Loves, Loves, Loves, Loves

 An excerpt from a novel by Ethan McLucas

One. Horizons.

Two. Work.

Three. Hedonism.

Four. Solitude.

Five. Tunnels.

One. Horizons.

One. One.

Six. Minus Fifty Nine.

“Hey!”

Nothing. The second time he was louder.

“Hey!!”

There was still nothing except pumping blood in his ears

“Where are my keys? Hey! Where are they?”

George stomped around, back and forth, seemingly knocking over everything in the room and more as he pulled his blazer over his shoulders.

“Georgina! Keys! Where are they?”

Six. Minus Fifty Nine.

“George? How much will it take?”

“For what this time?”

“For just the tiniest of jumps.”

“Nothing you can give me.”

“Oh please, don’t get him started.”

Three heads became six, and all six of the heads looked past the drop, and down into the deep water below. The bridge that straddled the river seemed to grow more tired of its job each year and each year, it threatened more and more to let itself be consumed by the leaves of green, gold and hazel that Summer and Autumn had baked recklessly into the Irish landscape.

George pictured the last time he had dove off into the water. In his head, he smiled at how much fun it was. In his skin, he frowned at how much it hurt. Then he smiled at how much fun it was again.

“I’ll think about it.” He gestured with his head. “Come on, let’s keep going, bags are heavy.”

They all kept crossing and descended to the bank beneath the tired, not quite dead yet, metal thing.

“Told you I could have taken more of the weight, baby.”

“I didn’t want you to, baby.”

“Can you take my bag as well! - Baby!”

“Isn’t he a comedian?”

“I think you mean: isn’t he a brain tumour?”

The six: George and Helena, Mac and Rory, and Raf, with his new special lady, Cordelia, made it to the spot they’d be spending the rest of the day. It was a modest, earthy and somewhat flat patch of earth right next to the river. It was littered with the stumps and the firepits of time gone by, the kind of place cowboys set up their tents in the movies.

George was a tall, skinny kite and Helena was a blonde koala. Mac was a man who cared deeply for his mass of curly hair while Rory had practically shaved most of his off. Raf always overdressed, having a vest underneath whatever he wore, and finally, no one quite knew what to make of Cordelia yet, except that she was pale.

Bags were dropped and blankets were spread, half in the sun and half in the shade provided by the bridge that hung almost overhead, yawning. The group stared at the new member and her old, far more familiar, partner.

“You two okay? You’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah we’re fine.”

“Sorry, didn’t realise we had been. Yes, we’re good.”

Each couple sat on a blanket and the supplies sat on a fourth. Those supplies being, food, towels, warm clothes and the ever important recreational substances. Said recreational substances were what had caused most of the weight for the trip.

“Drink or swim? Drink or swim? The only question!”

Rory was walking around the square of society that they’d formed, with his hands outstretched like the host of a gameshow.

George raised a hand, boldly, the first hand up by far.

“You there! With the ugly face!”

The kite scoffed but smiled.

“Why not drink…and swim?”

“Nope, bad idea.” Mac jumped in before turning to George, “You always bring out the bloody worst in him. Helena, control your man.”

“She wouldn’t be mean to me and you know it!”

Silently, Helena observed and silently she laughed. She sat herself into the crux of George’s shoulder. George wrapped his long arm around her.

Rory went on, roaming around the square.

“Mackey, Mackey, come on, come swimming?” He extended his hands out towards his boyfriend: the curls. “I know you want to!”

The curls faux stropped for a second, rolling his eyes but then he held out his arms too and allowed Rory to lift him to his feet. The pair threw off their shirts.

“Anyone else, coming?

“I’ll come!” Raf finally piped up, “Cordelia, do you want to?”

She shook her head.

“Fine, what about you George? Boys trip into the water?”

“I would love a boys trip.” He corrected himself, “unless you want to come as well Helena?”

She shook her head and instead looked over at Cordelia who sat there so sheepishly, so out of place, that she, convincingly, could have been from Saturn.

“I’ll race you all you losers to the water! But on my mark!”

George kissed Helena before standing. He and Raf took off their shirts, Raf taking longer as he had to remove an undershirt as well. Then all four boys got into a line next to the towels.

“Set.”

Helena scooted to get the best view, lying across another towel.

“Go!”

The pack of dogs raced off, crashing into the water and swimming wildly. Both the girls on the bank had to squirm away from their splashes

In the water, fun began.

