Chapter 12

What breaks the mountain? Earthquakes, torrential rain, strong winds seem to have no effect. They change nothing; then, one day, the mountain crumbles. Nobody understands what did it. It's an accumulation of forces, it's the frequency of the stress, it's the magnitude of the pressure… It may be all and nothing at all. The mountain crumbles all the same. It's vain to pray to the heavens for it to happen or to demand that it didn't happen. It's a bookish and often vain enterprise to try to pinpoint when it will happen. The forecast may be out by millions of years.

There is a term an important event that we know will certainly happen, but that we don't know when it will happen. It escapes me now, but, I guess, the exact word is not important after all. St Andreas Fault can disentangle itself from the mainland tomorrow, or perhaps in a million years. Geologists know it will happen. But when? That's a different matter. When you compare it to the length of a human life, a day that can turn into a million years is a coin flip. It means that this event may or may not happen. It's no prediction at all, as far as any living human is concerned.

And yet, as men and women forget the prediction and live their little lives unaffected by the notion, eventually the mountain crumbles, and the fault breaks free. What did it? Why now?

I don't as myself such questions anymore. Unlike most people who live with hope and fear and dreams and worries and with what-ifs and with certainly-not, I don't understand such abstractions: I live in the world as it is. Things now happen to me, and I accept them as fact. I don't recoil from them: I don't expect them; I don't fear them; I don't try to predict them.

So far, things have been happening to me, but today things happened within me. My atoms have begun to boil; they have begun to dance in new movements of their own invention, with orbits I can't read. These change surprised me, and, although it affects me and my own mind and my own body, I cannot control it.

I went to bed last night feeling dejected.

People use me, I told myself: I am a commodity. Then, like my ex-wife, once they find no further use for me, they drop me. I leaned my head onto the pillow with this notion: I am nothing to people, but I am forced to hang on to existence because they're not done with me yet. Even if I could turn my back on people and ignore their desires, my daughter still needs me. So, I have to remain, and I must soldier on. I cannot truly be nothing. Not yet. I have to be something, even though everyone else is set on making me believe that I am already nothing. They want me to be moving atoms with no volition, no mind of its own. Like a stone or a plant.

I just wish I could turn off that voice in my head that tells me I deserve more, that I am entitled to being my own person, to fulfilling my own needs. That, after all, I am not a stone or a plant. But the voice lies. I know it.

Then, overnight, the mountain crumbled.

I don't know if I slept. It didn't feel like it. One moment, as I blinked my eyes shut, the room was steeped in darkness; then next moment, I open my eyes, and the sun is peering through the blinds, and I am filled with a new resolve.

I have tried to feel one way or another before. I have tried to bluff happiness, but it never worked. Today, I cannot not fake sadness or despondency, even if I try. Clearly, there is a force within me that I cannot identify, whose effects on my psyche I can observe, but that I cannot control.

St Ignatius has two gates. The main one is colloquially called after the school's namesake. Almost every morning, you can hear parents instruct their kids:

'I will pick you up this afternoon from St Ignatius.'

What they mean to say is that they will pick them up from the main gate.

The second one is on a side street perpendicular to the main one. It's next to the chapel, so it's known as St Mary's.

Chloe and I come into the school from 'St Ignatius'. We never use the side gate, as it would require us to walk past the main entrance, walk for another hundred metres, then turn the corner and walk up to this second gate.

Sarah uses the main gate too, when she drops off Chloe. Also, Cynthia, Yvonne, and Rachel come and go from this passage.

Alice, however, walks in and leaves the school from St Mary's.

I can wait for her here without fear of walking into my ex-wife, or anyone I don't want to run into today.

I hear the bell ring, and the parents who have stayed back to wait until the kids walk into their classes after their teacher slowly come out in little knots.

'Hi, Alice,' I say.

