Bad Spelling

Rachel and I met through a mutual friend who's very good at
bringing people together. We were in the Lakes and we had fun picking
holes in a guy called Robert. A youth hostel junkie who had a
fascinating memory of the ordnance survey maps of the area. He had a
brown blip in his eye. Had been in a motorcycle accident and got slight
brain damage. Apparently he was well hung so that was one of the jokes
Rachel and I had shared. He'd had sex with someone in the hostel we
stayed at. They did it in the kitchen. The woman had spread the news
like it was something to be proud of.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt">

It was laughter up and down the hills. Rachel has an
immense laugh. I'd never heard anyone laugh like her. It's
infectious.

 

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She comes around the house on a hot
sunny afternoon. I've got the shakes with a hangover. When she arrives,
I warn her I've got to leave in an hour to meet
someone.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-INDENT: 27pt">'Can I have some
lunch please?' she says without blinking her eyelids.

I don't have much food in the house so I
take a burger out of the freezer and stick it in the oven. When we're
outside it's very hot, too hot for me. But she wallows in the heat. Her
olive skin shining at me. She sweeps her long black hair into a
knot.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-INDENT: 27pt">'You don't like it
this hot, do you?' she says.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-INDENT: 27pt">I
say no. I say I hate sweating.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-INDENT: 27pt">I
bring her a drink and she asks for more ice. I go back inside and lay
the burger on a plate. I stick some bread on top of it and take it
outside to the garden. I tell her I've got to have a shower before I
go. I want her to go before it but she wants to stay so I show her some
of my photos from my year abroad. As I come out of the shower she
shouts at me that she's still in my room. She'd fallen asleep on my
bed. 

 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">A week later
we are in a caf?. I tell her about a guy that I've been on a date with.
His name is Tom. I met him about three months ago. He was waiting at a
bus stop and I asked him if the N2 had been yet. He said he was waiting
for it too. I had decided not to wait as I don't like the passivity. I
ended up running to the next stop because I was halfway there and the
bus was chortling down the hill. I got on and he was there, and we
started talking. I never got his number but I thought about him quite a
lot afterwards. How he could have been a possible.

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0pt">

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Two months later I bumped into Tom in a
bar. He lives near me, there are only a few good bars in the area - it
isn't that much of a coincidence. But the pleasant surprise was hard to
get off my face.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">We talked all night and ended up
kissing. We swapped numbers.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I tell Rachel all this and something
that isn't happiness creeps into her face.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'How old is
he?'

'35.'

'What's his name?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt">'Tom.'

'What does he do?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'He's a
musician.'

'Musicians?you should never go out with
musicians.'

'Why not?'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'I've been out with loads. They mess you
around.'

 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Rachel likes
to phone me every day at 4pm. I'm at work and I can't talk because
everyone else can hear what I'm saying so she fills in the
space.

 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She tries to
negotiate a meeting.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'What are you doing tonight?' she
asks.

'I'm going out.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Not meeting Tom are
you?'

'No.'

'You aren't, are you? Come out with me
instead.'

'I'm going to the gym actually.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'What about
tomorrow night?'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Yeah maybe.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Inexplicably,
it starts going wrong with Tom and I tell Rachel on the phone how he's
not making any effort anymore. I've just called him and left a message
and have a feeling he's not going to phone back. I'm betting she's half
pleased.

'He's a wanker,' she says in her blunt Scottish voice.

'Yeah well?'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'All men are wankers.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Anyway I've
got to go now. My dinner's getting burnt.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I walk away
from the phone. Five minutes later it rings again.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Don't phone
him,' she says.

'I'm not going to. I've just left a message on his
phone for him to phone me.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Just don't.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Okay then.
I've got to go now.' I put the receiver down.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">And then my
mobile beeps. In the seconds before a name displays I think this could
be him. The name comes up: Rachel.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'DON'T PONE
HIM.'

Now I'm annoyed. Not just at what she's written but the way
it's spelt wrong. I fling the phone back on the table. A noise escapes
from my lips, an uncontrollable hiss of irritation.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Rachel emails
me and tells me she would like to go to the theatre. Can I sort it out?
Yeah right I think and delete it.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">As a day goes
by I realise I have to explain to her what's going on.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Please don't
tell me what to do,' I write.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She writes back: 'I need support, not an
argument.'

I write back: 'I'm not here just to give you
support.'

No reply.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Meanwhile Tom
has called and asked for a date. I'm over eager, I can't help myself.
We arrange to meet on Thursday - it's Tuesday now.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">On Thursday at
lunchtime Tom calls me. He can't make it after all, he says. I know
this is the end of it.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Rachel phones
on Friday and asks how the date went.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'He
cancelled.'

'How can he have cancelled?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">There's an
edge in her voice I can't distinguish.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'He just did
that's all.'

'Did he say why?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'He said
something came up at work. Yeah right.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'What are you
going to do?'

'Nothing.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'I can't believe it.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'No really I'm
not going to do anything.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'I mean I can't believe he
cancelled.'

'Why?'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Just surprised that's
all.'