“Raf, no blazer this time? No luxury sandals?”

“I bet he left the house in a three piece before having to change into something more casual three times!”

Raf grabbed Mac and dunked him for that. George grabbed Raf and dunked him, before being grabbed from under the water by Rory and dragged down as well.

They all surfaced.

“Rory, goddammit.”

“Ninja training, what can I say?”

“Did a ninja cut your hair? Get it done as soon as possible? A couple of slashes with a samurai sword to leave you looking like a tween’s first bumfluff?”

“It’s efficient. Aerodynamic.”

Mac started cackling.

“Aerodynamic? You hate flying. What do you need to be aerodynamic for?”

“This.”

Doing butterfly, but with the force of a shipping container dropping onto a gaggle of geese, Rory threw himself at Mac, taking them both underwater.

George and Raf looked at each other. The kite and the vest.

“I’m cool to wade for a second.”

“Same.”

They waded and before long, the couple resurfaced, kissing and smiling, the fury of Rory’s attack forgotten.

“A little swim lads? Past the bridge and then on some more?”

“Try and catch a fish on the way? Cook it for dinner?”

“I have never seen a single fish in this river, I’m convinced they put waste in here or something.”

“Fish or no fish. Swim?”

Raf led the way, with Rory just behind him. Mac and George trailed behind, eyeing the girls on the bank for a second before moving.

Helena was chatting to Cordelia, who for once seemed animated.

“What do you think they’re talking about, George?”

“Boys they like, and the colour they want to paint their nails.”

“Of course, why didn’t I think of that!”

“What can I say, you don’t know them like I do.”

“Still though, she’s quiet.”

“Yeah. Real shy. She’ll liven up in a bit.”

“Hope so. Hope so.”

They swam on, past the great tired thing above, leaving the koala and the pale girl to get to know each other.

One. Two.

Six. Minus Fifty Eight.

Georgina, rubbing her red ringed eyes, wandered in. An oversized t-shirt hanging off of her dry sweat coated body. She stretched.

“What? What do you want?”

“You aren’t ready yet?”

“Do I look ready?”

Six. Minus Fifty Eight.

George held a beer in one hand and Mac’s hair by the handful in the other, the

firelight glowing over them. The others watched as George swung his bottle as if he were some kind of Shaman. In reality, there was no magic here, just alcohol and more.

“Come on? Don’t we agree? You’ve got to agree!” He pointed to Rory. “Mac’s got enough hair to share around!”

“It’s the curls! They’re deceptively long!” His boyfriend agreed, grinning.

Mac ruffled his hair with his hands, setting George’s grip loose.

“Get off! You’re just jealous. The rest of you will be bald by thirty, girls too.”

They cackled, Helena almost choking, she was laughing so hard.

They were still at the bank and still by the tired bridge, only now the sun had set. They’d started a fire, and started the long process of intoxication. A couple to a towel and six drinks to each, minimum.

“So big question now,” George started with unfocused eyes towards Raf and Cordelia,

“How did you two meet? Raf’s been keeping it a secret, haven’t you?” With a smile, “You prick.”

“The classic: university.” The vest responded, flatly.

“Come on, give us more than that!”

Raf just sighed and raised his hands as if there was simply nothing more to say but Cordelia looked at him with the edge of her gaze and with a wry smile. Cordelia had gotten a little more confident as the day had gone on, although she still wasn’t shouting from the rooftops. But this was her chance.

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Haha! Yes! Give us something!”

“Please, let it be something horrendously embarrassing on Raf’s side.”

Cordelia had a look about her now as if she was the thing that would set the world alight.

“We actually met modelling.”

“...”

“Raf models?”

“No way.”

“Not a chance.”

“With that mug!”

“With those wrists?”

“What’s wrong with my wrists?”

Cordelia laughed at the uproar. Raf just finished his drink, opened another and started drinking that.

“It’s true. We were modelling. Well it was a photoshoot for the university. They wanted some happy looking students for marketing materials-”

“So they could actually get some real happy looking students!”

Helena lightly tapped George for his interruption.

“Please, continue.”

“So we were hanging around one of the campus cafes, sipping at endless empty cups

of coffee for like an hour. I get stuck on this two person table with this guy.” She gestured to Raf who shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “So we’re there, he’s pretending to laugh at a fake joke, I’ve got the cup up to my lips and the sun is shining behind us - it’s glorious. The camera guy moves in, bends down, focusses in, goes to take the photo and guess what? The camera breaks, as in dies completely, and they send everyone else off but we have to stay!”

