Sottopassaggio (25 page)

As the road bends left, Tom's leg falls against mine.

I glance down at it, making out the shape of his leg beneath the muddy suit material.
“Poor Tom in his expensive suit,”
I think.

His hand sits on top, smooth and white, sprouting from a bloodstained cuff. I glance up at his face to check he's asleep, and lay my hand on top of his.

I'm not sure if he's truly asleep or not, but he sighs and spreads his fingers, and my own fingers fall into the gaps.

I swallow hard.

Back at Owen's, I pull Jenny from the rear of the car and Tom moves to the driving seat.

Jenny yawns, then walks around and crouches beside Tom to hug him.

“Thanks Tom,” she says, patting his back. “And, I'm really sorry.”

Tom shakes his head gently. “I won't say it was a pleasure, but well, that's what friends are for,” he says.

I peer in over Jenny's shoulder at him.

“Are you sure you're gonna be OK?” I say. “I really
think you should stay here, or at least let me drive you home.”

Tom shakes his head. “I'm fine,” he says. “I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed,” he says.

“You won't faint again?” I ask.

Jenny releases Tom and stands. He shakes his head.

“No, I'll be fine, really,” he says. “It's less than a mile.”

Jenny steps back and I shrug and slam the door.

“Maybe see you tomorrow?” I ask.

Tom nods, and starts the engine.

“Oh, Tom,” Jenny says. “Don't forget your wallet. It's on the back seat.”

Tom nods and then frowns and shakes his head. He slips a hand beneath him and wriggles, pulling a wallet from his pocket. He waves it at Jenny.

Jenny frowns, then crouches beside him. “Hang on,” she says, reaching in through the window to the seat behind.

She pulls a second wallet from the rear of the car.

“That's mine!” I say.

Jenny shrugs. “It was on the floor in the back,” she says.

I exhale sharply and take it in my hands. I stare at the wallet and shake my head.

“No shit,” I say.

I sleep badly, waking every time the pillow touches my right ear.

Feeling grumpy and irritable, I finally drag myself from the bed just before twelve. Jenny is in the lounge watching TV.

“Hi,” I say, heading through to the kitchen. “Tea?”

Jenny nods, and pulls Owen's dressing gown tighter across her chest. I realise sleepily that she has no spare clothes.

I hand Jenny her tea and sit opposite, folding my legs beneath me on the big armchair.

“Jesus! Look at your ear!” Jenny says. “It's blue.”

I shrug. “The same blue as your cheek, I imagine,” I say.

Jenny raises a hand and covers her cheek tenderly.

“I suppose we have to take you shopping,” I say.

Jenny frowns at me. “Shopping,” she laughs. “With this face?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Clothes, toothbrush, that kind of stuff?”

Jenny shrugs. “I thought I'd laze around watching TV and wash and dry the stuff from yesterday,” she says.

I sip my tea. “Well, I suppose… There's a tumble dryer. But you can't do that indefinitely,” I say. “Sooner or later you'll need…”

“But I can't stay here indefinitely anyway,” Jenny says. “I don't have anything with me, I don't even have my purse, my money…” She shrugs and shakes her head.

“Well, you can stay here for now,” I say. “And you can't go back, that's clear at least.”

Jenny shakes her head slowly. “He's not as bad as
you think,” she says quietly.

I grimace at her. “What do you
mean
he's not as bad as I think?” I say

“I just mean that yesterday was, well,
extreme
,” Jenny says.

I nod. “Yep,” I say. “Extreme does it.”

“But he's not like that usually,” she says.

I stare at her. For a moment I am speechless. I sip my tea.

“So what you mean is,” I say. “That when he's not slapping you, or pulling your hair, or kicking you in the ribs, or punching your friends, or pulling an iron…”

“I knew you'd be like this,” Jenny interrupts. “I just so knew you'd…”

“Well it's not unexpected is it?” I say. “My ear hurts, your cheek is blue, and Tom is at home with stitches in his head.”

“That's why I wanted to go to Mum's,” Jenny continues. “I knew you wouldn't understand.”

