Fill Her Belly, Boy

I gave up on the electric heater in the caravan and headed out to find some warmth. Fog and ice fell over the place, white on white. I saw a film and a band. I had lunch, found a bar and then I met her sitting at the bar.

“You’re new here aren’t you?” she asked.

I put my glass down. The barman watched me. The walls were made of mirrors, and he could see me all the time from every angle.

She leaned forward.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she continued. “I’m here for the weekend. Bernard booked us into the country club. Better than the caravan. Do you know Bernard?”

I knew Bernard. He worked with me, and he lived in the caravans too. She held my arm so I couldn’t leave. I wanted to leave because I didn’t feel good talking to Bernard’s woman when Bernard wasn’t there.

“I get to see more of Bernard if I’m here at weekends,” she continued. “It’s better than only seeing him every six weeks. After six weeks his hands are awful rough from the work. You know what I mean?”

But then Bernard came out of the toilets with Frank, and they both sat down at the bar. Frank also worked with me. Bernard picked up his drink, and he looked at me.

She moved her arm away.

“What are you saying, dear?” he asked.

“I’m saying your hands are awful rough,” she replied.

“Get away,” he said.

He prodded her so she yelled out, and Frank laughed.

“Fill her belly, boy,” he said.

They all laughed. She threw her head back and laughed so I could see her pale neck. She leaned forward and patted Bernard’s cheek. He was laughing so his face went red and his eyes filled with tears. She tousled his hair and kissed him. I could hear them kissing. I could see the barman watching.

I picked up my glass, and they stopped kissing.

Bernard looked at me and lit a cigarette.

“You’re new in here,” he said.

“My first time,” I added.

“You’re too fucking quiet,” he said.

Frank pulled at the heel of his steel-capped boot and emptied his glass.

“Well, no more for me,” he said. “I’m off.”

“Siddown, Frank,” said Bernard. “I was only fucking joking.”

“Thanks for the drink,” Frank added. “I owe you one.”

Frank looked at me, and then he stood there holding the door open.

“You coming?” he asked.

She was looking at me too.

She smiled and reached across and placed her hand on mine.

“It was nice meeting you,” she said. “See you again some time.”

Bernard stared at me. The barman stared at me. Everyone was fucking staring at me.

I pulled my hand from under hers and got the hell out of there.

Outside, Frank was sniffing the air and hawking into the gutter.

“I know, Frank,” I said, before he had a chance to say anything. “You told me a thousand fucking times.”

“It stops you seeing properly,” he said, tapping his temple. “It stops you thinking clearly.”

It had been a good evening all the same.

Frank headed off in one direction to find something to eat, and I headed off in the other, towards the night.

I walked along the track to where the town finished and the fields began. I couldn’t see my feet it was so dark, and I was walking in a lake full of frozen mud. The floodlights of the site seeming near and far at the same time, and I lost my balance and stopped.

I didn’t want to drown in the leech-infested gravel pit by the side of the track, so I remembered what Frank said, and I turned back. Frank knew the track better than I did, so I walked back into town to find him.

I reached the bar, and I saw two silhouettes ahead. The lights were out in the bar, but I saw the two people moving, the last two people coming out of the bar. They were climbing into a car, one wheel up on the pavement. They weren’t so much climbing in as struggling, one helping the other, the driver helping the passenger.

I got up close and saw it was Bernard helping his wife into the back seat of the car, giving her a helping hand. He had his back to me. He was too busy to notice me. I could see her red sweatshirt under his jacket, and he was lifting her as though she was incapable. He was lifting her with his arms under her, and he was making love to her.

Then she saw me.

She looked right at me, and smiled.

I’d seen people making love in cars before, but that’s not what made me stop. She wasn’t moving. She hadn’t moved all evening. She hadn’t moved because she couldn’t move.

First published Prose Toad