeping against my thigh. I didn’t know what to do so I got out of bed. I peeled back the sheets so I could look at him. I sat naked on a chair, just gazing at this sleeping man, with his full erection.

  Then I covered him over, and uncertain of what he might want when he awoke I got dressed. I left him a note and I went for a walk. It was a shimmering morning, with the sun cracking over the hill to the east. I walked the rolls, just as I might have done with Mammy. And on the crest of one undulation of the land I saw a multitude of hares, boxing and playing in silhouette. I got as close as I could. Then they sensed me, but instead of darting they froze. Motionless, they could have been a ring of stones on the hill.

  Then they dispersed, and were gone. I walked to the top of the hill and I looked down. Mammy’s words came back to me again. She said you have to look beyond what hurts you. She said you must listen to the sounds behind the sounds. She said that eventually all the pain falls away, and what’s left behind is only beauty.

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