The Leaping Part 17

'I have to help Taylor,' I say to Jennifer. 'You have a kind and loving boyfriend. You don't want me ruining that.'

Taylor and I turn. We leave Jennifer in the kitchen.

'Do you really need help?' I ask.

'I'm not sure,' Taylor says. 'I feel violent.'

'Don't do anything you'll regret,' I say. 'Hey. You know what I read in the paper on my way up here?'

'What?'

'Condoms,' I say. 'Even condoms are a cancer risk. Most condoms contain a cancer-causing chemical, apparently. Tests showed twenty-nine out of thirty-two different types contained the carcinogen N-Nitrosamine. The chemical is used to improve elasticity but is released when the condom comes in contact with bodily fluids.'

'How do you remember all of those details?' he says. 'The numbers?'

I shrug.

A boy dressed as a Templar Knight runs past. He is being chased by a girl in a skintight lycra catsuit and a long-nosed masquerade mask. 'But I'm chaste!' he screams. 'I'm chaste!'

I feel a sweat break out on my forehead and under my arms. A sharp pain lances through my brain. I close my eyes.

JACK.

I put the bag of birthday presents including the one from Jennifer down in the safe room with the other breakables. I had been about to open them before, but Jennifer was busy putting streamers up and then all the guests arrived, so I thought I might as well leave it overnight. It would stretch the whole thing out a bit anyway, make it last longer.

The one from Jennifer looked exciting. A thick, heavy rectangle, wrapped in thick rough purple paper and tied with a golden ribbon. Like a present in the Shire, Middle Earth, might have looked. I picked it up again and marvelled at the neat wrapping, the intriguing weight of it. I put it back down again and locked the door.

I stepped through the kitchen doorway and saw Jennifer shrug off the straps of her dress in front of Francis and Taylor. Both of them were staggering, eyes shut, so didn't see the act itself, but Jennifer she looked so lovely, and so happy. I backed out of the kitchen immediately, and maybe she'd noticed me, maybe she hadn't, I didn't know. maybe she'd noticed me, maybe she hadn't, I didn't know.

I went upstairs and walked into the bedroom where Graham and Francis were staying, the one with blue and white wallpaper. Graham was sitting on the sofa-bed with Simon and Chris, a couple of friends from uni, and seemed quite upset.

Graham always exploded through doors, banging them against the wall as if he didn't know his own strength. Time and time again he left small round marks on the wallpaper or the paint, indentations made by the door handles. Often he walked into rooms by mistake, drawn in by voices; he'd throw open the door and then stand there, looking confused.

'What's wrong?' I asked.

'This sounds stupid,' he said. 'But it's only just kind of hit me. I mean, the full impact.'

'What?'

'I won't ever actually sleep with Rihanna, Angelina Jolie, Avril Lavigne, Jessica Alba or even PJ Harvey.' There was a silence, and he looked genuinely distraught. 'I mean, never never.'

'No,' I said.

'It's awful,' Simon said, whose speech was slowed down due to the huge spliff he was smoking. He was dressed as Ziggy Stardust. He looked suitably emaciated. Chris was dressed as w.i.l.l.y Wonka, with a long purple coat, purple gloves and a top hat, and his cane was resting against the wall. Golden paper spilled from his pockets and he had chocolate smeared around his mouth.

'Just think about that for a second, Jack,' Graham continued. 'It's an awful truth to come to terms with if you think think about it.' about it.'

I thought about it, but no; I couldn't get past Jennifer.

'No,' I said. 'I'm happy with Jennifer.'

'Honestly?' Simon asked.

'Yeah. Honestly.'

He looked down at the rug. 'I'll have to meet her,' he said.

'She is gorgeous,' Graham said. 'She is incredibly hot.'

'You might meet somebody tonight,' I said. 'Those celebrities probably aren't all that pretty in the flesh.'

'I might,' he said. 'I guess I'm just being morbid. Hey. I had a dream last night. It was f.u.c.ked up. I dreamed that I rented out a video of a film with me in it. It was called Dances in Wolves Dances in Wolves. And I was watching it, and in it I was in a car, and I was driving, and my ex-girlfriend was in the pa.s.senger seat, and my ex-girlfriend's mum and somebody in a wolf costume were in the back. And this this wolf wolf bites my ex-girlfriend's mum's arm off, and then her head, and then my ex-girlfriend's head, and then he starts biting my shoulder, and then he bites bites my ex-girlfriend's mum's arm off, and then her head, and then my ex-girlfriend's head, and then he starts biting my shoulder, and then he bites my my head off, and the car's still going, straight we were driving across somewhere, wide, open, flat, hot and the wolf takes his head off, the, like' Graham mimed taking off a helmet or something ' head off, and the car's still going, straight we were driving across somewhere, wide, open, flat, hot and the wolf takes his head off, the, like' Graham mimed taking off a helmet or something 'costume head thing, and it's head thing, and it's me me.'

