Irony In The Soul

Chapter 4

FOUR

Gail prised Meesh from Jack. Jackie stayed, and Michael drove Jack and Mandy to Mandy’s flat. Jackie had confided that after a trauma it was sometimes difficult to step back into the swing of normal life; she was confident Jack would be okay, would heal, but how fast? No one could tell. The first thing Mandy did was run a bath; she said nothing. In the bedroom she undressed him, then herself. Into the bathroom, no argument over who would have the taps; they were in the centre anyway. ‘In you get, Jack,’ she was kissing him, smoothing her hands reassuringly across his fuzzy back and spotty bum as he stepped in.

‘Feck,’ he shot upwards, braced his arms on the bath rim, lifted his feet and folded his knees to his chest. Propped and swinging, he hovered, worried for is dangly bits, precariously close to the scalding water, ‘Feckety feck woman.’

Mandy burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggling, and Jack, swinging n***d, allowed his face to transform from trauma, to joy; just like that. Laughter, fitful at first, tearful, finally uncontrollable; thoughts of floating to the ceiling like Mary Poppins; “I like to laugh ha-ha-ha-ha”, anything to get away from the broiling water. The dam had burst and he stepped into her arms, sharing her hysterics, immediately aroused. Laughter morphed to kissing, hard, repeated, passionate kissing, a frenzied, stumbling, journey to the bedroom, and a release of restrained ecstasy, promises and exchanges of love.

After their lovemaking, they slept, and it was early evening when they roused themselves. Mandy in a silk nightdress made some dinner, while Jack, in his boxer shorts and an open shirt, messed up the telly controls and hid the conch; the TV Controller, named from Lord of the Files, he said; “He who has the conch has control” and he went to the kitchen and cuddled Mandy from behind, ‘Telly’s f****d, darlin’.’

She nodded, accepting the inevitable with her man and technology. ‘Can you f**k anything else tonight, because if you can, I’m not interested in what’s on the telly?’

He turned her around, they kissed, and he leaned in, went to lift her onto the counter but messed it up, thought he may have put his back out. Mandy popped herself up for him. ‘I could have done that you know.’

‘Listen Brains, I’m not interested in Mr Muscle,’ but Jack’s Mister Brain had become misty as he slid her nightdress up and his boxer shorts down. She leaned over, switched off the hob and patted out the flame on the flappy cuff of his shirt.

Sunday morning, Mandy graciously decided to answer the phone. ‘I don’t believe it, Mike, I thought Sunday was a busy day for you?’ She listened some more, ‘Okay, but this had better be good,’ she hung up.

‘Father Mike?’ Jack was out of bed and on his way to the bathroom.

She stopped him, held the tops of his arms and fixed his eye, ‘In one, and he’s on his way, done mass already.’ She looked at him intensely, seriously, he resisted any jokes but managed a face, and she managed a giggle. ‘You know why he’s coming ‘round,’ she stopped his smart arse answer with her eyes. ‘If you don’t want to go back to work ever again, that’s okay with me? If you’re not ready to go back, also okay. If you’re scared…’

‘Scared?’

She looked like she wanted to say Der, but settled for the more informative explanation. ‘Jack, men go around ninety percent of the time with their minds vacant, women do not, cannot; I know you. Is this what you have been thinking about?’

‘Amanda,’ she knew he was going to be serious, he used her full name. ‘Yes.’

She kissed him, ‘Thank you.’

He turned to go to the bathroom, and she grabbed him again, ‘No you don’t, let me go in first and when you go in, leave the fan on supersonic.’ Tipping her toes, she kissed him again; she felt strangely excited, work had been dull. She knew Jack would go back, she just hoped he was ready.