Real Monsters Page 9

  But what?

  The fact was I was bored. Time seemed to have stopped altogether, the days stretching on endlessly as I trudged through hours of mindless daytime TV, the pictures and words slurring in and out of focus, the lack of human interaction finally starting to take its toll as I realised it had been weeks since I’d spoken to anybody.

  I felt like I was in a desert.

  I tried to stay in bed for as long as possible in the morning and then went to bed early at night, sometimes even before it got dark, all the while making a superhuman effort to avoid the clock.

  But it was no good.

  By mid-week I found myself eyeing up the bottle of vodka that had stood on the kitchen side since Danny had left, wondering if it was too early to have a double with lunch. In the end I washed it away down the sink, not trusting myself not to finish it. And then buy another, and another. After that I just sat and waited, staring at the walls, dividing up the days into ever decreasing units of time left until I’d see Danny again; seventy-two hours, 4320 minutes, a quarter of a million or so seconds…

  Until finally, there was a knock at the door.

  I froze. After all this time apart I was suddenly unsure of myself. I’d already got dressed about fifteen times that morning, discarding dresses as too scruffy, or too slutty – or not slutty enough – applying and reapplying my make-up until I was certain everything was perfect. Yet now that he was actually here I found I was nervous, my stomach churning as if I was about to attend an interview rather than welcome my husband home. I took a deep breath, straightened my top and opened the door.

  ‘Hey.’

  Relief saturated my senses. He was back and he was smiling. Sure he looked tired, and crumpled and was that a… tattoo on his arm? But he was back. And just as handsome as I remembered – maybe even more so, the two-day stubble helping to define the jut of his jaw, his shoulders looking bigger and more welcoming than ever, even with the new eagle tattoo etched on his bicep. ‘Hey,’ he said again, squeezing past me into the apartment before I even had time to land a kiss on his cheek.

  He stood there for a moment, blinking in the room. ‘You… painted,’ he said squinting at the walls. I nodded, suddenly self-conscious of my sloppy lines, worried I’d chosen the wrong colours. ‘You like it?’ I asked. Danny shrugged. ‘Sure… I jus’ wasn’t expectin it is all… ’ His accent seemed stronger. Rougher around the edges, as if he couldn’t be bothered to finish his words anymore. An awkward silence seeped between us, like two strangers suddenly realising they had nothing in common beyond the weather. ‘So… do you want something to eat?’ I finally asked, swallowing down the drowning sensation, determined to stay afloat. ‘You got steak?’ Danny asked, a hint of excitement in his voice for the first time since he’d got home. I smiled. ‘I’ve got bacon, gammon, sausage, ribs or chops.’ Danny shrugged again. ‘I ate on the plane.’ I nodded, reminding myself that this was okay, that this was all normal behaviour. He was just trying to readjust to life on ‘civvy-street’. I forced my smile even wider, watching as Danny dumped his bag and headed towards the bedroom. ‘In fact I think I’m jus’ gonna crash for a while. I’m beat.’

  And with that he was gone.

  The next two weeks were tougher than I ever could have imagined. Most days Danny was up at the crack of dawn, leaving me in bed while he ran circles around the block, or did one-handed push-ups in the kitchen. At breakfast he’d sit in silence, wolfing down a battery farm of eggs before immediately going back out to the gym for the rest of the day. It was crazy, like he was still in training or something. Like he couldn’t switch off. Whenever I gently tried to suggest we did something together, like go to the cinema, or for a meal, or even for a walk, he swatted me away. It was his passing out parade in two weeks and he wanted to make sure he looked good for the photos. He only got one shot at it. It was important. Sure, I said. Of course. But the whole time I was thinking

  What about me?

  Worst of all was the lack of intimacy. I’m not just talking about sex, although a little wouldn’t have hurt – Danny seeming to have lost all interest in that department since his return. No, what was hardest to take was the general lack of affection. I mean your father was never the most tactile of people, but now it was like he went out of his way to avoid all physical contact with me, sleeping with his back to me at night, leaving the house for the gym each morning without so much as a peck on the cheek. And heaven forbid I actually tried to touch him…

  Still, it wasn’t like he stayed out all night getting drunk. And he didn’t beat me or call me names. To be fair, there were plenty of things he did do well. DIY for example. And he kept the place unbelievably tidy, vacuuming the entire apartment at least three times a day. I had a lot to be grateful for. And who knew, once he’d officially passed out maybe things would settle down a bit and go back to the way they were before? Until then I figured I’d just sit tight and do my best to keep smiling and try my best to be a good wife.

