High Fidelity

And then she starts on a whiny, how-come-you’ve-got-yourself-into-this-mess speech, which I know is a result of her powerlessness and panic, but it’s my day today, such as it is, and I’m not prepared to listen to that either. She’s OK about me shutting her up, though: because she still treats me like a child, birthdays are times when I am allowed to behave like one.

It must be hard for parents, I guess, when they see that things aren’t working out for their children, but that their children can no longer be reached by the old parental routes, because those roads are now much too long.

Birthdays should be suspended in years like this one: there should be a law, of man if not of nature, that you are only allowed to age when things are ticking along nicely.

“Is Dick going?”

“ ’Course. And Anna. And Marie and T-Bone.”

Is the world really that generous-spirited? I had no idea.

Straightaway I start to worry that I’m going to fall for her again, and I’ll make a fool of myself, and it’s all going to end in pain, humiliation, and self-loathing, just as it did before.

“What are you on about now?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come see T-Bone play tonight.”

Of course I don’t. We can’t speak anymore, don’t you understand, woman? We had sex, and that was the end of it. That’s the law in this country. If you don’t like it, go back to where you came from.

“Yeah. Great.”

o I’m not going to sleep with Sarah unless at some point during the evening I see quite clearly that it’s her or nothing for the rest of my life, and I can’t see that sort of vision descending on me tonight

What better way to exorcise rejection demons than to screw the person who rejected you?

I want her to explain it so that I can absolve her.