drinking, not wishing to, now. Just talked gently and slowly with Nora, watching Nora get meals as he sat in the kitchen as if she was a sister he had never met since they were kids. And sleeping a lot.
On the third day old friends came in, shy, then too loud as they entertained him with the sort of stories he loved to hear, stories he could predict now. He sat back with just his face laughing at the jokes. It was like walking out of a desert into a park of schoolchildren. No one mentioned Pickett until he did and then there was silence and Bolden laughing out loud for the first time. And everyone in the room watching Buddy, waiting for any expression to move across his face, even a nerve.
No those visitors hadn’t bothered him much. He liked to think of Pickett running down the road holding his scars like a dying dog. He still remembered the metal of the strop touch the mirror and both of them watching it fall, like a chopped sheet into the basin. No it was to Nora that the pain came, the people in the house watching him. Buddy’s mind slipped through them. She saw him there and saw he wasn’t even in the room, the only real muscle was his wink at her as some story was ending and she could see him getting his fucking grin ready. She wanted to collect everybody and kick them out of the room. Screw his serenity. Buddy knowing what he owed her and hadn’t given her.
That night Willy Cornish went out again. Buddy was walking and came in at ten. It was after midnight when he wanted to go to sleep. One of the kids cried and without thinking he went into their room and lay on the edge of the bed his arm around the child. Act from the past. Charles jnr probably too old to want this. The cry was part of his sleep and he wasn’t awake, just nuzzled into his father’s body. Did Cornish do this?
He fell asleep, his fingers against his son’s spine under the shirt. About an hour later he woke up and realised where he was. Took his jacket off and lay back in the old flannel shirt Nora had found for him to wear.
Then heard Nora’s ‘Buddy’ close to him and saw her sitting on Bernadine’s bed, leaning forward. He got up and moved towards her.
You ok?
She shook her head slowly.
Is Willy out there?
No. He won’t come back tonight Buddy.
Must be late.
1.30. I don’t know.
He put his hand to the side of her face against her ear.
Please talk, Buddy.
He helps her off the bed and walks with her into the living room, his red arm loose over her shoulder.
She is on the sofa, he is in the chair. She lifts her knees up so her chin is resting on them. She is gazing at the floor between them.
Still love you Buddy … I’m sorry. Not like it was before because I don’t know you anymore but I care about you, love you as if you weren’t my husband. I’m just sorry about this … I feel sorrier for William. Jesus that red shirt on you, you look fabulous, you look really well aint that crazy that’s all I can think of … you look like a favourite shirt I lost.
They start giggling and soon are laughing across at each other.
Stop it Bolden, snorting back her laugh, we should be having a serious conversation.
His mouth on his wife’s left ear. Feeling his wife’s hands between their bodies unbuttoning the front of her dress. His own hands waiting and then into the cave of his wife’s open dress, round to touch her back and sliding back to cover the breasts of his wife. His fingers recognizing the nipples, the appendix scar. He lies back with his head in her lap. Looking up at her. The home of his wife’s mouth coming down on him.
With Bellocq on the street.
Walking with him to introduce him to whores. But I don’t want you there when I do it. Ok Ok. Cos otherwise let’s just go home. He was scared of Bolden’s presence for the first time. He staggered at Buddy’s side with the camera. You’re sure? I just don’t want you hanging round, just introduce me and say what I want. I know Bellocq I know. Yeah. Well
On the third day old friends came in, shy, then too loud as they entertained him with the sort of stories he loved to hear, stories he could predict now. He sat back with just his face laughing at the jokes. It was like walking out of a desert into a park of schoolchildren. No one mentioned Pickett until he did and then there was silence and Bolden laughing out loud for the first time. And everyone in the room watching Buddy, waiting for any expression to move across his face, even a nerve.
No those visitors hadn’t bothered him much. He liked to think of Pickett running down the road holding his scars like a dying dog. He still remembered the metal of the strop touch the mirror and both of them watching it fall, like a chopped sheet into the basin. No it was to Nora that the pain came, the people in the house watching him. Buddy’s mind slipped through them. She saw him there and saw he wasn’t even in the room, the only real muscle was his wink at her as some story was ending and she could see him getting his fucking grin ready. She wanted to collect everybody and kick them out of the room. Screw his serenity. Buddy knowing what he owed her and hadn’t given her.
That night Willy Cornish went out again. Buddy was walking and came in at ten. It was after midnight when he wanted to go to sleep. One of the kids cried and without thinking he went into their room and lay on the edge of the bed his arm around the child. Act from the past. Charles jnr probably too old to want this. The cry was part of his sleep and he wasn’t awake, just nuzzled into his father’s body. Did Cornish do this?
He fell asleep, his fingers against his son’s spine under the shirt. About an hour later he woke up and realised where he was. Took his jacket off and lay back in the old flannel shirt Nora had found for him to wear.
Then heard Nora’s ‘Buddy’ close to him and saw her sitting on Bernadine’s bed, leaning forward. He got up and moved towards her.
You ok?
She shook her head slowly.
Is Willy out there?
No. He won’t come back tonight Buddy.
Must be late.
1.30. I don’t know.
He put his hand to the side of her face against her ear.
Please talk, Buddy.
He helps her off the bed and walks with her into the living room, his red arm loose over her shoulder.
She is on the sofa, he is in the chair. She lifts her knees up so her chin is resting on them. She is gazing at the floor between them.
Still love you Buddy … I’m sorry. Not like it was before because I don’t know you anymore but I care about you, love you as if you weren’t my husband. I’m just sorry about this … I feel sorrier for William. Jesus that red shirt on you, you look fabulous, you look really well aint that crazy that’s all I can think of … you look like a favourite shirt I lost.
They start giggling and soon are laughing across at each other.
Stop it Bolden, snorting back her laugh, we should be having a serious conversation.
His mouth on his wife’s left ear. Feeling his wife’s hands between their bodies unbuttoning the front of her dress. His own hands waiting and then into the cave of his wife’s open dress, round to touch her back and sliding back to cover the breasts of his wife. His fingers recognizing the nipples, the appendix scar. He lies back with his head in her lap. Looking up at her. The home of his wife’s mouth coming down on him.
With Bellocq on the street.
Walking with him to introduce him to whores. But I don’t want you there when I do it. Ok Ok. Cos otherwise let’s just go home. He was scared of Bolden’s presence for the first time. He staggered at Buddy’s side with the camera. You’re sure? I just don’t want you hanging round, just introduce me and say what I want. I know Bellocq I know. Yeah. Well
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