Winter, 2010. Edinburgh.
Isaac raised his eyes from his phone. He had been writing yet another lengthy text to the woman he had broken up with earlier that day. He had not been paying attention to his surroundings and now he scanned the scene in front of him: small circles of people drinking and talking. But the sounds of the party had sunk to a low murmur.
Something in the room had made him look up. But there was nothing obvious he could see that should have caused him to do that, no physical thing caught in his eyeline. It was all very ordinary. Just people standing around in groups, sipping drinks and making conversation. No one had said anything to him. He remained quite still for a second, a wild animal caught in the eyeline of an ethereal predator. Stared at, examined from a distance. Something unseen waited to see what he would do next.
That second passed. There was nothing in the air to suggest he was in any danger. Isaac finished his text and sent it, then looked around at the people closest to him.
He was in a circle with Will, Mary and Mark. Will was his flatmate and old university friend. Mary and Mark were old friends of Will, and they were hosting the party. Will was talking about a new online course he was doing which would improve his job prospects by getting him away from working in a call centre.
Isaac spoke with a sneer and at a volume only he could hear. “What’s so good about that?” Isaac wasn’t in the habit of speaking to himself like this. He paused, waited. Will was still telling Mary and Mark about the details of the course. He’d been talking like this for ten minutes. Isaac looked at the three of them as they continued to talk to each other. They did not look over at Isaac or ask him what he meant by his unheard comment. Isaac shook his head. He had not been paying attention to what was going on around him.
He breathed out slowly. Ambient music started playing at a low volume from a set of speakers in the corner, the music playing underneath the conversation around them. The main hall light was off, the room lit up by lamps in the corner and fairy lights on the walls. Other partygoers stood close together, talking at each other, straining forward to listen and forcing each other to concentrate on every word.
Mary was asking about the course, what Will needed to do and how much he had already done. Will paused, trying to remember. Mary and Mark looked at each other. Mark said something quietly, and Mary nodded before he finished talking. Will glanced at them for a second, mumbling out a response that was too quiet to make out. Mary and Mark nodded along anyway, not looking away from Will.
Isaac forced a groan, keeping his mouth shut as he did so. Will was smiling now, enthusiastically going on about his course and how he was optimistic about learning accounting, getting his life back on track.
Isaac looked at Mary and Mark, then put his phone away. He spoke up, his voice louder than Will’s. “I need a drink.”
Will stumbled over his words. Isaac continued, talking over him. “You know, it’s amazing that he’s trying all these things to get him out of that call centre gig, but he needs to start at home a bit more. I tried telling him to put stuff away instead of doing all that ‘business skills’ stuff. It’s a bit daft.”
Will’s shoulders fell. Isaac opened his mouth to continue, but Mary spoke up again. “I mean, you shouldn’t give … What else are you planning to work on, Will? You mentioned you were drawing again.”
Will answered, his voice suddenly at a higher pitch and almost too loud. “Doesn’t matter. The stuff I’d done in the past wasn’t that great anyway – all derivative of stuff I was working on years ago. Isaac is right, I should probably have tidied up first before doing anything.”
Isaac laughed. “Beer bottles everywhere! An entire collage of stuff – that’s real art! Just wish you’d put it away.”
Mary and Mark managed to raise their glasses to their mouths at the same time. They didn’t look at each other. Will continued, quieter. No one leaned in to listen. “Our flat has always had an issue with mess, to be fair, but it’s getting out of hand. I’d help more but the job I do is draining. It’s hard speaking on the phone all day.”
Mary piped up, speaking to Isaac. Will stopped talking immediately. “How’s your job going? Will said you’ve been doing it for a while now.”
Isaac looked around before he talked. There were no women near him, but he talked loudly anyway. “Yeah, corporate IT security. It’s a private firm and you won’t have heard of it. Lots of checking corporate networks. It’s quite intensive and I have to be there most of the time. Worked hard to get it. Pretty intensive stuff.”
Mark replied, “Wow, that’s … And you dropped out of university as well.”
Isaac kept going. “Yeah, but I’ve always had the graft, you know? The real world only cares about how hard you work. It’s not all about qualifications. We’d be better off if the world was more egalitarian, more … you know what I mean. Are there more folk coming tonight? It’s a bit quiet, but it’s early days. I mean, Will said there were more folk coming.”
Will kept quiet, taking a long drink. Isaac looked over at Mary, who turned and said something to Mark. The couple reached out across the short distance between each other and joined hands.
Isaac continued, “Will said there was tons of folk coming, but, I mean, Will’s always lying. Would you honestly trust a guy like him?”
“Thanks, man,” Will said to himself.
Mary and Mark said nothing, moving a little closer to each other. Will didn’t look at them. Isaac changed the topic back to his job, talking about the nuances of his work, before changing the topic back to Will again. “Do you honestly trust that face? He works on commission, so it’s all just salesmanship. Just as well they can’t see his face!”
