The House Guest - Mark Edwards Page 0,14

system was high on Jack and Mona’s to-do list.

Which reminded me: ‘Jack and Mona will be back the day after tomorrow.’

‘I know. So soon,’ Ruth said. ‘What happened to the last few weeks?’

‘I bet you can’t wait,’ I said to Eden.

‘What’s that?’ She had been doing something on her phone.

‘Jack and Mona. I imagine they’ll be surprised to see you.’

She put the phone away and smiled. ‘Yeah. I’m picturing their faces. They’ll be like, “What are you doing here?”’

Eden went out to get dinner from the Japanese place round the corner. While she was gone, I tried to continue the conversation with Ruth. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to reassure her because, since the chat with Eden the other night, I’d been feeling a lot better. I knew from a couple of remarks she’d made that Ruth must have been worried about her career and its potential impact on our relationship. I wanted her to know that, whatever happened, I would support her, and I was sure she would do the same for me.

But then Ruth got a call from Jayne and disappeared into the kitchen to take it. At the same time, the A/C unit made a shuddering noise before falling silent. I was still prodding at the buttons, trying to resuscitate it, when Eden returned.

‘Dinner,’ she said, holding up a pair of bags. The smell of noodles and hot, spicy sauce filled the room. She was holding a third bag too, which she placed on the table with a thump. ‘Look what I got,’ she said, pulling out one bottle then another. ‘Tequila! I got limes and salt too.’

The last time I’d drunk tequila I had spent half the night vomiting.

‘I’m really not sure—’ I began.

But Ruth interrupted me. ‘I’ll get the shot glasses. This is exactly what I need tonight. To get wasted.’

The storm broke sometime around ten, with a boom of thunder that seemed like it was right there in the room with us. Lightning followed a split second later, and then came the rain, pounding the roof and the windows and the door, like the Big Bad Wolf banging to be let in.

‘Maybe it’ll cool down now,’ I said, going over to watch people running for cover outside, a sheet of water already forming on the surface of the road and rushing towards the drains. For a moment I wondered what would happen if the rain didn’t stop, if it filled the sewers beneath us and the river overflowed and the streets flooded. I pictured a world washed clean of its sins, and thought I might welcome it.

Then I turned back to reality.

Ruth was slumped on the sofa, Eden beside her, the remains of our meal spilling from cartons on the coffee table in front of them. Noodles and lumps of tofu that had fallen on to the floor; chopsticks standing rigid in the unfinished rice. A Japanese friend had once told me that a bowl of rice with the chopsticks stuck upright is a symbol of death. But I had drunk too much tequila to do anything about it. With the broken A/C, the room was as hot as a restaurant kitchen, like sitting in a cloud of steam. My hair was plastered to my forehead with sweat and my T-shirt clung to my chest. My armpits and the backs of my knees were wet. Ruth and Eden were in a similar state. Ruth’s hair had gone frizzy and kind of wild, and Eden’s cheeks were pink. She had produced a little portable fan which we had been passing between us like stoners handing round a spliff, grateful for the tiniest breath of relief.

I sat back down on the wooden chair I’d pulled over from the table.

I was sure Ruth was about to fall asleep. I didn’t know how many shots of tequila she’d had before she moved on to beer. Her eyes were half open, her chin dipped low towards her chest.

‘Ruth, are you okay?’ I asked. The tequila was heavy in my bloodstream too. I could feel it in my brain, like fingers stroking the inside of my head. I shifted forward to pick up my own bottle of beer. ‘Do you need to go to bed?’

‘No.’ Ruth pushed herself upright and lifted her head. ‘I’m fine. I’m hunky-dory.’

Another clap of thunder filled the air, and she suddenly got to her feet and headed towards the back door.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘I’m going to wake myself up, Adam.’

Ruth