Quilt

Of course it wasn't his fault. John put on his jeans and stood
looking at himself in the mirror to see if he'd changed in any way. He
had covered her soft whiteness with the duvet completely but her shape
was still there. Now as he connected with his own eyes slightly
bloodshot looking out from his familiar skin, healthy as ever, he
managed to forget the shock horror of the situation for an
instant.

It wasn't his fault but it was his problem. It had been just a normal
one night stand. Julia was a nice girl and someone he'd be surely able
to say hello to without complication or regret the next time they
bumped into each other. Approachable and not terribly deep.
Fighting off an urge to open the blinds he picked up his t-shirt off
the floor and pulled it on, wondering where he'd left his jacket.
Probably the lounge. There would be no point in looking at her
again.

It would have been more fun if she hadn't tried so hard to be good in
bed. He would have felt more comfortable now if they hadn't done
anything at all, just talked. Possibly then it might not have
happened.

His jacket was lying across an armchair looking like a friend and his
wallet and rizlas had fallen onto the floor. As he bent down to pick
them up some bile fizzed into his throat. He should go out straight
away into the air and sunlight and start walking , give himself time to
think what to do. Not use the bathroom.

The phone was one of those nostalgic pink girlie things on a glass top
table in the corner. He shuddered. Making phonecalls never came easy to
John. He realised in a case like this that what you had to say was the
only thing that mattered, but the choice of words in his opening
sentence worried him.

"I wish to report a death"

"I know this sounds ridiculous but"

He could say "My girlfriend seems to be dead" ?
It wasn't true. He knew she was dead. He could remember more clearly
now hearing her coughing and his not feeling the need to wake up.
People always coughed in their sleep. And she wasn't his girlfriend,
just someone he'd drawn closer to in a bar on Eighties night.

They hadn't really finished having sex, but it seemed cool to just
leave it on hold like that with an unspoken promise of the morning. The
embryo position for maybe twenty minutes with him being the big
wraparound person. Girls like to fall asleep that way feeling
protected. When her shampoo got too much for him he turned over and
they would have fallen into deeper sleep not touching at all. Because
it was her bed, her flat, her life, he had worked his way towards the
edge with one foot out in the coolness. He normally thought of cars
when going to sleep because he liked driving dreams.

And she , Julia, would have been almost in her normal central position,
as if he wasn't there. He gave her loads of space. He guessed that
everyone lay in the centre of the bed when alone and breathed and
resumed their dreams.

Sensibly he remembered where she'd put the key (on the TV) and put it
in his inside pocket next to his own. This seemed the thing to do.
Though he'd be coming back again it still felt strange and final when
he pulled the door to behind him and looked down the flight of stairs
to the front door.

A few houses along the street there were a couple of policemen
rummaging through a dustbin and he didn't think about approaching them
until he reached the end of the street and saw the mini-cab sign.
Looking back he thought they looked pre-occupied. It would have been
better to phone from the flat rather than break through their
determination barrier. There might be people, trained listeners, paid
to sit by the phone specifically for calls like his.

There was no rush after all. He found himself ambling. And the woman
behind the desk said they wouldn't have a car available for at least
twenty minutes as a couple of drivers were down with the flu.

So in the meantime John found himself in the cafe next door ordering
just toast and tea. And as he waited for the toast he felt like he had
to keep counting to ten. Normally it would have been a choice of going
home to sleep it off or going in to college. And of course deciding
what to tell Tara. He went back to the counter and asked for some
marmalade too and a pot instead of a mug.