For Hank.
by Mat Capper
“if one person in the world is starving then I can’t eat”
What an asshole I thought as I swigged my cold beer, why did I say that? Was she impressed or could she just see right through me?
“well I bet you’re hungry a lot then”.
Shit, she can see right through me. She can smell the stale beer on my breath, the day old sweat under my arms, and see the insecurity in my eyes.
“i am, yeah.”
The truth was I never ate anyway, I couldn’t. It took me an hour or more every morning to stop puking. Id be sipping sweet cider, the type that’s never seen an apple, to stop the shakes then I’d get my self together, shotgun some beers and try and make some dough to start the machine rolling all over again. I didn’t give a shit about people starving, or at least I didn’t think I did. Fuck them anyway, where’s my million pound mansion? All I wanted was for Tess to notice me, to talk to me and if I’m honest to look after me.
she smiled at me.
Tess was so beautiful, about 27 with eyes that spoke their own language, that could trap you from a hundred yards. She was pure fire to a man like me, pure heaven too. Her hair moved around her body as she flirted with the other punters in the bar. She knew how to get tips, how to play people but at the same time she seemed genuine. I don’t know why an asshole like me thought he had a chance with her, but I had to try, I couldn’t help it.
i smiled back.
What was Tess doing in a place like this? I belonged here, I liked the tobacco stained walls, the smell of smoke, shit and beer, the characters who walked in and out arguing with each other about football and nonsense. This was my home, a place I could feel safe, I could come out of the toilets with piss or puke all over me and no-one would bat an eyelid as long as I kept drinking, kept chatting shit to morons who would forget me the instant they fell home.
“you want another?”
It was nearly closing, time to consume as much as possible, to disappear into my head for the night, away from the ramblings of my confused mind.
“go on yeah, and your own”.
Tess poured out another stella lager. I love looking at drink being poured. It’s a little bit of heaven seeing the cold golden brown nectar falling into a glass, the bubbles rising to the top, the frothy head building up.
The bell rang for last orders, the curtains were drawn and the lights dimmed for the nights lock in.
Tess passed me the pint.
“I’ll have a vodka if you don’t mind”.
She poured herself a double and walked round the bar to sit with me. She pulled a smoke out and lit it. I’d never been so close to Tess. I could smell her perfume.
“do you think I’m pretty?"
I didn’t know what to say but the booze had made me free from my usual inhibitions.
“pretty isn’t a good enough word to describe you”.
Tess slowly pushed the sleaves up on her shirt. I thought she was going to look at her watch and make some excuse for leaving. She moved her arms close to me under the light. I could see hundreds of little white raised scars going from her wrist to shoulder. Some looked like they had only recently healed and some were still bloody. I shook a little inside.
“now do think I’m pretty?”
She laughed and pulled her sleeves down.
“sure”.
The truth was I didn’t know what to say or think. I was horrified. Almost in an instant my fantasy was shattered. Why would she do that?
“how come you did this?”
I didn’t know what to say to Tess. I was so wrong about thinking she was perfect with a perfect life.
“sometimes it’s all I have”.
I thought for a while as I swigged my drink. What did she mean? How could someone so lovely do that? We spoke for a while and drank. Her father had abused her mother, she ended up in care, got into drugs; the usual shit. . She gave herself away without even knowing it. I knew loads of people who had grown up the same but with Tess it was different. On the outside she looked like an angel but behind those beautiful eyes there seemed to be something missing, like the candle had gone out.
If an outsider was looking at the both of us talking they would probably wonder what a girl like that doing with a bum like me; not that I’d be bothered, I knew I was a bum, I accepted it, in many ways I liked it. So long as I was drunk or getting drunk I was okay. It was simple, I had nothing else to worry about, but Tess, she didn’t seem to have an escape only a way to ease the pain.
It got late and the beers were still going down. I connected with Tess, it was like we could see into each others souls and were drawn together, or at least that’s how it was for me, how the fuck could I know how she really felt. Maybe she did that all the time with bums like me, for free drinks or to pass time.
The room started to spin and I knew I had to go home. I’d had my fill and was ready to pass out. Part of me wanted to stay, but I knew I’d need something to liven me up and I didn’t fancy trawling for speed.
“I’m going now, I’m pissed”.
Tess stood up and followed me to the door.
“Tess.”
“Yes.”
“When I was twelve I stole money from my nan’s purse just after she died. Don’t know why, just did”.
I had no idea why I told her that, I’d never mentioned it to anyone before. Although I’d only seen her a few times and spoken to her once. I felt some kinship with her. She stood there and smiled. She leant towards me and kissed me still grinning through it. I felt pins and needles as our lips touched and as I drew away I could see a tear in Tess’s eye. She pulled me back towards her and whispered in my ear.
“my father would come into my room at night and rape me. He never told me why, just did it night after night for years.”
I felt the blood drain from my body. Anger and sadness hit me at once and also a strange sort warmth that I’d been told something deeply personal and trusted. I put my hand gently on her cheek and smiled. Why had she told me that? I was just a drunk who bumbled his way through an existence that didn’t amount to anything more than survival.
Tess turned away and walked back inside.
“goodnite.”
“nite”.
I turned and stumbled in the general direction of my flat. I fell and cut my knee. I can remember the blood pouring down my leg. I got into my flat and collapsed on the bed. Tess rolled round and round my mind. Why had she told me? Was it true? What could I do?
I must have drifted off to sleep. I awoke still thinking of her and wondering what was real and what might have been a dream. That day I cashed some cheques and decided to return to the pub to see Tess and see what I could do to help.
I sat and waited in the bar. After I was fairly drunk and feeling confident I said to the barman, “where’s Tess.”
“Don’t you know?” he said.
“know what?”
“she was found dead this morning.”
“what? How?”
“she cut her wrists.”
I half expected her to walk in smiling at any moment or the barman to break into a smile and announce he was winding me up.
“give me whiskey, large.”
I didn’t know what to do, how to react, who to be.
I kept thinking over and over that I should have insisted she stay with me, or at least walk with me to talk more. Was I too drunk? Too offhand? Too lazy? Too unconcerned? Why did I feel so sad? I’d never cared for anyone and after all I didn’t know her very well.
There was a loud crash as the pub door opened. Two kids shouted in “you re all drunken bastards”.
I slammed my glass down and screamed out; “GET THE FUCK OUT”. They turned and ran.
I got drunk. Why not?
Sometimes it’s all I have.