Jalan Jalan Read Online Free Page B

shower under cold water, dry myself, put on a pair of pants, smoke another of Kim’s cigarettes, go back to my bed, lie down, watch a pale-green lizard no bigger than my little finger crawl across the ceiling. I sweat, sleep, wake up, sweat some more, sleep some more, wake up, tell Laura to be quiet and go back to sleep, sweat, go back to sleep.
    She dies. Nothing is linear, everything is flat. Nothing continues in perfect expectation and succession; there is no beginning, middle or end.
    She dies, and the moment that lies nearest to this amongst the countless moments laid out like photos on a bed is the bus stop, the farewell. I pick the photo up and turn it so the whole moment is made clear. Studying it, I see that a little gathering of hair has come out from behind her ear and hangs against her cheek. The scent of the sea and fish and chips is being blown from the seafront down through the streets to here. A little white speck of cotton is caught on an eyelash. I remove it with my thumb. She smiles, but there is awkwardness between us that feels alien. She turns away and checks the timetable on the post again. Around us people walk by, unaware of the importance of this moment. Cars carrying families with picnics and buckets and spades roll up and down the street sniffing out parking spaces. At her feet is a suitcase with a shoulder bag sat on its top. In the top of the bag a passport, tissues and her camera taunt me. She is wearing cut-off jeans with straggly white threads hanging over the tops of her calves. A thin ivory cotton top shows a half-moon of her back with lightly tanned skin pulled tight over vertebrae and delicate shoulder blades. My hand goes there. The backs of my fingers stroke gently down between them. She turns and throws her arms around me. Like a fly-trap I close around her.
    â€˜Tell me not to go,’ she says into my ear.
    â€˜Don’t go,’ I say into her hair, breathing in the scent of fruit and bottled freshness.
    â€˜I have to.’ She puts her nose to my neck and I hear her breathe in.
    â€˜You smell like shit. I’ll miss it.’
    Through wispy hairs that tickle my face I see the white National Express coach waiting at a set of lights down the road, waiting to come and destroy me.
    â€˜Don’t go,’ I say again. ‘I mean it.’
    â€˜I’ll be back. It’s not exactly far. And you go enjoy yourself too. Go find yourself somewhere.’
    â€˜I don’t need to. I’m happy with me. I’m happy here, with you.’
    â€˜Well, no doubt you’ll sneak a visit out to see me, even if I say you can’t. You lovesick puppy.’ She holds me tight to her, arms reaching far around my back.
    This will probably happen. I can’t believe I’m letting her go. I will have to see her somehow. I will have to. After more than three years together, I can’t understand how I’ll go for so long without seeing her, listening to her, watching her.
    The lights have changed to green and the bus is moving towards us. My hands pull at the base of her back, pull her nearer.
    â€˜I guess that means you can see my bus.’
    â€˜No. It means I’ve got a boner.’
    â€˜Sicko.’ Her hands grab my buttocks and her nails dig in. She grabs a piece of my neck with her teeth and pulls.
    â€˜Ow. Hurts.’
    She releases.
    â€˜Don’t forget me.’ She leans back in my arms and locks my eyes with hers. ‘Do not forget me. I’m doing this for me, but I love you. And I am not leaving you. You’re just a yappy puppy going into kennels and I’ll be back for you soon.’
    I howl at the approaching bus.
    â€˜Calm down, Rover.’
    â€˜Nine months isn’t soon.’
    â€˜Nine months is this,’ and she snaps her fingers at the end of my nose. ‘And anyway, I know damn well you’re going to come and find me, because you’ll miss me too much and you won’t be able to resist