Will spoke to himself again. “I am a great liar, to be fair.”
Isaac laughed again, louder than before. “Will’s a smart guy, you know. Four years of art college well spent, mate.”
Will didn’t look at anyone. “Yeah.”
Isaac didn’t look at him. “Should have dropped out, pal.”
Will looked at Isaac.
Isaac put his hand on Will’s shoulder, looked at the can of beer in Will’s hand. He turned his head to observe the door of the flat. It remained closed.
Mark spoke up. “I mean, we’re happier that it’s more … well, quality not quantity. We haven’t seen anyone for a while, so it’s good to see folk here.”
Mary joined in. “I mean, we’re quite happy to have any friends round. The usual guys from our work are all here. They’ve never missed one of our parties. I think it’s just a bad week for it …”
Isaac exhaled, still watching the door. Then he turned to Will, whose shoulders were tense. “Have you seen Lyle anywhere, Will?”
Will looked away for a second before managing a murmur. “I think he’s in the kitchen.” Will paused, then found his voice again. “Was everything good today, Isaac? With … I know it’s … difficult to talk about … ” Will trailed off as Isaac looked away.
Mary glanced at Isaac, opening her mouth as he turned his head. “What happened today, Isaac, with her? I heard that she was in tears …”
Isaac walked away from her question.
Mary and Mark whispered to each other. Will looked around the room, fiddling with the rim of his beer can with his thumb. In years previous the hallway would have been packed full of people staying into the early hours. It was quieter tonight. Some people were leaving already. Will was gritting his teeth.
There was one picture in the far corner, hung up on the wall, away from everything. An art print that Will had made for Mark as a moving-in gift, back when they had just graduated. A white background with a black square, straight red streaks alongside it. The print had been damaged at some point: the black square had cracks in it, the paper ripped slightly. Will looked at it for some time, not looking at Mark and Mary, before returning his attention to the empty space where Isaac had stood.
As he had moved away, Isaac had looked at Mary, his eyes scanning down her long skirt, which fell to just above her ankles. It shifted from left to right as she made subtle movements with her hips. Isaac turned to face the music coming from a nearby bedroom, which was punctuated by the sound of loud female laughter.
Again Isaac spoke under his breath. “Well, fuck.”
He moved towards the kitchen with some urgency, blocked by a crowd of five men standing outside the kitchen door, laughing and shouting. They were Mark’s friends. They had been the first ones at the party. Isaac hadn’t talked to any of them. They were taller than Isaac; some by about an inch, some by a few more. Isaac tried to move past them, turning his body sideways. One of them turned his head as Isaac passed behind his back. They were talking about video games. One wore a suit jacket which was two sizes too big for him.
It was a cold, late-winter night; the darkness long since set in the sky came through the kitchen window. There was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke. Isaac immediately moved to shut the window, closing it with a cracking noise. Wood against wood. The smell of smoke remained, along with gasps of cold air. He tutted and rolled his sleeves down, shivering.
He turned back towards the kitchen doorway. No one had followed him in. He went to the large standing fridge and opened it, locating a pack of beers which resembled the can in Will’s hand, a six-pack with four left. Isaac took one of them and looked around at the other things in the fridge. There was a shelf full of hummus, labelled as homemade, small round tubs piled up on each other. Isaac put the beer to one side, looking back towards the kitchen door. He lifted out one of the tubs of hummus. The noise of the party was far away, blocked out by the occasional raised voice of the men outside the kitchen. One of them was describing a video game and his friend was laughing about it. Isaac breathed out through his nose. Still holding the hummus with his right hand, still in the cold of the fridge, he opened the tub with his other hand. He sniffed it. He dipped a finger into it, taking a small amount from the top and putting it into his mouth. He let it rest on his tongue before swallowing it. A few seconds later, he stuck three fingers in, taking out a larger dollop of it and putting it in his mouth. Isaac frowned. He looked at the items in the fridge again, moved the hummus around in his mouth with his tongue. He pressed the lid back onto the tub, placed it at the back of the shelf. He closed the fridge, picked up the beer and went back to the party.
Isaac sneezed as he left the kitchen, causing the group of men to look round. Isaac muttered out loud, not looking at any of them. “It’s cold in there. You guys should have closed the window, at least.”
Isaac looked back down the corridor. Will and Mark were not there. Mary was standing by herself, staring at her phone. Isaac looked at her behind, slightly straining against the back of her long skirt. He looked at her for a couple of seconds, turning away as she turned her head towards him. He walked towards the bedroom where the female laughter had been earlier.
Lyle, Isaac’s other flatmate, was in the bedroom. He was silent, his back against the radiator by the window, his legs extended outward on the floor. Three women were sitting on the bed across from him. They sat close to each other. Isaac didn’t recognise them. He looked back at Lyle, whose legs were framed by some empty cans of beer. Isaac moved closer to him. Lyle shuffled away from Isaac as he walked over, shifting his back, leaving the beer cans behind. Isaac went to sit next to him but stopped, hanging in mid-air for a second before standing up again. Lyle hadn’t left him enough room but didn’t budge any further. The women were talking over each other, their responses to each other immediate.