“Why did you two have to stay?”

“Apparently it was such a perfect shot and we ‘couldn’t dare jeopardise it.’ So we were stuck there. For a while.” She laughed again. “So this camera guy is fiddling with this camera and all the while, Raf and I, we’re just talking. Talking and talking and talking. And I think we really liked each other even then, huh?

Raf shrugged, trying to be blasé, but he had a softness in his eyes. He opened another drink.

“Then by the time the camera is up and working again, the light’s different and the perfect shot is gone. However the photographer saw how much chemistry we had and asked us to come to another shoot in a few days - this one at a nightclub.”

“Oooh.”

“A nightclub photoshoot?”

“Steamy stuff?”

“Surprisingly, yeah.”

Cordelia bit her tongue and looked a little more unsure of herself again, but this time it seemed because she felt what she was going to say might be cheeky.

“We’re adults. We know where babies come from. Don’t worry.” George chimed.

“Okay then. So we meet up at this nightclub that they have on campus a day later.”

“You have a nightclub on campus?”

“Yes we do.”

“Is it terrible?”

“Yes it is.”

“But it was our job to make it look cool.” Raf added.

“I’m sure it was Saturday Night Fever when you were there.”

George’s comment got a rise out of everyone.

“Now I come dressed fairly modestly.” Cordelia started up again. “And I get paired with Raf again and he’s wearing…that blue striped shirt you have?”

“Yeah that one.”

“And we’re fake dancing. I’m not covering up per se, I’m wearing this cute little top but I’ve got an even cuter bra underneath. And the camera guy comes up to me and asks me if I’d be comfortable taking the top off and just going in the bra!”

“Wow.”

“They allowed to do that?”

“I don’t know! But then he sort of instructs us on how he wants us to dance, remember?” She turned to her partner.

“Oh yeah, he did! I forgot! This bit was weird! I’m convinced he was getting a weird kick out of this.”

“Let’s show them the dance!”

“Oh no.”

“Come  on!” George spoke. “You’ve got to show us. Do it for Cordelia over here!”

“Let’s do it, please?”

“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to.”

“Nah, it will be fun to see!”

“Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance!”

The rest of the boys joined in, clapping their hands.

“Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance!”

Only Helena was silent.

“Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance!

Cordelia got to her feet and held out her hands to Raf. She was just as animated now as she had been talking to the koala earlier. Raf sighed and downed the rest of his drink, knowing he would not be getting out of this. He took her hands and stood, a little unevenly, the rush of alcohol hitting him.

“You guys are going to need to keep up that chant! We need a beat or something!”

George grabbed up a stick and began smashing it into a nearby tree stump. Mac picked up two empty bottles and began knocking them together. Rory made two fists and began striking his lap. Helena, after a second, clapped lightly.

The force of their strikes made the fire in the centre join in as it pulsed with every beat, dancing itself, in a way.

On the uneven ground, Cordelia and Raf faced each other, about a person’s distance apart. Raf tapped his foot to the newly made beat. The couple both got into the rhythm, moving their bodies before Cordelia placed her palms on his chest and let them roam over his front. Then she pulled herself close, so that her arms bent and her palms came to Raf’s shoulders, all the while Raf wrapped his arms around her body.

George let out a wolf whistle and he received a grinning middle finger from the vest in return.

Cordelia swung herself from side to side before Raf dropped one of his arms, held her by the hip with his other and spun her out towards the centre of the square-

Raf’s foot caught the root of a tree stump and that paired with how much he had to drink made it so he pushed his partner harder than intended.

The fire held out its open arms - and it caught Cordelia.

Her foot plunged into it.

Instantly the day was over.

The quiet Cordelia let out a scream that rivalled the winds on Jupiter, a scream that made her quiet for the rest of the trip, like she had thrown up her soul.

George grabbed her and pulled her out before he had even come to stand.

One. Three.

Six. Minus Fifty Seven.

“You need to get ready! We should have left twenty minutes ago.”

George stormed around again. He would rip apart this little flat if he had to.

“Have you seen my keys?”

Georgina, ever melodramatic, threw up her hands.

“Have you checked your pockets?”

“That’s not funny.”

He bashed past her with his full body as he searched.

Six. Minus Fifty Seven.

14 Jones Lane, the place the six had rented for the weekend, was small and yet had cost them all a small arm and a small leg. It was painfully boring and vanilla. A new build, part of a new estate meant for families who were at one point thought to want to flock to the area. No families ever did.

