fifteen
I spent Friday night watching television with Mum. I felt that I had done enough gallivanting over the past couple of days. And I was totally ex- hausted. Taking care of a young baby is a grueling task. Although how would I know, I hear you asking.
All right, all right, I admit that I'd had a lot of help from my parents, but I still felt exhausted.
How I was going to cope with returning to work was beyond me.
How do people do it? It made me feel so inadequate.
Especially when I thought of women in, was it China? You know, when they're out digging up the fields with their bare hands and they say, "Oh excuse me for a moment," as if they were going to the ladies' room at a posh reception and they lift their skirt and out pops a newborn baby into a plowed furrow or onto a bag of seeds or whatever.
"Aaah, that feels better," they might say.
And on they go, tilling and plowing and uprooting mighty oaks with one hand, their newborn child attached to their breast.
And they're pregnant again by nightfall.
And the newborn child has been given a suit of clothes and set to work driving a tractor.
As I watched television with Mum, my thoughts kept straying to Adam. And in true adolescent fashion I would get a little tingle every time I thought of him.
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I'd had such a lovely time with him. If I hadn't loved James, I might have been attracted to Adam.
That's not to say that I was unattracted to him.
I mean, he was very attractive.
Hypothetically speaking, it is possible to be in love with one man--in my case, James--and have a crush on another--in this case, Adam.
It wasn't as if a crush does any harm.
It didn't mean that I'm a fickle person.
It was good for me.
Because I didn't have to act on that crush.
And, even if, God forbid, I did act on it, well it wasn't the end of the world, now was it?
Yes, if Helen found out about it, it could well have been the end of the world.
But that was assuming that Adam was attracted to me.
But I thought he was.
Was that very conceited?
Maybe he used that trick with all the women.
You know, coming on all sincere and vulnerable and adoring, so the women would think he was the nicest man they ever met, that he was really different.
And before they knew it they'd be in Adam's bed with their underwear flung to one of the four corners of the room and Adam would be clambering off them, saying, "When I told you that I'd respect you in the morning, I lied."
And then he'd call them exactly seventy-two hours later to say, "Oh, by the way, the condom burst. You did say you were ovulating, didn't you?"
Yes, I thought angrily, I bet he's a bastard. How dare he! Making me feel beautiful and special. The barefaced arrogance of him!
Well, if he thinks I'm going to have sex with him now, then I'm afraid that I've got some very bad news for him.
Adam, darling, I've changed my mind!
It took me a couple of seconds to realize that I had talked myself through an entire affair with Adam, from falling for him to being dumped by him to being furious with him.
Whoops, I thought. It's that bad penny, Temporary Insanity, back again.
173
"What's wrong with you?" said Mum, tearing her attention away from Inspector Morse. "You're looking very angry."
"Nothing, Mum," I told her, my head reeling slightly. "Just thinking."
"You can think too much," she told me.
For once I agreed with her.
But before she could expound on the evils of a university education and the dangers of opening your mind, the phone rang.
"I'll answer it," I yelped, and ran from the room, cutting her off mid- sentence.
"What's the use of being an intellectual?" she shouted after me. "I bet James Joyce couldn't change a spark plug."
"Hello," I said as I picked up the phone.
"Helen?" asked a man's voice.
"No. Helen's not here," I said. "She's missing, presumed drunk."
The voice laughed.
"Adam?" I asked, wobbling slightly.
The shock of hearing his voice briefly destabilized me.
I could hardly believe that he had spent the afternoon with me and here he was calling for Helen, my sister.
What kind of sicko was he, playing the two of us off against each other?
I knew it.
He was a bastard, just like all the others.
"Claire," he said. "Yes, it's me."
What do you want? I thought coldly. "Yes?" I said icily. "Well, I'll tell Helen that you called."
"No wait," he said. "I called to talk to you."
"That's funny," I continued with great hauteur. "Because my name is Claire, not Helen."
"I know that," he continued in a reasonable tone. "But I thought it might be a bit weird if I called to speak to you and Helen answered and I didn't acknowledge her."
I paused.
"I mean," he continued gently, "Helen is my friend too. If it wasn't for Helen I would never have met you."
Still I said nothing.
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"Are you annoyed?" he asked. "Have I done something wrong?"
Now I felt foolish. Hysterical and female.
"No," I said in much sweeter tones. "Of course I'm not annoyed."
"All right then," he said. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
"I hope you don't mind my calling you," he said. "But you ran off in such a hurry today that I didn't get a chance to ask you if maybe...I mean...that's if you don't mind...if I could see you again. You know, if you've got time."
Relief and happiness rushed through me.
As they say, there's one born every minute.
"Yes," I told him breathlessly. "I'd love to."
"I had such a nice time," he said.
I glowed with happiness and pride.
"So did I," I told him.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.
Tomorrow, I thought.
Golly, but he didn't let the grass grow under his feet.
"I'm going into town to buy some clothes," I said.
This was news to me.
The first I had heard of it.
"So you can meet me for coffee if you like," I told him. "But I'll have to bring Kate."