“The castle was so nice!”
“So nice!”
“Edinburgh is so pretty!”
“It’s amazing how old everything is!”
Lyle didn’t join in with them.
One of the women, a redhead with long curls, watched Isaac sit down. He held his beer can out in the general direction of Lyle, tilting it to begin a toast. Lyle didn’t look at him. Isaac opened his mouth, then closed it. He took his can back. He looked away from Lyle and asked a question. “You want anything from the kitchen?”
Lyle replied, “No, I’ve had enough.”
“Suit yourself.”
Lyle did not respond. He was looking at the far corner of the bedroom ceiling, his eyes resting on a fixed point. He straightened his back, taking another drink, not looking away from the far corner. He did not try to insert himself into the conversation.
Isaac looked at the open doorway, out into the corridor. He began to talk. “Not that many people here. Not as many as there were in August – obviously, but August is a different world. Couldn’t get into this room at all last time. Those dancers came along. Mind, Dylan brought them here. Some guy, Dylan. He’s not mentioned turning up but I’d assumed that he’d be here, and he always brings folk. Some sort of strange drama always following him around.”
Isaac glanced up at the women on the bed. Lyle, taking another drink, muttered something under his breath. Isaac talked over him. “We saw some good stuff at the festival this year, didn’t we? Do you still hear from that big Greek bloke? That stand-up show – that guy we saw? Lyle? We went for a few drinks with him after. You stayed in touch with him, yeah?”
Lyle kept the drink in his mouth. He did not look at Isaac when he spoke a few seconds later. “I haven’t thought about that boy in a long while.”
Isaac snapped back immediately, “Thought you liked that kind of guy? Like, your type?”
Lyle looked at Isaac for a second. “I’ve never said that to you.”
Isaac looked over at the women, then back to Lyle. He lowered his voice. “Yeah, but – you know what I mean. Big hairy chest, all that stuff.” Isaac looked away, back at the women.
Lyle did not say a thing for a few seconds, taking another drink before opening his mouth. “Please stop talking, Isaac. Absolutely fuc … Horrible, as always. It’s not right to do any of that—”
Isaac tutted, interrupting. “You’re really stroppy recently. It’s happening too much just now.”
Lyle closed his eyes, breathing in. He pressed his forefinger and thumb together on his free hand, hard enough that the tips of them turned white.
Isaac looked down at his beer. “What’s wrong now, Lyle?”
Lyle breathed out a response. “You know what it is. You’re always making those sorts of comments, then you spin it into being about my job.”
Isaac nodded. “Been telling you to chuck that waiting job for years.”
“I know, but what help have you been? You’ve said your place won’t hire people like me, whatever that means.”
Isaac shook his head. He snapped back angrily, “Didn’t mean it like that, don’t be so sensitive. It’s just they need more than – whatever it was you did. Modern languages? Really helped out with that holiday you went on for a year.”
Lyle finally turned to Isaac. “You know fine well it’s what you did today that’s pissed me off. How could you?” He took a drink, splashing beer from his own can into his face.
Isaac flinched and got up, moving towards the bed the women were on. There was enough space for him to sit a little away from the trio, but he chose to sit close to them. They shifted up the bed away from him. The women looked at him, not saying anything.
Isaac made a small wave with his hand. He spoke up. “I’m Isaac. How long you guys in Edinburgh for?”
They talked rapidly to each other, not towards Isaac.
“I think we’re here for another few days.”
“Lyle’s been such a gentleman.”
“Lyle! Come up here!”
One of them turned to Isaac. “Lyle said that you were having a bit of a dramatic day, something about a break-up?”
Isaac turned his head back towards Lyle. “Wait, sorry, you told them?”
Lyle had his head pointed at the ceiling, saying nothing.
The women hesitated. One of them spoke. “I think Lyle was talking about … We got chatting to him at an art exhibition today, a pop-up thing near the university. I’m thinking of applying there for a postgrad.”
Isaac was still glaring at Lyle when he said, “Lyle doesn’t really invite me to that sort of thing.”
The same woman spoke up again. “What about – was it Will, Lyle? Was that his name? – I think he’s coming. I think there’s more stuff on tomorrow.”
Isaac said, “Will’s our other flatmate. It’s not really my thing, art stuff.”
The women did not respond.
Isaac waited. After a second, he held his hands up. “It’s not really my thing.”
One of them spoke quietly. “They had a free bar.”
Isaac laughed. “See, that sort of thing I can get behind. Lyle doesn’t really advertise these things, but I can endorse getting shit-faced on a budget. I thought that was the whole point? Anyway …” Isaac raised his beer can to the women, who were drinking wine. There was evidence of some spillage: the white wall nearest them was smeared with a crimson colour. The stain extended to the bed, the smell of red wine sinking into the fabric of the covers.
