Out of the Ordinary

'She's an Alaskan Malamute.'

'Say what now?' 

I must admit I didn't really appreciate being woken up this early on a Saturday. I looked at my watch. 10.55. AM. 'You, bastard! Look at the time!'

'Yeah, I know. I'm really sorry, mate.'

Things hadn't been the same between us since Tori died. I don't know if it was just me or whether Gray had been hit bad too. They had dated for a couple of months before Tori and I got together but she'd always said it wasn't serious. To be honest I didn't really care about anyone else.

'It's just for a couple of days. I've got to get home. Ma's poorly and Dad's fallen apart. She's no bother, honestly. Well, y'know, beyond the obvious. Food, walks, shits in the woods... that sort of thing. What I mean is she's really well-behaved, y'know, when you go out, like... And she won't shit in the house.'

'Oh, fuck! All right, you bastard. But you're going to fucking owe me.'

'Yeah, 'course! That goes without... Y'know, like, understood.'

'Owe me big! What did you call it?'

'She's called Yeika.'

'Right. What?'

'Yeika!'

'Yeika? OK.'

'It means strong, graceful.'

'Oh, OK. But what type is it? You said...'

'Malamute. Alaskan Malamute. It's an Inuit sledding dog, y'know, like a huskie only a bit bigger and more out of the ordinary. She's special this dog. Honestly. You won't want to give her back, I promise you. I've only had her two months but already it's really fucking me over having to leave her. You'll love her, I guarantee it.'

'Get the fuck out of here, man, before I change my mind.'

Well, I was up now, with a monster dog in the lounge, so I went through into the kitchen and filled the kettle.

I heard its paws clicking on the vinyl behind me and it just stood and looked at me, its head to one side.

'What?' I said.

Its head changed to the other angle and it stepped forward a little to me. Snout straight into my groin, nudging my dick through my pjs.

'Fuck off, mate!' I said, gently pushing its nose out. But it'd evidently got all the info it needed because it wandered back through to the lounge over to the window. Paws up on the sill looking out through the nets.

'Get down,' I said. 'You're not meant to be here!'

And it did – straight away. Amazing.

The landlord was a bit of an arse and would kick up a stink if he knew there was a dog in the flat. He hadn't liked the iguana, and we never really got on until that snuffed it.

I got my coffee and sat on the couch sipping at it and looking at this fucking mad-looking animal that had just been landed on me. Mind you, it was good looking. For a dog. Thick hair. Well, you know, fur. Mostly thick grey but under its belly was white and black on its head. But like with a white face. Tail curled up across its back.

'What the fuck am I going to do with you?' I said out loud.

It wandered over towards me, stopping half way to stretch and yawn. Biggest fucking teeth I'd ever seen! And a tongue like a side of ham, for fuck's sake. Then it came right on over to where I was sitting, sat down on her haunches and laid her head in my lap. Oh my fucking God! It looked up at me – huge grey eyes – eyebrows kind of pulled up in the middle. Do dogs have fucking eyebrows? Yes of course they do. Well this one did, anyhow.

And she just looked at me. And darts went into my heart.

'Oh, God!' I said. 'Look, I'm not a dog person, right. Let's get that straight right now. I'm just not a dog person. I'm not a cat person either but that's not the poi...' Her eyes. Fuck!

She just sat there, her head on my lap.

I couldn't help myself, I just reached out my hand and rested it on her head. Not stroking mind, I just rested it. She moved her head a little under my hand and I had to readjust its position. And she moved again and so, yes, I moved again and then before you knew it I was stroking the top of her head and watching her eyelids droop down a little, you know, like she really liked it. And her warm fur under my hand was just, well, you know...

So next thing I know we're out in the park and she's walking beside me like she has done all her life. She's not pulling or tugging at the lead or anything. Just calmly walking along beside me like we're out together on a date or something just taking time, you know. Not talking, just walking. That's what you want, isn't it? Someone you can just be with, that you don't have to think of smart things to say all the time. Yeah, like Tori. Fuck. I reckon you find out more about somebody when they're not talking than you do when they are. Tori knew me – and I knew her

And anyway I'm feeling cock o' the north because, well, for fuck's sake, she's a fucking handsome dog. Fuck that, she's beautiful. She's fucking beautiful. And all these other dog-walkers are out there with their mutts and they're all looking at me as if to say. 'Fuck! You beauty!' And all their little pooches are straining at their leads to come over and have a sniff at her. And some that are off the lead do come over and are sniffing round her arse and she doesn't give them any attention. She just keeps on walking. And I'm trying to get them to keep off her but she's not bothered at all. Even when one or two start barking at her as if to say 'Come on, you stuck up bitch.'