  To do my duty.

  Eventually the day of the parade arrived. Danny was in a great mood, nervous but excited, and looking stunning in his starched white gloves and black beret. Seeing as he didn’t have anyone else to bring along I decided to invite my sister, who flew in especially that morning, leaving the girls behind. The ceremony wasn’t due to take place until the afternoon, and while Danny stayed at home getting ready, my sister and I spent the morning shopping and catching up.

  I hadn’t seen her since Mum’s funeral and to my surprise she was in high spirits. The girls were doing well at school, she’d gone back to work and she’d even started seeing someone. ‘So what’s he like?’ I asked as we squeezed into a changing room together. ‘Oh he’s sweet and kind and he has a great sense of humour,’ she blushed, before quickly adding, ‘Of course, he’s no action hero like Danny.’ I grinned feebly, feeling for the first time since I was eight years old a pang of sibling rivalry. ‘Oh my God don’t do it sis!’ I suddenly yelled, pointing at the elegant black dress she was mid-way through wriggling into. ‘Seriously, it shows off your curves in all the wrong places… ’

  The actual parade was over much quicker than I’d anticipated. There was a short ceremony at the beginning where the soldiers lined up together to salute the League of Peace flag while a senior officer read out their pledge to protect and enforce security throughout the world, after which we all trailed outside to watch the new recruits drill through formations as a military band pounded out a strident march. I scanned the jungle of feather plumes and red sashes to look for Danny, but everybody looked so similar in their uniforms it was impossible to make him out. I quickly grew bored of looking and instead turned my attention to the crowd, scanning the faces of the other wives and mothers to see if there was anyone I recognised.

  There must have been a hundred people watching, each of them craning their necks to try and catch a glimpse of their loved one on their special day. The thing that struck me most was how happy everybody looked, their eyes glistening with genuine pride as they watched their men – and it was all men – out there on the square. After a while I began to feel guilty. The truth was, I was left a little cold by it all. I mean, sure it was nice to see Danny dressed up so nicely. Jeez, it was nice to see him for more than five minutes in one sitting. I just thought the whole thing would be a bit more personal. After all, Danny had just more or less promised his life to the army:

  For richer or poorer.

  For better or worse.

  Yet what had the army promised him in return? The right to be one of a hundred other marching toy soldiers, saluting the flag over and over again.

  Until death… ?

  And even as the band trailed off and the boys fell in line for a final roll call, I looked out over the crowd and could see the next group of new recruits patiently waiting their turn to pass out, having presumably already finished with their pledges and promises. I suddenly found myself wondering how many other soldiers had already been out there before us today. A thousa
nd? Ten thousand? More? Maybe the ceremony just went on continuously, twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year – an endless factory production line pumping out identical batch-made soldiers, an entire army of Dannys, all of them marching away from me…

  An old woman nudged me, grinning wildly. ‘Wow, you must be so proud!’

  I smiled back, my cheeks hurting with the effort, before turning to my sister. ‘I need to get a drink. Now.’

  Once the parade had finished we were led through to the ‘grand hall’ for the reception. It would be the first chance I’d had to actually talk to Danny – that was if I could spot him amongst the muddle of berets and boots, the huge room shrunken by the number of newly inaugurated servicemen, most of whom seemed to be growing increasingly loud as the trays of free drinks were emptied, replaced and then emptied again. As I handed a glass of sparkling wine to my sister and then grabbed one for myself, I began scouring the room for Danny, squeezing between young couples posing for photographs and mother-in-laws queuing for the bathroom until finally I spotted him, propped up against the bar next to a couple of other young-looking soldiers, a drink in each hand.

  Laughing his head off.