Lyle continued to drink by himself. He kept taking a swig, then putting the beer can between his forefinger and thumb, tapping it, letting it swing. He did this a few times and it always swung the same way.
Isaac studied the three women. One of them, the redhead, was drinking from a bottle of wine. Isaac took a drink himself. She wiped her mouth. “The gallery was amazing, some really nice paintings—”
Isaac spoke quickly, interrupting her. “You guys must be doing well if you’re getting to flat parties on your travels!”
She nodded. “Oh, it’s great, this is the best place we’ve been to – Edinburgh’s just magical, you know what I mean? There’s a real buzz around the place. It’s just so pretty, just nowhere else like it. Have you been travelling? Don’t know if you’ve had the same feelings, you know. Being elsewhere.”
Isaac nodded, biting the inside of his lip. He waited a few seconds after she finished before responding. “What are your names?”
Lyle spoke up. “Isaac, what happened to her today? She’s been texting me, she’s upset.”
Isaac kept looking at the redhead and spoke quietly. “It’s not really any of your business.” He shifted position to look at Lyle.
Lyle kept going. “You never said you were unhappy with her—”
Isaac interrupted him. “Don’t start, we can talk about it later. It’s a bit dishonest that you’re—”
Lyle cut in. “Is that one of Will’s beers?”
“We bought the same stuff,” Isaac snapped back.
Lyle responded quickly. “I don’t think you did.”
“Calm down, Lyle. You’re a bit out of order.”
Isaac drank as he turned back to the group on the bed. One of the women was whispering. The redhead was staring at her friend, concentrating on her. Isaac looked at her green sequined top, her freckles scattered down her bare arms, glancing at the section of the bed near her, the whispering words, anything she was doing.
He closed his eyes. He groaned quietly, tilting the side of his head and rubbing the palm of his hand under his chin. He made himself as comfortable as possible, leaning backwards and looking up, glaring at the lampshade, the patterns indented on the ceiling. The bed was soft and his legs began to sink into it as he slouched.
Lyle continued. “Isaac. Be serious – you’re never this chipper. It’s odd that you’ve done this to someone we’ve spent years with. She was meant to be coming tonight.”
Isaac raised his voice. “It’s weird that I don’t want to talk about it? I don’t talk about that stuff anyway. Didn’t need your permission to—”
Lyle interrupted him. “It’s odd, that’s all.”
Isaac, grinning, snapped back. “This is a bit dull.”
The women sitting on the bed exchanged looks with each other, then stared at Isaac. He straightened his back, pushing out his chest.
Lyle did not let off. “You’re going to talk about her at some point.”
Isaac looked back towards the ceiling, tilting his head to the left a little. The redhead was leaning over to listen to her friend. He turned back to her, looking away from Lyle. “What was your exhibition about?” he asked.
Lyle spoke back, quieter now. “I thought you didn’t want to go. You’ve never shown an interest.”
Isaac, his voice a little strained, kept going. “How was it?”
Lyle went to mouth something, but one of the women spoke up. “It was quite busy. Lots of locals were there. It was quite homely.”
The redhead began to speak. “There was some great stuff. I loved that painting of the boat; it had really deep colours.”
Lyle cleared his throat. The women looked back at him. “I liked it as well,” he said. “Think it got bought by some local business owner who has a coffee shop somewhere. Decent guy. He’s got a place on Nicolson Street. It’s nice.”
Isaac took a drink as the women replied to Lyle. Then he interrupted their conversation. “You all liked a picture of a boat?”
The women looked back at him. “It was a great painting,” one said.
Isaac sneered. “Was it a big boat? Boats, man.”
One of them mumbled, “You mentioned you didn’t like art.”
Isaac was smiling now, harder than before. “Boats are rubbish. People use planes to get anywhere. What’s the point of getting on a boat nowadays? Good chance you’ll die, all alone, no one to give a fuck about you.”
The redhead made a shrill laughing sound.
Lyle spoke up. “Isaac’s from the Borders,” he explained.
“From where?”
“Countryside, south of here. He hasn’t seen much of hereabouts. Not near the sea. He’s not used to boats.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely, we should—”
Isaac breathed out through his mouth before interrupting. “Can we go back to this amazing painting of a fucking boat for a second?”
The redhead tried to speak, a little flustered, and Isaac asked again before she could say anything, “What makes your boat painting so good?”
She tried to speak again. Some small words came out. “I don’t know.”
“You like it, but you don’t know why? I don’t get what’s so exciting about a boat.”
The redhead waited. She was looking at the expression on her friend’s face. The friend had her back to Isaac, and he couldn’t see what she was doing.
“I just liked it, I guess,” the redhead said. “It just sort of worked for me, you know? It was a Scottish artist, I guess? It just looked really … I just liked it. Sorry.”
Isaac nodded. “Just liked it. Cool.” He looked away and pressed his hands into the bed to push himself up. He checked his phone. No new notifications. He pressed the phone into his hand with his thumb.
