Disconnected Read online

  Taz and I were seen as an item. If I turned up without him, people asked me where he was. When we were alone we talked and talked, about his family, mine, about music, about other people. Never properly about us, and I didn’t want to. At school I was fed up with all this who’s going out with who business. Like, why should it matter if you have a boyfriend or not? And why is it everybody else’s business? So Taz and I drifted together. He was like a male version of me. My best friend. My more than best friend because he was so different. And with all the hassle I was getting from school, I really valued having him.

  And, yes, I did want to sleep with him. I imagined, like the rest of our relationship, it would just happen naturally. The trouble was, we were rarely alone. If we were, it was on the streets. I couldn’t take him to my house and he’d never suggested going back to his. For a start, his father was there most of the time. It seemed a liberty to go back to Mac’s place just to have sex. Kind of dirty in the wrong way. So nothing happened for a couple of weeks.

  And all the time my parents and school were making out that I had to listen to them, they knew best, they were older than me, wiser, adult.

  I can do adult, I thought.

  Then the opportunity I was waiting for happened, quite naturally. Taz said that his parents were both going out on Sunday. His dad’s brother was having a fiftieth celebration, and he was glad, because it would cheer up his parents. He was staying in, he said, to finish off some art. He was doing some still lifes – but not the usual sort. It was a project on rotting fruit – studies over a period of weeks. I’d been watching them develop and it’s strange how you can find beauty in very ugly things when you suspend your judgement. Mould is all shades of green and grey and textured like curly fur. And so the stage was set for the big seduction scene.

  I prepared myself carefully. Yeah, all the usual stuff: long, hot bath, perfume, hair just right. I’d got some condoms from the drop-in and I’d also bought a bottle of vodka. It’s easy. I look eighteen and the trick is to go into the offie as if you have every right to be there. And don’t say, can I have some vodka? But ask for it by brand. A bottle of Vladivar, please.

  I took the bus to the estate where Taz lived, early in the evening. It wasn’t dark then. I’d passed by the Meredith estate lots of times, but never walked through it before. People say it has a bad reputation, but there’s no evidence of it. There’s graffiti, sure, and kids hanging around on bikes giving you evils. The houses are quite modern, not the old red-brick terraces but little maisonettes, some with net curtains in the windows, and first-floor flats with washing hanging outside. Taz lived in Carlyle Point, a tower block. I knew exactly where it was as I always made a special point of looking for it when I passed on the bus.

  He lived on the eighth floor. I could have taken the lift but it smelt of piss and disinfectant. So I ran up the stairs, feeling unfit, my heart pounding, my leg muscles aching, my knees weak. There was no one about and dusk was descending. When I got to the eighth floor I stopped to catch my breath by leaning over the balcony and looking over town. The park opposite looked like an oasis of green even though I knew in reality it was scabby and litter-strewn. You could see all the way into town: the office blocks, the hotels. A cool wind fanned my face. The traffic was a long way down but the noise made it sound close. I bent right over and felt a weird exhilaration as I measured the drop. I had this urge to throw myself over, so then I straightened up.

  I tidied my hair and made my way along the balcony until I found Taz’s front door. Blue, tarnished letter-box halfway up, an electric buzzer. I buzzed, trembling. What would Taz’s reaction be, seeing me unexpectedly?

  Footsteps. Door opens. Taz. Lovely, beautiful Taz, in a tight grey vest top, baggy trousers, hair groomed. He was startled to see me.

  “Cat? Is something wrong?”

  “No,” I said. “I just felt like seeing you.”

  He laughed with a mixture of pleasure and surprise. He invited me in. The flat was kind of open plan, just a living room with a small kitchen on the right, from which came a spicy smell. The flat wasn’t what I had expected at all. The carpet was a kind of electric blue colour. There was heavily patterned wallpaper. My parents would have thought it was tasteless but I wasn’t sure. What was wrong with being loud? The TV and video looked quite new, although the paisley settee and matching armchair didn’t. I noticed a table against the far window with plates and stuff on it that hadn’t been cleared up. There were some cheap looking ornaments, no books. Taz had his eyes on me, knowing I was surveying his flat.

