Chapter 30 #3
A frown puckered her forehead. ‘Yes,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Yes, I could.’ She released her fingers from his.
‘Tom, that’s amazing. I think I need a new favourite movie,’ she said very quietly, and blew her nose on an embroidered handkerchief she took from her dress’s sleeve.
He loved her so much for that in that moment, the touching ingenuity of everything about her. Alice Jansen, I love you .
‘I think you do. What about One-Eyed Jacks ? That’s a cracking film.’
She shook her head. ‘Never seen it.’
‘Or Splendor in the Grass ?’
‘I think it’s just fine, but it’s not exactly cheerful.’
‘I used to go to the cinema every week while my dad was in the local town doing business. I’ve seen everything. Let me have a think.’
‘ Pillow Talk ,’ Alice said, blowing her nose again. ‘ Pillow Talk ’s a good movie.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘I like you, Tom. Merlin said he wouldn’t go see it with me.’
‘I’ll see Pillow Talk with you any time you want.’
‘It’s a deal.’
‘Does he make you happy?’ Tom said, circling back. ‘Merlin, I mean.’
She considered the question carefully. ‘I keep thinking about this. I don’t think I’m someone who can be happy. I don’t think it’s in me any more.’
‘Oh, Alice,’ Tom said. He shook his head. ‘You should be happy.’
‘I’m happy enough.’ She walked on. ‘I don’t ask for it. Hey, let’s not talk about it any more.’
They crossed East Houston Street and went up Second Avenue, walking in silence for a while. When they were five blocks from home, Alice said:
‘Beatles or Stones?’
‘Stones.’
She was walking backwards, facing him, her arms outstretched. ‘Wrong! Beatles. Bob Dylan or Joan Baez?’
‘Bob.’
‘Also wrong. Whiskey or beer?’
‘Whiskey.’
‘Me too. Pot or LSD?’
‘Never tried LSD, so I guess it has to be pot.’
‘You should try it, Tom,’ she said seriously. ‘It’s great. It makes everything go away.’
‘I don’t want everything to go away,’ he said, wishing his heart didn’t hurt when she spoke, wishing he could make everything better for her. He caught her wrist, just for a second, and she whipped it away from him. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to –’
‘It’s fine.’ She stopped. ‘Thank you, Tom.’
‘What for?’
‘For listening to me. For being – my friend.’ She looked him in the eyes. ‘If I can help you with Teddy, I will. I promise. I’ll call her.’
He nodded. ‘I don’t want you to have to –’
‘Let’s see,’ she said, but her face had that closed-off expression again.
They were back at St Mark’s Place. She pushed open the front door of the building – it was never locked. From deeper inside the apartment they could hear moaning, the hushed sound of Merlin’s voice.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Alice said. She caught Tom’s eye and understood his hesitation, then turned away, running towards her bedroom.
She was opening the door just as Tom caught up with her.
A joss stick and a candle burned beside a purple-and-orange tie-dye wall hanging, which was flapping backwards and forwards.
The candle was flickering, and something on the unmade fug of their bed was moving.
It took several seconds before they could see what it was.
Merlin lay back, arms behind his head, and Ginger was crouched over him. Theatrically, he rose off the bed, his eyes linking with Alice’s as he came.
‘Alice –’ Tom said, pulling at her sleeve, but she jerked away from him.
‘What –’ Merlin murmured, as Ginger, wiping her mouth, kneeled back on the bed for a moment, then whirled round, her eyes glazed.
‘Hey, Allie!’ she said. ‘It’s just rent. Are we cool, honey?’
Alice didn’t move.
‘Hey, Tom,’ Merlin said. He smiled at Alice. ‘You’re back. Did you get the cookies, honey?’
‘No, honey,’ Alice said. ‘No. I did not get the cookies.’
‘Oh, that’s okay. I’m going to sleep now anyway. See you, Ginger. Allie, if you go out again, will you –’
Alice turned around and walked out, leaving Ginger to get dressed. Tom stared at Merlin for a moment, but Merlin lay on his back and scratched his chest, and, giving a huge yawn, closed his eyes. Tom left, following Alice on to the front stoop.
‘You said you like whiskey, right?’ she said.
‘I do.’
Alice lifted a bottle of Jim Beam out of a broken old plant pot.
‘I keep it here in case I need something sometimes.’ Alice put the open neck to her lips, gulping down two, three large mouthfuls, wiped the neck, then handed the bottle to Tom, who drank too, grateful for the fiery, fast rush of sensation it gave him.
Ginger passed them on the way out. ‘I’ll catch you later, Alice,’ she said.
They were silent for a while, drinking, watching the evening sky. Alice reached into the plant pot and came up with a joint this time. She lit it. ‘I keep a spare.’ She exhaled. ‘Jesus Christ.’ She ran her finger up the bridge of her nose. ‘Is she – is she really pretty?’