There was a silence.

's.h.i.t, man,' Chris said eventually, smiling, nodding. 'A video video? Not a DVD? That is is f.u.c.ked up.' f.u.c.ked up.'

'Dances in Wolves,' I said, laughing, but really I was uneasy the dream seemed somehow more unpleasant than it should have, and also strangely fitting, as if something inside me recognised certain elements.

'So, you're in your own dream, like three times, but' Chris tried to work out how to phrase it 'at the same time?'

'Yep,' Graham said, nodding vigorously.

MTV2 was on the TV and showing a video in which two big spiders were fighting, and a woman with artfully smudged make-up was running, clambering, staggering through these dark, misty woods in some reference to Little Red Riding Hood, maybe, but she was not wearing red, so probably not.

The spiders reminded me of Taylor. He walked through doors like he was a spider, his long legs appearing first, and then the rest of him, and he would do it slowly and methodically, like he did everything. Erin never walked through a door without knocking on it. Then she'd stick her head round the corner and smile a radiant smile and as she entered, the room would light up.

I twisted my head around, and I saw them kissing in a doorway.

I left the upstairs bathroom after expelling an impressively vast volume of urine and looking, confused, into the mirror for a while. I saw Jennifer on the landing, standing in front of the American Beauty American Beauty film poster depicting a naked girl surrounded by roses that had film poster depicting a naked girl surrounded by roses that had appeared at some point since the party started. She was talking to a boy called Aidan, at least I appeared at some point since the party started. She was talking to a boy called Aidan, at least I thought thought he was called Aidan, and whoever he was, he was dressed as the Tin Man. They were both looking intently at the screen of Aidan's mobile phone, which he was holding up in front of him like it was a torch or something. he was called Aidan, and whoever he was, he was dressed as the Tin Man. They were both looking intently at the screen of Aidan's mobile phone, which he was holding up in front of him like it was a torch or something.

'That's amazing,' she said. 'I like the bit with the cat.'

'I like the f.u.c.k-up with all the bottles around him,' Aidan said.

'Hi,' I said, after deciding to approach. 'What are you looking at?'

'Oh, hey, Jack,' Jennifer said. 'It's a music video. A good one. Excuse me. I need the bathroom. Been waiting.'

She pushed past.

Aidan just stood there grinning, his mouth visible through a slit in the box. Every now and again he shifted his feet as if to maintain balance.

All around me, all throughout the house, strange people surged and merged and fell back, like waves.

I waited for her outside the bathroom.

When she came back out, I said, 'Jennifer.'

'Jack.' She smiled, and put her arms around me. 'It's a good party, hey?'

'It is. Thank you. It's really good. Jennifer, I want to talk to you. Can we go to our room?'

'Yeah,' she said. 'Sure we can. Everything OK?'

'Let's let's just go in here.' I pushed open our bedroom door and there were two people wearing huge cardboard boxes standing in the corner. An unusually long hairy arm was coming out of a hole in one of the boxes and going into a hole in the other one, although I could not tell which it was coming out of and which it was going into, and it was moving vigorously, getting faster. arm was coming out of a hole in one of the boxes and going into a hole in the other one, although I could not tell which it was coming out of and which it was going into, and it was moving vigorously, getting faster.

'Excuse us,' I said. 'Please. Get out.'

The arm stopped moving and the boxes shuffled silently out. One of them got stuck in the door, but I gave it a little push and it popped through. I closed the door after it. The room felt quite empty after the crush of everywhere else, and because the window was a single blank eye looking at us, I felt exposed. We really should have bought some curtains, some basic things that make a house a home. There was a full-length mirror propped up against the wall, next to the door.

'Jennifer,' I said, 'I want to know what we are.'

'What do you mean?'

'Are we a couple? Are we together, properly? Or am I just here with you?'

She held my shoulders. 'Jack, being a couple, being together they don't really mean anything important. Those are just things people do because it's what they think they're supposed to do. They're constructs very human constructs and they, you know, they go against the grain. Of what is is important, which is our natural instinct.' important, which is our natural instinct.'

'No,' I said. 'That's not true. I want to be with you and I want you to be with me, and basically, Jennifer, I don't want you to be with anybody else. I mean, that's my natural instinct. And I'm scared that you might end up with somebody else, like like Francis.'

She took her hands off me and her face turned hard. 'You mean you want me to be yours and in return you give me yourself.'

'Yes!' I said. 'Exactly that!'

'No,' she said. 'No, Jack. I don't want want you to be mine. I don't ever want to you to be mine. I don't ever want to have have anybody. And I am not yours and never will be, do you understand? I am mine and mine only and I will continue to be mine only forever and ever. The idea, the whole idea of couples and anybody. And I am not yours and never will be, do you understand? I am mine and mine only and I will continue to be mine only forever and ever. The idea, the whole idea of couples and being being together is based on this thing of mutual ownership, Jack, and it's together is based on this thing of mutual ownership, Jack, and it's creepy creepy.'

'I thought there was some biology in it. Like, pheromones or something. Nesting. Mating, I mean, having children. That kind of thing. Isn't that why people stay together?'

'No,' she said. 'People stay together for two reasons. Because they're too scared to break up and risk being alone, or because they are manipulative and possessive and like owning another soul. Having kids, having s.e.x, having a laugh, love love, you don't need to be in a couple for that.'

'I don't know if I agree with you.'

'So I have to subscribe to your way of thinking because I asked you if you want to live with me, to sleep with me? I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong idea, Jack. I thought you understood.'

'But but what about if we try to be, I mean, just us? I really like you Jennifer, and I I saw you flirting with Francis, and-'

'Jack!' she shouted, stepping back. 'Please! You do not own me! This is what I'm trying to say! This is the conceit that people have, the trap they fall into. Whether or not I flirt with Francis is up to me! I haven't ever committed myself to you, Jack, but because we live in a way that mirrors a conventional relationship you think that I'm yours yours?'

'But-'

'Stop trying to make me into something I'm not, Jack.' She lowered her voice and looked down. 'I'm sorry. I really am. But you're trying to bend me into something I'm not, just to suit yourself. And I won't have it.'

'Jennifer,' I said.

'I'm sorry we had this fall-out on your birthday. I'm sorry. I really am.'

She left the room.

I went to the bathroom.

FRANCIS.

The smoke in here is thick, despite the high ceiling. Cigarettes and weed and roll-ups rolled with cherry or vanilla tobacco. All knitting together in the air and floating upwards. Hanging there like something fibrous. I peer through it to try and work out who's in here. I see this girl in the corner. Lying on the floor. She's wearing black bin-bags cut like a cape. She looks like she had her skin painted green at the start of the night. Now it's mostly worn off. Her witch's hat lies beside her on the ground. She looks dead. I recognise her as a girl Graham used to go out with. Mary.

'Hey.' I put my hand on her arm. 'You OK? Mary?'

She doesn't answer. She's completely unconscious. The smoke can't be doing her any good. I pick her up and carry her upstairs. I push open the door of the first bedroom that I come to. It's the room Taylor and Jack are sharing. It looks like it's also some sort of cloakroom for the party. There is a pile of bags and coats stacked so high against one wall that it's like a lost-property department. Or a small model of the mountains that surround us up here. I lay Mary on the bed and she just flops down without so much as a flicker of her eyelids. I bite my lip. I wonder if there are any tests you can do to detect alcohol poisoning. I see that the bin-bags are tied quite tightly around her neck. I start untying them. As I loosen them I see that she's not wearing anything underneath. Or a small model of the mountains that surround us up here. I lay Mary on the bed and she just flops down without so much as a flicker of her eyelids. I bite my lip. I wonder if there are any tests you can do to detect alcohol poisoning. I see that the bin-bags are tied quite tightly around her neck. I start untying them. As I loosen them I see that she's not wearing anything underneath.

'Oh aye?' says a voice from behind me.

I turn around. Somebody dressed in tinfoil and kitchen things is standing in the doorway, leering. The Tin Man. Aidan. He has a box that is covering his head. On top of this, a colander. There is a hole through which I can see a wet mouth. And a slit masked with gauze that hides his eyes. 'What's this?' he slurs. 'Secret party?'

'What?' I say.

'Secret party?'

'No. Look. Mary's pa.s.sed out. It was the bin-bags round her neck. And they're plastic. Hot.'

'I know exactly what you were doing, Francisco,' he says, advancing. 'But don't worry.' He leans forward. Conspiratorially. 'I won't tell a soul. Not me.'

'You're wrong,' I say. 'I'm helping her. And don't call me Francisco.'

'Maybe we could have a secret party. You and and Mary and me.'

He lowers himself on to the end of the bed. The colander tips forward as he sits. 'I've got my camera.' He licks his lips.

'Aidan,' I say. 'How are things? Haven't seen you in what. I don't know how long. Since uni.'

'Time flies, eh? I'm good. I'm in sales. What about what about you? What do you get up to when you're not molesting pretty girls?'

'I don't look, Aidan, I wasn't touching her.'

'Yeah, right. We're all the same, Francis. You may as well admit it. All all men. Nothing more than a load of big, fat c.o.c.ks.' He lifts the box off his head. His hair is matted across his forehead with sweat. His eyes are beady and bright.

'Aidan. She's not even conscious. I don't care how sleazy, ill or sad you are; you're not touching her. Come on. Get out.'

'You want her all for yourself,' he says.

'Just just f.u.c.k off.'

'Hey,' he says. Completely ignoring my anger. Drunkenly digging his mobile out of his pocket. 'Francis. I got something for you.'

'What?'