I glare at her; then I turn and stare at the silent image on the TV screen for a moment. “So your mother
understands
that your husband slaps you around?” I say flatly. “And that's
good
.”

Jenny glares at me and starts to stand.

“Don't walk away!” I spit. “If it's defendable, then defend. If it's understandable, then explain!”

“But you don't even
want
to understand,” Jenny says, looking me in the eye. “You just want to argue.”

I sigh and sit back in my chair. “Sorry,” I say with a little shake of my head. “I don't, you know. Go on; explain. I'm all ears.”

“It's just that you saw the worst side of Nick yesterday,” Jenny says.

I restrain a snort, and keep my teeth firmly clenched.

“He's not a
bad person
, that's all I mean,” Jenny says.

I shake my head. “I... I'm sorry,” I say. “But I don't get it. I mean how does he have to behave to be a
bad person
? Would he have to
kill
someone?”

Jenny rolls her eyes at me.

“It's not that far-fetched Jenny,” I cry. “He went for Tom with an
iron bar
!”

Jenny sighs and nods. “You did provoke him,” she says.

“Verbally,” I say. “But… Hang on. Does your mother actually know then?”

Jenny nods and shrugs. “She knows we argue.”

“Does she know he hits you?”

“
Slaps
,” Jenny corrects.

I feel my face start to redden again.

“OK,” I say, “Does she know he
slaps
you?”

Jenny shrugs. “She's old enough to know that relationships go through bad patches,” she says.

“Bad patches,” I repeat in a whisper.

“She and dad went through plenty of rough times. But you have to take the good with the bad.”

“But he didn't
hit
her, did he,” I point out. “Your father didn't actually slap your mother around.”

Jenny stares at me expressionlessly, one eyebrow almost imperceptibly raised.

“Well
did he
?” I ask.

Jenny blinks slowly.

“Your father used to
hit
your
mother
?”

“They fought sometimes,” she says with a shrug.

“And sometimes he hit her, when they fought?”

Jenny shrugs.

“Great!” I say, rubbing my forehead. “Jesus!”

“It's not that unusual!” Jenny says. “For god's sake Mark, people fight and people lash out. It's human nature. Stop being so… So
righteous
.”

I shake my head. “It's not normal though Jenny,” I say. “I mean, I can see why you think that it might be, but it's not.”

Jenny laughs. “It may not be in gay society,” she says, “but let me tell you…”

“John never hit you,” I say. “Did he?”

Jenny shakes her head. “John catches flies in a cup and puts them out the window,” Jenny says. “Of course he didn't.”

“And Giles. Did Giles ever hit you?”

Jenny tips her head sideways and bites her top lip.

“Jesus Jenny!” I say. “Why do you stay with these people? I mean if anyone ever hit me, like even once, well, I'd be gone so quick...”

Jenny stares at the ceiling. “You're not listening Mark and you're not trying to understand. If you leave people every time you have a fight…”

“If people hit you, yes!” I say. “If people are physically violent to you,” I say.

“But they are,” Jenny cries. “It's reality.”

“It's
your
reality,” I say. “No one's
ever
hit me, well, except for
Nick
.”

Jenny tips her chin at me. “What about your
parents
?” she says.

I swallow. I half shrug. “My mother slapped me from time to time,” I say.

“And your father?”

I shake my head.

“OK, so your mother slapped you. And you considered it normal?”

I shake my head. “Jesus Jenny. No! Why do you think I don't get on with the woman?”

“Well so did mine,” Jenny says. “And so did my father. And it's not abnormal,” she adds.

“It was a different era,” I say, “But that doesn't mean it was
right
.”

“You can't just cut everyone out of your life because they…”

“Because they
hit you
?” I say incredulously. “
Yes
! You can. And you
have
to,” I say. “To survive.”

Jenny stares at me. Her eyes are glistening as the tears well up.

“I knew you wouldn't understand,” she says with a little shake of her head.

She stands and wipes the tears angrily on the back of her hand as she crosses the room.

“I'm getting showered,” she says.