It's strange how I see her. It's double vision, in a way, like a drunk man's: I can see this woman objectively, the lithe redhead, with a rather plain face, who will fail to impress in the way a woman like Cynthia would; but I also see her through my own experience of her: she's the loving mother, and the friend who will offer assistance without any second, self-serving goal. I see her fragility and the armour she has built on her own around her.

I hand her the book.

'Thank you. I told you you could keep it,' she says, heading away from the school.

'Let me walk you,' I say.

'You're not busy?'

I smile and shake my head.

'I got time. I've been fired…' Then I notice her concerned expression. 'Don't worry. I have a new one. I'm starting in a couple of weeks. Do you have time for a coffee and a quick chat?'

She squints for a second, then makes up her mind.

'Of course.'

Her tone is polite, but she can't hide her mistrust.

We sit down at a café.

'A short black,' I order, 'and…'

'An orange juice, please,' Alice says to the waiter.

'I just wanted to thank you for the book.'

'You said already,' she says, making a joke out of it, but sounding a little annoyed.

'Yes, I know, I know.' I laugh, but I'm dying inside. I don't know how I can be so forward with women like Cynthia (cock flapping in the wind, balls proudly out, and not a care in the world!), while I can't put two words together with Alice. 'I just appreciated the gesture and never properly thanked you for it.'

'That's ok,' she says.

We get served our drinks, which makes me lose my train of thought. I search for a thread to lead me back to what I was talking about.

'Ah, yes! The book…'

'You said. Many times.'

This time, she laughs.

'Yes, but I was in a dark place, and there was nobody down there with me. Except you. And your book.'

She looks surprised.

'It just meant a lot,' I add.

She smiles. This sort of an apology seemed to have been accepted.

'That's alright,' she says. Then: 'I was thinking… Would you like to go out for a meal?'

I laugh:

'I was about to ask you the same thing.'

Which is a lie because I really was not thinking that far. I didn't even consider about whether I was attracted to Alice or not. I just wanted to make peace with the only true friend I had around. But, sure, why not? I look at her, and I tell myself that, yes, she is rather attractive: she is self-assured, but she doesn't need to show her strength to others; her life seems to be in order, and she seems in control. There's a sweetness and a grace to her that wins me over.

We decide for Japanese. While I am still free from parental duties until the weekend, she has to organise a babysitter. I offer to split the cost, which she actually accepts.

We sit at the table, a little embarrassed. I joke about the obsession of Japanese restaurateurs for smooth jazz: it's always a jazz rendition of 'Fly Me to the Moon' and never the sound of traditional koto music.

'Maybe it's the neighbourhood,' she says.

I try to milk the little joke, exaggerating, saying Sinatra was actually from Japan, that maybe Japan doesn't even exist: it's just a marketing ploy to sell lumber in the form of chopsticks.

Alice just smiles, charitably.

We talk a bit about the kids, the school. The conversation is polite. It stops. It starts again.

'So,' she says, 'you said you've been feeling low?'

I raise my eyebrows and smile sadly:

'Yes, Sarah and I broke up, which was a big blow, you know. It was probably obvious to everyone looking from the outside in that it wasn't working, but I found it hard to accept that I couldn't repair it.'

She nods and encourages me to talk.

'You see,' I continue, 'I haven't been in love with Sarah a long time, but I made a commitment, and I had responsibilities. To be told that I am no longer required, that, as hard as parenting can be, it would be easier without me… I would never desert the post. I was sent away.'

'Yes, when there's kids it's all the more difficult.'

'What was she like?' Alice asks.

'Who? Sarah?'

I have not thought about Sarah in objective terms in a long time. She was there, and I had to accept it as a stable feature of my life. In a way, I accepted her for who she was. I don't think she could ever accept me, with all my flaws, though.

'A bitch!'

She laughs:

'No, really…'

'No: really!' I say, only half-joking. 'She was difficult at best of times, always pointing out problems without acknowledging what was going well. No matter how hard I tried, I always fell short of her expectations. After a while, you resent that attitude, but you also stop trying because, whether you try or not, you will inevitably fail. It was quite depressing. A true slog, which I could put myself through only because I love Chloe, and because that was what was expected of me. It was some sense of duty.'

