Neck Met Shoulder

1

I made a promise. But what’s a promise, nowadays? Maybe there was a time – once – when secrets were sacred and promises were pristine, unsoiled things you could hold up to the light and still not see any flaws or blemishes, but now? At any rate, I told her I’d never tell anyone, and here I am. That’s how much promises mean nowadays, it seems. 2

Some things are made to be broken. Now there’s a rationalisation. One with no examples to support it, but I don’t think I need any. What’s a promise, when you make it to someone like her? And it’s not as if she’s ever going to read this. It’s all for my benefit – perhaps. To reveal is to purge. And she’s not the only one with guilt to get rid of. There’s me, too. This is my story, just as much as it is hers. And it only needs me to tell it. 3

So it all started with the back of a head. Oh yes, it seems ridiculous now. But light can be a powerful thing. It changes how you look – it shifts your perception. That’s what hindsight tells me. But hindsight is dangerous – it gives us excuses. It can even take my guilt away, like a stranger at a tube station offering to carry my bags for me. With a smile. It happens to me more often as I get older. That’s what people see. The front I present to the world. Such a sweet old lady, struggling with her heavy luggage. She needs protection. Assistance. But it’s not true. I don’t need anything of the sort. I need locking up. Or I did. Hindsight… the blur of memory… telling me it’s gone now, that I didn’t really do anything all that bad in the first place. And then there’s the old “coward conscience”, as Shakespeare called it, being brave for once – clamouring, weeping, tearing at me, iron-clawed, dragging me… That’s what I’m listening to now, because I think it’s probably right – I deserve what she got. So… it started with the back of a head.4

We were sitting at the theatre, behind him. I remember all of that. Not what we were watching, but that’s the blur of memory again – it’s a cloud, or a fog. It’s hazy. His neck, and that smooth straight line where it met the shoulder. Everything else was darkness, like the rest of the audience, but there was just that tiny part of him visible – illuminated by the lights from the stage. You couldn’t have called it celestial – since when have necks been angelic? Like a swan, then? No – slender as it was, it was unmistakeably a man’s neck.5

You can fall in love with anything – a sensation, a flavour lingering on your tongue, an object you just happen to see… But you couldn’t call this feeling anything but lust. I remember we noticed it at just about the same time. We nudged each other, then giggled as we realised we were both trying to point out the same thing to one another. He half turned, as if he wanted to tell us to be quiet, but then seemed to think better of it. The glimpse we were granted of his face told us we were justified in giggling about him like a pair of school-girls. But we weren’t little kids – we knew what we were doing. Not even my hazy memory could persuade me that I was naïve then; that I was unthinkingly going along with what Amanda was doing. We were both in control. Both guilty. 6

He was leaning slightly forward, his elbows on his knees, either intently watching what was happening on stage or bored – it was hard to tell. It was that sort of play, maybe. He had our full attention, so I don’t know what I personally thought about it. It doesn’t matter. And perhaps I can’t do this. My memory is focusing in on what I did that night, like something I can’t avoid seeing no matter how much I try to pull my eyes away. It is drawing me in, not clutching like my conscience but beckoning, knowing I will come. And I don’t want to. I can’t tell anyone, even now. It reminds me of the courtroom, with Amanda standing up in front of all those glaring people. I recognised the look she had on her face then. It was the same one I was trying to keep from escaping and darting out across my features. The one I’d seen the night before, in the bathroom mirror. I was just better at hiding it than her. Was that her downfall? She damned herself, and I walked free. I just kept my mouth shout and let confessions spill out of her lips like some grotesque fountain.7

“It was all me,” she said. I’ll never forget it. How could I? There was more – she told them I wasn’t even there for the actual deed itself, I’d gone to get help, I only came back after he was already… She said so much, babbling on, thinking it would make a difference. I sat there, and nodded – silent. They must have thought I was so shaken up by what she’d done that it stopped me talking. That’s not quite true though, is it? I knew exactly what I was doing, just as I had when it was actually happening. But it was safer to pretend I was in shock. A lot safer, as it turned out. 8

Our giggles had almost subsided when he suddenly pushed himself out of his seat and began to walk away from his seat, towards the door that led back out into the atrium. I guess he must have been going to the toilet. He never got there, of course. I still don’t know why we decided it would be a good idea to follow him. If we hadn’t… well, I’m sure everyone knows it would have been different if we hadn’t. That goes without saying. I felt Amanda grab my arm, and she whispered “What are you waiting for? Come on!” with such urgency that any concept of the immorality of stalking people left me completely. So many excuses. I’m packed with excuses, as though I’ve been shoved in a box lined with them. They’ve seeped into my skin.9