  “Not quite like your place,” he commented.

  “I know, and I prefer it here. It’s not so pretentious.” Then I was scared I sounded patronising and found myself blushing. “Anyway,” I continued, “it’s you I wanted to see.” I sat down on the settee. I could feel the springs cutting into me. Taz still stood and seemed on edge.

  “Anything happen?” he asked.

  “No.” I unzipped my bag and brought out the vodka. “Look what I’ve brought.”

  “Where did you get that from?”

  “I bought it. With some money I was given. And I’ve been getting a lift with Melissa to and from school, and saving lunch money.”

  “You’ve got to eat,” he said, sounding just like my mother, but it was OK coming from Taz.

  “Do you have any glasses?”

  He went to the kitchen to get some while I noticed a corridor leading to what I guessed must be the bedrooms and a bathroom. I wished he would hurry up with the drink. I was nervous and getting more nervous by the minute. Maybe I should have planned this whole evening more carefully. I thought of you, Lucy, and reckoned had I taken you into my confidence you would have given me hints. You would have said that sometimes women have to take control. You were always talking like that, saying men do one thing, and women another, as if we were different species. I didn’t entirely go along with that. Like, look at me and Taz. He was the bloke and about to be seduced. I was the seducer and didn’t have a clue what to do.

  He came back with two beer glasses. He said they were all he could find as his mum didn’t drink and his dad just had beer or lager. I poured Taz a large drink as well as one for me. I took a large gulp. Immediately I felt better.

  “So,” I said.

  He laughed again, his soft, teasing laugh. I reckoned he could read my mind. There was this atmosphere in the flat now, sort of erotic. A boy and a girl alone together. I knew I needed to push things on.

  “Where are your pictures?” I asked. “I thought you were working on them.”

  “They’re in my room,” he said quickly.

  “Your bedroom?”

  He nodded.

  “Can I go and see?”

  “Yeah, OK.”

  We both got up and went to his room. The drawings were stacked against the wall. His bed was unmade, the duvet in a heap. A lovely smell of Taz in the room. Some of his clothes hanging over a chair. Books and papers on a table. I sat on the end of the bed.

  “Haven’t you started work yet?”

  “No. I wasn’t in the mood.”

  We both drank some more.

  “Taz,” I said. “I was missing you.”

  “No need,” he said. He smiled at me and I should have felt better, but I didn’t. I was a bit let down. It was something to do with Taz. He wasn’t entirely being himself. It was like he was shut up. He was nice to me, pleased to see me, yeah, but closed. Not at home. Or maybe I was imagining it. Maybe it was just my nerves.

  “Come here,” I said. I drained my vodka – I wished I’d given myself a larger amount – and when he sat by me on the bed I put my arms around him and kissed him. There was that melting feeling in my stomach that spread to my legs. I began to rub his back. He kissed me back but didn’t extend what we were doing. Christ, I thought, do I have to do all the work?

  “You’re wearing aftershave,” I murmured, in between kisses.

  He laughed again, a remote, preoccupied laugh.
/>   More kisses. Less response.

  “Taz. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. No. Like it’s weird, you coming here like this. Having you in my room and everything.”

  I reached out and stroked his thigh over his trousers. His muscles were rigid.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was wrong. I should have rung and let you know I was coming.”

  “It’s OK,” he said.

  I looked to see if he needed more vodka as I certainly did. But Taz’s glass was still half full. I went to fetch the bottle to the bedroom. Ought I to actually state what was on my mind? Taz and I were so close it ought to have been easy to talk to him about anything. But how could I say, I want to sleep with you?

  I noticed on the bedpost a glass ornament that looked like an eye. I fingered it.

  “It’s to ward away the evil spirits,” Taz said. “The eye of the Prophet. A present from my mother.”