And to be honest, she is a bit of a stuck up bitch! But I reckon that's a good thing.

And one thing's for certain. Gray's not getting her back.

Black Bin Bag

'I'll take them on Thursday,' I said, 'if that's ok.'

'Yes, whatever. Thursday's fine.'

'Or do you need me to take them today? I can take them today if you need me to. But they'll have to sit in the boot for a couple of days.'

'No, no, come and get them on Thursday. They're not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere.'

'I could try and get back tomorrow but I can't promise. I'll try. But I can't promise.'

'Thursday's fine.'

He sniffed and started to tie the top of the bin bag closed. Then he opened it again and smoothed the top of the pile flat.

'They're all clean,' he said. 'All clean and ironed.'

'Of course. I know.'

He turned and closed the wardrobe. As usual the door swung open again. He pushed it shut and turned the key in the lock.

'Will you try and get out a little, Dad? You need to get out in the fresh air.'

'I went out yesterday.'

'Did you?'

'Yes, took a turn in the garden. I'm all right. You don't need to concern yourself.'

'Well, I do, Dad. Of course I'm concerned. You've lost a bit of weight the last couple of weeks. You look pale. I don't like to see you looking so pale.'

'Yes... well.... Thanks for that.'

'So, of course I'm concerned.'

He turned and went back downstairs. So I followed him down and into the kitchen. He took the kettle from the side and dipped it under the tap. I saw him glance up the garden as he stood waiting for the water to run faster.

'Grass needs a cut.'

'Yes... Well I can do that for you on Thursday, too. If you like.'

'I'll do it.'

'It'd only take a minute.'

'I'll do it.... Must fix this tap washer,' he said. 'Your mother keeps on at...' He realised what he was saying. I saw his jaw set and a look of irritation come over his face.

'Bloody leylandii!' he said. 'They should bloody get that thing chopped down. Look at it. Blocks all the sun out this time of day. Look at that bloody shadow. I'm going to have to tell 'em again. Bloody antisocial. Should be a ban on the bastard things.'

He placed the kettle on its stand and flipped the switch. But the red light didn't come on.

'Oh bloody hell, what's the bloody problem now?'

He picked up the kettle and put it back down.

'Bloody cheap kettle. I said we should get the Russell Hobbs.'

At last the light came on and the growl of the water heating steadily grew.

'What'll you eat tonight, Dad?'

'Oh, I'll be all right. You don't need to concern yourself. I'll find something in the cupboard. You don't need to worry.'

'I can cook you something if you like.'

'No, no, no – I've got something in the cupboard. You get off. You need to get off home. Sylvia will be wondering where you've got to, won't she. You get yourself off home.'

'She knows where I am. I said I was coming round.'

'Well... you get off home. I'll be fine. You don't need to concern yourself.'

'Ok. Well, I'll be back on Thursday, then. Ok?'

'Ok. I'll see you Thursday. I'll probably have sorted a little more out by then. You come on Thursday. It'll all be ready for you on Thursday.'

'Have you got enough bin bags, Dad?'

'Oh, yes. I've got plenty. Plenty. I'm going to put some stuff in the big suitcase anyway. They can have that an' all.  I'll not need it anymore.  I'll put the dresses and things in there and her unde...'

He bit the words back. I could see them ricochet around his mind. His hand went to his face as if he could pull the veil of sadness from his nose and mouth. His palm rasped on his unshaven chin. I put my hand on his arm. I couldn't find a word. My own throat was clammed tight.

'Yes, the other stuff... I'll put the other stuff in the bin bags. If they don't want them they can recycle or just chuck 'em. They're no use to me. And her shoes.'

He opened the cup cupboard and took out two mugs. He poured boiling water into them and dropped a tea bag in each. Went to the cutlery drawer and found a teaspoon and dabbed at the teabags in turn, forcing the brown liquid out of them.

'Fifteen pairs of shoes, she's got. Fifteen. I haven't had fifteen pairs in my whole life, but she's got fifteen sat there in the wardrobe. Who needs fifteen pairs of shoes?'

'Imelda Marcos.'

'Eh?'

'Imelda Marcos. In the Philippines. She had thousands of pairs.'

'Did she indeed?'

The tea was thick and brown. He hooked each bag in turn with the teaspoon, squeezing it against the side of its mug before pulling it out and dropping it into the pedal bin. ' Well, I think it's daft.'

'Yes. But Mum liked shoes.'

'She did... she did.' He slowly stirred milk into the tea.

'Not too much for me, Dad.'

'Hm?'

'Milk – not too much milk. I'm intolerant. Lactose.'

'Oh. Right.'

prompt - Beyond the Horizon

My friend Sujata and I have decided to challenge ourselves to a regular writing challenge just to keep our pens moving.  We agree a prompt, write for an hour and then share.