No one was speaking.
Isaac sank his shoulders down again. He spoke in frustration. “Where the hell is everyone?”
The redhead spoke again. “It was a fishing boat.”
Isaac screwed up his face before responding. “A wee fishing boat? Not even a battleship or anything?”
Lyle interrupted him. “Isaac, no one’s here because you … It’s you they’re avoiding.”
Isaac turned his body to face Lyle. “I want to hear about the wee fishing boat that was so good you couldn’t even—”
The redhead interrupted Isaac. Quieter to begin with, but she found her voice as she talked. “It was a fishing boat approaching a storm. It looked quite terrifying, actually. Like it was going to be lost at sea but then … then there’s this glimpse of something on the horizon, something out there, out of reach, a glimmer of light. We don’t know if it’ll make it there, but at least it is trying. It has to go forward, further into the dark.”
Everyone in the room was silent. Isaac breathed through his nose before responding, raising his voice. “Sounds brilliant. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that it’s rubbish or anything like that, but where is the painting put? Where does it go? Nothing happens to it, it doesn’t do anything. Some rich Yank buys it, sticks it somewhere next to a plant or something. It doesn’t mean anything. By the sounds of it, the boat’s pretty fucked. Who gives a fuck about a boat? Why does it need to go into the dark? Why does it need to do anything? Stupid boat driver, who gives a fuck about him?”
Lyle was looking directly at Isaac but moving further away from him. Isaac looked back at him but did not say anything. The redhead was whispering something to her friends. Isaac curled his toes and relaxed them. He straightened his back, the bones clicking at the top of his spine. He smiled and muttered, “This beer is absolute shite.”
Lyle spoke up again. He had not moved from the radiator. The women were turning their heads as the two men spoke, caught in the middle. “Isaac, you always do this when you get annoyed – start fixating on what other people have been doing, start needling and chipping away. Stop trying to change the subject, for fuck’s sake. I’ve heard from her, Isaac. She told me what happened, how you did it—”
Isaac was shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, it’s my choice,” he spluttered.
“She told me about how you did it,” Lyle snapped back, repeating himself.
Isaac shook his head. “That’s … She’s lying. She’s a liar.”
Lyle opened his mouth, but Isaac kept going, raising his voice. “You weren’t with us all the time, Lyle. You don’t get to decide what happened. You don’t get to decide what happened with me, only I do. You don’t get to decide anything, Lyle, that’s your issue. Always has been. You pick up strange friends all the time and act weird when they walk away from you.”
The redhead looked at her friends. One of them made a move to get up but the other held onto her leg.
“How is this about me all of a sudden?” Lyle said.
Isaac shrugged. “You’re just happy that you get to have a real conversation for once, instead of just being a tour guide again!“
“You had her round last week and you were talking about taking her abroad. She started asking about your jo—”
“You know what this is? It’s boring. This is boring. People break up all the time. There’s no reason to get upset about it.”
Lyle focused, concentrated on his words. “I’m not upset about it. It raises questions. Lots of questions.”
Isaac laughed again, his laugh the same as his previous in length, in volume, in high-pitched tone. He smiled, showing his teeth. He did not say anything back.
Lyle flashed a look towards the women.
Isaac laughed the same laugh again, right down to the smile with his mouth open.
The music reached a lull. Mark could be heard from outside the corridor.
Isaac spoke. “Lyle.”
Lyle waited a second before responding. “It raises questions, Isaac, that’s what I’m saying.”
Isaac sneered at him. “You’re a pal.”
“I’m allowed to ask.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“You don’t know what she was like with me. You’ve got no way of knowing anything about what we … about what I was going to do. She’d tell you anything to make you feel like I was the bad guy all along.”
Lyle closed his eyes. “I’m not saying you’re a bad guy, Isaac. No one is. You’ve been weird ab—”
Isaac interrupted him to speak to the women on the bed, his voice still raised and aggressive. “What was so good about the boat?” He took a swig from the empty can. He tried to shake it.
“Isaac, look at me,” Lyle pleaded. “She asked about the—”
Isaac ignored him. “What was the thing with the stupid boat about?”
Lyle tried to stop him. “Isaac!”
Isaac kept going. “What was the boat … Where was it going? What made it so good? Sounds like it’s done for. Can’t imagine getting excited for a boat which is doomed.”
The redhead muttered out a response. “You don’t know that.”
“Excuse me?” Isaac snapped back.
The redhead spoke up again. Her friends were silent, looking at their phones. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what’s going to happen. It could capsize, but it could make it. There’s a chance it could make it. But now, no one knows. But it has to head towards the storm. It has to keep trying.”
Isaac replied, “It’s literally just made-up colours. Shapes and stuff.” He scratched his nose again.
The redhead spoke again but didn’t look at Isaac. “I found it quite moving.”
“So you’re just saying anything, talking about nothing. You guys should try living in the real world.” He looked away.