  ‘Hey,’ I said as I sidled up to him. ‘I was looking for you.’ Danny smiled stupidly. He’d never been much of a drinker and already his eyes looked soft and unfocused. ‘Sorry babe,’ he said, sliding a muscular arm around the neck of the soldier stood next to him. ‘You know how it is when I get together with the boys.’ I nodded and knocked back my wine, reaching across him to pluck another from a passing waiter. ‘So this is your wife, huh Dan?’ said the soldier in the headlock, letting his gaze creep down my body to rest on my legs. ‘You never said she was a honey! Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ Danny responded by giving him a quick jab in the kidneys. ‘Lorna, this jackass you see before you is Private Schmitt…’ ‘Schwarz!’ the soldier corrected him. ‘Whatever. You don’t need to worry about this Kraut fuckwit. He ain’t gonna last long in the field – he’s got the common sense of a fuckin cockroach!’ Schwarz winked at me. ‘Which coincidentally is the only thing that’ll survive a nuclear holocaust… Speaking of which, how are you two celebrating your last few days together before we head off to face certain annihilation. I bet you’ve got a hotel room booked, huh? Let me guess, the Love Bird Suite?’

  I glanced at Danny, searching his face for answers, finding nothing but pursed lips and a blank stare. Schwarz looked from Danny to me then back again before exploding into a fit of high-pitched laughter. ‘You bastard!’ he cackled. ‘You absolute cocksucker – you haven’t told her yet?’ I reached out and grabbed Danny by the wrist, shaking his limp arm. ‘Told me what?’ Schwarz shook his head, still laughing. ‘I mean, that’s cold man. You haven’t told her? Shit… ’ I kept shaking, ignoring my sister’s hand on my back, silently begging me to keep calm. ‘What’s he talking about Danny? What haven’t you told me?’

  And then finally, as if only just noticing me, he turned and grinned.

  ‘Y’know I was gonna tell ya tonight baby. I wanted it to be a surprise but Schmitt here had to go and and open his fuckin pie-hole, didn’t ya?’

  The room roared with excitement and pride and the good cheer only unlimited complimentary drinks can bring.

  ‘I was gonna tell ya. I’m serious… ’

  And somewhere behind me my sister held her breath.

  ‘We got the call. A week ago. I’m startin my first tour of duty... ’

  The room fell silent, everyone turning to look at me. Even Schwarz had stopped laughing.

  ‘I leave in a week.’

  It was early evenin when we arrived at the lake, but that didn’t stop us from divin straight into the water. I mean it, boots, packs, everythin – we just jumped right in fully clothed and started splashin around. Like kids in a swimming pool we were, climbin onto each other’s shoulders and belly floppin back in, somersaultin underwater or usin our hands to spray each other. ‘Course I’ve never drank so much in all my life. Gulped it down ‘till I couldn’t swallow another drop, ‘till it felt like my belly would burst. After that I jus’ lay there, floatin face down like a corpse, the cool water swishin around my teeth and tongue, my feet not touchin the floor.

  The funny thing about the place was that it looked almost exactly like your paintin. I mean it, right down to the row of palm trees that bowed down over the water. It looked like we found ourselves a bona fide tropical paradise. Only thing we was missin was the sandcastles, ha.

  It was completely dark by the time we scrambled out onto the bank, the cold night air instantly settin us shiverin. Cal was the first one to point out he was starvin. We all were. It’s funny, only an hour earlier any one of us would’ve slit our own grandmother’s throat for a half teaspoon of water, yet now that we’d had a drink all we could think about was how cold and hungry we were. I reckon we could’ve been sat at the swankiest restaurant in town with a plate full of pie, a bar full of beer and a hooker on each lap and we’d still be complainin that the chair was uncomfortable. But I guess that’s what bein human is all about, huh?

  As we peeled off our wet clothes we carved out a simple plan – Jim, Jett and Doggie would do a quick search of the surroundin area to see if they could forage anythin to eat while Cal and I would stay put and attempt to start a fire. I weren’t holdin my breath on any food turnin up. Then again, I reminded myself as I wrung a river of water from my top, stranger things have happened.

  It took a surprisingly short amount of time to get the fire going, the surrounding scrub providin decent enough kindlin. We even managed to dig out an old stump that we found near the edge of the water and set it in the centre of the blaze. I swear, it was like someone upstairs was keepin an eye on us for once.

