Turning

        “Still think tonight is a good idea?” asked Mike.

    Ben shrugged and turned the radio down. “We’ve got to try this friend thing at some point.”  He steadied the beers clinking by his feet.  “Besides, I’ve brought plenty of courage with me.  Just do me a favour.  Try not to be all over each other”

    Mike laughed.  “You can trust me.”

    Ben grinned.  “I’ve heard that before.”

    The house drew closer.  Ben had always thought of it as a doll’s house, randomly dropped on what used to be farmland.  It still beat his parent’s old terrace house, of course, but then that was hardly a challenge.

    “I’ll have to show you around when we get in,” he said.  “It’s like a hotel inside.”

    “So I saw,” said Mike.  “She made me come up last week to revise.”

    “Oh,” said Ben.  He slipped a little deeper in his chair and stared out of the windscreen and through the rain, looking for Sarah’s bedroom window.  It was hidden in the dark. 

    “Didn’t she mention it?” asked Mike.

    “No. No, she didn’t.”

    “Maybe thought I’d already told you.  We went through some psychology stuff together.  I got to learn about Freud.” 

    They rang the doorbell and stood for a few seconds.  Mike rubbed his hands together and hopped from foot to foot.  Ben took a bottle from the bag and opened it.

    A light went on inside.  Sarah answered the door.  She squealed her usual welcome and hugged Mike, who planted two over-the-top kisses on her cheeks.  Batting him away, Sarah turned to Ben.

    “Starting early on the beer I see,” she said.

    He used his bottle to give a mock salute.  “As ever.”  They each stood there for a moment, unable to meet each other’s gaze. Ben moved forward for a hug.  It was stiff and awkward, but at least it was out of the way, he thought. 

    “I’m glad to see you,” she said.

    “Course you are.” 

    Sarah nodded and looked down.  Her hair was shorter than he remembered, and a little darker.  The cut made her face seem older, less innocent. Ben rubbed his bare arms. 

    “I don’t know if anyone’s noticed,” said Mike, “but we’re kinda stood out in the rain right now.”

    “So we are,” said Sarah.  “Let’s get inside.”



    Jenny and Kate were in the lounge, having taken over the sofa, a half-empty bottle of Lambrini on the carpet in front of them.  Everyone said hello as Ben sat in the armchair, opposite the tribal masks that used to fascinate him.  Mike lounged in the recliner.  A few feet from him Sarah sat on the rug, legs curled up, her back to the fire, the natural centre for everyone’s attention.

    “Mike,” said Jenny, “I hear Sarah actually talked you into some revision this week.”

      “Not biology was it?” said Kate.

    “Afraid not,” said Mike.  “Though I did get to stroke her pussy.”

    Ben almost choked on his drink; beer fizzed down his nostrils.  He stared at Mike.  Kate and Jenny did the same.

    “He means the cat,” said Sarah.

    Ben pretended to ignore her glance.  He shouldn’t be annoyed; Mike had always joked and flirted with Sarah.  Besides, he’d promised himself not to make a scene.  Tonight was supposed to be about starting again, about being mature.

    The little group chatted about school, exams, and Jenny’s most recent conquest, determined to make this seem like a normal night.  Mike disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of ice cream.  Finishing his first drink before anyone else, Ben opened another, willing himself to relax. Sarah put on the Fun Loving Criminals CD he’d bought her. 

    “Do you remember this gig?” Ben asked Sarah.

    “In Manchester?  That was my first concert.”

    “Good day, that,” he said.

    “Almost as good as the Greenday gig,” said Mike.  “When Sarah threw herself at me.”

    “I do not throw myself at people.  I fainted.”

    “Fainted, threw yourself.  It’s all good.”

    The phone interrupted them before Ben did.  Sarah answered it.

    “Hi Mum.”     

    Ben found himself watching her backside as she bent over to turn the music down.  It strained against her designer denim.  From the corner of his eye he saw the girls on the sofa watching him and looked away, coughing to hide his embarrassment.  The little group sat quietly, listening in to the phone conversation.

    “Hi... yeah, fine... yes, he’s here... yeah, like a bad penny.” She smiled at him as she said this.  “Don’t think so... no, it’s fine ...no, not tonight... look, it’s important to... not now Mum.  I’ll tell you later.”  She glanced again at Ben, flustered.

    Tying to act disinterested, Ben finished his drink and glanced at Mike, who was busy reading the CD cover, ice cream balanced on his knee.

    “Ok, mum...yeah, I’ll tell him...bye, love you.”

    Sarah hung up and stood for a moment, uncertain.  Ben gave her what he hoped was a curious look.  His right leg shook, as it always did when he was nervous.  She flashed him a false smile.

    “Music,” she said, and leaned over again to turn it back up.

    “Everything okay?” asked Ben.

    “Fine,” said Sarah.  “Fine.  Mum just wants Mike to move his car so she can get into the garage tomorrow.”  She walked over to Mike’s chair and sat on the arm.  “Which is good.  It means I get to finish his ice cream.” 

    Mike shielded the bowl, holding it close to his chest.  “Bigger than you have tried.  This is my ice cream.”

    “Actually, it’s mine,” said Sarah.  “You got it from my freezer, remember?”

    Mike considered this for a moment and offered her his spoon.  “Share it?”

    Sarah smiled, leaning her head forward to accept the spoon.  He pulled it away.  She leaned too far forward and fell into him, laughing.

