Page 45 of The Elements

We started in one of the more exclusive pubs in the city, drinking beer, not yet ready for the shots and cocktails that would come later.

Girls came over, wanting to talk, trying to flirt, demanding selfies for their social media accounts.

Later, when we arrived at the nightclub, we ignored the queue and were ushered inside by a bouncer, before being brought to a VIP area where a gym rat stood guard, studying each girl who wanted to cross the divide and deciding who was hot enough to gain entry to the promised land.

One came over and sat by my side, and I wondered what her face might look like beneath the layers of makeup she wore.

Her mountain of hair was arranged so it sat atop her head as if she’d just emerged from the heart of a tornado.

She must have spent hours getting ready for the night, but to me, she looked like a mess.

She told me her name; I wasn’t listening.

There was a boy by the bar who kept looking in my direction, and I wanted to talk to him instead.

“We had it on at work,” she told me.

“You had what on?” I asked, shouting to make my voice heard.

“The game, of course!”

“Oh, right,” I said. I’d already forgotten about the game.

“Congratulations on your goal. It was the best one.”

“I wanted to be a painter.”

“What?” She leaned closer, putting a hand to her ear, trying to drown out the music.

“I said thanks.”

She put a hand on my lap, close to my crotch, and moved in to kiss me, but I stopped her. Even the idea of that mush of viscous lipstick making contact with my mouth made me nauseous. I put the palm of my right hand in her face and pushed her back.

“What the fuck?” she asked, looking shocked.

“Ask next time,” I said. “Fucking ask.”

“Before kissing you?” She looked baffled. It was obvious she’d never been met with such recalcitrance.

“Yes.”

She took a moment to rearrange her features and to pretend that this was fine. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just I really like you.”

“How can you possibly ‘really like me’? We only met two minutes ago.”

“OK.” I watched as she tried to process this. After a moment, her face lit up like we were old friends. “We could just talk, yeah?”

“Or you could fuck off,” I suggested, and now she stood up, pulled what there was of her dress down so it just about covered her ass, and marched away, pushing past the bouncer and returning to her friends, probably waiting for someone else who was semi-famous to come in and try it on with him instead.

I waited a while, had some more drinks. I thought about calling Wojciech, but instead made my way over to the boy at the bar. He was talking to a girl, but he turned to me when I stood next to him, introducing himself as Logan.

“Evan,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Evan Keogh, right? I recognize you. But I’ll be honest with you, I have no interest in football whatsoever. None.”

“That makes two of us, then.”

I gave him the smile, the smile that said I’m interested, and I know you’re interested, so what now?

“Explain the offside rule to me,” he said, and I did, and he grinned.

“Hot,” he replied. “Although I didn’t understand a word of it.”

“I wanted to be a painter,” I said, my second time tonight, and, like the girl, he didn’t hear me, leaning in and asking me to repeat it. I wondered whether those words were destined to be forgotten by the universe now. People couldn’t even seem to hear them when I said them aloud.

“I’m over here if you want to join?” he said, nodding toward a table where three other guys were gathered, friends of his, I assumed, and I looked back toward the VIP area and saw Robbie watching me and looking angry, as if I’d deserted him.

The rest of our group, and the girls who had joined them, were all talking, but he seemed removed from them, focusing solely on me.

I knew I could leave with Logan right then if I wanted, but, if I did, then I wouldn’t be with Robbie.

“Not tonight,” I told him. “But give me your phone.”

He unlocked it, handed it across, and I tapped in my number.

“Any night you want,” I told him, feeling the beers start to hit me. “Except the night before a game.”

He nodded, not bothered that I’d said no.

He was young, fit, good-looking, and could get any guy he wanted in any club.

He had no interest in being some ridiculous male WAG.

This made me even more interested in him, and, just as I was about to change my mind and say yes, I’ll join you and your friends, I’d like to be with a group of gay men who don’t give a fuck about football, Robbie came over and put his arm around me.

“Sorry, bum boy,” he said to Logan, and his voice was already leery as the alcohol did its magic. He threw an arm around my shoulder and planted a smacker of a kiss on my cheek, which had exactly the effect on me that he knew it would. “You can’t have this beautiful man tonight. We’ve got plans.”

“A friend of yours?” asked Logan, ignoring him, disdain written all over his face.

“My best friend.”

He nodded and unlocked his phone again, scrolling to his contacts. I knew what he was doing. Deleting me.

“Good luck with that,” he said, picking up his drink and walking away. I watched him go. I wanted to follow. But, Robbie.

“We’re going back to mine,” he said.

“It’s late,” I said.

“We’re going,” he repeated. Not a suggestion. A command. “Now.”

As I followed the group out of the club, I saw Robbie’s right arm wrapped around the waist of a nineteen-year-old girl, his hand held low, while her left hand was tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

An hour later, we were all in Robbie’s apartment.

The six of us and at least ten girls. Music playing loudly, some people dancing, some already coupling up.

On the balcony, looking back into the room and trying to catch the eye of any of the guys so they would see what was happening, Kevin was getting blown by one of the girls.

He looked disappointed when I turned away rather than cheering him on.

“You want some of that, don’t you?” asked Robbie, coming up to me and handing me a Jack Daniel’s and Coke.

“Give me a break,” I said. “He looks like Shrek’s ugly brother.”

Robbie laughed and continued to move around the room, dispensing drinks and largesse.

I thought of what he might let me do if I got him drunk enough.

When I turned back, Robbie had moved toward the staircase and was standing with his back to the wall next to Lauren.

