Misspent Youth

“Is that enough? Will that make it last?”

“For a hundred years, no. But I’ve started relationships with a lot less going for them.”

“What about the rest of it, the other stuff?”

“What other stuff?”

“For a start, I don’t have any money.”

“I have more than enough.”

“I need an education. I can’t be a kept sex kitten for those ninety-nine years. We’d both wind up hating each other.”

He smiled down at her, stroking her hair lazily. “Details. That’s all. We’ll sit down tomorrow and work out what you want to do, and how you can make it happen, and what compromises we have to make for each other.”

“You don’t mind that?”

“You having a life? God, no. I’d mind if you didn’t.”

She moved around until she was lying on top of him, her head resting against his neck, eyes closed. “I love you, Jeff,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING JEFF WOKE UP with a mild headache. He put it down to the flight back from Miami; even today after all the health scares and regulation, aircraft still had awful cabin air. And getting up with a headache was always a rotten way to start the morning; it invariably meant the rest of the day would go badly. After he took a couple of synthesized neurofens he drove the Jag over to Manton. A Livewire Security car was parked by the housing estate’s gates, with a couple of staff sitting inside, giving a hard stare to anyone who drew up in front. He gave them a friendly wave as he showed his identity smartcard at the sensor post, which they ignored.

Alison greeted him at the door. Her thick straw hair was awry, coffee stains pimpled the green cardigan she wore, and the last centimeter of her Cuban cigarette oozed out a strand of smoke as she put her arm around him for a platonic kiss.

“Expecting someone important?” he asked cheerfully.

“Don’t.” Her throaty voice was even deeper than usual. “I’ve had your wife here, remember. I felt like I should be wearing my Sunday best the whole time.”

“I know she was here,” he said grimly, looking around the spruced-up hall. “I saw the invoices this morning.”

“That’s the very least you should be paying for.”

“I know.”

She shut the door. “You look very fit and tanned.”

“Thanks. Is he up?”

“He’s in the living room. And you be careful what you say.”

“Yes!”

“I can’t believe you did that to him.”

“Alison. Please.”

“All right, I’ll go and do domestic things in the kitchen like a good girl. There’s probably some water drops spilled on the counter. I’d hate to be shot for not wiping them up quickly enough.”

Jeff was in half a mind to ask her to stay with him. Walking into the next room required the same kind of courage as telling the doctor to get on with a surgical procedure.

Despite the clean-up operation, the pictures on the wall hadn’t changed. Jeff smiled at the warrior maidens in their brass bikinis; he even remembered one of them, a model he’d managed to meet, thanks to the cover artist. That must have been fifty years ago. What must she look like now?

Tim was lying on one of the patio’s sunloungers, wearing just a pair of navy blue shorts. His body was dappled by tiny sunbeams that had broken through the shade of the neatly trimmed remnants of wisteria. The lighting made the marquetry patches of artificial skin very prominent, a strange gray-white color against the boy’s natural skin. His crutches were propped up beside him.

“Hello, son.”

“Dad.” Tim pushed his PCglasses up onto his forehead.

Jeff sat down on the edge of the sunlounger opposite, almost toppling it over. “Shit.” He sat back properly. “Great start.”

“You’re very brown. Didn’t you wear sunblock in Antigua?”

“Yes, I put sunblock on. How are you?” He indicated the medical coverings.

“Not so bad. They itch a bit. Most of them will be off in another couple of days.”

“You need to learn to steer better.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about the Jet Ski.”

“Don’t even bother thinking about it. All I care is that you’re on the mend. I never used the stupid thing anyway. In any case, it’s me who’s in the wrong. We both know that.”

Just when he finally thought he was coming to terms with it all, Tim could feel the tears welling up behind his eyes. It was difficult to make his throat work properly; the muscles seemed to be tightening up. “She was my girlfriend, Dad.”

“Oh shit. I don’t know what to say, son. Sorry is so pathetic.”

“You knew I loved her. You knew that.”

“We were really trying to stop you from finding out. We’d have kept it quiet until you’d got over her. You know there’s no way I wanted you to be hurt like this. You do know that, don’t you?”

The amount of desperation in his father’s voice was making Tim squirm inside. But he was resolved not to give in, not to take the easy route. That was being adult, and true to himself. “Dad, there’s a big difference between me not knowing and the two of you getting involved. Trying to spare my feelings doesn’t cut it, you know.”

“Yeah.” The time Jeff had spent on Antigua was shrinking to a wistful memory now. He was worried that Tim would ask him to do something to prove his contrition, which was a selfish thought. He almost wished there really was some act of penance to perform that would close this down. “Um, look, do you want to go and see a shrink about all this? I’ll come with you.”

“Oh thanks, Dad,” Tim snorted. “Now I’m a nut case on top of everything else.”

“No you’re not. I just wondered if that would help you come to terms with what’s happened.”

“Ah, that’s what this is about. I’ve got to be the one who adjusts. It’s me who has to accept this with a smile.”

“You think I can go through life knowing my son hates me?”

“Then you shouldn’t have done it, should you.”

Jeff was badly tempted. All it would take was one sentence. It wasn’t just me, you’ve no idea what Annabelle is really like. He was still incredulous that she’d had lesbian sex in order to please him; and so eagerly, too. He’d never known ecstasy like those five days; it was narcotic. But that was the one thing he couldn’t say; Tim would reject him completely. He could still remember the feeling of hopelessness permeating his life before he met Sue, believing despite memory crystals and the accolades he’d earned that he’d wasted his life. The day Tim had been born was the happiest he’d ever known. It was a strange way to learn that as a parent his love was truly unconditional and everlasting. “I never deserved a son like you,” he said forlornly. “Just promise me you won’t screw up like me.”

“Why did you screw up, Dad? You keep saying how much I meant to you. How much you love me. Why? If all that’s true, why did you do it?”

“Because I’m stupid. Because I made a mistake. Because my dick was doing all my thinking just like when I married Tracy. I knew all along I shouldn’t be doing it. I just couldn’t stop. Tim, I don’t know how old I am. You just can’t know what that’s like. I’ve got this mind that maps out everything sensible and rational, while my body is saying to hell with it; do what you want to and do it now because that’s what you are, and you’ll never get another chance. Except this is my second chance. Jesus, everything is so fucked up.”

“If you put it like that, maybe a shrink’s not such a bad idea after all.”

Jeff grinned bleakly. “I hate those bastards. They’re so smug.”