sense you are, your manner. It is like you are blaming me. That is like what you are doing. You dont say anything except just look but you do look, you look at me, and it means things that are mentally uncomfortable, psychologically I should say.
I beg your pardon? Cath almost smiled.
You’re blaming me without even knowing the circumstances.
I’m not.
I think you are, you have been. I’m sorry, if I jumped the gun, I’m sorry.
Cath sniffed softly, continued to study me. She was no longer lying on her back: I should have pointed this out. By now she had raised herself onto her elbows then plumped up a pillow and squeezed it behind her shoulders, and propped herself against the headboard. She did all of that while I was blethering like a dang-blasted nincompoop. Her arms lay in a natural damn position across her lap which lay concealed beneath the quilt. Mind you,
no, forget that.
Cath was entitled to stare at me and stare she did. And I was entitled to ask why. There are no bones to be picked.
What are you talking about?
I shrugged, coughed to clear my throat.
Did he honestly sack you?
No, I said, not at all.
Honestly?
Honestly.
She shook her head. An instant prior to that I realized that my lies were no good: my lies never had been: my lies were of the load-of-shite variety, only fit for a barrel of keech; to have been dropped into such. She said, Oh well, you can always get another one. You’re always saying it’s a rotten job. So, ye can get another one.
Oh yeh …
You always say you can.
Sure. Jobs dont grow on bushes, but I can always get one.
She drew the cardigan across her shoulders. Can I talk to you or not?
I wasnt being sarcastic.
Cath nodded.
I wasnt.
Sorry, she said. Now she smiled but it occurred to me that the way to describe this smile was ‘sad’, she ‘smiled sadly’.
No, I said, I’m sorry.
I dont know what to say.
There is nothing to say. I raised my eyebrows and scratched my head in a gesture that used to make her smile, reminding her not so much of Laurel and Hardy but the skinny half of the duo, for I, dear reader, am a wee skinny bastard.
What? said Cath.
I shall just have to apologize to the shit, the gaffer.
She smiled.
Honestly. I said, That is what I’ll do, I’ll walk in tonight and I shall go up and see him immediately. Excuse me, I shall say, and he shall look at me and …
It was difficult to utter the next bit because no next bit existed. Cath was waiting.
I should apologize, I said, really, because it was me that was out of order. I attacked him in front of other people. Like a humiliation nearly. He would have regarded it as such.
Oh.
I sat on the edge of the bed, reached for her hand, stared into the palm holding the edge of the tips of herbeautiful fingers. I shall tell you your fortune, oh mistress of mine, oh mistress of the flowers, you shall go on a long voyage, you shall be accompanied by a small balding stranger who is
You are not balding.
Yes I am, face it, I refer here to your husband, to wit, myself.
She laughed lightly but was worried. She squeezed my hand. You dont tell fortunes in the right hand, that’s the one you are born with.
Honestly?
Yeh.
I stared into her right palm, now her left, compared the two. Well well well, I said, and I aye thought they were the same. So, perchance, this explains the ill winds that blow always in my direction.
Cath smiled.
The truth is … I half smiled.
What? she said.
I dont think I can handle working these days my dear. It is all just cowards and bullies. One is surrrounded by them. Ye cannay even talk in case it gets reported.
They wont all be like that.
Nearly. Times have changed. I cannot talk to these blokes, I cannay actually talk to them. Except about football maybe, I can join in then, fucking football. I closed my eyes, speaking rapidly: Sometimes I want to do him damage. I’m talking physical stuff like battering him across the skull, that is what I’m talking about, dirty
I beg your pardon? Cath almost smiled.
You’re blaming me without even knowing the circumstances.
I’m not.
I think you are, you have been. I’m sorry, if I jumped the gun, I’m sorry.
Cath sniffed softly, continued to study me. She was no longer lying on her back: I should have pointed this out. By now she had raised herself onto her elbows then plumped up a pillow and squeezed it behind her shoulders, and propped herself against the headboard. She did all of that while I was blethering like a dang-blasted nincompoop. Her arms lay in a natural damn position across her lap which lay concealed beneath the quilt. Mind you,
no, forget that.
Cath was entitled to stare at me and stare she did. And I was entitled to ask why. There are no bones to be picked.
What are you talking about?
I shrugged, coughed to clear my throat.
Did he honestly sack you?
No, I said, not at all.
Honestly?
Honestly.
She shook her head. An instant prior to that I realized that my lies were no good: my lies never had been: my lies were of the load-of-shite variety, only fit for a barrel of keech; to have been dropped into such. She said, Oh well, you can always get another one. You’re always saying it’s a rotten job. So, ye can get another one.
Oh yeh …
You always say you can.
Sure. Jobs dont grow on bushes, but I can always get one.
She drew the cardigan across her shoulders. Can I talk to you or not?
I wasnt being sarcastic.
Cath nodded.
I wasnt.
Sorry, she said. Now she smiled but it occurred to me that the way to describe this smile was ‘sad’, she ‘smiled sadly’.
No, I said, I’m sorry.
I dont know what to say.
There is nothing to say. I raised my eyebrows and scratched my head in a gesture that used to make her smile, reminding her not so much of Laurel and Hardy but the skinny half of the duo, for I, dear reader, am a wee skinny bastard.
What? said Cath.
I shall just have to apologize to the shit, the gaffer.
She smiled.
Honestly. I said, That is what I’ll do, I’ll walk in tonight and I shall go up and see him immediately. Excuse me, I shall say, and he shall look at me and …
It was difficult to utter the next bit because no next bit existed. Cath was waiting.
I should apologize, I said, really, because it was me that was out of order. I attacked him in front of other people. Like a humiliation nearly. He would have regarded it as such.
Oh.
I sat on the edge of the bed, reached for her hand, stared into the palm holding the edge of the tips of herbeautiful fingers. I shall tell you your fortune, oh mistress of mine, oh mistress of the flowers, you shall go on a long voyage, you shall be accompanied by a small balding stranger who is
You are not balding.
Yes I am, face it, I refer here to your husband, to wit, myself.
She laughed lightly but was worried. She squeezed my hand. You dont tell fortunes in the right hand, that’s the one you are born with.
Honestly?
Yeh.
I stared into her right palm, now her left, compared the two. Well well well, I said, and I aye thought they were the same. So, perchance, this explains the ill winds that blow always in my direction.
Cath smiled.
The truth is … I half smiled.
What? she said.
I dont think I can handle working these days my dear. It is all just cowards and bullies. One is surrrounded by them. Ye cannay even talk in case it gets reported.
They wont all be like that.
Nearly. Times have changed. I cannot talk to these blokes, I cannay actually talk to them. Except about football maybe, I can join in then, fucking football. I closed my eyes, speaking rapidly: Sometimes I want to do him damage. I’m talking physical stuff like battering him across the skull, that is what I’m talking about, dirty
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