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Ritual, 1969 [two stories]
101
young dimpleless Robert
Mitchum crossed with
Jake Gyllenhaal.
She passed it back to him
quickly, afraid to linger
over this image.
He’d also revealed more
about the quarrel with
his father. Lawrence said
his dad had left the family
when he was too young
to remember. Deserted
us, was how he put it. The
father who had promised
to pay his rent, but hadn’t
and wouldn’t answer his
calls.
Term broke up for Easter
and
without
saying
anything to her, he
disappeared for three
weeks. She had already
bought enough food for
the two of them for the
coming week and a turkey
crown for Easter Sunday,
and a chocolate egg each.
In his room the sleeping
bag still lay on the bare
mattress and there were a
few of his things scattered
about, but his rucksack
was gone. In the weeks
before this she had barely
noticed the little naked
footprints. Perhaps with
him there she had been
too distracted to notice
them. Perhaps he scared
them away? Whatever it
was, throughout Easter
they were back with a
vengeance. She saw them
in the bathroom, the
hall and landing, in the
kitchen, bedroom and
living room. Very often
they were side-by-side
next to her own feet and
sometimes seemed to
disperse her loneliness, at
others to distil it, making
it far more potent.