    Ben stood up, unable to watch them any longer.  “I’ll move your car.”

    “Say again?” said Mike.

    “I’ll move the car.  I need a new drink anyway.”

    Mike paused a second, as if trying to weigh him up.  Ben forced himself to make eye contact, if only to avoid looking at Sarah. 

    “Good man,” said Mike.  “Saves me getting wet. Keys are in the kitchen, old boy.  Turn it round, too, if you want.” 

    Ben nodded and went out, relieved to be alone. The music was barely audible from the kitchen.  Each step sounded heavy on the wood panels.  His phone beeped in his pocket; Mike, asking him to bring through a beer when he’d done.

    He put his phone on the table and sat down, remembering his first meal there, with Sarah’s dad at the head of the table, drinking coffee and frowning.  He’d disliked Ben from the start; said he wasn’t good enough for her, was too unruly.  Meaning, of course, that Ben was far too working class for a daughter of his to be seeing. 

    Sarah’s shrill laugh came from the next room.  Ben used to make her laugh like that, in the beginning. 

    Picking up the car keys, he scraped his chair back, the way they’d never allowed him to before, and marched to the car.  Rain hit him as he unlocked the door, and the wind stung at his bare arms.  Inside, he adjusted the seat, turned the radio up, and put the car into reverse.

    “Right,” he said.

    His foot flat down, Ben reversed up the drive.  At the top he swung the car to the right, heedless of possible traffic, and accelerated up the wet road.  A bend surprised him.  Braking too hard, he lost the back end.  Outside, the world span in slow motion as the car mounted a grass verge and crunched into a stone wall. 

    Ben sat there, legs tingling, ears roaring, adrenalin coursing through his system. 

    A big Volvo came down the slope and paused.  A woman’s face peered at him from its passenger seat, barely visible in the night.  Ben half saw, half imagined a look of concerned disapproval.  He gave her a thumbs-up and waited for the car to pull away.  He turned the music off.

    Easing the car back from the verge, Ben forced himself to breath normally.  Driving back to Sarah’s, he parked outside and checked the damage.  It was bad.  The light was smashed, the boot caved in beyond repair. 

    The roaring in Ben’s ears died down.  He ran his hand along the dents.  A sharp edge nicked his finger, drawing a little blood.  Sucking it, he wondered for a second what Mike would think; this car was his pride and joy.  As he thought about it, though, Ben realised that he didn’t actually care.  Let him deal with it; he had Sarah to comfort him, didn’t he? 

    When his finger stopped bleeding, Ben went back inside.  Chucking the keys onto the table, he took two beers from the fridge and went through to the lounge.

    Sarah was on Mike’s knee now; he jostled her there, trying to make her drop the bowl.  They paused when they saw him, looking a little tense. Sarah pushed a strand of hair from her face as he approached. Her hand stayed near her face as Ben passed Mike one of the beers, amused by his best friend’s reluctance to make eye contact.  It seemed his return ruined the fun. Jenny and Kate sat close together, studiously looking at Jenny’s mobile. 

    “Turned?” said Mike.

    “Turned.”

    The adrenalin faded as Ben sat down; he felt calm now, and able to think.  He studied the tribal masks on the wall.  Once, waiting for Sarah to get ready, he’d taken one down for a closer look.  On the back was the label of a local craft shop, the kind that sells cheap dream-catchers and other spiritualist trinkets.  Holding it in his hand, Ben realised the mask’s hollowed eyes had never even seen Africa.  Looking back, Ben wasn’t sure why it had come as such a surprise; after all, Sarah’s family always holidayed in France, gathered around the same pool in the same villa every year.  A pool they often talked about back home, though they forgot to mention the other families that shared it, or the discount they got by going a few months out of season. 

    The memory gave him fresh view of the others: Jenny and Kate, sat texting boys they had no interest in and pretending to laugh at Mike’s jokes; Mike, guilt-free with his new girlfriend; and Sarah, flirting for all she was worth with one eye constantly on Ben, watching for the slightest reaction.  Why had she invited him here?  To rub his nose in it?

    She was talking about a new horror film, parroting Mike’s opinions from the week before.  Ben watched her, amazed.  Was this the girl he’d obsessed over for so long?  And was Mike any better? Stroking her thigh, he seemed oblivious of Ben’s feelings.  But then, their friendship had always been on his terms.  Every now and then he glanced at Ben, as if resentful that Sarah was splitting her attention between them, however unevenly. 

    Something clicked in Ben’s mind; he stood up and moved to the cupboard behind Jenny and Kate, who half turned to watch him. Fishing out the phone book, he straightened up and leant against the back of the sofa, flicking through the pages.  Kate leant in to see what he was doing, scared of missing something.

    “What are you doing?” she asked.

    “Doing everyone a favour,” said Ben.  He stopped flicking the pages, took his mobile from his pocket, and dialled the number.  “Hello, can I get a taxi?”

    After the call, Mike asked why he was leaving.  Ben strolled over and handed him the phonebook.

    “You’ll be needing that tomorrow,” he said. 

    “And why will I need this?” He held the book away from him like it was going to bite.

    “You’ll see,” said Ben.

    As the others stared at him, Ben realised he was making a scene, and he relished it.  For the first time in months he felt in control.  Nobody’s opinion mattered in that room; he’d already decided never step foot in it again.