‘Alice – don’t be crazy. It’s not about that.’
‘I need to loosen up. Then I’d be happy.’
‘Ginger’s not happy,’ said Tom. ‘I’m not sure anyone really is, here.’
Alice drank a little more. ‘I feel … wow, I feel weird. I think it’s too much booze.’ She pushed her long hair in front of her face, then started to laugh. ‘Oh, Jesus, Tom. Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.’
‘You too.’ He gave her a small nudge. ‘And, not that it matters, but you are.’
‘Are what?’
‘Really pretty. Prettier than Ginger.’
She put down the bottle. ‘Is this another line?’
‘It is not a line,’ Tom said.
She smiled at him, leaned against him. ‘I like your glasses,’ she said. ‘Often with guys they’re terrible, you know?’
Tom looked down into his drink. ‘Magic glasses,’ he said, and started to laugh.
‘Magic glasses?’ Alice said.
‘It’s stupid.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I really can’t.’
‘Try me.’
‘My friend Antoine. He’s jealous of the glasses. He says I get girls when I’m wearing them and that’s the only reason I have them. So he calls them magic glasses.’
‘I don’t think that’s the only reason,’ Alice said, her head on one side.
Shouts came from down the street, about what Tom couldn’t tell.
He cleared his throat. The curious metallic scent of petrol fumes hit his nostrils.
The shouting turned to screams. Alice, sitting on the top step, got up and swayed, and Tom stood up.
‘Run!’ someone yelled, and there was the sound of more shouting, and five young people ran past. One of them tripped, and the others stopped and dragged him up, then carried on running.
‘They’re coming!’ someone screamed. ‘He’s got a gun!
’ someone else shouted. ‘Police! Police! ’
Tom grabbed Alice, his heart pounding. He pushed her back inside, into the hallway, and slammed the front door, turning the lock. He pressed her against the wall, covering her with his arm, peering through the empty triangle where some glass had once been. He could feel her panting against him.
‘Tom, what the hell?’ she said. ‘Are you okay? It’s just the guys down the street. It’s always happening. Are you –’
Feet thudded past; there was the sound of glass breaking, swearing, thudding, falling sounds.
Tom put his head in his hands, trying to block it out.
Through the muffled sound, he heard a gun exploding, and it sounded like fireworks.
Tom’s head spun. He could hear only the fireworks sounds now, feel the prickling heat on his skin.
He thought his brain would explode. He backed away against the wall, leaning hard into its mildewed, peeling paint as if trying to push it down.
‘Hey!’ Alice’s voice changed. ‘You okay?’ she said. ‘What’s up?’ She cradled his head between her hands. ‘It’s okay, Tom.’
‘I – I don’t like it,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Sorry. Bad stuff in the past.’
Crack – crack. Someone fired a gun again. Tom jumped. Outside, someone screamed. Tom thought he was going to be sick. He was flooded by panic, sticky, red liquid submerging him.
‘Hey,’ she said, her low voice soft. ‘Hey, Tom. It’s all right. It’s really okay. It’s outside. They’re not coming in here. I promise. They’re not.’
She raised her eyes to him. They were inches apart in the dingy hallway. As he stared at her, his vision cleared a little and he saw her face again. She reached up, and made as though to touch his cheek, but stopped. ‘It’s okay,’ she said again, staring at him. They were silent in the dark hall.
Tom said quietly, ‘Should we go to check everyone’s all right?’
Alice patted his arm. ‘No one’s all right, Tom,’ she said bleakly. ‘No one is fucking all right.’
Her hands were gripping his upper arms. She slid them up, wrapped her arms round his neck, and her body rose up against his, to meet him, pushing him against the wall.
She leaned against him, her hands cupping his head.
She was watching him in the darkness. He could hear her breathing.
She leaned towards him, and kissed him, and he moved forwards, meeting her body, his hands on her hips.
Her cheeks were cold, smooth against his.
Her tongue moved into his mouth and she sighed, her sweet, gentle Alice sigh.
She pulled him towards her, pressing her mouth against his so her teeth touched his lips.
She tasted of cookies, and whiskey, and she was soft and hard at the same time, and, just as he was moving his hand up towards her chest, Merlin’s voice called, ‘Alice? Hey, Alice? I’m hungry, honey, got any food? ’
Tom flinched, as Alice stepped back a little.
‘You don’t have to go.’
Her skin was flushed, luminous in the darkness of the hall. Behind her, the green and brown pre-war patterns on the wallpaper shone like woodland. She looked like a fairy queen. Yes, Tom thought to himself. I am too drunk for this. It’s a mistake.
‘I know I don’t,’ she said, with a catch in her voice.
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘Thanks for today, Tom. Thanks. I – I’ll –’
She blinked, and kissed him again, that scent of hers washing over him, and then she was gone, the police sirens still echoing in the background.