Better Than Burroughs

Callum

What the fuck did I just do? I’m a complete git. Why the hell did she choose that moment to wake me up? I was in the middle of a very pleasurable dream. What am I going to do now? What time is it? Fuck, poor Holly. I thought it was her, coming to fetch me. I’m not entirely sure if I wish it was her. The idea of rolling around a bit with Holly just doesn’t hold the same appeal for me anymore. A man must do what he promised though. I can’t leave the poor thing hanging like that. What time is it again?

I quickly put my shoes on, forgoing the laces, and run out the door. How the hell did she get in here anyway? I need to start locking the fucking doors. I almost forget to lock the store up on my way out and only remember when my shoelace gets trapped in the door. Also forcing me to tie my shoes, or at least the one that got stuck. The other one hasn’t fucked up yet.

Instead of walking, I find a cab and give him the address. Walking will take too long and I feel like shit for making Holly wait like that. I’m never late for these events. I’m not unappreciative that she’s choosing to spend her time with me. The girl’s pretty damn appealing, she can seduce just about anyone. I just hope to fuck that she’s not glittered.

When I get there, she’s not happy. She’s so far told me twice that I’m just too late and it’s my own fault. She’s already taken care of herself. I know exactly what she’s doing. Tell me a few more times how you touched yourself while thinking of me, that’s not going to do anything for a guy. I don’t give a toss who the guy is, a girl tells him that she came while thinking of him, it’s gonna affect him. But I’m not going to fucking grovel for her forgiveness. I did say I’d be over later, not in five minutes.

“You got any food than? If I’m not having sex, I need to eat something.” She almost looks angry until she remembers how orally fixated I can be. I wonder what Marina’s doing. If she lives with me, fuck knows what that’s going to do to my sex drive. I’m thankful every bloody day that I never climbed down my peak.

Marina

I’m brought awake by the smell of all things breakfast and smile. Emma really didn’t have to make breakfast. I know she doesn’t cook. I roll over and my left shoulder practically falls out of socket. I tried to tell Emma that I preferred sleeping on the couch normally instead of pulling it out. She had no idea that it was actually a pull-out couch until she started messing with the cushions in order to wrap a sheet around them. I’ve always had terrible experience with these things and this one is no exception. It took me what seemed like a lifetime to get to sleep. There is always that one spring that sticks up in the small of your back. They must be designed that way.

“Hey, you’re awake. I’m Dwight. You want some eggs?”

Opening my eyes, it’s definitely not Emma. Her apartment is small enough where the man doesn’t need to leave the kitchen in order to directly talk to me. He’s shirtless, in boxer shorts, with a spatula in hand and I have no idea where he even came from.

“Umm…okay,” I mutter, slowly sitting up. “Where’s Emma?”

“She kicked me out of the shower to wash her hair,” he says cheerfully. Glancing at the clock on the cable box, it’s six in the morning. Who is awake at six in the morning? Who makes eggs at six in the morning? Now I have to eat at six in the morning? I can’t eat this early. I’ll get sick to my stomach. Oh this just isn’t working.

“I didn’t wake you up did I?” Dwight asks.

“No.” He seems really nice. Too nice. This is weird.


One Week Later

Callum

“I got a fish!” Gloria shouts in my face and I can tell that she’s enjoyed chocolate recently.

Hiking her up on my waist and with as much wow in my voice as I can muster, I ask, “Is that so?”

Joyce should be getting back soon. Gloria’s already found the copy of The Lorax that I hid for her and Joyce was only picking up a flower order from across the street. I haven’t seen the little thing in at least a month. Joyce is everything that makes a great mother. Seeing her with Gloria depresses the fuck out of me and only reminds me of my own parents. Sometimes I like it. Today, I don’t.

I walk over to the counter and pull an orange tootsie roll sucker out from underneath, handing it to her. Besides the book hunt, candy is another thing that she always gets upon visiting. I do not envy her parents. They’re going to be bloody well fucked when this girl grows up. With the romantic black curls and full mouth, she’s already a little Lolita and I wouldn’t let her out of the fucking house. I’m already looking forward to beating the fuck out of any little shit that tries to mess with her. Maybe I’m a little too protective.

