EILEEN WAKES SWEARING AGAIN
‘Shit!’
The clock by her bed tells her she is late. Not by much, but late all the same. She gets to her feet and is stumbling towards the door before she notices that things are different. It is not her bedroom she is in and where the door should be there is only wall. Then she remembers where she is. And then she remembers she is late.
‘Shit! Shit and double shit!’
At the same instant Eileen is suddenly aware that she is naked and aware too that Magnus is climbing out of sleep.
‘I’m late!’ she says, like he could do something about it.
At first Magnus too does not know where he is. Knows only that he is being jerked out of sleep and a girl is swearing in his bedroom and he does not know why that is. Then he does.
Eileen is on her knees collecting her clothes together. ‘I promised Guthrie,’ she says. ‘I bloody promised him.’
‘It’s Saturday,’ says Magnus.
She stands then, her clothes all rolled into a single bundle, and she is still naked and not hiding it. She looks at him as though he might have said something cruel to her, her eyes narrow and her lips pursed as though she cannot believe what he has just said.
‘It’s Saturday,’ he says again and he makes no move to get up.
‘Bastard,’ she says. Then she rushes into the bathroom and shuts the door and slides the bolt home with a sharp snap.
He can hear her through the door. She is still swearing against the time.
Magnus, tempted though he is to slip back into sleep, gets up. The curtains are open and already the day seems brighter than all the days behind him. Saturdays are always brighter, he thinks, but today must be the brightest of all. He feels good about himself, feels good about Eileen swearing in his bathroom. He pulls on some shorts and makes his way through to the kitchen. He fills the kettle, decides it is too full, empties some out, and puts it on to boil. Then he switches on the radio, filling the room with music.
When she appears he has made her coffee and buttered toast. He has it all laid out nice on the table. If he’d thought, if he’d planned it, there would have been a flower in a glass of clear water and a napkin by her plate. She is dressed in yesterday’s clothes and her hair is tied back from her face. She is not wearing make-up and there’s a smear of toothpaste at the corner of her mouth. She sees what he has done, the toast and the coffee.
‘I’m fucking late,’ she says.
He looks at her and does not know what he has done wrong.
‘It’s Saturday,’ he says again and in case she hasn't realised.
She turns to go and is almost gone when she stops. She retraces her steps, back to the kitchen where he is.
‘I had a great time last night,’ she says.
He almost admits that he did too, but he holds his tongue, not sure that saying something would be the right thing.
‘Sorry about this. It’s just that I’m late. I’ll see you later, ok?’
He leaves a space in the air. She leaves one, too.
Then, ‘It’s Saturday,’ he says. ‘And already it’s the best fucking Saturday ever.’
She leans into him and kisses him. Takes the ticking-time for kissing.
Magnus tastes her toothpast after she has gone and thinks that all Saturdays should taste the same.
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