He was walking quite quickly, striding almost. We only managed to catch up with him when he’d already entered the atrium and was about half-way across the room. The rest of his body was almost as slender as his neck, but with subtle hints of muscle under the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing. I only remember that Amanda had heels on because that was what made him turn around – the sound of her shoes clacking against the ground. I was wearing trainers, as usual. In fact, I was dressed pretty much exactly like him. Amanda, though, always had to make everything into an opportunity to show off her latest acquisition of fashionable clothing. 10

“Can I help you?” he asked. He was so polite. If it had been me with two strangers tailing me like that, I’d probably have glared at them or something. I wouldn’t have asked them if there was anything I could do for them. Then again, if our positions had been reversed, I suppose it would have been unlikely that two men would have wanted “help” from a solitary woman. 11

He was lightly tanned, dark hair brushing against the stretch of skin just below his ears. And his eyes were deep, dark… I found it hard to believe this man had come to the theatre alone. Surely he must be here with a girlfriend, or a wife, I thought. But he had been sitting next to another man, and at any rate he’d come in after us – we’d have seen a partner, if one existed. I could see Amanda looking at him the same way I was, out of the corner of my eye. She’d adopted her customary “Yes, I’m interested, but you make the first move” stance, stretching out her right leg to display it – it always made me envious, how sleek her legs were – and shrugging up her left shoulder so it was gently touching her chin. Neither of us could speak.12

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” the man asked. There was a slight stammer in his voice, which I found very endearing. I could tell from Amanda’s expression that she’d noticed it too, and that far cruder thoughts were going through her head. 13

“I don’t know,” she said, casually, “Would you like to?”14

My god she was always so forward. I would never have said anything like that to a man – a stranger. She knew what she was doing, though. She’d done it so many times before. This was how she got her kicks, by finding good-looking men in bars and seeing how far she could get. Most of them were up for it. Which is an understatement. You know what men are like. And the ones who weren’t, well, you could still see they were sorely tempted, but they had wives to think about, sometimes kids. It didn’t matter to Amanda. As long as they showed some interest, she was happy. But this man was different. He looked frightened. Amanda saw it, too.15

“What’s the matter?” she asked. She said it a lot more firmly than I would have done, as though he was a child who needed chastising. “Hasn’t anyone ever flirted with you before? I find that hard to believe, darling. So what do you say? It’s up to you. This could be your lucky day.” She sounded like someone from a film, or a TV programme. She always put this fake voice on when she was trying to get people to like her. She liked to seem confident, and mimicking movies was the most effective way she’d found of giving off that impression. Usually it worked. But this time the man just looked even more scared, as if her confidence was a weapon being brandished at him, and he wasn’t prepared for the fight. He started backing off, looking over his shoulder to check where the door to the toilet was. 16

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Amanda had snarled then. But she didn’t. She just darted forward, somehow managing to do so even in high heels, and the next thing I knew her hand was on his shoulder and she was pushing him up against the wall. The fear on his face turned to abject terror. Her mouth was open, her grip on him tight. All her teeth were showing, in a wide grin. I saw him trying to cry out, and her other hand came up and shoved itself over his lips. He should have been strong enough to push her off, but the shock of her sudden movement had made his whole body seize up, and now he was pinned, helpless. His eyes darted towards me, pleading, and I remember I looked away. I felt sick, but at the same time I was exhilarated. I wanted to know what Amanda would do next. 17

“I’m going to let you go in a second,” she muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. The man was breathing quickly, and his hands were shaking by his sides. I had never seen anyone so frightened. I never thought a woman could have so much power over a man.18

“You’re not going to make a sound. If you do, I’ll scream. I’ll tell everyone you tried to rape me. And you know you’ll believe me. So no sudden movements. No calling out. Got it?”19

He nodded, rapidly. 20

“You’re going to walk out of the theatre. I’ll be right behind you. So will Mandy. You won’t be able to get away.”21

She leaned in even closer to him, and whispered: “I want you. Let me have you. Now.”22

The man looked like he was about to burst into tears.23

“Promise me you’ll do it. You’ll do exactly what I say. You know what’ll happen if you don’t. It won’t take long… well…” She could be so course. She looked down quite blatantly at his trousers, and smiled. “Well… I don’t know… will it take long? We’ll have to see, won’t we? Now. Remember, no sudden movements, no shouting out. Just walk out of here, and give yourself to me.”24

