Free Some Great Thing by Colin McAdam Page A

thinking, without pausing, he simply found himself standing on her fence late on a Wednesday night, hoping for a look at her. And disingenuous as it sounds, he was only searching for a sense of belonging. He was trying to fit in. Certainly, he would have been pleased by a glimpse or more of her naked, but he was there to learn other secrets—any secrets that would help him to feel more comfortable in the middle of all the change. People and places belonged to him once he knew their secrets.
    He saw her only once that night. The hallway was dark, so he saw his own face transparently imprinted on the scene, a sort of smoky portrait that he ignored as he strained to look through it to the hall. Every now and then his face would become his focus, but he paid little attention, looked through it again because acknowledging it would remind him that he was standing on a stranger’s fence, and that the flesh around his jaw was beginning to soften in a mournful way.
    Lights appeared under doors, altering his view, altering his face. And then finally a door was opened, throwing light into the hall, and he saw Renée in her pyjamas. He was beginning to forget himself.
    O N THURSDAY EVENING HE showered thoroughly and looked forward to the dinner. Renée dominated his thoughts at that point because she was the only new peer he had worked with so far. Eleanor Thomas seemed a bit severe; Randolph seemed neglible; Leonard, frankly, wore a dogsmell tweed; and his wife, Matty, if she was able to put up with a husband like Leonard, was not going to be of interest.But Renée; there might be some fun with Renée. Over and over he thought of how he might greet her, what they might talk about in the car on the way to dinner, after the dinner. He thought he might as well kiss her when they met, get it over with, kiss her deeply if she liked, and then touch her thigh through dinner. And afterward … He showered until there was no hot water left.
    He drove to Renée’s, proffered his lips in greeting and as a taste of things to come, but she took his hand, ignored his lips, and said, “Thanks for picking me up.”
    She wasn’t wearing the skirt he had imagined, the space between his car seats was greater than he had remembered, and his interest had been lowered anyway because of his long and vigorous shower.
    Not being kissed when one’s lips are pushed forward is humiliating, of course, so he quietly thought about that while he drove her to the restaurant. “Am I nothing but a colleague?” And at dinner, as soon as he met Matty, the confusion was compounded. My God, there was something vital about Matty, a confidence (that was it, confidence, he was already yearning for it then, you see), and a smile behind her words as though she knew what liars words can be but didn’t mind a bit.
    No, he did not touch Renée’s thigh during dinner. No, he did not, over coffee, feel her stockinged foot between his legs.
    But, yes, he slept with her that night. He drove her home, but halfway there, with Matty on his mind (that mouth) he asked Renée if she would like to go to his place for a drink. And in the car (why not?), before they went inside his house, he leaned over to present his lips again, and, with Matty on his mind, he kissed Renée and she met his tongue.

3
    S TAND THERE WITH ME in front of the walls of waiting. A young Jerry waiting for fifteen days for hips and hope and hair curled like questions. Don’t look at me, because I looked like a kid, but listen to what I was thinking.
    I was thinking of finishing touches. Sanding the walls of the last Rossi house, getting it ready for the painters.
    I guess we can call what happened next a sort of beginning, the important beginning, the beginning of something that I didn’t notice then or didn’t want to notice and maybe only noticed a few days ago when I started thinking about all this. But there it was, definitely, by her goddamn little truck years ago. I don’t even know what to call it