“So what exactly did you name this fish? Callum?”

Scrunching up her nose in disgust, reminding me of Meg Ryan, which frightens me, she says, “Nooo…that’s not a fish name.”

“Oh it isn’t? And why exactly is Callum not a sufficient fish name?”

“What’s sufficient?”

Small words you prick. I actually have a difficult time explaining it to her, being that she suddenly became in the mood for the every lovely Why? game. I fucking can’t stand that god damn game. A bloody curse upon children. She starts wiggling and I almost drop her but manage to set her down without breaking her neck. I’d have a difficult time explaining that one to her mother.

“So what did you name the fish?”

“Audrey,” she says with a definite nod of her head.

“Audrey!? My name isn’t a fish name but Audrey is?” I demand, hands on hips. Marina should be here. I could completely use this entire encounter to my advantage. Aww he’s so sweet to kids. Oh he’d make a great father. Maybe I should sleep with him.

“It’s a girl,” she says, her head titling all the way back to look up at me.

“Excuses, excuses,” I mutter, shaking my head. I had almost forgotten what a complete nutter she is for Hepburn. Well, now the woman has truly made it.

The next few minutes are spent listening all about school and how she had went to Sea World and got to hold a stingray. I suspect that perhaps she could have been stretching the truth from touching to holding. When Joyce finally came back, I said bye and they left. People like Gloria make this whole store worthwhile.

Grabbing a book from my personal favorites shelf, I slide down to the floor and lean against the counter facing the front door. The day’s slowing down now. Hopefully I won’t be getting too many more people. I’m fucking knackered. All week I’ve been playing Jesus. Installing a door, I decided, was beyond my carpentry skills. Also, I’m just too sodding tired of this whole adventure to do anymore. Now all I need to do is call her. I don’t want too. Instead of thinking, I’ve just thrown myself into fixing the spare room up. Now that I’m done, the fact of the matter is, I just made a fucking bedroom for Marina and I am a god damn tosser.

The door opens and I look up from Gregor Samsa’s intense position. Oh bugger off. I know this kind. A bloody Fabio fan. This isn’t Wal-Mart. She finds the romance section and begins flipping through books. I’m worried. These types tend to squat. They find a book, a nice rippling chest on cover, and stand there while reading the entire bloody thing. They don’t ever fucking buy anything. I wouldn’t even carry the wastes of paper if they weren’t so damn entertaining and made me so much fucking money.

Turning back to Kafka, I can only hope to whatever God happens to be real that she leaves very soon. I don’t want to have to kick her out. As a joke, Charlie and Betty gave me a guide to better customer relations. Fuck costumer relations. I don’t really even need a bloody job, I can definitely afford to be a bastard. Of course they don’t know that. I never bothered to even buy the building from them. I just pay rent. I don’t want to own a building. That just seems too bizarre and far to bloody permanent. It also gives me an excuse to see the pair. I get to see my parents through them. I get to feel like a son again.

The woman’s cell goes off and I force a smile when she finally leaves. The second she’s out the door, I jump up and lock it. I didn’t say anything to Felix when he called yesterday. He said that Marina had come by for her stuff a few days before and he had begun thinking that he made a mistake. Fuck him. Flighty bastard. He asked where she was staying and I said with Emma, I’m not telling him that she’s ending up with me. I don’t need him coming undone and interfering. Maybe it would be best though. I don’t know what the hell I was even thinking, what I’m thinking now. How do I expect to actually live with the bird? I have to think long-term. And long-term, it just can’t fucking work. I can’t fuck-up with a girl I’m living with. It’d be a disaster. I shouldn’t worry about it until the time comes.


Two Days Later

Marina

“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s Callum. Felix’s friend, Callum. The guy who you always thought didn’t care for you at all.”