Lyle sighed. “What is it, Isaac?” he asked.
A new song had kicked in with a low bassline that looped, again and again. “Will’s always playing that hip-hop shit. I’ve told him, it’s just people talking quickly, I’m always telling him …” Isaac got up without looking at anyone. “Where is everyone? It’s like you’ve all gone into hiding. Come on, fuck sake.”
The hallway was empty. Isaac whined. “Come on, man.” He went back into the kitchen. Will was looking inside the fridge. Isaac watched him, placing his empty can on the kitchen counter behind a pair of half-full wine bottles. “What are you … Where have you been, Will?”
Will’s shoulders sank. He breathed out. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he replied, not answering the question.
“I’m out. Do you have any spare?” Isaac asked.
Will sighed a response. “Some of mine are gone. I think … I don’t know who would have taken it.”
“One or two?”
Will hesitated before replying. “A few. Don’t know who could have–”
Isaac interrupted him, talking quickly. “Yeah, Will, it’s happened to me too in the past, at other parties. You just have to keep going. That’s what life is all about.”
Will closed the fridge, two beers held tentatively in one hand. He shrugged apologetically and muttered, “You can have one of mine. Sorry they’re a bit shit.”
Isaac reached out his hand quickly. “That’s fine.”
Will continued muttering. “Couldn’t really manage anything decent, but they were on offer.”
Isaac opened the can within a second of it being in his hands. “It’ll have to do, I guess.”
Will muttered some more. “Feels crap having to cut back on it. We haven’t been out in a while and I’m only buying this cheap stuff.”
“Don’t mention it. By the way, he wasn’t here. Lyle. You said he was here in the kitchen, and he wasn’t. He’s been in that other bedroom. You were wrong, Will. Wrong again.”
There was still a chill in the kitchen. The window had been left open again.
Will gritted his teeth a little, looking away as he asked, “He wasn’t?”
“I came in here and he wasn’t here. He’s been acting weird next door.”
Will stammered out a response, breathing through his mouth. “Sorry, I thought he was—”
Isaac cut him off. “Sure.”
Will looked out the open window at the endless dark; at the shapes of the buildings outside lost to the night, the windows all dark, curtains firmly closed. He tried talking again. “I’d seen him earlier, but I thought he was leaving soon.”
“Well, he’s here, being shit again.”
“Sorry, I thought I said it. Sorry.”
“He’s off on one. He’s always like that after a bad day of work, then he pretends that he’s the one who’s hard done by. It’s his own fault, really.”
“Sorry,” Will muttered.
Isaac tutted. “You need to stop apologising. It’s boring.”
Will muttered to himself again, at a volume only he could hear. “Sorry, I—”
“You remember the day we met? You apologised for buying me the wrong drink.”
“Whisky and soda, that’s what you wanted, I remember. Haven’t forgotten that.”
Isaac sneered at him. “Don’t know how you ever got that wrong,” he said, then laughed.
Will sighed. “Yeah. Long time ago,” he said.
Isaac took a drink, staring into space as he rolled his tongue around in his mouth. He turned back to Will. “What’s up with Lyle? He’s acting weird.”
Will took a drink, then asked his own question. “You dumped her today, Isaac?”
“What’s it to you?” Isaac snapped back.
Will did not say anything. He kept watching the window.
Isaac kept going. “What’s it to you, Will? Nothing to say? Good stuff.”
There was a brief pause, broken by the sound of the front door slamming shut.
Isaac tutted. He took another drink.
Will spoke up. “Are you feeling okay? You seem tense.”
Isaac responded immediately. “I’m not. Is Dylan coming?”
Will paused a second before replying, holding his breath immediately after he spoke. “No, he’s not.”
Isaac shook his head and looked out the window. “Why isn’t Dylan coming? It’s not like him to miss these things.”
Will opened and closed his mouth before speaking. “Mind how we all … how we’d been saying things about him? Last time we were out, we were all trading stories.”
Isaac interrupted him. “I mean, we did. It’s just … Never mind.”
“We’ve had enough of him now.”
“I know he said that stuff to her, but it’s not like … Oh come on, he’s good for some things. You know what I mean.”
“I think he was always a bit weird. He just brought a lot of, erm, you know …”
“Women, drama?” Isaac piped up. “A solid mix of the two?”
“We’ve stopped talking to him,” Will said. “Probably best that you do as well.”
Isaac stammered, biting his tongue for a second before responding. “I mean … whatever.” Isaac moved the can up to his face with some force. He began to speak again, this time at a slower, concentrated pace. “Yeah. It’s probably for the best. You can’t have that kind of person around for long. It’s good that everyone talked about it, at least. I guess no one’s ever said it out loud before.”
Will spoke slowly. “He was mean to you a lot of the time.”
“He was rude to me a lot of the time. I’ve always hated spending time with him. He always talked over me when other people were present.”