  Then I noticed a dog-eared photograph pinned to a board, of a very pretty, large-eyed Asian woman with long, flowing hair, and a ruddy, chubby blond man next to her, towering over her.

  “Your parents?” I asked.

  Taz acknowledged they were. I realised then that the worst thing I could have done was draw attention to that photo. It was like I’d brought his parents right into the bedroom. I had some more vodka and was getting very light-headed.

  “I’m sorry for barging in like this,” I said, desperately. “But there is something. I mean – oh, hell, I don’t know how to say this. Perhaps I should just come straight out with it.”

  “Yeah. Do.” Taz looked worried, and I felt guilty for making him worried.

  “Like, this is embarrassing, right?” I could hear myself sounding like the ditsy sort of female I detested most of all. I tried to sound more sensible, more thoughtful but the alcohol, as usual, was doing funny things to me. My voice, when it came, sounded as if it didn’t belong to me, as if it was someone else doing the talking.

  “I’ve been thinking that I’d like to… I wondered what it would be like… Taz – can we sleep together?”

  He looked astonished. OK, I’d sprung it on him but I thought he would get used to the idea very quickly. I mean, he’s a bloke, right?

  “Cat!” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey…”

  “Because it’s the right time, Taz. We’re so close in every other way. I’ve brought some condoms but they’re in my bag in the front room. I have thought about this. I won’t regret it. I’m not doing it to trap you or anything. Kiss me!”

  He did, long and lovingly, and I thought it was about to happen. And then the doorbell went. His parents, back early. What should I do? But it was OK – they wouldn’t suspect anything – we were still dressed, and it would be easy to pass my visit off as long as I remembered to hide all traces of the vodka.

  Only why would his parents use the buzzer?

  Taz leapt up and raced to the door. It wasn’t his parents but a friend. A bloke. I was curious, and taking the bottle with me I made my way into the living room.

  The man was in his twenties or thirties, I couldn’t tell which. He was dressed expensively in designer gear. Although his hair was slightly thin in the front, it was immaculate. A jacket was slung over his shoulders. I couldn’t work out who he could be in Taz’s life. His art teacher, maybe? Certainly not a relation.

  “Cat – Spence,” Taz said. God knows what this guy thought of me, clutching the vodka.

  “I thought,” said Spence, “that we were going out somewhere?” He spoke to Taz, not me. Taz evidently knew him well. In that case, why hadn’t he mentioned him to me? You see, Lucy, that was what hurt most.

  “Yeah, we are,” said Taz. “Cat just called round.”

  “Can we give you a lift somewhere?” Spence asked pleasantly.

  I felt myself being nudged away from them.

  “Uh… OK,” I said. I didn’t know where, though.

  So Taz prepared to lock up and wouldn’t meet my eyes. Spence chatted amiably about the weather, how it was improving, how quiet town was on a Sunday night. I slowly put my vodka in my bag. Taz took his jacket from a cupboard in the hall, a leather jacket that smelt new. I’d not seen it before. Here was someone acting like Taz, not my Taz at all. I walked with them down the stairs. Apparently they didn’t use the lift either.

  At the bottom was one of those little Smart cars in silver and orange.

  “I can fit you both in if you move up, Taz,” Spence said.

  So we were jammed in together. Taz was unusually quiet, which had a knock-on effect on me. I was quiet too. Not surprising, as I had a lot to get my head round. I had been so sure Taz and I would sleep together tonight. But we hadn’t. And I couldn’t work out if I felt rejected or not. I certainly felt frustrated. Not sexually, but because the one positive thing I wanted to do had come to nothing. I was still a virgin, still a kid. Perhaps I’d been using Taz – but no, because I really liked him.

  And in between working all that out, I was wondering who this Spence was and why Taz had never mentioned him before. I thought it would be a bit pathetic of me, a bit uncool, to ask directly who he was, or where they were going. I thought it would be more polite, anyway, to wait for an explanation. I was sure I’d get one eventually.

