My Dinosaur Era Chapter 1

 

the closest we ever came to kissing was on a day we went to the beach

come up to my place, she said

up, I said

yeah, there’s a hill, you ok with a hill she said, tapping her nails on the screen of her phone

 

I followed her up the hill, she pushed her bike and I watched her hips bump

every man, and a few women, checked her out

we had only met the week before

friend of a friend, glances across a courtyard garden, her so small that she had to peek

over elbows, on tip toes to get a glimpse of my beer flushed face.

 

we sat on her sofa that afternoon, watched music videos

she showed me the bjork tattoo on her back

I baulked when she said she hated reggae

it’s the downstroke she said, it just makes me shudder

 

as courtships go, it was the lowest of all the keys

 

I had a girlfriend at home, even though we were falling apart

we fought each weekend,  middle class warfare, barbs at fifty paces

silent treatment that stretched into monday.

 

I knew the answer could never be to elope with the first woman

who showed me a moment of attention

however sweet it may have been.

 

and Ginny was sweet alright, her hair was long then

below her shoulders, scrunchy auburn with strands of darkness

she wore jean shorts that day, her thighs lightly toasted by the sun

t shirt, so crumpled, like she’d sat on it all day to get that look

her lips were dry and you could hear her clank against the can when she put lager to her lips

when she went to the fridge, I watched her move, just like up the hill

movement that was both deliberate and effortless

I stared without staring.

 

we watched more videos, we sat perfectly still, as if one of us moving might break a spell and we would shatter and turn to dust

I babbled about the music, thinking I might impress her, she drank beer and the rest of her face stayed still

I retreated into silence, stupid man, talking stupid shite, be mysterious for god’s sake.

 

I left after a couple of hours, drunk, giddy with dilemma

I doubled back past her window, almost as if to go back in, to throw open the door in a grand gesture, already wanting to prove my phantom love for her

I could see her, legs still curled up underneath her, looking so tiny, even on a two seater sofa

her cat walked along the windowsill and eyed me

discomforted me with its gaze

warding me off

go home, stranger, go home now before you fall

 

I didn’t go home, not right away. 

I went to a pub I had never been to before and drank awful shots with a grateful barman, glad that his weekday night had been enlivened by my presence

there was a sadness between us, tequila pulled us together and tore us apart

after a few, I stumbled up the hill and down the other side to my home, at least, the place where I lived

I was met with a silent hatred that emanated from the bedroom, her, prosecco in hand, pyjamas already on at 7pm, stabbing me from under the duvet. I walked back out, took to the sofa and wondered if Ginny’s cat was still patrolling her outer perimeter.

 

ten years have passed

 

I still sometimes wonder what would have, could have, happened that thursday, if I had reached out a hand, would she have taken it cleanly

or would she have stiffened like a flag in a gale

if I had gone all in to kiss her

or even just touch her neck with my mouth

would she have let her head tilt

accepting me into her

perhaps I flatter myself, as men do

 

I think about this a lot, maybe once a month, on days when I am lonesome and perhaps the weather is pinning me to the sheets

we can only ever live our lives according to the paths we actually took, not the ones that we imagine were available. 

 

to ruminate is a hobby that so many of us sign up for

scraping every last detail from a ten year old conversation

interpreting a glance a thousand different ways

being entirely sure that everyone hated or loved you in any given scenario.

 

it feels like an old friend when it comes calling

we talk about the past, a pointless reminiscence

perhaps they all ar

that sustains a myth that may have only ever existed within me.

 

I could just ask her. 

 

to unravel this though would be like killing that friend, consigning them to actual history, not just my version of it.

 

I could just ask her

she’s sat on the counter of my kitchen

swigging a bottle of san miguel

whilst I attempt to roll a spliff on the coffee table

I don’t know why she always sits on the counter like that

I have a sofa and an armchair

 

ginny, I say, no response, 

ginny, she is selectively deaf and the music is on loud, pixies

ginny, she squints over at me, I swear she needs glasses

what, she says

can you build this, I’ve fucked this one up, I say

eye roll, jumps off the counter

looks over my attempt to do soft drugs

why do you even try, she says, you are so shit at this

she scoops up the strewn components

she smiles, her wonky smile

I shrug, I dunno, I say, I always think one day I’ll magically be good at it.

she looks over at me

babe, you’re 52, it ain’t gonna happen, she says

 

 

we walk to the bar, we are seeing a band, a friend of ours, well hers

she knows everyone in town, I merely become entangled in her slipstream

this is how it has been for all these years

me following her around, her appearing in my life every few months

 

between times she blocks me on everything known to modern humans for misdemeanours I never fully comprehend.

one time I was banished for a year because I didn’t say goodbye one night

though I only found this out after I had served my sentence

I accept it as part of all this now

her non sequitur temper

her iridescent spirit trailing off into each dark night. 

 

two lagers please