John’s Visit

John phoned, complaining I hadn’t answered time before. “I was hulling strawberries in the kitchen.” He could have any amount of sex he wanted in prison, he said.

I went to meet him off the train as he wanted, missing him on the second attempt by going the back way he usually takes while he boldly took the front. I said he suspected me of faithlessness. He admitted he had, because I got about. “I thought you liked that.” He did. I pushed back his thighs, lubricated his arse and my cock but in thrusting gave such agony I desisted, “That’s rape,” I said. I fell back on my usual method while he innovated with pushing up rhythmically. He took longer. We had two halves of two pizzas, the second left in too long. He liked my letter to the local paper on a proposal to ‘improve’ Richmond Green, especially the sentence, [the bollards] ‘justify the self-importance of the self-appointed friends of this and that who depend for their importance on supporting the council and basking in reflected glory, feeding from its patronage, posing the while as representative of the submissive public they are conspiring with it to inconvenience,’ by inhibiting ease of access. I withdrew £20 for him and ordered more sildenafil from Boots. After seeing him off, I bought salmon for the next day.

I computed in the library before John came. He had sex without chemical aid; and phoned his solicitor who, because he wouldn’t call him back, was fired. He asked why I kept a condom by the bed. “It’s a moist lens wipe.” He said my man wouldn’t have let him be with me if he’d do me harm. “The assailant,” I countered. “He was an exception.” “It’s my job. You’re a job, that should’ve been finished by this time.” He went off to the hostel. He came in on me later, who’d dozed off over a paper. We went a long walk to Ham Fields where John spotted three of the Greater Spotted Poofs in the long grass. Back, we were told Diana, a neighbour, had locked herself out. I failed to get through the bathroom window I must’ve got through before, therefore didn’t want to, or to phone the police for her. I suspected a melodrama for attention and that left to herself she’d find the keys and let herself in. I made pasta to go with the mince as sauce while police were called, and a locksmith. John was given two packets of cigarettes by Diana he shouldn’t’ve taken, because he’d been no help I thought though finding out later he’d been instrumental in having somebody else let her in to pee. We watched Top Boy before he left for the hostel.

Next morning John woke me up, eventually. We went to Aldgate East, to Crisis, 66 Commercial St for his interview about work on release where I met for the first time Arto I’d been in email correspondence with over visiting John. We had a gluten-free Prêt à Manger salad for me and a baguette for John by the Tower. While he went back to the hostel for an induction of some kind, I did the internet in the library. I bought salmon for John who was turning up his nose at mince, “Mince is mince.” John claimed he protected me: I minced and was looked askance at by homophobic blacks, whereas the whites didn’t give a glance, and he gave them a look averted their eyes. “I’m not frightened.” “I know you’re not.” We’d agreed to shop for Diana but she’d gone to bed so we walked by the river and up the opened Terrace Gardens, where we relieved ourselves and a seventeen year old on the prowl passed us, and on to Friars Stile Road. As I was washing up I remembered Tesco would still be open and we did a late shop for Diana. John was depressed at going back to prison. We checked regular times for Kingston trains for the next day but I was unable to book a travel card for him in advance for September 8. I thought I could go with him to Kingston.

John woke me up and I made us breakfast. He’d bitten the bullet about going back to prison. Sex wasn’t even considered. He asked me to go with him. We went to Hampton Wick by train and walked across the bridge. He’d’ve been late if I hadn’t said he was going too far. The probation office isn’t advertised. He didn’t want me coming in. I bought two cds. Adrian, his probation officer, had told him he thought Michelle was divorcing him and had moved away from the area. John said his heart lifted at seeing me come towards him. “Mine didn’t. That’s the one flaw in this relationship.” We caught the train at Hampton Wick for Kingston and Clapham Junction where we changed for Victoria and had time for another Prêt à Manger al fresco lunch in a near park before he boarded his train. I returned to Richmond. I asked the librarian if I could order a travel card online. Looks like. The station lets one order only a week in advance. The turkey mince John had turned up his nose at was delicious on fusili.

“What’re you doing here!” John walked in, “I’m on the lam.” “Get out! I’m calling the police.” He wasn’t stopping since this was the first place they’d look. He was justifying himself. I wasn’t interested. He said he was in bed when a guard came in to give a mandatory drug test. He wanted to put his trousers on. The guard wouldn’t let him and gave a direct order he should lie there, the which he didn’t and told the guard to fuck off, so he’s on two charges and going to the closed prison across the road, putting paid to his release in February and the next visit. “It’s not I don’t understand. You should’ve lain there and thought of England. You know they rile. You shouldn’t’ve risen to the bait. I’m not waiting for you. I’ll find somebody else.” He’d become anxious and was given authorisation to visit the hospital and, having been okayed there, absconded. “I should throw myself in front of a train.” “That solves nothing. Go back. Retrieve the situation.” If he didn’t, he proposed coming Monday to hand himself in to Adrian, me accompanying. He’d no intention of going back directly. “This relationship isn’t going to work out. It does make for a blog,” which I drafted in the afternoon. He’d taken the fuller packet of fags.

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About johnbrucecairns

I'm a retired history teacher who's written for most of his life with a book readied for publication.
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