Boy Parts(48)

‘All these…’ He forces a laugh. ‘It wasn’t… I’m. It was one other boy, I was… young.’

‘If you’re going to google my sort-of-ex, I want details.’ I’m smirking now – imagining him skinnier, during uni, with his curls ironed out and fringe dragged across his forehead. I imagine someone taller, paler, in an empty room at a party, awkward hands lifting hoodies – lips that are too rough, sloppy tongues. I’m there.

‘Mmm.’ He clears his throat. ‘One of Amir’s football friends used to like… I was like fourteen at the time, so. I mean, it was fine, but upon reflection, it wasn’t really… cool. Because he was eighteen. And… well, bigger than me, like. The power dynamic was kind of… I mean, as someone who is about to go into teacher training, it’s like… aaah! Safeguarding issue!’ He looks over to me, expecting a reprieve. I expect a story. ‘So, my parents would make Amir take me to football, and to hang out with his friends at parties and stuff, and they’d give me beer and… um, obviously I don’t take drugs ever anymore, like ever, but they’d give me… weed, sometimes.’

‘Hardcore.’ I snort.

‘But yeah so his friend B-Ben. Would follow me to the bathroom all the time, and… at first he would just kiss me, and stuff, and I’d just kind of… take it? But.’ He stops. I tell him to keep talking, and he does, but only after a moment. ‘He started getting me to touch him.’ He clears his throat again. ‘This isn’t like a fun story, really I mean. At the time I was kind of into it, I guess? Like, now I’ve had some, uh, therapy, and I’ve done loads of work with kids, and I’ve learned a lot about um… grooming? And stuff? It’s…’

‘Bit rapey, innit?’ I stick my head under the spray and rinse out the conditioner. My mental image has changed, but I’m still there. Less furtive, cheeky experimentation, more… big, frightened eyes, and heavy hands, knotted into dark curls. Was Ben rough? So rough that Little Eddie knew things wouldn’t end well if he were to protest. Did Ben’s hands ever snake around Little Eddie’s neck? Did Ben back Little Eddie up against the door of a pub toilet cubicle, pick him up by the waist, cram his tongue into Little Eddie’s mouth, and probe at him with unpractised, unlubricated fingers?

‘Yeah. I just… I shouldn’t have brought it up… I just didn’t want you feel like… I was. That I thought you… having a thing with another woman was… an issue? I mean. I’m sorry. What happened with me and him wasn’t a… I know it’s fucked to think like this.’ He says the word fucked very quietly, as if he’s worried an adult will hear. ‘But I’ve always thought of it as being like… my first relationship?’ he says. ‘I haven’t really told anyone… ever? Outside of counselling? Amir was best man at his wedding. His straight wedding. I figure he was more of an opportunistic offender than a preferential… Well, I say that; he did wink at me when we were all in the pub, last Christmas?’ Eddie from Tesco finishes his beer.

‘Did he ever fuck you?’ I ask. My eyes are closed, but I figure he’s giving me a look. Hurt, confused, whatever. I throw him a bone. ‘’Cause, you know, I had a thing with my art teacher when I was sixteen,’ I say. ‘Mister Hamilton. He was… forty-odd? I think? He’d take me to dinner and then we’d sit in his car a street away from my house, and he’d get me to suck his dick, and stuff. Now that’s a fucking safeguarding issue. We could never go to his house because of his literal wife and children, so we’d only ever do it in his car, or public bathrooms. Lost my virginity in the disabled toilets at an Odeon cinema.’ I think for a moment. ‘We were seeing Notes on a Scandal. Even at the time I was like… mate.’

‘Jesus,’ says Eddie from Tesco. ‘I’m so sorry, Irina.’

‘It was fine. I quite liked it,’ I say. ‘Your thing sounds way more traumatic.’

‘It’s not a competition,’ he says. ‘But no, he never. There was no penetration… With regard to… Uum. The particular orifice I assume you’re referring to.’

There’s a lull. He looks like he’s thinking.

‘I mean, it just happens, doesn’t it? Practically a rite of passage.’

‘I don’t know about that, Irina,’ he says. He looks at me in a way he never has done before: right in the eye, with his brow crinkled. His big cow eyes are shiny, and his lips are pulled into his mouth, pressed to a tight line. ‘I’m really sorry that happened to you,’ he says, after a moment.

I am suddenly very aware I’m naked. I go pfft, and I wave my hands. I sneer. I roll my eyes.

‘Honestly, it’s fine. He got caught, he got fired.’ I shut off the shower. ‘End of story. It has literally never been a big deal for me. It only lasted six or seven months. I’ve had longer relationships with toothbrushes.’

I get Eddie from Tesco to wrap up the Ben story. It is depressing, and nowhere near as pornographic as I’d hoped.

Little Eddie and Ben’s relationship fizzled out unceremoniously when Ben went to university. At the leaving celebrations – the last hurrah when Amir and his group of friends got their A-level results – Little Eddie followed Ben to the toilet at a house party. And Ben told Little Eddie he wasn’t in the mood, because he’d gotten two Bs and a C, and hadn’t made it into Newcastle Uni, or Northumbria (his second choice), and had only just gotten into Edinburgh Napier through clearing. Ben had cried on Little Eddie’s shoulder, instead of molesting him, which made Little Eddie feel strange. No longer was he going through the motions of a sexual relationship with this older boy, he was providing support. Like a real boyfriend, or something.