“Emma, I know. But I can’t stay on your couch forever and he’s offering me my own bedroom. It’s not a forever type deal. Just until I get my own place,” I insist, buckling my seatbelt as she starts the car. It’s pathetic that all of my stuff fits in the back of her car but it also does make everything a whole lot easier. Callum called yesterday and told me that my room was ready. I hadn’t known what he meant when he said he would take care of things, I had no idea it meant that he made up the spare room for me. I expect a cot. I don’t expect anything actually.

Getting my things out of Felix’s apartment had been an unpleasant task. I ended up having to call him to ask when a good time would be. I had planned out everything I wanted to say to him, what I wanted to ask, but the second he opened the door, I could think of not one. My mind just went blank and I couldn’t for the life of me come up with something to say to him. I felt panicked and all I wanted to do was get out of there. Luckily Emma was with me. And she had no problem remembering my questions for me. She asked him all about what the manager said to us and she definitely put the pressure on. I almost felt bad for him. Basically all he could come up with was that he had been meaning to talk to me for weeks and just never had the guts to do it. I didn’t hear much of what he said. I didn’t really want to hear it. I’m completely done with him. This past week has been a confusing one but I think I’m settled. I was going from angry to sad to disappointed to happy and I had no idea how I really felt about anything. I’m just so tired that I don’t even care anymore. I don’t miss him. I wish I hadn’t wasted all that time being with him. The thought of where I would be now is depressing.

“Did you get your pillow?”

“Of course. The first thing you always grab is the pillow,” I say. Oh god, what if I forgot it? I didn’t. That would be terrible though.

Once we pull in front of the book store, Emma shuts the car off and turns to me, “If you ever want to leave, call me. I’ll come get you. I don’t care what time it is. Alright?”

I nod with a smile, thankful to her for being so supportive. She leans over and we hug for a brief moment. Pulling away, I unbuckle my seat belt and look out the windshield, “You think he’ll help carry my stuff?”

“He better,” she says, her eyes wide with an excitement for ass kicking. I laugh and get out of her car.

When she heads straight for the back of her car, I say, “Maybe we should make sure he’s home before we start taking my stuff out.”

“I’m going with you,” she announces. I know she’s curious about Callum, hell who wouldn’t be? I don’t know how he feels about her being in her flat, but if I’m going to be living there, he’ll have to get used to her.

Walking inside the store, it appears to be empty until I spot a few customers wandering about one of the back rooms. Emma heads straight for the counter and stops just in front of it, giving a small wave. Callum emerges from behind the counter, a book in hand, “You’re here early.”

“Are we?” I don’t remember setting up a time with him but maybe we did. He shrugs and lays the book on the table.

“Your things in the car?” he asks, motioning outside. I nod and he moves past me, hesitating by my side, “You can go up.”

“Me too?” Emma pipes up. He looks at her for a second before nodding slowly. She smiles so widely that I think it may hurt her face. Callum heads out to the car and Emma and I head up the stairs.

Once inside, I sigh and look around. It looks the same. A little cleaner. His clothes aren’t spread out all over the place and I hope he didn’t clean up for me. I doubt it.

“How much does he make? Holy shit. This place is nice,” Emma says, wandering over to the spiral staircase leading up to his bedroom. She walks up and almost immediately heads back down, walking into the kitchen.

“I’ve never asked.”

“You’ve never asked how he affords this place? Why the hell not? You need to cover a whole lot more ground,” Emma laughs. “So where’re you sleeping?”

I point at the spare room, which is still doorless, and follow her in. I’m completely in awe. It’s incomparable to what it was. A full bed, with a thick wood frame, is the focus of the room. What really draws in the eye is the giant willow tree painted directly onto the wall. It looks like it’s growing out of the head of the bed, its branches hanging down to either side. The walls are a stark white, with the tree being jet black. Walking closer, I see that the leaves have a golden green tinge to them that makes them almost sparkle.

“Wow,” Emma says, standing next to me.

“Yeah,” I can’t think of anything better to say.

When I finally manage to look at something else, I take in the rest of the room. There’s a good sized dresser across from the bed with a wide mirror hanging above it. It smells like pine and the dresser looks brand new. I really hope he didn’t pay too much for it. I can’t believe I have a bed. I can’t resist and drop down on it. I’m tempted to just fall asleep right now. The comforter is soft and fluffy and Emma sits beside me quietly.

