You Are Here

by David Nicholls

it’s good to rough it.

sticky-faced child

going off-grid,

boudoir air

‘I’m easy,’

For the first time since the incident on the hill he was alone and in her absence he felt the depression crawling back inside him, almost a physical thing, its symptoms as tangible as the beginning of flu: smarting eyes, a tightening in his neck and shoulders, a sense of helplessness and a sudden exhaustion that caused him to lie back on the bed.

patently

capricious and spiteful,

Michael did not bray or preen when he won, there was no whining or questioning the shuffle when he lost, and he was just competitive enough for it to be fun.

Still, she should remember, ‘better than Neil’ was the very lowest of bars to set.

With darkness came the cold,

muffled up against the night air,

pulpy and buttery and delicious.

At least the firelight was flattering

she could tell by glancing at Michael,

you’d fit right in.’

“accident”,

“fight”

pathetic.’

they were hassling people,

It seemed to go on for ages, this conversation,

feet slapping on the pavement.

all that fury I’d been saving,

Then when I went back to work there was this whole exciting new adventure, panic attacks, breathlessness, crying jags in the car park, anxiety with noise and crowds, and at school, well, it’s all noise and crowds.

sneer

So I was off sick again.

‘You were traumatised.’

‘D’you think it had anything to do with your break-up?’

emasculating,

the campers long since retired,

Four things I wanted to be: good son, good husband, good teacher, good father. And I’m a good teacher.’

But come and see me on my deathbed.’

insistent.”’

‘Put it on hold, for tonight.

frigid

There was a demure and overly chivalrous process

swaddled under heavy blankets,

seeing a shooting star.

All the great changes in her life lay in the future except this one, meeting Michael. It seemed like a great and marvellous stroke of luck and enough for now.

But she had not slept so near to someone for years, not heard the sound of their breathing or felt the changes that the presence of another body brings to a room.

He’d not mentioned his complete absence of courage.

unleashed by

In the version he’d told Marnie, he’d made it sound as if he’d simply curled up and taken it, so that it was a story of resilience, with no mention of the pleading that Nat had witnessed.

glee,

This hatred was shameful in another way. A central tenet of his teaching had always been that all of his pupils were of equal worth, all possessed a quality or talent that might be drawn out and nurtured.

he wished them nothing but unhappiness, sickness and failure.

Such hatred was a cumbersome thing to carry, yet there was undoubtedly excitement in hatred too, in his own fantasies of revenge, and this was also shaming.

He was no longer quite the wreck that she’d abandoned, and perhaps if they talked, really talked, who knows?

With the exception of the woman sleeping a few feet away, he’d not felt anything for anyone in years, had presumed all that was behind him.

With the exception. She was exceptional, and there was no doubt that he was happier with Marnie around and to be happier in someone’s presence rather than alone felt like a breakthrough. Perhaps he should say it now. I don’t love you yet but I’ll see if I can. Not that, but something like it.