A Man of Few Words

Apparently Tallulah Bankhead once said that only good girls keep diaries because bad girls don't have the time.

This I came upon while reading Belle de Jour online. Very fitting, considering I have been so bad at updating All Our Weekends recently.
Sorry about that.
Right now, I don't have the time to update you on everything that's been happening just yet. What I do have the time to do however, is let you in on a little secret.
I've started writing again. Not blogging, but writing. It used to be a real passion of mine to the point that when I left highschool all I could really see myself doing was working a shit job to pay the bills so I could write and write and write. Uni life and post-18 life had taken the time and drive to write away from me, until now. I am freshly inspired by a new person in my life who has reminded me that I have at least a modicum of talent in a few areas that I have been neglecting. So, I give you a little character study I whipped up the other day. Those of you who know me well: Try and guess who it's about! Easy as.

A Man of Few Words
He rode up to the bar on his chestnut horse, his destination on the other side of the sunset. His porkpie hat was tilted slightly to the back, as was the fashion in those days. His blue and green tartan shirt flapped briskly around his skinny legs, encased in thick black denim and capped off with his pointy leather brogues, the spurs at the ankle looking almost like an afterthought. What a sight for sore eyes he was. As he dismounted, I noticed again that familiar slouch and his never-ending blue eyed stare. Nothing really changes, does it? He walked over to me, chewing on his tobacco.

“How have you been?” he questioned.

“I’ve been alright kid. It’s been a cold, dry winter, but we’ll pull through. How are you? It’s been too long.”

“Oh I’m well enough. It has been a long time.”

“So ... what have you been doing with yourself, riding that horse all across the countryside I’ll wager?”

“Oh sure, I’ve been around. Just riding, you know.”

And then it seemed something caught his eye and his stare was drawn off into the distance once more, leaving me alone again with the sound of his chewing tobacco smacking between his teeth.
He sure was a man of few words.

“Would you like to join me inside for a drink? It looks as if you could do with some refreshment. And that horse too, we’ll get him unsaddled and fed and watered.”

“Sounds good, thankyou.”

He followed me in through the swinging doors, his footsteps not as heavy on the wooden boards as you’d expect. Those spurs couldn’t weigh enough to be real. I chose us a table up against one of the walls and let him sit so his back wasn’t to the door. I know how much it means to him to know what’s creeping up behind him. We sat and he picked up the drinks menu, eyeing it suspiciously.

“What’s with all of these new-fangled bloody champagne cocktails and squashed frog shots? All I want is a beer.”

“Well, we’ll just share a jug shall we?”

“Sure. The cheapest one is fine.”

Nothing really changes.

“Are you hungry after your ride? You must be. Their pizza’s pretty good but if you’re only a little peckish I think they do a good tasting plate here.”

“Pizza’s good. I’ll just have a Hawaiian.”

I went up to the counter to order. “Can I get a jug of VB, a Hawaiian pizza and a ceasar salad thanks.”

“Watching the waistline eh girly? I've never known you to order a salad” The barman remarked.

“Oh no, I’m just getting bored of curry and lasagne every night. I’ll be chipping in for your microwaved chocolate cake come dessert-time though, don’t you worry Johnny.”

“Good, good. You had me a bit worried there. I wouldn’t want you ending up looking like one of those starved Hollywood gals,” he said as he gave my ample bosom a good once over.

“No danger of that, trust me. Your low-carb beer is too expensive for that to be a worry.” We both laughed.

“Don’t work too hard now Johnny!” I called back as I made my way to the table, a jug and two glasses in my hands.

It was clear from his body posture that my guest was caught in another of his reveries.

“Got something weighing on your mind?” I asked as I poured the amber liquid out equally, making sure there was just the right amount of head, exactly as he liked it.

“Oh no, not really. I’m just real tired. This travelling business takes it out of ya. All I do is ride and only pause for a short time when I come upon someplace accomodating - thanks.” He said as he took up his glass, clearly relieved to have something to do with his hands.

“And I’m sure they’re very accommodating around these parts to a pretty thing like you, kid!” I took a sip of my beer and cringed inwardly for a moment. I’d forgotten how much this stuff resembled pigswill.

“They’re accommodating enough.” He paused, looking down into his drink. “So are you still going ‘round with that Matty Wallace character?”

“Oh Matty? Good gracious, no. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen his old face. We parted on good terms, he’s moved over Mile End way nowadays, working in one of them factories. We were never much good for each other anyway.”

“Well I’m glad you ain’t sore about it. I’m glad to have found you just as I remembered.”

“Nothing much has changed?”

“Nothing’s changed for the worse, that’s for sure.”

We sat mostly in silence over dinner. I had forgotten how much he looked like a caged animal during these kind of meetings; fearful of those around him and uncomfortable as all hell. Happier on his horse, I guess. As the meal progressed we downed beer after beer, and when I could manage to think of something new to ask him his replies lengthened a little. When we’d both finished, I asked, “Would you like to come up and have a nightcap? My room’s plenty big for entertaining.”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” he replied. He took my hand to lead me up the stairs.

How had it gotten to be me asking him up for a nightcap? Time was he’d be practically dragging me away from the Spring Ball while I complained about not wanting to miss the final dance. Maybe things have changed, a little.

“There’s not too much space up here, I’ll have to sit on the bed, why don’t you take the chair?” I said as I poured each of us a nip of whiskey.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He paused, looking out the window to the darkness outside, the trees in the distance being lit up periodically by each flash of lightning.

“Not too long till the rain’ll start up over our heads.” He said matter-of-factly.

“That’s for certain.” I agreed.

He threw back his drink in one gulp and paced the two steps between the chair and the bed to take a seat next to me.

“You sure haven’t changed for the worse.” He put his hand on my knee and lent in, his lips grazing my cheek. “You’re just as you were back in those old Spring Ball days.” He took my face in his hands and kissed my lips, pressing up against me as if his life depended on it. Mustn’t have been with a woman in a long time, I guess. I reciprocated, pressing into him just the same, giving him the fight he craved. He pushed me back onto the bed and I sprawled out willingly. I expected him to grab my wrists and force my hands above my head like all the others, but no, nothing had changed. He wasn’t like those old rough and tumble ranch hands. Really, underneath this desperate exterior, he was just as scared as he always was. He’ll never be much more than a little boy to me. As he moved gently back and forth on top of me and the rain pounded the tin roof I almost wanted to cry. This was him at his most vulnerable, no spurs, no horse, no porkpie hat; just that blue-eyed stare. It was over as soon as I’d remembered.

Nothing much has changed.