Human Remains

sister and her unfortunate demise, and found out that she lived alone, worked part-time for an insurance company in their call centre, went to salsa classes on a Tuesday night and had been single for six months. She had no pets and was on the waiting list for an allotment. She was a vegetarian. She enjoyed meeting new people and, although she wasn’t particularly looking for a new relationship, she would be open to it if the right person came along.
    It was amazing how simple it was to get someone to share so much personal information without volunteering anything in return. Every time she asked me something I would offer a general answer and then enquire more about her, leaning forward, maintaining eye contact, smiling at her and making a resolute effort to listen to her responses. Within the hour she was leaning towards me, playing with her hair, touching me on the knee.
    Half an hour after that we were making our way on foot to her house, a few streets away. She stopped outside a terraced house and on the doorstep she put her hands around my waist, inside my jacket. This sudden contact came as a shock but I recovered quickly and moved closer to her, feeling the warmth of her body. She turned her face up towards mine and I thought she must want me to kiss her, so I did that. Her mouth was dry and her breath smelt of wine. I touched her cheek and she opened her mouth. It was like kissing Helen again. I pulled back from her. ‘Shall we go inside?’ I asked.
    ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, looking at me with her head tilted to one side.
    ‘What are you unsure about?’
    ‘You might be a serial killer,’ she said.
    I laughed out loud at that and she held me a bit tighter.
    Then she smiled. ‘You’re too sweet to be a serial killer,’ she said. She let go of me then and opened the door, turning on the lights in the hallway and leaving the door open for me to follow her inside.
    Justine had a greater impact on me than any of the others, even Eleanor. By giving herself to me so freely, she made me realise that the fun was not in the accepting but in the taking; that this wasn’t about casual sex, it wasn’t something to be taken as a pastime, an amusement; it was a vocation. A calling.
    We had sex in her bedroom, in the dark. Her body was somewhere in between angel and whore, I suppose: clean, and slack. She kept trying to kiss me but that always made me think of Helen, so I turned my head away. I’d remembered to take a condom with me and thankfully she applied it. After that it was very quick. I lay next to her in the darkness feeling sated and disappointed at the same time. I had expected so much more. I had expected – what? – a connection.
    When she put an arm across my stomach and moved closer against me, I moved away and sat on the edge of the bed, my hands loose between my knees. I could see my penis, hanging flaccid, spent, mocking.
    ‘Are you OK, Mark?’ Justine said, from behind me.
    ‘I need to go,’ I said.
    ‘Already? Can’t you stay for a bit?’
    ‘I’ve got work in the morning.’
    The rest was unspoken. I thought she would ask about seeing me again, but thankfully she did not. She looked sad, but I could do nothing about that. There was nothing wrong with her, other than compliance.
    She was irrepressibly, resolutely alive. And that was without doubt a disappointment.

Annabel
     
     
    Sam came to see me most days. At first when he came I could only stare at the clock on the wall opposite while he asked me questions. Some days I pretended to be asleep. But after a few days I realised I didn’t mind him being there, and actually I found myself waiting for him to turn up. I think that was when I must have been getting better, because I began to feel like talking.
    ‘Why are you here?’ I asked. ‘You should be at work.’
    ‘I can go back in later,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling?’
    I didn’t answer that. I had no words to describe it. Or, more accurately, I had no feeling. No sensation of anything other than vague disappointment that I was still here.
    ‘Annabel?’
    I looked across to him, aware that it was my name and therefore I should respond to it. ‘What?’
    ‘Do you want to know how the investigation’s going? Andrew Frost said he’d been to see you. He wanted to keep you updated.’
    I tried to remember if anyone else had visited me but it was all just a blur. I looked back at the clock. I waited every day for the line, the perfect straight vertical line