‘Shh,’ he told her, lurching backwards and putting his hands out to stop himself falling onto the bed, so that the warm stream of urine ran down his legs. Suddenly the whole thing seemed really funny, this situation, and even life itself, and his effervescent happiness burst forth. ‘I’ve got something important to tell you,’ he gasped, struggling to get the words out through bursts of laughter.
‘Lucien, you’re drunk. And naked. And. . oh my God, were you taking a piss in my wardrobe?’
Eva didn’t sound as happy as he was, but she would do in a minute because he was about to make her the happiest woman alive.
‘I know, I know, that’sh all true but none of it matters because I love you.’
‘You what?’
‘I love you and I think we should be together. Eva Andrewsh, I fucking love you!’
‘Oh my God, you’re actually pissing on my bed!’
*
Lucien wasn’t feeling as good as he’d expected. He’d made his announcement but was hazily aware that it wasn’t being as well received as it ought to have been, and in addition the room was spinning and there was a sort of slithery feeling in his stomach. He leant back heavily on the bed just as his oesophagus contracted, forcing the contents of his booze-filled stomach to leap up into his throat and be expelled through his mouth with considerable force. For a moment he felt terribly relieved, and then Eva, the bed, the wall, the lamp and everything else receded into darkness.
*
Consciousness returned in brutal phases. The room was dim, but even the watery light pouring through the curtains slammed into his eyes like a wall of pain. His skull contained a curdled egg. That thought aroused the ire of his stomach, which threatened to crawl out through his parched mouth. The air was heavy with the stench of urine and vomit. He became aware of a figure standing above him silhouetted against the light, soothingly blocking the source of anguish and giving off the glow of a celestial being.
‘Here,’ said Eva. ‘I brought you a cup of tea.’
‘You’re an angel,’ croaked Lucien. ‘A ministering angel.’
‘Well, it’s more than you deserve. Do you remember what you did last night?’
He gave it some thought. At first his memory was an empty void, but then dreadful snippets started to flow back to him.
‘I may have. . declared my love to you?’
‘Yes. Naked. While simultaneously urinating on yourself. And on my bed. And then you. .’
‘Oh, Christ.’ Suddenly it was all there, clear as day. ‘I told you that we were meant to be together, then I threw up and passed out?’
‘That’s about the size of it. And now for the good news. Your new boss phoned and he says that even though you’re late for your first day of work, if you’re there within the next hour he won’t fire you. I’ve booked you a taxi. You have ten minutes to shower and dress.’
Lucien catapulted out of bed and was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned back.
‘Eva?’
‘Yes?’
‘You were tempted, right?’ He smiled his wickedest grin and stood there, unashamedly naked, his tall, naturally slender body sculpted by all the hours he’d spent in the prison gym. Eva ran her gaze across him. Even now, she felt a pang of longing to touch him that was so deeply written into the fabric of her being that she doubted it would ever disappear altogether. Could you ever completely shake off those teenage loves or did they stay with you forever, no matter how ludicrous they became?
‘You’ve made me some pretty bad offers in your time, Lucien Marchant, but that was undoubtedly the worst,’ she told him, and smiled as he ran for the shower.
30 London, February 2010
From: benedict.waverley@cern.ch
To: eva.andrews21@hotmail.com
Date: Saturday 8th February 2010 18:04
Subject: It’s been a while. .
Hey Eva,
Sorry it’s been a while. I tried your Morton Brothers email but it bounced back so I guess you’ve moved on to bigger and better things. Or who knows, maybe you’ve renounced worldly gain and gone off with Julian to live in an organic yurt commune or something.
I know I didn’t reply to the last few emails you sent a couple of years ago. I suppose you gave up on me and I don’t blame you. I can’t imagine you want to listen to me moaning on, but I do finally want to explain why I’ve been AWOL.
Gulp. Here goes. A while back I did something I’m not very proud of. I cheated on Lydia. It wasn’t that long after that disastrous lunch we had together in London, when you and she had a bit of a set-to. Anyway, you might have noticed at the time that we weren’t doing very well together, and then I totally screwed things up by getting drunk and having sex with another CERNite at the Christmas party, and after that the only way I could make amends and save my marriage was by doing whatever Lydia wanted, and one of those things was for me to stay away from you.
Eva, please understand that I was desperate to keep my family together and petrified of losing my kids. Obviously I realize now that I should have at least explained, but I couldn’t face telling you that I was a spineless sexual incontinent who had to allow my wife to decide who I could be friends with. So I bottled it. Or rather, kept kicking the can down the road thinking I’d get round to sorting it all out at a better time, except a better time never materialized and the longer I left it the harder it was to get in touch and explain.
Needless to say, things didn’t work out with Lydia. We limped on together for a while, and then finally divorced about eighteen months ago. I’ve thought about getting in touch with you a lot since then, but to be honest I’ve been a bit of a wreck, because even when your marriage is categorically unsalvageable, it turns out that divorce is really, really painful. It physically hurts the heart. Anyway, I’m back in London working at Imperial College — I’m still on the team looking for the Higgs but it’s mostly analysing data for me now. I have the boys every other weekend and Wednesday nights and Lydia and I are on relatively civil terms, so I think we’re going to be okay but my God, it’s been a rough ride to get here.
If you can forgive me enough to write back, I’d love to know how you’re doing, where the road has taken you. I know things have sometimes been complicated between us, but aren’t they always, one way or another? Hasn’t life just turned out to be like that?
Benedict
From: eva.andrews21@hotmail.com
To: benedict.waverley@cern.ch
Date: Sunday 9th February 2010 11:36
Subject: RE: It’s been a while. .
‘a couple of years’
That would be what, FOUR of them?
Honestly, I’m glad you’ve been having a really bad time, because frankly you deserve it. So you dropped off the edge of the planet because you couldn’t face making yourself look bad? Guess what? It’s not all about you. Did it ever occur to you that maybe there would have been times when I needed a friend, even a feeble-minded, sexually incontinent one? You think you’re the only one who’s had a difficult few years?
From: benedict.waverley@cern.ch
To: eva.andrews21@hotmail.com
Date: Sunday 9th February 2010 17:15
Subject: RE: It’s been a while. .
I’m so sorry. You’re right. I’ve been utterly self-obsessed, and a terrible friend. This is going to sound awful, but it honestly hadn’t occurred to me that you might be having tough times too. Everything was going so well last time I heard from you. I have no defence. I’d like to try to make it up to you if you’ll let me, with a butt-clenchingly earnest apology and pretty much anything else you ask for.