Her hands fell away from him, and for a second I thought he was going to struggle. He was still shaking, but he had gone limp now. She knew what she was doing, every step of the way. I couldn’t believe she’d dared to threaten him with crying rape, but it had worked. His arms swinging slightly, he made his way out of the atrium and out into the street. Amanda was walking almost directly behind him, and maybe I should have tried to stop it all then, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but follow. I know it makes me just as guilty as her. I know. 25

By the time I rejoined them, she had pushed him up against another wall. We were in a little alley, down the side of the theatre building. She had her hands lower down, on his chest this time. It was heaving, pushing up against her palms with the force of his panicked breathing, but her nails were digging in to the fabric of his t-shirt and he couldn’t move any more than he had been able to before. It was then that I wondered what she was planning to do to him. He was obviously not going to be up for her usual fumbling around, bodies pressing against each other in a frenzy for a few minutes. That was all she really wanted. Usually. But his reluctance had awoken something in her. She wasn’t going to stop. And all I could do was watch. I looked, as she began ripping at the t-shirt, tearing holes in it that stretched across his quivering chest like wounds. She was running her hands all over him, and he was crying out, whimpering and weakly attempting to push her away. He was saying something, too. The words came from him, ripped like his t-shirt. “Stop it, stop it, I can’t…”26

“Why not?” Amanda said, “What’s wrong with me, eh? Don’t you like me?”27

“No, no, stop… I can’t… I’m…”28

He was gay. 29

It all happened at once. These things always do. That’s how our memories tell us things went. To protect us? 30

Amanda went stiff, still pressed up against his body. I stumbled forward, knowing things had gone too far, but her hand was leaning backwards, no longer pinning him to the wall but curling up. I cried out, but I can’t remember what I said. Something ineffectual. It was too late. Her fist was already swinging towards him.31

No. Oh god, no. It was the other way round. No, I don’t mean he was attacking her. But I remember how it really happened. Memory’s hazy. I told you. I’ve remembered it all wrong, all these years. It was me. 32

I still have a photograph of us together. Amanda and I. One confident, slim woman in one of the dresses she always wore. And one in jeans and a t-shirt, her usual attire. But the woman in the dress isn’t Amanda. Amanda would never have worn something that showed that much skin. She was shy, worried that she wasn’t good enough. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly. 33

His neck met his shoulder, with a snap like a twig breaking in half. His head slumped forward, and it was quickly followed by the rest of him. My fist kept on stinging for a while, through Amanda’s strangled screaming. I was still standing there, over his body where it lay half against the brick wall. My hand had blood on it. I looked at it. And I smiled. For a few minutes, neither of us moved. Everything was silent, except Amanda, whose screams had become gasps that she sobbed out through her trembling mouth. Then she grabbed my hand, and I felt the blood – his blood – flowing from my fingers onto hers. 34

“You…” She could hardly speak. I looked at her. It was almost as if, in her panic, she had become a new person. Did I know her? 35

“You didn’t do anything.” She said it as if I needed convincing. “No, listen, Lucy, you never touched him. No, wait, you did, but afterwards… You went to get help, I’d gone too far, you knew something bad was about to… Listen to me, Lucy, it was me. They’ll ask you questions. Just… you have to stick to the story. I can’t…”36

I nodded. It all made sense. I couldn’t even remember what had happened. And now there was this man, bleeding on the floor in front of us. How had he got there? Why wasn’t he moving? What had she done? I felt calm. At the same time I felt like I should have been shaking, but the sight of him didn’t shock me. He must have done something really bad, to Amanda. That’s why she had done it. He had got what he deserved. How dare he try and attack a defenceless young woman like that? She must have been so scared.37

“Do you understand, Lucy? This is important. You have to say it was me. Tell them.”38

I nodded again. I didn’t think I needed to say anything. I just smiled. I was smiling as she went to his body, and smeared her hand with blood, and crouched over him. She was so brave. He had tried to hurt her, and she’d defended herself. Poor Amanda. What a beast he was. Typical man. Only one thing on his mind, no matter if the woman doesn’t want to, he just went right ahead. Well, let this be a warning. Women are strong too. We won’t put up with it. We’ll fight back. Brave, brave Amanda. I looked. I smiled. 39