Raf, compelled by chivalric duty and drunken guilt, sprinted with Cordelia on his back. Her face was unreadable, alarmingly so. Helena and George were close behind, both looking at the girl as if she were a melting ice sculpture. They were all running half naked. Anyone walking past, would think the group escaped from an asylum.

It was a long journey to walk but a quick one to run, with the only trade off being shin splints, ankles rubbed raw and blistered feet on all those who dared it.

The grey and white visage of 14 Jones Lane presented itself to them and Helena jammed the keys into the door as if to murder it. She pulled it open and let Raf rush in with Cordelia followed by George, who went for his car keys.

“Are you sure you can drive?”

She grabbed a hold of his bony hand.

“Positive.”

“You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“So? Someone needs to help Mac and Rory with the stuff back at the river.”

Fittingly, the sound of running water started to be heard from the bathroom as Raf ran the taps.

“Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.” 

Raf was letting his mouth run to stop from crying.

George looked at Helena.

“Glad it's not you in there.”

Helena didn’t answer. George took this as her neither agreeing but, crucially, neither disagreeing with his words. The koala, for her part, stared off towards the bathroom.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

George grabbed his keys and left for his car.

“Hopefully I won’t crash in a fireball! Two burn victims in one day would be bad luck, wouldn’t it?”

The koala did not laugh.

The kite stopped.

“I said-”

“I heard you.”

“Why didn’t you laugh?”

“It’s not appropriate. It’s mean.”

“So?”

“George.”

“What?”

“You know I don’t like those kinds of jokes.”

The kite sighed.

“Right, right, sorry. Went too far. I got you.”

He started moving again.

One. Four.

Six. Minus Fifty Six.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what? Like you?”

She scowled at that.

Six. Minus Fifty Six.

The next day was now the last day of the trip, it couldn’t be helped. George walked out to the patio early in the morning, early enough that there weren’t even birds. He did this, only to find Mac sitting at one of the chairs, an old pen and even older paper in hand.

“Freak.”

The curls turned to face the kite, he had a cigarette in his mouth.

“It’s the only time I’m allowed to smoke at. I wouldn’t be up otherwise.”

“Ah, does Rory not like it?”

“No, he doesn’t mind it. But he’s asthmatic, the selfish bastard, and I feel bad when I do it with him around.”

“Fair enough.”

George took up a chair next to Mac.

“Can I get one?”

“You’ll waste away if you do, skinny boy.”

“You got me there,” George rubbed his eyes. “What are you writing?”

“I don’t know yet.” Mac took a drag before holding his paper up to what little light there was. “It’s sort of inspired by yesterday.”

“Not the fire thing, right?”

“No, that’d be too close to home.”

“Can I read it?”

“Yeah, it needs two people actually.”

He held the paper between them both, George took a second to focus on it, still half asleep. Mac licked his lips and cleared his throat as he began to start, setting the scene.

“Two young women sit by a river, sunbathing in bikinis-

“Don’t be perving on my girlfriend.”

Mac and George smirked.

“Two young women sit by a river, sunbathing in bikinis. A picnic basket by their feet, an elaborate amount of food and drink next to them - they’re clearly planning to stay there for a while.” He gestured to George. “This is where you come in, you’re ‘Girl 1,’ okay?”

“Do I need to put on a high voice?”

“Nah, yours will do.”

George cleared his throat.

“Girl 1: ‘This was a great idea, thank you for planning this.’”

“Girl 2: ‘It was nothing really.’”

“Girl 1: ‘Don’t downplay yourself.’”

“Girl 2: ‘I have something I need to tell you.’”

“Girl 1: ‘Really? I have something I need to tell you!’”

“Girl 2: ‘Can I go first? Please?’”

“Girl 1: ‘Of course! Please go ahead!’ Girl 1 bats her eyes at Girl 2 affectionately. Girl 2 takes a breath. A couple moments pass.”

“Girl 2: ‘I’m dying. I’m going to die really soon and I’m really scared.’”

“Girl 1: ‘Oh I see.’ Girl 1 clearly doesn’t know what to say.”

“There is a pause.”

George and Mac waited.

“Girl 2: ‘I’ll miss you, when I’m dead, you know?’”

Mac flicked the paper away and finished his cigarette.

“And that’s all I’ve got.”

“You love writing, happy stuff, don’t you?”