Alice looks at me with interest.

'What about you?' I ask, a little uneasy for a moment about the scrutiny.

She inhales deeply:

'My story is not much different.'

'Really?'

I struggle to believe that. Husband army medic, killed while helping others… How is that medal on the chest similar to the anchor on my foot?

'I married Martin when I was young. He was already in his late twenties, while I was just fresh out of school. He was very charismatic, full of world knowledge. He had been overseas and seen things… I think that may have been the problem…'

She's lost in thought for a moment.

'How so?' I ask, not fully understanding.

'The signs were the from the beginning. He would go in a mad rage for small things, but I was always eager to smooth it out: that became my role, smoothing things out, apologising for inexistent crimes. We got married. I got pregnant. We had a baby.'

It seems hard for Alice to say these things.

I feel bad for asking and don't want to pressure her to go on.

'Once the baby was born, things got worse. At night, I would count the hours till the morning when he would leave the house, and, in the morning, I would count the days until his next tour. He became physically abusive…'

She's saying this with a serious face, while I realise my face betrays vicarious pain.

Then, Alice skips ahead, maybe years:

'When I got the call, it was a relief. That he was gone, I mean. A relief, but I was so filled with guilt. I thought it was my fault I could not make it work.'

Without thinking, I extend my hand across the table and hold hers.

'Anyway…' she says, 'Jazz music and sushi, eh?'

We laugh because we have established a connection, and because we have begun to create our own language: jazz music and sushi. That's a start.

We still have time until the babysitter needs to go home, so I invite Alice to my apartment.

'A bachelor's pad, eh?' she says, looking around. 'Nice flowers though. I love lilies.'

'Yes, they give it a bit of colour…' I say uncomfortably, feeling the presence of Cynthia and her friends in the room.

We sit on the sofa. We're chatting about who knows what. Then, bam! Nothing to say. We're staring into each other's eyes, conscious of that something is about to happen.

'I haven't…' she says.

'I won't…' I reply.

She leans forward and kisses me. It's a tender kiss that lingers on. I realise it's the first time someone kisses me in a long time.

Sarah stopped kissing me on the lips years ago. She would smile and say 'Hi!' and 'Goodbye!'

Even Cynthia, Yvonne, Rachel; even Doctor Connor; even Miss Pulver and Miss Clancy, for all their passion, never kissed me. Not on the lips, at least.

I kiss Alice back.

She opens her mouth, and I feel her small tongue timidly venture past the fence of my teeth.

I squeeze her lightly with my arms. I am dying to explore her body, to touch her everywhere, but I know she is not like the others. She's not here for a quickie.

She leans her head on my shoulder for a moment, caressing my chest with her fingers, up and down, up and down.

'You know, I haven't been with a man for a while. I don't know if I'm ready…' she says.

I smile:

'We're not going to do anything you don't want to do.'

'But… I want to.'

She looks up at me, smiling timidly, asking a silent question.

'Alright, but we're taking it slow, ok?' I propose.

Then, we both blurt out:

'Can I?'

'Oh, sorry…'

'You…'

'No, you first.'

'What were you saying?'

We laugh.

I kiss her again, and I put my right hand onto her left breast and hold it there for a moment, as if be both had to get used to it.

It's small and soft. I didn't realise she's wearing no bra under her cardigan.

I kiss her on the neck and tell her:

'Let me start. Promise me you'll tell me if I go to far.'

'So far, so good,' she says, caressing my hair, as I lower my head.

I kneel before her.

She's wearing a flowy, pleated skirt.

I gently part her legs and stare at her:

'You good?'

She nods, a little apprehensive about embarking into this new adventure.

I smile reassuringly and crawl under a skirt. I restrain myself from stupid jokes about going down the mineshaft.

I kiss her naked legs, moving up from the ankles to the knees.

Alice lifts herself, and I gently remove her panties.