As she walks past, I reach out to grab her arm.

“Jenny,” I plead, but she pulls away and continues into the hall.

I sit and stare at the female presenter on the TV screen, and shake my head. Then I sigh and shake it again.

For the first time I understand how sarcastic, ballsy Jenny can be where she is. Suddenly I see the perspective lines of her life disappearing into the past like a pair of train tracks bringing her to this very point.

“Shit!” I think. “This isn't going to be easy.”

Tom stares at me wide-eyed, then turns and takes his change from the cashier. As he follows me to the big sofa in the window, he says, “But that's madness!”

We squat opposite ends of the sofa, half turning our bodies so that we face each other.

“I know,” I say with a doleful sigh. “But she's in this sort of… I don't know.
Victim mode
?”

Tom nods. “I used to work with a woman called Kerry. Every guy she ever dated used her as a punching ball. You ended up wondering if it wasn't in some way her fault.”

I grimace to show that I'm uncomfortable with the logic.

Tom shrugs. “She chose those men, she stayed with them…”

“Well, yeah. That's the thing with Jenny,” I say. “She thinks it's normal. She says her ex Giles used to slap her as well. Even her parents slapped each other, apparently.”

Tom shakes his head. “Stupid bitch,” he says. “I tell you, if she goes back to that arsehole, I'll take an iron bar to
her
head.”

I shrug. “I expect she'd consider that quite acceptable.”

Tom shakes his head. “Silly cow,” he says.

I grimace. “I know what you mean Tom,” I say. “But in a way, well, it's not her fault if she's ended up here is it?”

Tom shrugs and sips at his cappuccino. “If someone slapped me, I'd be gone.”

I shake my head. “You'd nut him I expect,” I say with a grin.

Tom grimaces and raises a hand to his forehead. “You know my forehead still hurts?”

I smile. “
Violent
child,” I say.

Tom raises his hands in a surrender gesture. “Hey,” he says. “He did that all himself.”

I nod. “Yeah, I know,” I say.

Tom shakes his head. “No I mean it,” he says. “He actually did it himself. He was pulling so hard on my tie, all I did was lower my forehead and stop pushing against him.”

I bite my lip. “Tough little fucker though,” I say. “How is your head? I see you got the bandages off.”

Tom blinks exaggeratedly. “Yeah, the bleeding stopped,” he says. “But I'm a bit dizzy. It's weird, I'm kind of having trouble focusing. Like my eyes are too close together, you know?”

I frown and peer at him. “Now you mention it…” I say with a laugh.

Tom pulls a face. “If it carries on till Monday, I'm gonna go see the doctor and get a week off work,” he says. “I've got two weeks holiday coming up anyway, so it'd be kind of cool to run it all together.”

I nod gently. “You deserve it,” I say. “Anything planned, superhero?”

Tom nods and raises an eyebrow. “I've decided to face my demons and go see Antonio in Genoa.”

My good mood evaporates at the mention of Antonio's name. Amazingly I had forgotten he existed.

“He's still
umming
and
ahhring
about the move, so I thought it would be good for us to spend some time together,” Tom continues. He sips his tea and then looks up at me. “What's up?” he frowns.

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say. “I was counting on you to help me with Jenny, that's all.”

A chubby bear with a full beard and a leather waistcoat slumps into the armchair to Tom's right. “All right?” he says as he sits.

I nod and smile.

Tom glances at the guy then looks back at me. “Sorry,” he says. “I've done my bit. She's all yours now.”

I laugh sardonically. “Cheers,” I say.

“Where is she anyway?” he asks.

I shrug. “At home, watching TV.”

Tom frowns.

“She had no clean clothes to come out,” I say.

“You're not worried she'll piss off?” Tom asks.

I shake my head. “Her clothes are in the washing machine. And she has no cash, so…”

Tom nudges me and leans in. “What do you think about our new neighbour?” he asks, nodding towards the chub.

I'm looking at the pile of magazines on the table. The cover of
People
says,
“Kylie's Undeclared Love Revealed.”