We stay in silence, each taking it in, until I hear Callum shuffling into the flat. Seconds later, he leaves. Pulling myself up, I stand and face Emma, “Well…”

“Can I move in too?”

I laugh and Emma stands up, hugging me, “You don’t have a door.”

“Who cares?”

She nods and we walk into the living room. A few of my boxes and a duffel bag is sitting on the floor by the couch. Not knowing what to do, I take the bag and put it on my new bed. Callum pushes through the door, the last box and my pillow in his arms. He sets them down and we all just stare at each other for a minute. Emma looks amused.

Coughing, Callum clears his throat and says, “I never got around to the door. I was distracted.”

“It’s fine, I really don’t mind,” I insist.

“Well I should probably get going. Dwight’s waiting for me,” Emma says after a few minutes of silence.

“It was nice seeing you,” Callum says, shaking her hand. I smile. They look so awkward. Emma laughs and gives him a hug, which he returns with a sideways glance towards me. I’m next and after we hug, Emma waves and practically skips out the door.

“You didn’t need to do all that,” I say, motioning towards the bedroom.

“I didn’t have much else to do this past week,” he shrugs. He picks up a few of the boxes and walks them into my new room. I pick my duffel bag up and follow after. I’m really glad that I have a dresser, I was a tad concerned over where I would put my clothes. I can’t wait to go to sleep though. I’m so excited to sleep on my new bed.

“And the tree, thank you so much. It’s amazing,” I say, feeling like a complete goober but I still need to thank him for it. It really is beautiful.

“Well you don’t have any windows in here, so…”

“So you made me a tree.” It’s the sweetest thing he could have done. He looks bashful and shrugs again. It’s completely endearing. I watch him leave and return with the rest of my stuff, setting them on the floor. I notice his hands and the band aids. They’re wrapped around his fingers and knuckles, the colors ranging from bright pink to neon green.

“Did you make the dresser?” I ask suddenly, wondering how else he would have cut his hands up. The room does smell like fresh wood.

Looking down at his hands, he laughs, “No, the bed frame was the extent of my handyman skills.”

Before he can leave, I step forward and hug him. He doesn’t exactly return it but he doesn’t pull away. He sort of leans in but his arms don’t return the gesture. I don’t mind though and give him a squeeze. He smells…I don’t know.

“I’ll leave you to unpack. I have to get back downstairs,” he says, stepping away. I nod and watch him leave. Sighing, I sit down on my bed and lay back, kicking my shoes off. Maybe I’ll unpack later. Right now I just want to lay here. Scooting into the center of the bed and turning around, I grab a pillow and lay down facing the wall. I stare at the large tree and I can’t help but wonder about Callum. He doesn’t return my hug but he did all this. Maybe now that I’ll be living here he’ll open up a little. Hopefully.

Callum

I locked the door and closed the store. I just don’t want to be up there right now. Give her some alone time. Sure. As if that’s the bloody reason I haven’t gone back up there. That is my flat for fuck’s sake! Why the bloody hell am I hiding down here? This is fucking stupid. This is the first time I’ll be living with a woman and I choose her? I’m an idiot. She scares the fucking shit outta me. What the hell is wrong with me? I can barely be alone with her anymore. Not that I ever really could, but it was never this bad. The idea of sleeping above her has got my fingers shaking. I’ll probably barely see the bird. I’m sure she has a social life and I can easily jump start mine.

Fuck this. The only way to get over something is to just get the fuck over it. I set my book down and shut the lights off. I’ve left her to herself for an hour now, that’s enough. I wonder what she’s doing up there. If she keeps hugging me, I know what she will be doing. I had to clench my fucking fists to keep myself from hugging her back in a way she was not offering. I need to get this over with already. Why the hell am I not up there seducing the pants off her? Since when do I give a fuck if I’m the rebound? I don’t. I have to be slow. She’d probably have a fit if I just attacked her. Make her want me. That could be amusing. Depending on how long she would take to break. That’d take the responsibility of me for a turn.