She said something and he burst out laughing, then put his hand behind her head, his fingers inside her long hair, and pulled her closer, and they started kissing.

I made my way across the floor as she took him by the hand, and they started to ascend the staircase.

Before going up, he looked in my direction, giving me a grin, a wink, and the thumbs-up sign.

A girl came over and told me she was Lauren’s best friend and Robbie better treat her right.

“I’m not his keeper,” I snapped. “And you’re not hers.”

“It’s Evan, isn’t it?” she asked, nonplussed by my rudeness, and I nodded. “Do you want to fuck?” she continued, as casually as if she was asking whether I wanted a cigarette.

“I’d rather drink bleach,” I replied.

“What?” she asked, looking mystified, as if she couldn’t possibly have heard me right.

“Just leave me alone,” I said. She took a step back and turned on me as if I’d punched her in the stomach.

“Fuck you,” she said.

She walked away, and I thought about leaving. I put my drink down and looked toward the door, but, rather than walking toward it, my feet took me up the staircase, where the music was not as loud, then around the corner toward Robbie’s bedroom.

It didn’t surprise me that he’d left the door ajar.

He was probably hoping I’d come up to watch the show.

He’d practically invited me, after all. I pushed it open wider and looked at them.

They’d turned off the main light, but a small lamp in the corner was on.

Robbie’s shoes, socks, and shirt were on the floor, along with her blouse.

She was moaning slightly as he kissed her stomach, one of his fingers moving beneath a bra strap, but then she turned her head, opened her eyes, and saw me standing there.

“Fuck,” she said, startled, and Robbie stopped what he was doing and looked around. He smiled at me.

“You want some too?” he asked. I said nothing, and he turned back to her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “He’s harmless.”

“Tell him to get out,” she said.

“No, babe, he’s fine. Let him watch.”

“Fuck off,” she replied, to both of us I think, but she laughed a little as she said it, as if she assumed that I’d just take the hint and leave.

Instead, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

There were just the three of us there now, and the expression on her face changed.

“I mean it,” she said, pulling herself up in the bed now and turning to Robbie. “Tell him to get out.”

Robbie groaned and sat up, his knees on either side of her waist.

“What does it matter, babe? It’s no different than watching porn. You want a go after me?” he asked, turning to me. “Something new? You might like it if you try.”

“OK, you can both fuck off now,” said Lauren, growing angry now and trying to pull herself out from beneath him, but he pressed his thighs against either side of her and used his hands to pin her arms to the bed.

“Don’t. Be. A cunt,” he said, spitting the words at her, and I saw her grow pale, frightened, recognizing what might be about to happen and her powerlessness in the moment. She looked at me.

“Tell him to get off me,” she said.

“Should I?” asked Robbie, turning to me with a broad smile on his face. “Should I get off her? Or should I get her off? You tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Promise.”

I stared at them both for what felt like a long time. Downstairs, “Starman” was playing loud. I closed my eyes and spoke.

“Let me make you happy,” I said.

I took my phone from my pocket, unlocked it, and turned the camera to video.

“Fucking sweet,” said Robbie, his face lighting up. “I knew there was a reason I keep you around.”

And that’s when I started filming.

I filmed as Robbie reached down and pulled Lauren’s underwear off.

I filmed her trying to get out from underneath him, telling him no, that she wanted to leave.

I filmed Robbie pulling his jeans down, one hand struggling to keep her arms pinned to the bed above her head and then kicking off his boxer shorts.

I filmed her crying and pleading with him to stop, to please stop, that she didn’t want this.

I moved around to the side of the bed and filmed as Robbie pushed himself inside her, turning to give me a triumphant beam as she screamed, No, no, stop, no, stop.

I filmed him thrusting, and I turned the camera to her face as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

I filmed them as Robbie said, “What do you reckon, Evan? This is what you want, isn’t it? You’re fucking loving it, aren’t you, you sick fuck?” and he pressed one hand against her mouth to shut her up.

I filmed them as he pulled out and jerked off on her stomach, before collapsing on the bed next to her, when they both went quiet.

I filmed her as she slowly moved away, wiped herself dry with the bed sheet, and struggled to find her underwear, her blouse, her skirt.

The way she was walking reminded me of watching Bambi when I was a child, the way the little deer can’t walk at first, her legs uncertain what to do or whether they can even support the weight of her body.

I filmed as Robbie turned to Lauren, saying, “Give me your number, yeah? We can do this again another time?”

I filmed her wiping the tears from her cheeks and slowly getting dressed before, with quiet dignity, she opened the door of the bedroom and made her way outside, closing it softly behind her.

And then I stopped filming.

Robbie lay back on the bed, naked, his hands intertwined behind his head.

I put the phone down on the bedside table, took my clothes off, and lay down next to him.

Neither of us moved for a long time. I moved closer to him, letting my head rest on his chest, inhaling his scent as he kissed me gently on the forehead.

He fell asleep quickly, but I stayed awake, thinking about what I had been a part of.

I didn’t leave the bedroom until around five o’clock the following morning, when there were still a few bodies sleeping in the living room below.

Gathering my things, I left the apartment and stepped out into the cool morning air.

But before crossing the courtyard and returning home, I turned my phone off and made my way over to the flower beds at the corner of our development, to the ecological plot that I’d always liked, where the flowers and weeds were allowed to grow wild, unmolested, encouraging insects and bees to fly among them.

Pushing my way into the left corner, I knelt down, and, using my hands, I dug a hole about two feet deep.

Then I buried the phone beneath the earth.