Burial Read Online Free Page B

You've got something on your mind.'
    Nathan thought about it.
    Eventually, he said, 'So, yeah. I've got this problem.'
    'What problem?'
    'I was going to finish it with Sara.'
    'Like, dump her?'
    'That's a very strong word for it. We've kind of, y'know. Drifted apart and whatever. Somebody has to say something. One of us.'
    'Won't it cause a scene?'
    'Not tonight. I'm too wired. Are you wired?'
    'Yes.'
    "Me too.'
    'So, if not tonight - when?'
    'Tomorrow. Over lunch, a late breakfast.'
    'Why?'
    'She's having an affair.'
    'With?'
    'Her boss.'
    'Okay. So where's the problem?'
    'Second thoughts. Am I doing the right thing? Should I be, like, fighting for her?'
    'If you loved her, you would.'
    'Would I?'
    'Yeah. Nathan, mate. The decision's already made. This is just anxiety talking.'
    'And booze.'
    'And booze.'
    'And coke.'
    'And that.' Bob leaned over and, with an index finger, he tapped Nathan's head. 'But in here, you know what to do. You've already decided.'
    'You reckon?'
    'I reckon.'
    'I'm not sure I do.'
    Bob seemed to be thinking very hard. He said, 'Do you love her?'
    'I don't think so. But when I think of us not being together any more, it makes me a bit sad.'
    'That's natural. But that's not love, it's regret. It's the end of love.'
    'The end of love,' said Nathan, awed by the concept. 'Blimey. The end of love.'
    Bob slapped his thigh and stood. He wavered a bit. His knees clicked.
    He said, 'Let's consult the oracle!'
    Nathan blinked up at him.
    Bob said, 'Go to the bathroom. Bring back a plastic lid, like from a can of deodorant or something. Air freshener. Whatever.'
    Excited - and too wired to question what he'd been asked -- Nathan hurried down the corridor to the bathroom, which had long since passed its best days. The shower and bath and sink were limescaled. The sinks wanted plugs. The taps dripped. Nathan rooted in the cupboards and found a can of shaving foam, from which he removed the plastic lid.
    Back in the guest room, Bob was writing letters of the alphabet on sequential pages of a pocket notebook. Finally, he ripped the pages from the notebook, one by one, and lay them on the back of the mirror -- forming a rough circle. He placed the word YES at twelve o'clock, followed by the letters A through to M. At six o'clock, he placed the word NO, followed by the letters N through Z.
    Nathan looked at the makeshift Ouija board and laughed.
    'Come on. Look at the state of it. There's not even a pointer.'
    'Planchette,' said Bob, and nodded at the plastic lid in Nathan's hand.
    'You're joking.'
    'Give it a try.'
    Nathan giggled as they sat cross-legged before the board. Bob placed the planchette in the centre of it.
    Nathan said, 'What do I do?'
    'You rest your index finger -- very lightly, lightly as you can -- on the planchette. Then wait.'
    'How does it work?'
    'Something called the ideomotor effect: tiny involuntary muscle movements. It'll help you find out what you're really thinking.'
    'I'm not sure I want to know what I'm really thinking.'
    But Nathan did as instructed. They waited, in the loaded silence.
    And then the planchette seemed slowly to rotate beneath their fingertips.
    Bob
    closed his eyes and licked his lips. 'Okay. Have we got anyone?'
    They waited again. Until, with a dry creak on the mirror's surface, the planchette slid to the word YES.
    Nathan took his finger from it.
    'Fuck off. You're moving it. I can feel you.'
    'Afraid not. Now, come on. You don't want to piss them off.'
    'Piss who off?'
    Bob looked at the ceiling. 'Them.'
    Nathan said, 'Christ. You're giving me the horrors.'
    Bob implored him with impatient eyes. So Nathan touched the planchette again.
    Bob asked the air: 'Do you have a name?'
    The planchette slid to the letter D. Then the letter A.
    David
    'Do you know us, David?'
    no
    'Then why have you come through?'
    can you hear
    'Yes. Do you have a message?'
    die cunt
    'Is that your message?'
    die cunt die cu --
    'Then goodbye.'
    Bob took his finger from the planchette, saying,