Teach Me Dirty

I uncorked a bottle of red and she tilted her head from side to side.

“Me and Lizzie usually have it fizzy.”

I choked back a laugh. “This is a fine vintage. I think you’ll like it.” I poured her a glass and she swirled it around and gave it a sniff as though she knew what she was doing.

“Fruity. Smells nice.”

“A great accompaniment for potato waffles, it comes highly recommended.”

Her eyes sparkled. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m loving you, Helen, I’d never mock you.”

Her cheeks blushed red and her lips parted. Magical.

“I’ve never had candlelight waffles before.” She smiled and held up her glass. “Thank you.”

“What are we toasting? Candlelight waffles?” I held up my glass.

“To a beautiful Christmas, Helen and Mark,” she said, and suddenly the girl in her was gone again, and a young woman stared at me through pretty dark eyes.

“I’ll toast to that.”

I’d be a liar if I said the meal was the finest I’d ever tasted. It was bland and processed, and entirely unimaginative, but it was worth it to see the enjoyment on Helen’s face.

“What’s your very favourite food?” she asked.

I had to think. “I’m partial to a really decent calamari. When we go to the seaside, I’ll show you.”

“When we go to the seaside?”

“I imagine you do want to go, yes?”

She dazzled me with a smile. “Which beach?”

“Anywhere you want.” I paused. “And Aberystwyth, of course.”

She took a breath. “You’ll come and visit?”

“If you want me there.”

“You’ll really come?” Her eyes were glistening, and it amazed me. Something so simple yet it seemed to mean so much.

“I’ll really come.”

She reached a hand across the table, and I ran my thumb across her knuckles. And then she whispered, so quietly I could barely hear her. “Come with me... for good.”

I nearly choked on my baked beans. “Sorry?”

She regretted it as soon as the words were out of her mouth, I could tell, she shook her head and pulled a face and went back to her dinner. “That was stupid, forget it.”

“We have a deal remember?”

She nodded. “I know. I remember what I promised. I just… I got carried away.”

I squeezed her hand. “I couldn’t leave here. I’ve grown into this place and it’s grown into me.”

“And Anna…”

I shook my head. “Not just Anna. It’s the soul of the place, the soul of the land here.”

“I understand.”

I hoped so. I took a sip of wine and went for a subject change. “What’s my favourite little artist’s favourite colour?”

“No!” she said. “Don’t even make me. That’s like choosing a favourite kid. Not that I’d know.”

I fixed her in a stare. “Maybe you will know, one day. Do you want kids?”

She shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?”

She looked away. “On whether they’re yours.”

It sucked the air from my lungs. “Helen…”

She put her cutlery down. “You said to be honest, that I could tell you anything.”

“You can.”

“So, that’s my answer.”

“And it’s a beautiful answer, I’m very flattered.”

“I didn’t say it to flatter you. I said it because it’s true. And you aren’t flattered. You’re scared.”

“Scared?”

She met my eyes. “Your shoulders are stiff, and your jaw, too.”

“And that’s because I’m scared?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Maybe not in the way you assume.”

“Forget it,” she smiled. “It’s another stupid comment. The waffles must be going to my head.”

But I was considering it, and that’s what scared me, not the idea itself, but the fact the idea didn’t seem absurd. I felt ensnared by something out of my control, compelled by some longing stronger than me, stronger than reason and sense and professionalism. It wasn’t loneliness. It wasn’t lust, either. And it wasn’t some fantastical need for escapism, because everything that made my heart pound was all right there, right in front of me.

“I’m not scared that you want that,” I said. “I’m scared because I’m not so sure I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m over twice your age, Helen. The better man in me still wants to see you leave. That better man wants you to disappear into a better future for yourself.”

“Why is that the better man?” Her eyes quizzed me. “What makes the man who wants to leave me, more noble than the man who cooked me waffles even though he doesn’t like them? Both men are kind, both men want me to be happy, no?”

“Yes, Helen, that’s most definitely the case.”

She shrugged. “Then I like the waffle man much better.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You do, do you?”

She nodded. “So do you. You just seem to want to make yourself feel crappy over it.”

“It’s all for you. I don’t want to see you set your ambitions so low.” My breath was harsh. “You should head for the horizon and chase your dreams and never look back.”

Her pretty eyes darkened. “How do you know my ambitions are low, just because you’re in them? Every dream that’s ever mattered to me has you in it.” She swigged her wine, and her heel started its tapping. “You don’t understand. Every dream.”