'Well he did.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Rachel and I
are sitting in a restaurant a week later. We're laughing. She tells me
about a RAF officer she met on a ridge in Scotland.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'It's really
scary there. Sheer drop. I would never have taken you there - you
wouldn't have liked it at all.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I don't reply.
The story continues. She asked him the way back down and casually said
she would meet him in the pub. After she had taken ages getting down
the mountain she arrived in the pub, 'looking sweaty and knackered'. He
was there with his friend and offered to buy her a drink. She repeats
the fact that he is gorgeous many times. She says later she composed a
letter to him (only knowing his nickname) and posted it to his RAF
base.

'Sounds exciting,' I say.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'I bet he
doesn't reply,' she says.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'You never know,' I say as she rises
from her seat.

'I'm going to the toilet. Watch my stuff will you. Be
careful because my laptop is there.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">As she walks
away I look at the laptop.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I'm not sure
why the next thing happens but it does. Her phone is lying on the table
and it beeps. I pick it up and for some reason my fingers start
pressing buttons on it. Suddenly I'm in her address book. I've scrolled
down to the letter T and there it is: Tom.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt">

It can't be my Tom though can it? I get out my phone and
compare the numbers. They're the same. Panic rises as I wonder how long
I've been sitting here with her phone in my hand. I put her phone back
the way it was. My brain is on overdrive.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt">

I see her coming towards the table and give her a small
smile. One of my fake pulling of lips and keeping teeth closed smiles.

'Shall we go?' I ask.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Don't you want another
drink?'

'No I'm a bit tired.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'How are you getting
home?'

'The bus.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Ok well I'm getting the train from
Waterloo. Can't you get a train from there as well?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Yes but I
want to get the bus?means I don't have to change
trains.'

'I thought it was quicker for you to get the
train.'

'Not always.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">We part at the
bus stop. She hugs me and I stand there doing nothing. As I sit on the
bus I can't stop trying to work out how she got his number.

 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I don't want
to speak to Rachel about it. I can't tell her I was looking at her
phone.

 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">On a Saturday
morning I see Tom from a distance strolling towards me. He's leisurely
looking at things on a market stall. A heat rises in my stomach and
spreads until it gets in my mouth. I swiftly turn on my heel and walk
into a shop. I stare at the cerise piggy banks and glass
elephants.  I
look out of the window and see him glide by. I wait for what seems like
half an hour, picking things up and putting them down
again.

I walk out of the shop.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt"> 

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center"
align="center">*

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">A few days
later, I'm at home and the phone rings and I know it's her.

'Hello,' I say.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'How's it going?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Okay. How are
you?'

'Oh awful, I had a terrible day at work. My manager told me I
couldn't have next week off. She's such a bitch?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I can hear her
voice but I'm not listening.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Suddenly I cut in -

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Why have you
got Tom's number in your phone?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Tom?Tom
who?'

'You know which fucking Tom.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'No I don't.'
I'm surprised she's pretending for so long.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I don't speak.
I wait for her to think.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">And -

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Oh that
Tom.'

'Yes that Tom.' I mimic her tone of voice but add my own
sarcastic edge to it.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Is his number in my
phone?'

'Er?yes?'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'How do you know?' I knew she'd do that
- turn it round on me.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Never mind that now. Answer the fucking
question.' I'm shouting down the phone now.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Well?you
remember that day I came round your house?'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'What
day?'

'Oh that really hot day?when we were in the garden and you were
moaning it was too hot.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'I wasn't moaning! Anyway what about
it?'

'Well when I was in your room I was bored and saw your phone
lying about.' I didn't say anything.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'?and
I?started to look at your texts to see if there were any of mine on
there that I could laugh about and I saw one from Tom and?I saved his
number in my phone.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Why?' High-pitched incredulity was
entering my voice.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Because I thought just in case you
deleted it and regretted it.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'I see.' Except I didn't.

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'I'm sorry but
I thought in a way I was doing you a favour.'

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt">'Really.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">'Yes. So?what were you doing looking at
my phone?'

'Oh I was just bored one day and it was lying
around.'

'I've deleted his number anyway so I don't know what the
fuss is about.'

'I'm sure.'

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Suddenly I was bored of this
conversation. 'Alright then,' I said and put the phone down without
saying goodbye.

 

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center"
align="center">*

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt"> 

class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I go about my
business like I've never heard the names Tom or Rachel before. I delete
both their numbers from my phone.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> 

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I'm on a train coming
back from work and I'm tired - too tired to read anything. I'm
stretching my neck to look out of the window on my right hand side. The
train is busy. Somebody large next to me has their elbow in my waist
and the person on the other side is pressing their leg onto mine. For
an instant I look through the window of the door leading to the
carriage behind. I see a mop of hair I recognise. I extend my neck a
bit more to get a better look and I know it's him. My whole body is
starting to shake, my mouth drying up. I wonder if we are going to bump
into each other when we get off the train and I decide to move up my
carriage so I'm further away from him although I still want to be able
to see him when he gets off.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">My stop arrives and slowly I get up. I
step off the train and look to my left. I see him coming out of the
other carriage. His hand is trailing behind him. Someone is holding it.
I lift my head around to see who it is. A girl with long black hair
gets off the train. As she reaches him on street level he puts his arm
around her.

style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">I hear her laugh. It lasts a long time.
It echoes throughout my brain and leaves me feeling numb.