I put my mouth against her pussy. There's not much light under the skirt, and I cannot make out the details. I can feel the hair against my lips. She's nearly odourless, but, when I run my tongue against her labia, I can taste salty and sweet brine.

Through the cloth of the skirt, I hear her moan quietly:

'Yes… It's been so long…'

I lick slowly, exploring her anatomy; then, I concentrate on the clit, which is already turgid.

'Oh… yes…' she says.

I enjoy feeling her pushing her pelvis towards me, asking for more. She opens her legs; she offers herself to me.

I press my tongue against her opening and push in. Her flavour is even stronger. Then, I'm back on the clit.

Alice comes quickly. She presses my head with her hands against her pussy. She quietly yelps, in small bursts, like a puppy who's begging for a treat, then she asks me to stop.

She gives me a kiss on the lips and giggles. She brings a finger to her mouth, probably realising what she's tasting.

'Is that ok with we only do… this?'

I nod:

'That's fine, Alice. I'm very happy.'

'Ok, then. Down the coal mine!' she says.

I secretly laugh, but I'm happy that she can relax a little and find some playfulness. I unzip my pants but go no further.

Alice puts a hand in there, feeling around. She pecks little kisses on my neck as she does so.

I get a little impatient and take my dick out.

'It's been a while,' Alice says not moving from her position.

'I love being with you. We stop when you want, and we go when you say so.'

Alice moves her lips closer. I hear her inhale some air.

I feel her lips against my glans. A little kiss. Then another. I feel her tongue give it some exploratory licks. She runs her tongue around and around, which drives me mad, in the possible way, as I crave for the whole thing to be engulfed and swallowed. I let her go at her pace, disjointedly moving from the tip to the base, then the shaft.

Alice looks up and smiles.

I smile back, encouragingly.

She resumes the work. She now moans as she does so to arouse me further.

I caress her back with a hand, but, other than that, I don't dare put any pressure on her.

She strokes my dick and looks up to me with tender eyes.

'Do you like this?'

'Mh… mh…' I nod, closing my eyes.

She climbs off the sofa and lodges herself between my legs.

I lower my pants.

Alice begins to suck on my balls, running her tongue around them and between them, while masturbating me slowly.

Her touch is gentle. Her hand, minute on my dick. It goes up and down in slow, long movements. She's a little uncertain, unlike Cynthia and her friends who know their way around the male anatomy, they know what they want and how to get it. But Alice's timidity has some sweetness that arouses me.

I moan a little louder to let her know I'm getting close.

She puts her lips around my glans and sucks gently. Her hand moves up and down.

'Yeah… Go!' I say, and her movement becomes faster. Her grip on the shaft tightens.

I come in her mouth, and Alice moans happily as she feels the warm liquid on her tongue. She keeps on sucking and gives the base of my dick a few strong strokes to get all the semen out. Then, she smiles at me as she gives my dick a long lick and then a little kiss to the tip.

'Did you enjoy it?' she asks me.

She's unsure of herself and wonders what I was thinking while she was sucking me, if I had had better, if she was out of practice, if she was supposed to do something different.

'It was perfect,' I say. 'Come here.'

She sits next to me while I pull up my pants.

'I wasn't ready for… you know… the full thing.'

'That makes the two of us,' I say.'

She laughs:

'Liar! But thank you.'

We sit there for a minute. I hold Alice closer when she gives a little shiver.

'Cold?' I ask.

'You got me very warm!' She's silent for a moment: 'I want to do more… I like you… I know this is just the first date, but I really like you. I haven't felt sure enough to get close to anyone else since Martin, but…'

'Well, next time, we can do more.'

I just wonder if this is a new beginning for me. With a nice person next to me, I could find enough motivation to actually exist. My life will not simply be a chore to go through, a sentence to serve. I would actually enjoy it.

I imagine creating a new family. I imagine me and Alice living together, coming back from work at night, taking the kids to school in the morning. I imagine… Cynthia waiting for me…