“Yep, I’m a real barrel of laughs.”

George and Mac sat for a minute or so, admiring the sky.

“Still though, I like it. It’s good.”

“Thanks man.”

George stretched.

“We still doing that short film when we get back?”

“Yeah, the equipment's all booked, no one has said no to anything on the schedule. Let’s hope it all goes well.”

“I’m sure it will.” George sniffed. “First film. That’s pretty cool.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t seem very happy about it?”

“You are?”

“I get to hold a microphone, that’s cool.”

Mac scoffed.

“What’s up about it?”

Mac lit up another cigarette.

“I want to get it done as quickly as possible.”

“Why?”

“Because I overheard our leading man calling me a faggot when we out with the team.”

“Ah.”

George looked over at Mac.

"I’m sorry man. We don’t have to do it then-”

“No I wrote it, we’ll do it.”

“You sure?”

Mac smoked up into the sky, George imagined he was giving a signal to some invisible plane high up there, half hoping it would drop something on the pair of them.

“Yeah. It’s just words, right?”

“Right.”

George kicked his heel into a patio tile. Hard.

“It’s just words man.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t get angry on my behalf, okay?”

“Okay.”

Helena emerged, the latest up of the three of them but somehow the least awake. She opened her mouth to say hello but a yawn beat her to the punch. She waved languidly instead.

“Morning.”

“Morning, you.”

Helena came and flopped down onto George, grumbling another yawn.

“You’d think she didn’t sleep. You know she’s out cold the second her head hits the pillow?”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

George stroked Helena’s hair loosely.

“I’m going to see if Rory’s awake. I’ll catch you later.”

Mac stood up and stretched out his back, it cracked and he let out a sigh of relief.

“See you guys in a bit.”

“See you.”

He walked inside with his old pen and paper.

Helena wrapped her body around George’s in every way she could.

“You okay?”

She nodded.

“You need anything?”

She shook her head.

“You want five more minutes?”

She nodded.

“Okay, you rest up.”

She was silent.

George felt one of his arms begin to go numb due to the way she was lying on him.

“Is this comfortable for you?” She mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m comfy.” He lied.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

“Not at all.”

She was silent again. A little while passed, George didn’t know how long. He stared at the boring house and gradually saw it come to life with blinds being undone and windows illuminating with light. He locked eyes with Mac as he passed by through the kitchen.

“Sorry about the trip.” Helena spoke up.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

George went back to stroking her hair again and Helena gradually drifted back off to sleep.

Another while later, Raf wandered out, doing his best to look inconspicuous despite the fact he was wearing a deep purple smoking jacket and looked like a missing Romanov. George had to bite back laughter.

“Is she asleep?” Raf mouthed, pointing at Helena.

“She’s a heavy sleeper, don’t worry.” George said audibly.

Raf sat gown next to George, sighing as he did so.

“How you holding up?”

“I’m good. I’m good. Real good.”

“Does repeating it make it seem more true?”

Raf jammed his tongue into the inside of his cheek and looked at his hands.

“No, suppose it doesn’t.”

“How’s she?”

“Foot’s a mess but not bad enough to need to go to hospital. She won’t be able to wear shoes and will have to limp about for a month.”

“I’m sorry.” George offered. “But hey, at least you got to be the hero and get her help?”

Raf brought his hands to his lips as if at prayer.

“Yeah but it was my fault.”

“How? How is it your fault in the slightest?”

“I organised this whole trip. I organised yesterday. I organised-”

“And it’s been a great trip and what happened yesterday was a complete accident!”

Helena almost rustled awake at George’s volume. He steadied himself to let her keep sleeping.

“Cordelia’s a big girl. No one pushed her and no one made her drink.”

“I think it's over between her and I.”

“Has she said that to you?”

“No.”

“Then why do you think it's over?”

“I just do. It feels like my fault.”

George looked over at him.

“Hey, don’t jump the gun, okay? And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Accidents happen.”

Raf held George’s gaze.

“Accidents happen. Accidents happen.” He mumbled, then he looked past George, staring at nowhere.“Accidents happen. Accidents happen.”

Raf stood up from the chair and walked inside, mumbling to himself all the way.

“We’ll see you when we get to the next holiday, Raf!” George called after him. “It’ll all be okay!”

This woke Helena, who stared up at her partner blearily.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” He stared blatantly at her bedhead that had formed from lying on his chest. “Your hair looks nice.”

It was currently the shape of a crescent moon.