Our first prompt has been Beyond the Horizon...

'You had to be fast,' she said. ' You had to really pelt back up the beach and up the path, you know, where we came down.'

I scanned back following her indicating hand, seeing her watch her childhood self running back along the beach and up the stony path, to stand breathless at the top and gaze out across the ocean.

'It's like you get to live the moments again,' she said, 'to turn back time. Come on shall we try? We've got about ten minutes I reckon.

The low sun was reflected in her eyes as she looked at me.

'Come on!' she said, ' you're not so old you can't run!'

'I'm a good bit older than you!'

'Nonsense, you're as young as the person you feel!' She laughed and threw her head back, tossing her hair in the breeze.

It was a gorgeous summer evening.

There was no-one else on Marsland Beach. It had been raining all day but now the clouds had passed on, dispersed, and the sun hung like a Chinese lantern in the sky, slowly drifting down towards the horizon.

'We used to make it sizzle when it hit the water,' she said. 'Hissssssssss.'

She squeezed the air out between her tongue and her teeth.

'Then we'd run all the way to the top of the cliff and watch it do it again. But we need to be closer to the path or an old-timer like you won't stand a chance. You only get about a minute and a half.'

She was a frantic lover.

She walked a little in front – always – and I loved that. Her confidence. She led me. I'd watch her hips move. The curve of her ass in her jeans. I'd trace in my mind where my hands had been. My fingertips. Picture her naked beneath her clothes. If she turned to speak I would watch her mouth, remember how her lips had caressed me, her old-timer – the soft slipperiness of them, traces of her saliva on my skin. She always ended up astride me when we made love. Not straight away, but I always knew that's what she wanted, where she wanted to be. And it suited me. I could lie back and let her play. Let her feast on my body to feed her own desires. I know now that she was really making love to herself but it felt like she loved me. At the time. In truth I was just something for her to rub against.

I miss her though.

We stood at the water's edge directly down from the foot of the cliff path. She held my hand, facing the sea, looking out to where the sun was about to sizzle. She stood herself on a small rock resting on others. She found the movement in it tilting it back and forth beneath her feet, shifting her weight and holding my hand to balance herself.

'It's nearly there,' she cried, the excitement of the child she was remembering flooding her voice. 'Are you ready?'

'As I'll ever be!' I said.

For all that it was low in the sky, the sun was still bright and it brought tears to my eyes to look at it for any length of time.

I was standing next to her, holding the hand of this woman I loved, looking out across the sea. But my mind was in her. In her clothes. Swooping around her breasts. Sweeping across her belly and dipping into the soft curls beneath. My mind was my tongue tasting her, slaking my thirst for her, lingering on her nipples. My lips drawing her into me. Her hair. My nostrils filled with her musk. The fragrant moment behind her ear and down her neck.

'Hissssss!' she shouted. 'Sizzzzllllle!'

'Aha! It's down,' I cried. I'd missed the moment itself but jumped back in to join her.

'Come on!' She tugged at my hand. Started dragging me back up the beach towards the cliff path. 'There's no time to lose!'

I followed willingly enough, though the tightness in my trousers did not make running easy. We stamped over the wet sand, through the small pools left by the receding tide, finally hitting a rhythm that suited us both.

'Come on, old-timer!'

I was breathless but managed to stay with her until we got to the foot of the cliff. But she was full of energy still, while I was all but spent.

'Come on!' She shouted again letting go of my hand. Away she went up the narrow path, scattering pebbles and sand with her feet. I followed but she was soon ten yards ahead and the gap was widening.

My breath burned my lungs, my mouth dry, and the heat of my body raging. Legs seizing up, heart pounding, my feet slipping on the loose surface.

'Come onnn!' she called, now twenty yards in front. 'You'll miss the second sizzle!'

'I'm coming,' I said – I tried to shout it but the words just fell from my mouth, tangled around my feet.

'Some day,' she sang the words out, 'some day I'm going to sail away. Climb into a boat, just me, and sail away into the sunset. Beyond the horizon.'

She was at the top now. I was still way below.

'Hisssssssss! Sizzzlllllle!' she shouted into the wind.

The air was painful in my lungs, finding a dark target inside with every breath. A thudding angry ache grew and grew in my chest, sending a dagger from my chest up into my shoulder and down my left arm. Again and again.

She never came to visit me in the hospital. I've heard nothing from her since.

The heart attack left me like a crumpled paper bag, fearful of a recurrence.

I came to as the paramedics were loading me onto a gurney. She held my hand as they manoeuvred me back through the field to where the ambulance was waiting in the lane, but she couldn't look at me. Said nothing.

I could feel my hand holding hers.

But she was not really holding mine.