  As we sat warmin ourselves over the flames, I happened to look up and see two fat, juicy coconuts high in the tree above us, danglin like a big ol’ hairy pair of balls, jus’ askin to be plucked. I gave Cal a nudge and pointed up. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Dinner.’

  Now, I don’t know how many trees you’ve climbed in your life, what with us livin in the city and all. Plus I’ve seen the way your mother is about health and safety and all that lefty shit. Jesus, she probably considers tree climbin an act of vandalism, an affront to the tree’s incontrovertible rights or whatnot. Anyway, when I was your age I used to climb a shit load of trees. I’m serious, I pretty much lived in ’em – had my own tree house that I used to sleep in and everythin. Like a little monkey I was, shimmyin to the top, swingin from branch to branch. No one was better than me. Or quicker.

  Thing is, back home the trees I used to climb were all ash, oak, chestnut. That sorta thing. Great wide jobs, with plenty of nooks to use as handholds and branches to swing a leg over. What I never practiced climbin though was no palm trees. Not even once. Shit, you ever seen a palm tree son? Great tall, skinny things they are, just one long pole disappearin way off over your head. Nowhere at all to get a grip. And the bark, Christ. It’s like razor wire. I ain’t kiddin!

  After the first few tries Cal’s hands were chewed up pretty bad, so I shoved him out the way and took a run up myself. By wrappin my vest round my hands I managed to crawl up maybe nine or ten feet before I missed my footin and slipped, scrapin my belly raw on the fall back to earth. ‘Goddamned tree!’ I snapped as I picked myself up off the dirt. ‘If only we had some rope I could try and arrange a harness and… shit. I don’t know.’ I peered up at the coconuts. They seemed to be bobbin slightly in the flickerin light, tauntin us. I turned to Cal to see if he had any ideas. ‘Why don’t we jus’ shoot the fuckers down?’ he shrugged. I shook my head dismissively, then stopped. It wasn’t a bad idea. ‘Ya reckon ya can hit ’em?’ I asked. Cal lifted his gun. ‘I reckon.’ I took a step back, keepin a careful eye on the top of the tree to see where the fruit landed.

  There was a loud CRACK! followed by a sizzle as both coconuts exploded. ‘You fuckin idiot!’ I yelled at Cal as he wiped tiny white shards from his face. ‘Where the fuck did you
learn to shoot? Waco?’ Cal gave a small shrug and looked at his feet. ‘Sorry.’ I stared at the small pieces of shell that had landed in the fire, the husks already glowin orange in the flames. ‘Forget it.’ Jus’ then there was a rustlin behind us and we turned to see a small bundle of fur emerge from the bushes.

  It was Doggie’s kitten.

  It was another hour before Jim, Jett and Doggie returned from their foragin trip. They hadn’t managed to find anythin except for a small handful of berries that Doggie was proudly holdin up for us all to see. Jim and Jett looked weary, their clothes still wet from the swim earlier. They perked up a little though when they saw the fire we’d built, and we shifted round to make space for ’em to sit down.

  We waited until they’d dried off before we brought it out. Doggie handed out his berries – everyone got four – and we sat there chewin in silence. They tasted like mud and poison. ‘Okay, fuck this,’ I said, standin up and tossin my remainin three berries in the fire. ‘Hey, what the hell d’ya think you’re doin soldier?’ Jim yelled. That’s when I got up and fetched the meat from out the bushes, already washed and skinned with a stick shoved right through it. There was a stunned silence. And then the cheerin started. While it was cookin we told them the story of the coconuts, explained how after Dirty Harry here had finished blastin ’em to smithereens we’d heard a noise in the bushes and found a big ol’ bird flappin around. ‘You’re lucky ya didn’t let Cal loose on it,’ said Jett. ‘Else we’d be havin shredded duck for dinner.’

  Everyone laughed.

  Twenty minutes later we all sat lickin our fingers and wipin our chins. ‘So what kind of bird was it again?’ Doggie asked as he hacked himself yet another slither of flesh from the skewered lump of meat resting next to the fire. I sensed Cal starin across at me, tryin to catch my eye. ‘A big ’un,’ I answered with a grin.

  ‘A real big ’un.’