Page 58 of To Hell With It
I sanitised.
I breathed, deeply, very bloody deeply.
* * *
InThe Holiday, the two main characters travel to different countries to swap houses for two weeks. While at each other’s houses, they both meet someone and fall in love and somehow, somewhere, they make it work.
I tried to imagine that happening for me, and if it did, who would move, me or Jack? How would it actually work? What about families? Friends? Jobs? Lifestyle? What the hell was I doing? Travelling to the other side of the world for some good sex? I could live without that.
My sexual past wasn’t colourful; it wasn’t bold and bright like Una’s. I had only slept with a handful of people and that was being generous, more like a thimbleful (four). I lost my virginity to a guy from school who seemed more nervous than me, the other two were from Clonmel – a guy from college and a work colleague (not Niall or Mr O’Callaghan, by the way). He was from a hotel I worked in for a month in Clonmel, before I started at the shop.
And then there was Jack. Turbo Penis. Turbo everything. He’d sped into my life and out of it before I’d really had time to take any of it in, and now here I was turbo-ing myself into his. I wondered how many people Jack had slept with? I imagined it was a lot, a lot more than me, anyway, because somebody with a penis like that must have done.
It was actually on the too-large side. I hadn’t told Una that it had been difficult to even get it inside of me let alone keep it there. It must have been difficult for other people he’d slept with too. Not that I was an expert on penises, far from it, but I couldn’t imagine anyone being comfortable with a penis that size inside them for very long, or it being anywhere else for that matter – anal would be out of the question.
I had never had anal sex. Una said it felt like her arse was on fire at the same time as being put out, which sounded horrendous to me, but she talked about it like it was some kind of achievement. But what was good about having a burning arsehole? She said she did it withShaun did everything butand that he’d slipped it up there by accident, and I’d wondered if it was the same kind of accident he’d had with Carmel, because he’dnot meant to do any of that, either.
Anyway, it didn’t matter, none of it did, because there was no way I was going to have Jack’s turbo penis anywhere near my arse.
ChapterThirty-Three
It turned out old people slept quite a lot, because Bunty didn’t wake up after my toilet trip and a couple of times I actually thought that she might have died. I didn’t watch any more films afterCaptain Phillipsbecause I couldn’t get the thought of being high-jacked by pirates out of my head (which could be possible if we crashed into the sea). Instead, I read some more ofThe Lord of The Rings.
I must have drifted off, because when I opened my eyes we’d landed and Bunty was nudging my knee. People were out of their seats reaching for their hand luggage above their heads. So I stood up and joined them, helping Bunty get hers.
I prayed that no one sneezed. I was already pressed up against the person in front of me. I’d already made a mental note of what part of me I’d need to clean – although I would be washing it all as soon as I got to the hostel. The crush of bodies made me think of the sheep I used to see in a lorry about to be shipped off to the big field in the sky (that’s what my mother used to say to me when we’d pass them on the lane).
It wasn’t until we had a school trip to the abattoir that I realised where that field was. You’d think that taking a load of school children to an abattoir would have been a really stupid idea, but apparently not. I will never forget the stench that clung to my throat that day or the sheep’s legs hanging out of a skip with actual blood still dripping from them. They do it differently now; at least I like to think that they do.
I turned into a vegetarian for a whole month after that until it became too hard to resist the plate of bacon that my mother would put on the table at breakfast for my father. I never ate lamb again, though – it smelt like death.
I said my goodbyes to Bunty as soon as we got off the plane, she whispered in my ear to make sure Ikissed the sea, and I wished that her sister was buried in New Zealand so that she could come on the next flight with me. She seemed so at ease on her own as I watched her rummage in her handbag for her bus ticket with no sense of panic that she might have left it behind or that she would be travelling in the dark in a country halfway across the world. I wondered if Bunty might fall in love and stay in Kuala Lumpur like her sister did. She waved me goodbye and didn’t look back and I wished I could be more like Bunty. I bet she didn’t hover.
I pulled out my checklist from my bag.
If you’re reading this, you’re alive!
Sanitise.
Go to departure lounge.
Find flight board.
Toilet? (Try to hold out until closer to flight if you can).
Find café (cup of tea, sandwich).
Text Una.
Toilet (definitely go).
FLY TO NEW ZEALAND YOU FREAK!
I smiled as I read Una’s handwriting.
* * *
Kuala Lumpur airport is not like Dublin Airport. It is modern and slick and luxurious and so clean I almost didn’t feel the need to sanitise and I probably wouldn’t have done if I’d not been jampacked on a plane full of strangers. The shop assistants were immaculate. They smiled like clones as I walked past and I liked it. It felt simple and structured – it felt safe.
