Black Chalk

So this is why I came to New York, it has nothing to do with Chad, I had no idea. I came here only to write, Jolyon. One of my Bs, a businessman with whom I managed to remain friends after our break-up, lent me his New York apartment. He knows all about my struggles and thought a change of scene might do me some good.

And, quite by chance, how right he was. Only my third night here and I was struggling to sleep. I could see the bar from the bedroom window. I went in and, two drinks down, took a cigarette break. And there you were, walking along the pavement towards me. I swear I nearly died of shock.

Do you believe that the universe brings people together, Jolyon, people who need each other? Well, I do, because I know for a fact it’s true. And what did I need in my life but a saviour? The universe threw us together before and we failed to stick. It had to intervene one more time.

I am broken, Jolyon, broken like you. But this is our chance. We can mend each other. Sticky tape, stitches and storybooks. Not all the king’s horses or all the king’s men, just you and me, Jolyon, the two of us.

Another thing of which I’m certain is that the universe sent me also to make sure you finish your book. You must, Jolyon, you have to. I am enjoying it hugely. You tell it so truthfully, I wouldn’t debate a single word. (Please please please, treat me not too unkindly when it comes to it.)

And then, when you finish, I will be free of having to tell the story of the Game. I will be free to write about love, beauty, silken catkins afloat on dark mountain lakes. I will be free to live my life.

Oh, and on the subject of freedom, there is a small something you can do for me. Yes, we will meet, we absolutely must. But first I have to ask you a favour. Will you promise me something, Jolyon? There is something, a very small something, I wish to ask of you.

Kisses,

Dee xxx

XLI(iii) Dearest Dee, ask away. For you, Dee, anything.

Of course it was the universe that brought us together, I don’t doubt it for even one second. We are entangled. I’m sure if we understood half the laws of physics it wouldn’t seem the slightest bit strange we’ve been thrown back together.

Anything you did to me all those years ago . . . Well, you thought I had betrayed you, I understand now how it looked. Of course I won’t treat you unkindly.

I’m so sorry to hear of your unhappiness. Broken pieces of something once beautiful. But we can do it, you and me, Dee. And one day nobody will be able to see our cracks, or will think it is only the charm of old glaze.

Ask me ask me ask me. Anything, Dee, I promise.

Jolyon

XLI(iv) I’m so happy to have Dee back in my life that I write and I write and I write. But when I am done, I feel thirsty and strangely sickened by my evening pills. So many to swallow. Three pink pills, two yellow, three blue. They make me feel so muddy these days, not the way they once made me feel.

But must trust my routine. Must trust Dee. I’d do anything, for you, Dee, anything.

And how hard the whisky is to swallow tonight. Half a large glass, all the way up to the line, and it feels like such toil.

Suddenly my mouth fills with sweetness. I run and vomit in the toilet bowl, forewarned just enough by a surge of saliva. I once read that this is how our bodies save our teeth from the corrosive burn of our guts. To keep us away from the dentist. And have you noticed how the dentist always arranges the most painful procedures to take place at two thirty? Ha, tooth hurty! Starts drilling at tooth hurty two. Where is my lucky tooth? Need some strength, need Dee. Oh, I’d Dee anything, dee dee dee anything. What’s the time anyway? Tooth hurty heaven?

What’s the time, Mr Wolf?

What’s the time, Mr Wolf?

What’s the time, Mr Wolf?

Dinner time.

XLII

XLII(i)

‘Wake up,’ said Emilia. ‘Chad, wake up.’

In Jolyon’s room the afternoon sun had lifted above the dormered roof of Pitt’s neighbouring college. Daylight cast itself in abstract wedges against the pinched corners of the rooms. It lit the coffee table amber and danced in a marble swirl where it shone through a bottle of whisky.

‘How many has he had?’ Emilia held her hand to Chad’s forehead.

‘That many,’ said Jack, pointing to the bottle, two-thirds full. ‘I don’t know. Six, maybe seven shots’ worth.’

‘That’s plenty,’ said Emilia. ‘Stop now. How can he –’

‘I’ve seen him put at least twice that much away,’ said Jolyon. ‘This is what might be termed a tactical pass-out.’

Chad opened one eye and laughed. ‘You can’t blame a guy for trying,’ he said, his words scuffed at their edges.

Jolyon poured him another glass and Chad started to work his way through it.