  Spence asked me where I wanted dropping off.

  “Anywhere in town,” I said. I saw Taz glance at me, concerned.

  Spence put some music on and then no one talked. It was wicked, driving into town like that, like we were in a movie. Spence was sophisticated and older and seemed OK – there was a smile playing on his lips, or maybe he was one of those people whose face, resting, sets in a smile. He parked the car round the back of John Lewis’s. We all got out. The alcohol I’d had earlier was making me feel carefree, reckless. I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to hang out with Taz and Spence. Spence picked up on that.

  “You coming for a drink with us, Cat?”

  “Cool,” I said. I glanced at Taz. He glanced at Spence. There was a kind of mystery here which made it all the more interesting. Spence took the lead and we ended up at Satin, a bar I’d passed once or twice, didn’t know much about. We walked down some steps, past posters of Hollywood stars. I recognised Marilyn Monroe and the film Gone With The Wind. There was another poster of a bloke with eye make-up and dressed like an Arab. Some film star from the past.

  The bar was quite busy for a Sunday night. I sat at a table and asked Spence for a vodka and Slimline tonic. Taz went with him to the bar, and I looked around.

  There were mostly blokes in the bar. They weren’t the lager lout types; they were quite well-dressed, self-possessed. A few of them had shaven heads. I noticed a couple of blokes over in the corner and for a moment I could swear they were holding hands. I looked again. They were. I would point that out to Taz when he came back. Cool. I reckoned Spence had taken us to a gay bar, and I was glad. I’d never been in one before. There were a couple of women there, but they were with some blokes, so I didn’t reckon the women were gay. They didn’t look it, anyway.

  Taz and Spence came back with drinks. I nudged Taz, pointed out the blokes at the other table who were still holding hands, and were now having a very intense conversation, looking into each other’s eyes.

  “Yeah,” he said, brushing it aside. That irritated me. I could tell he was trying to be sophisticated in front of Spence. If Spence wasn’t there, we’d have had a laugh about it. Not a cruel laugh, because I’ve got nothing against gays. In fact I like them – I mean – I think I would if I knew any. But it was the surprise, really. Walking into a bar and seeing two men as intimate as that.

  “It’s nice here,” I said to Taz and Spence.

  Spence got up, headed in the direction of the Gents. That gave me a chance to ask Taz some questions.

  “Who is he?” was the first.

  “A friend,” Taz said.

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “In town.”

  “Why are you being so vague about it? And isn
’t he a bit old to be a friend?”

  “I should have told you before,” he said.

  “Told me what? What haven’t you told me?”

  “About this other part of my life,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

  “Like you have older friends? It’s a bit weird, but why is that a problem? Spence seems OK. I like him.”

  “Cat,” Taz said. “He’s more than just a friend.”

  More? I was puzzled. OK, Lucy, I know I was being dense, but I’d been drinking and with Taz and I having the sort of relationship we had, why would it cross my mind that he was gay? And maybe there was a kind of denial going on there too.

  “More than just a friend? What do you mean? It sounds like he’s your lover or something!”

  It was Taz’s silence that filled me in. I swallowed hard.

  “Not my lover,” he said. “Not yet. I haven’t known him that long. Look, Cat, I’m not even sure where I want this to go.”

  I interrupted him. “But I thought we were going out together. Are you saying you like men too?”

  He nodded.

  “So you’re what, bi—, bisexual?”

  I felt I had to spell it out, so there could be no possible doubt.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “You mean you don’t know? How can you not know what you are? I don’t get it.”

  I saw that I was upsetting him. Part of me felt glad; he’d betrayed me and by hurting him I was making him feel my hurt. But I hated myself for being so cruel.

  “Does this mean we’re not going out together any more?” A childish, silly question I regretted the moment it left my lips.

  “We can still be friends. Look, I don’t know. Cat, please!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I won’t push you again. It’s just that – I never expected this. All the things we’ve done – were you just pretending?”