Heading upstairs, I swing the door open grandly and walk in. It’s obvious she’s making herself quite at home, having already made use of my records. She’s got Leonard Cohen on low. Cohen just makes me want to fall asleep in someone’s arms, not my current mood however. I want to change it but I don’t. She walks out of the bathroom and stops when she sees me, a smile lighting up her face. It’s brilliant.

“Are you hungry? I was thinking of attempting to cook, if you didn’t mind.”

I shake my head and she smiles again. I wonder if she’s thought about the fact I don’t have meat here. Poor girl’s gonna have to give up the meat. At least she’ll get something out of this arrangement beyond the obvious. Actually, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge. I need to stop at the store tomorrow. Probably won’t.

Lying on the couch, I watch her mill about the kitchen and I’m completely struck by the image. It’s so damn homely. I’m not used to a woman cooking in my kitchen. My parents always cooked together. Fuck, mum would’ve loved her. The Stranger Song starts and I zone out for a bit. I close my eyes and find myself almost falling asleep.

Later That Night

Dinner was decent. She’s not much of a cook. Fuck, she tried. Walking down the spiral stairs, I tie the drawstring on my pajamas. So nice. Those fucking pants were driving me insane. Bloody tags. I will not let a tag dictate my usage of underwear. Fuck tags. I forgot to tear it off. I’ll forget completely and the next time I wear them while going commando, I’ll want to strip them off in public. Can’t wait.

There’s no sign of her in the living room and I want to walk in her room. Instead I head for the couch, picking up a book off of the end table. Not caring what it is, I open it and start reading, wanting to get my mind off my desire to go in her bedroom. Just because I’m letting her stay here doesn’t mean I can just strut in her room any time I want. I didn’t even give the poor girl a damn door.

“Are you going to be going to bed any time soon?” she asks from her doorless doorway. Turning to look at her, I’ve never seen her dressed down like this, ready for bed. Not in her own clothes at least. The look doesn’t shock me. T-shirt and some sort of tiny animals on the pants. She walks closer, hands held behind her back, and I see that they’re kittens. How bloody cute. Kittens. I should get a cat. That’s what this place needs. Fuck dogs.

Remembering that she asked me a question, I quickly say, “I haven’t gone to bed at eight thirty since…well I don’t believe I ever had a bed-time.”

She smiles genuinely in the only way she knows how, tongue pressed up against her front teeth, too bloody tempting. She sits down next to me and her hands come out from behind her back, dropping a black bag on my lap. At first thought I think she’s gotten me a pornographic video. Mysterious black plastic bag. Sadly enough, I highly doubt that’s what’s in there. Besides, it’s record shaped and no need to get my hopes up. I’ve never been one for sex on tape, well sex that doesn’t involve me rather. But those average porn videos just don’t do much for me. I went through a constant pornographic viewing phase, intent on finding something that interested me. There were only a few that did and those were the most realistic ones of the lot. Girls just aren’t like that. I enjoy the reality far too much to get addicted to the fantasy. Marina’s watching me with her brows raised and I realize that I haven’t opened the bag yet. I must look like a fucking git.

Opening it, I pull out a black record and upon looking at it, I almost propose to the girl. It’s Nick Cave’s B-Sides And Rarities box set. I’ve been meaning to get this bloody thing forever now. How in the fucking world did she find it on record?

“I wanted to thank you for…everything. You don’t already have it do you?” she asks from my side. I shake my head and glance at her. Her brown eyes are wide and she looks so fucking innocent.

“I most definitely do not already have it,” I say.

“I figure you’d prefer the records. I don’t even know if you have a CD player.” She starts rambling on and honestly I’m not listening to a word she’s saying any more. Her bottom lip is starting to look very fucking inviting. She keeps talking while I open the box and mess about for a bit. Not much to mess about with. But a good few minutes are spent staring at the song titles on the back of the box. I do have a CD player. It’s in the back of the store. Last year I had speakers set up throughout the store cause it was getting too bloody quiet in there and I was craving music. I haven’t been using it lately but I should get back to it.

