Erotic Vortex
By sean mcnulty
- 513 reads
'Erotic Vortex'
Michael Douglas
500 euro
Hmm, was that the actor? Nah. The Spirit Store had a number of paintings decorating its walls, all of them heavy with a bloated price tag. This one was stealing my eyes however during the conversation with Coral Express. It was a drip painting in the drippiest way imaginable, a weft of wiry contours in heated colours with scattered skewbald torchlights and red paint dripping over the edges of the frame like tomato soup tongues. It must have had something to do with sex judging by the title.
Anyway
'I know I'm partly the cause of it too,' I continued, as Coral Express sat attentive and slightly maternal (bless her). 'But, you know, I think Emer's standards got higher when she was with me. I made her raise her standards. Not in a good way. I made her see how low a man can get. But she could have been more patient with me. I would have changed if she'd given me the chance.'
'Well, maybe she did give you the chance, and you didn't notice.'
'Right. Maybe. She changed a lot over the years. She was always quite grounded but she topped up on it in the times after we married.'
'How long have you been married?'
'About five years.'
'Five years? That's not long.'
'I know, that's what I mean, she didn't give me much time to change. My folks have been together for thirty years, and they fucking kill each other, but the sores quickly pass because they give each other time to reflect on the bigger picture. And the bigger picture for them is actually quite small. It's not some huge canvas filled with the brilliant ideas of the world. It's quite small, sits quietly on the fireplace, unassuming, you'd hardly notice it. Emer sort of lost sight of that simplicity, I think. I don't blame her for getting weary with me. But if she'd waited just a little more, it would have been alright. I would have got a job eventually. I'm not going to be unemployed forever. It's hard these days.'
'What does Emer do?'
'She's a teacher. Secondary school.'
'Ah, now I understand. That's a tough job. I'd say it was difficult dealing with those young pups every day and then coming home to see you sitting on your arse.'
'I guess so. Her standards got higher with every hour, I think. You know, there are people who try to prepare their lives like a beautiful painting. Emer is one of those people. They plan their lives out carefully like it's a piece of art they have to get just right, comparing their lives to everyone else's. I don't know how those people can enjoy life.'
'It's called growing up, my dear.'
'Oh, I understand that. I just don't understand why some people hold everything in their lives up to a fantasy gold standard. Trying to plan it all out according to some map they bought, or a list they read in an article on the internet. As though it's all supposed to be a perfectly-constructed thing. I don't think it is. I think it's supposed to be like natural art. Something that just happens naturally, and yet is beautiful like art all the same. It's not some magazine cover where everything has been organised and made to look a certain way. It just happens and you have to make it fit.'
'Very profound,' laughed Coral. 'I know where you're coming from, love. I rarely see my husband during the year. We have our own way of going about it.'
'You're married? I'd no idea.'
Thank fuck I chose not to get my hopes up with this one otherwise I'd be feeling pretty foolish right now.
'Yep. He owns a fair few hotels, and travels around the country a lot. He understands I'm not the housewife type, so I gig with the band, while he does his own thing, and we hook up back in Bundoran every once in a while for a shag.'
'That's brilliant.'
'The situation is perfect for us because we're both okay with it but for some other people, it's a problem. Most people don't even know we're married. We give each other a lot of room. But I know that throws people off and many view us with suspicion. They've got their own ideas about what a marriage should be and, like you said, it doesn't match the magazine covers they buy.'
'Right. Who?'
'Family. Friends. They don't consider us part of the regular marriage machine. We're like the off-Broadway version. And they don't like that stuff. They have us down as the subversives of their bible. And to be fair I don't blame them. Because we're freaks, the pair of us. On the road, he shacks up with whoever he wants, and I'm the biggest hoor you'll ever meet.'
I laughed and struggled to keep the redness from showing so much in my face. No use.
A fresh group of revellers entered the Spirit Store. Among them were Geary and Jane*. I looked at my watch to see what time it was as it was odd to have so many people coming this late on a weeknight. Geary never changed. Always wearing the same long grey Gandalf coat and a rickety smirk. Jane in her Cockney Rejects T-shirt, jeans, and dirty buskins. Who turns to punk at age 27? Geary noticed me and waved over, but when Jane saw me, a weird look of shock came over her which sent some horripilation through my body. Maybe it was because I was sitting with Coral Express. Oh, she'd have a few things to say to Emer about this alright next time they were talking, mark words.
'What do you think about that painting?' said Coral, her eyes firm on the Erotic Vortex.
I remained quiet for a bit, then said, 'It's interesting.'
'Hmm,' she said. 'Load of wank.'
*This character appears under the name 'Carol' in previous sections here on Abctales.
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Comments
Oh dear, is this Emer from
Oh dear, is this Emer from the castle picnic? I'd hoped that would continue, oh well, the memory is there. I like Coral, I think the speaker is deluding himself, blaming it one Emer's small perspective.
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Ahh, I see this story has a
Ahh, I see this story has a long history. I love visiting ruined castles and imagining what had once been there, the ones on the Welsh Marches are good for this.
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