Communication

"What is the nutritional value of snot?"

"What?" she snapped.

"Or ear wax. Is eating your ear wax good for you?"

She looked across. He had his index finger in his mouth.

"Let's hope so, for your sake," she said.

He sunk deeper into the creases of the cracked leather sofa, splaying
his legs.

"Why is it," he began slowly, "that..."

"Stop. Whatever you are about to say. I do not care."

He turned his gaze from the end of his finger to see her throwing slabs
of wood on to the fire. The room became dark as she knelt in front of
the fireplace.

"Christ, just making conversation."

The embers spat fireflies as she dumped an ungainly log amongst the
flames. Arranging herself on the floor facing away from the hearth, she
folded her legs beneath her. The yellow flickered up behind her back;
makeshift highlights in mud coloured hair. They observed each other in
silence. After a time she spoke.

"Why is it that we are together? Ever thought of asking that?"

"What?"

"Why am I with you and why are you with me?"

He paused, blinked.

"I give up, you tell me."

"Because honestly I can't work out what you must see in me and I
struggle to find anything in you that is even remotely loveable."

"If you want to tell me something..." he trailed off.

"No. Nothing, absolutely nothing."

Standing up she whisked her coat from behind his head on the sofa and
left, shutting the door quietly behind her. Listening, he heard her
ascend the stairs and open the door to her flat above. He heard her
walk into the kitchen and start the tap running. Later, the floorboards
creaked as she got into bed.

The next day, Tuesday, he hoped that she might have cooled off. He
called her a couple of times; listening through the floorboards as the
phone rang out. Later, as he went to bed he heard her pee. The sound
came in short bursts. She was doing the exercise she'd read about in an
Elle sex special. It promised to make sex better. The article said that
by stopping and starting when you take a piss you strengthen a muscle
which helps to give greater control over your own and over your
partner's orgasm. He listened, concentrated on the staccato'd
pitter-patter. Scavenging his memory, he was pleased to find he had
retained a workable knowledge of Morse code from his days as a scout.
He translated.

I D O N T K N O W H O

There was a long pause.

W T O

On Wednesday he heard nothing. That's not quite true; he did, for
instance, hear her taking a shower. When he turned on the cold tap he
discerned her spinning, feet padding in circles, as the water got too
hot. There was a dull hum of the hair dryer and later his lights dimmed
as she put the kettle on. Lying in bed he listened to her pee.

S A Y T H I S I M R E A L L Y S O R R Y A B O

Waking in the middle of the night there was a familiar rhythm; she was
on the loo. He scribbled down the dots and dashes as they tinkled
through the thin ceiling.

U T T H E O T H E R N I G H T I D O N T K N O W W H Y I S A

On Thursday, he saw from the street that she was putting her fire on;
fingers of black smoke reached from her chimney. That night he went out
to the Earl. He drank dark rum and played darts with an alcoholic train
driver called Des. On his way home he noticed that the strip light in
her bathroom was flickering; he thought it looked like an electrical
storm turned inside out. Mark stood beneath a streetlight writing on
his hand as the window winked.

I D T H O S E T H I N G S I W A S J U S T T I R E D I S U P P O S E I W
A N T Y O U T O K N O

She turned the light off.

On Friday, he slept in. By the time he woke up she had already gone
out. He walked to the supermarket and bought an avocado and a big block
of Emmental from the cheese counter. He forgot to ask for a bag and so
ended up squeezing them into the pockets of his corduroy jacket. He
spent the afternoon in town, meandering through the quieter streets. He
allowed himself to be drawn onto the old high street where second hand
shops fill the spaces between discount stores in perpetual closure. In
Cancer Research he bought a book on smoke signals and read it while he
walked home.

It was still light when he got back from town; there was smoke sloshing
from her chimney. He consulted his book and eventually deciphered the
message.

W I S T I L L L O V E Y O U I W I L L C O M E D O W N L A T E R W I T H
A B O T T L E X X X

Moments after the smoky kisses left the stack, the light faded.

At about eight o'clock there was a knock on his door. She wore a red
zip-up top and her combats slung low, dipping like a rope bridge away
from her belly button. In her hand was a bottle of red wine.