“And I plan on paying you for this. I do. I don’t expect to just live here free and clear, don’t worry. I’m just really grateful to you and…”

Looking at her, she clearly needs me to interfere. Not being able to think of any other way, I lean over and kiss her cheek at the last minute. It was hard to derail. She stops talking and I linger a little too long, my cheek against hers. She smells soft. Pressing another light kiss to her jaw, I lean back and make sure to smile. She seems surprised and I hope it’s a pleasant one. A small smile creeps up and I almost sigh in relief.

“Thank you, love,” I say, standing up and moving to put the first record on, I’m a sucker for Cave stripped down. Deanna starts up and I’m in love.

“You’re welcome,” she says quietly and I know I’m breaking her. Turning around, I take a moment to really look at her. I’ve embarrassed her and she’s not meeting my eyes. Fine with me.

“Is there anything you need?” I ask her. Realizing that she may not know what I’m referring to, I add, “For your room. Besides a door that is.”

She looks towards her room aimlessly and slowly shakes her head, “You did more than enough. I’m still surprised that you did it all.”

There’s an unspoken because you’re never this nice and I don’t comment on it. I shrug it off but in reality I bask in her accolades. I love hearing how fucking fabulous I am. Who doesn’t? I’m a prize. Instead of rejoining her on the couch, I stay where I am, enjoying my view much more. I can see all of her from here and I feel like I’m watching a film for a moment.

“What sort of music do you bop your head to?” I ask.

“I don’t think I’ve ever bopped. I have bobbed though,” she says, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat. Fiery little thing. Being dangerously close to responding in an…uncouth manner, I instead just stare until she answers my question.

“Well I predict Nick Cave will crawl his way in my heart. I adore Billy Idol. And…Morrissey. I really like PJ Harvey too.”

She starts rattling off bands, some I’ve never heard of, but most I have. Her taste isn’t all that bad. I’m actually quite surprised. I choose to interrupt her and get a rise out of her. Morrissey is the easiest target. If she’s a great fan of the guy, all I’ve got to do is say the Brit’s whiney.

“Mozzer’s too whiney.” Her mouth almost drops and I’m victorious.

“No he is not. That’s everyone’s complaint. No one can come up with a better argument than that. It’s always about his being whiney, which he isn’t, and depressing. He isn’t depressing. His music makes me happy. There’s always relief in confessing. He does it for me. You people get on my nerves,” she speaks fast and I haven’t quite ever seen this side of her. She seems more relaxed than I’ve seen in the past. I wish I had seen this side of her sooner. But then again, it probably would’ve been even more torturous. Looking down at her, I try to come up with something else but I actually quite like the man. The guy makes me miss London and revile London at the same time. He’s quite irreplaceable.

I start laughing and she trails off, looking quite indignant that I dare laugh at her.Walking forward, I purposefully pat her on the head and coo, “It’s alright darling.”

She smacks my hand away like a petulant child and I want to grab her and pull her up against me. Glancing at the record player, I’m annoyed that I’ve messed about through Mercy Seat and move to place the needle back a bit, restarting the song. One of the best bloody songs ever recorded. I’ve always been a fan of it live opposed to the record version. This acoustic is brilliant. I may want to get this on CD for the store.

Sitting down beside her, I throw an arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. Once I really realize what I’ve done, it’s too late and she hasn’t pulled away so I don’t do anything to break the contact. We sit in silence and just listen to the music. She fits beside me too perfectly. I need to call someone and relieve this tension. I need a fuck is what I need.

-------------------------------------------------------------

AN: I'm far more ahead on the other site I post at, but it's fine. I'll try to remember to update this one more often. I'll list stuff at the bottom now. Cd's, books and such. I don't know what else to say here. Review please. I love them ever so much.

Books:
The Lorax – Dr. Suess
“Gregor Samsa’s intense position” refers to The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

Songs:
The Stranger Song – Leonard Cohen
Deanna – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
Mercy Seat – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Albums:
“B-Sides And Rarities” – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds