Page 16 of Don't You Forget About Me
‘What … well … how did you get in?!’
Robin seems angry with The Fates rather than himself, as if this is one terrible admin cock-up, as opposed to his cock half up.
‘You gave me a key?’
‘Oh, God …’ the truth dawns on Robin: the architect of all of his pain was himself. He was going to try some very thin defence that I’d somehow broken in. As the realisation settles, he splutters: ‘You don’t think you should’ve knocked first?’
That he thinks he can do self-righteousness at this moment absolutely astounds me.
It also makes anger overtake my shock. I’m back in some control of myself.
I purposely let him watch my line of sight go slowly back to Lou in the bed, who looks like she’d really like to be untied now; squirming against her bonds, red in the face, then back to him, and lastly down to his wilting member. I give it a good withering stare.
‘I did. I wasn’t heard over the music. You pathetic, treacherous piece of shit.’
I descend the ladder fast, jumping the last part so that my knees and ankles jar as I hit the ground. Robin gives chase, which means he has no time to dress himself, so as I near the door I’m confronted again by a stark bollock man.
I hate him even more for it – not enough shame to scramble to cover up. He’s to some extent performing, even now.Look at my vulnerability. Look at my unconventional lack of artifice.I’d like his unconventional artifice to be behind a towel, thanks.
‘George, George, wait, I’m sorry,’ he says.
‘Yeah so am I. It’s not every break-up that comes with a therapy bill. I feel sick.’
‘Break up …?’
I turn to look him in the eyes.
‘You don’t seriously think I’m staying with you?’
‘No, not tonight, obviously.’
I blink, taken aback. ‘Are you clinically insane? It’s over, Robin, we’re done. I don’t know how you can think we could have a relationship after this.’
Robin pauses and says: ‘Relationship? I … I didn’t think we were going out?’
I’m so stunned by this it takes a moment to assemble my expression, and form a response.
I only manage:
‘…What?’
‘I thought we were “seeing each other”.’ Robin makes air quote marks. ‘I didn’t think we were exclusive … as in, forbidden from seeing other people? That whole scene is not my … scene.’
My blood feels like it’s caught fire. It’s one thing to do this to me, it’s another toblameme for it – to pretend this is a product of my unreasonable expectations.
‘Are you fucking serious?! You’re going to handle this by pretending our relationship didn’texist?That’s like a CHILD’S level of lying. Will you put your hands over your eyes next, so I can’t see you?’
Robin pantomimes more exhaling, shaking his head in incredulity, rubbing at his hair as he thinks what to say next, a tic he uses on stage. God, the insolence of still having his gingery cock and balls on show.
‘I’ve never seen you like this before,’ he mutters.
My jaw, once again, drops. ‘Do I need to point out what I’ve never seen before, either?Are you for real?’
He puts his hands on his hips, Mr Reasonable But Aggrieved now, as if we’re discussing an inflated quote for lagging the loft.
‘What was it I’ve ever said or done that’s made you think I believed in monogamy? I’m pretty sure I said I didn’t?’
I splutter, momentarily stalled. It’s as if someone’s been caught with their hand in the till and their defence is nothing is as it seems and theft can’t exist because we’re living in a false consciousness created by the CIA. It’s not a comeback you’ve planned for. Fuck me, I’mraging.