Will started to smile as he spoke. “He’s no big loss. I mean, it’s a lesson. He’s a lesson. He’s not learnt from—”
“You can’t always learn things from people, Will,” Isaac interrupted. “You need to be a bit more responsible. That’s all.” Isaac looked back towards the kitchen doorway. He could hear more female voices, saying goodbye. His shoulders sagged.
Will continued to talk. “Mind when he bought a round of drinks for those girls, spilt it in front of them and tried to get them to pay for it?”
Isaac nodded and laughed. “That was one of his better moments.”
Will watched Isaac for a few seconds before continuing. “He used to be quite pally with you. You surely remember a few of his worst—”
“This party is really dead, Will,” Isaac interrupted again. “Why is it like this?”
The front door shut again. Isaac pressed into the top of his can with his fingers. His body swayed towards the countertop.
Will shrugged. “This happens sometimes. They can’t all be big raves.”
Isaac shook his head. “They should be, though. They should all be big. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“You know what I mean,” Will replied.
Isaac took another drink then put his hand on the kitchen counter, picking up a thick line of dust on the outside of his palm as he moved it across the surface. He tutted and waved his hand in the air as he spoke. “We used to get really good folk at these parties. But yeah, they’re all working now. It’s crap. You’d think folk would be up for going out, be more into getting into … you know what I mean. It’s daft, people are being daft. Sitting around talking about paintings – those girls that Lyle brought are the most boring people. Nothing interesting to say. Not even worth it.” He bit the underside of his lip.
“I think Lyle bumped into them,” Will piped up. “They all seemed pretty chatty.”
“I mean, can you blame them?” Isaac asked. “They’re white American women. They’re always a little weird around black people, right Will? Probably scared shitless of you. Must have thought you were going to sell them drugs or something. But you know what I mean, right? God, I’m fucking starving.”
Will bit hard into the side of his mouth and shook his head. “That’s awful, Isaac – Jesus.”
Isaac tutted before replying. “I’m joking, asshole, what are you getting upset about? Christ, you’re always making this weird. The hell is with you now? You’re always in a bad mood, always being snappy with people. What is it now, Will? What is it now?”
Will looked away for a few seconds before answering. “I mean, it’s difficult with … You’re quite lucky with your job; it’s impressive what you’ve done. I’ve always struggled to talk about what I do for a living. It’s been difficult.” He turned to open the cupboard behind him. It was full of plates and cups. In the corridor, the women were saying their goodbyes. The front door closed shut and the flat fell silent.
Isaac shook his head and said, “Fucking Lyle, man. Set me up in there. Absolutely walked into that. You know, I’ve always felt like he’s been capable of doing that, doing that just out of spite, just because it’s …” Isaac looked back towards the door. He leaned over, poking his head out into the hallway. On a beat, he came back into the kitchen. “What is it with him? It’s not like we’re competing for the same type of people or anything. You know – you know what I mean, right? It’s just daft.”
“Isaac, come on, that’s just crass—”
Isaac continued to talk, speaking over Will. “He’s just doing that out of spite. He’s a bad guy, Will. He just acts like he’s better than everyone, but really, what’s he done? Fucks around for a bit at university, fucks off travelling, works in the same place for a few years, gets nowhere and hates everyone else for it. He’s directionless, fucking around, going out all the time. At least you understand about work.”
Will took a drink, unwilling to engage in the conversation. Isaac continued anyway.
“We need to be careful around him.”
Will raised his eyebrows and turned to face the door. “Should we go find everyone?” he asked.
Isaac paused a second before nodding. “Let’s go find everyone. Come on.” They went out into the empty hallway. Isaac said, “You’d think they would have said goodbye or something.”
Will looked at Isaac. “Who?”
Isaac ignored the question and snapped, “Where’s Lyle, that fucker? Hate him so much.” He went back into the bedroom where he’d spoken to the American women. Will didn’t follow him in.
No one was in there.
Isaac sat back on the bed. Impressions from where the women had sat were indented into the soft duvet. It smelled of rose perfume and it filled up his nostrils. He scratched his nose. Glancing back at the wine stain on the wall, he took another drink. He muttered to himself, “No, no, no.” He lay back on the bed. He was silent.
He stayed like that for a few minutes.
He went back into the corridor, turning his head left and right, swaying a little bit. He went back into the kitchen. He opened the fridge again. He stared back at the stacks of hummus in their tubs. He slammed the door shut. The kitchen was silent. Someone had opened the window again and the cold wind blew in.
He went back into the hallway. The music had been turned off.
He tutted.
He went into the living room. Lyle was lying on an armchair, resting with his back on the side, legs wrapped over one armrest, looking at his phone. Will was also fiddling with his phone, perched on another armchair, his knees up to his chest. A sofa across from them was occupied by Mark and Mary, who were occupied with each other.
Isaac stood in the doorway, arms folded. No one said anything. Isaac spoke again. “This is awful.”
Lyle responded without looking up from his phone. “What’s awful, Isaac?”
