 |
|
| Liquidambar | Other writing | Order it | Reviews | The Bumper Book of Lies | Links | Poems |
Laura sent me a postcard. It was a photograph of a stack of written-off cars in a wrecker’s yard. On the back it said, “If there’s any mail, please forward it to me. L.” There was an address in Belsize Park, second floor flat. It was with some trepidation that I decided to write back to her at the new address and invite her over to dinner. I had a desire to exorcise ghosts. Then, after posting my letter, I became gripped by anxiety, obsessed by the notion that Laura’s femininity had a menacing aspect of which I had previously been oblivious. Her curvaceousness; the symmetry of her face; the sensuousness of her eyes; each assumed a threatening quality. In my mind the prospect of an entire evening with her grew daunting and yet I was too cowardly to cancel it. I continued to be attracted to Laura; indeed, in some baffling way, my desire for her body had intensified. I began to find this manifestation of her as an incorrigible seductress rather ridiculous. My intentions, after all, were honourable. I only wanted to show her there were no hard feelings, that I was man enough to call the past the past and make a fresh start as she had done. Laura called me and left a brief message on the machine. “Thanks. I’d love to. Saturday at seven-thirty is fine. I’ll bring some vino. See you then.” Her voice was soft and reassuring. I felt good about my decision, dismissed my misgivings as dithering. At about this time, the potency of the Locum’s images began to fade. The words continued to tumble out, but my memories, or their subconscious mirror-images — whatever they were — became steadily more jaded; as insipid as the malaise that has befallen this Land. When the last pack of incense sticks was empty I didn’t bother to replace them. I had begun to find their intense flowery scent stifling and couldn’t shake off the suspicion that they were causing my chesty cough. I also couldn’t bear to hear any more of those tinny big band jazz recordings by Count Basie, Duke Ellington and Cab Calloway that the Locum enjoyed so much. It all seemed quite natural at the time. Too much of a good thing and all that. Perhaps by now the Locum had exorcised all my unquiet spirits, I thought. And so I let her be. *
Recommended Listening
|