Isaac tutted. He addressed the room. “Mind we were playing ring of fire a few months ago, when we had forty people in this room and everyone was focused on it? That never-ending game of spin the bottle? Mind when Will threw up on that girl?”
Lyle smiled. “That was pretty funny, to be fair.”
They were silent for a moment. Will yawned. Lyle looked up from his phone at Isaac. “Everyone’s just busy tonight. We should probably get home, anyway.”
Isaac’s shoulders fell. He muttered, “Awful, man, awful.”
Lyle got up from the seat. “Come on, let’s go.”
Isaac flapped his arms for a moment, looking around him. “Where’s my jacket? I left it here. Where’s it gone?”
Mary and Mark left the room, muttering goodbyes to the three.
The others looked around the flat for the jacket. Isaac went quickly from room to room, Will following him. Lyle got up after they left and checked the backs of the sofas. He found the jacket behind the armchair; it had fallen near where Isaac had left his beer cans in the corner. Lyle picked up Isaac’s cans in both hands and, carrying them to the kitchen, walked past Isaac and Will. After placing them in the bin Lyle went back to the living room and picked up the jacket.
“It’s here.” He gave it to Isaac, who put it on without saying anything.
Isaac didn’t follow them down the stairs straight away. He looked into the empty hallway one last time as the door slammed shut with the barest momentum from his finger, a small amount of effort. The click of the lock was loud. They made their way downstairs, Isaac stuffing his hands in his pockets, watching his feet as he went down, step by step.
It was cold outside. They were in an area removed from the central parts of Edinburgh, the Old and New Towns, separated from it by the flat parkland of the Meadows. Home was a relatively short walk away, closer to the outer suburbs. Isaac glanced across the darkened pathways across the Meadows, lit by a thin line of lamps, away towards the nightlife of town. Away from where they were going.
Isaac kept looking towards the sights as the other two began to walk away. He spoke up. “I’m pretty drunk, guys. Could go for a few more—”
Will interrupted him. “We’re all a bit drunk, man. It’s going to work out fine. Things will work out the way they should.”
“Are the girls in Iona’s flat still up?” Isaac asked. “We could go see them?”
“No, Isaac. Let’s just go,” said Lyle.
Isaac clenched his fist. “They’re always up, or they normally are.”
Lyle responded, half talking to himself. “Just leave it, just leave it.”
Isaac sighed and started to walk behind them.
They walked up the street and turned the corner. The dark night sky cut across the tops of the buildings, the endless rows of clean tenements and polite shop fronts. The silence was broken by a howling wind which cut down the street, pulling dead leaves and dust with it. The three of them held on to their jackets as the wind hit them.
Isaac kept his fists curled in his pockets. They crossed a junction which turned off into more rows of flats. Isaac turned his head up towards the top-floor flats on the left-hand side of the road. There was no light in any of the windows. No movement, nothing happening. Street lights lit the way.
Isaac spoke to himself. Louder than he had before. “Please. Come on, please.”
Isaac paused in the middle of the road as they crossed over, his eyes looking down the street where Iona lived. The other two stopped a short distance away, both looking back at Isaac. His eyes scanned the window of Iona’s flat; the curtains were closed. There was no movement.
Where they were was not a classic postcard view, by any means, but one that was fine enough. More tenements, parked cars. At the end, all the way at the end, were more roads, more houses, the hill curling downward, the north of the city beyond it.
The history embedded into the Castle rock, the Victorian and Georgian streets in the distance – its history is already done. It does not continue. New homes are built around them, spreading out from the centre. Life happens out here, in small rooms and quiet streets. Young people meeting others in galleries, clubs and pubs. Families raising kids, old couples watching them go. Old friends drinking crap beer in dirty flats. Angry young men standing in the street, staring tearfully at windows, hoping that a light will turn on. The light will not turn on. There is no worthwhile history recorded around here, only minor happenings and quiet personal lessons.
Isaac glanced towards this vast emptiness ahead of him, looked around himself for a few moments, spinning slowly. Lyle and Will were moving on. Isaac walked up the street, hands in his pockets. Lyle and Will let him catch up with them before they walked on together. Isaac spoke out loud. “Bloody freezing.”
No one answered him. He kept looking down at the way back, keeping his distance from the other two, hands stuffed in his pockets. A taxi passed them on the way into town, full of people. Isaac looked away from it.
Their flat was on a street to the left, in a tenement that looked murkier than the rest even in the pale street lights. Mumbling a series of nothings as they came in, Isaac went into his room, the first one on the left. He sat down on the bed. He could hear the other two moving around the flat, heading for their rooms. Then, silence. He was left alone, sitting in the dark, listening to the creaks and cracks, the wind howling against the window outside, sputters of cold coming through the pane of the glass.
He spoke to himself, louder this time. “I deserve better. I deserve more than you all.”
His phone answered his cry.
It was a text. He looked at the number. It was one that he didn’t recognise. He tutted, not looking at the message. He fell asleep, fully clothed.
