Ashford’s Version
“You look different,” Harring comments during our foil practice.
“It could be because I got a bit carried away.”
“It was about time! Welcome to the club!”
“I feel strange, but in a positive way.”
“Drugs have this effect, at first.”
“You’re a prick,” I say.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he replies.
“Apart from feeling as if I had the hormones of a fifteen year old, I would say that everything is more or less fine.”
“You’re talking to someone who has never really left puberty, so feel free to let off steam.”
“I would like to stay in bed with Jemma all the time, and when I’m not, I think about when I will be. My thoughts are rather unidirectional.”
“You married a goddess! I would be surprised if you didn’t spend every single moment of your day groping her.”
“It was different at first,” I try to justify myself.
“Yeah, you looked like a plaster bust from the National Gallery, with that ‘Oh my God, what am I doing here’ kind of expression on your face. It doesn’t surprise me at all.”
“Things have changed.”
“Yes, they have. She looks way more confident. And you’re listening to your lower half, at last,” Harring says, pointing his foil below my waist. “I must admit that I had started to fear that you wanted to become a monk, even though you kept yourself busy with Portia…”
When I hear Portia’s name, I throw the foil to the other side of the room. “Portia,” I mumble to myself.
“What’s wrong, now?”
“I’m fed up with you all bringing up Portia. Portia here, Portia there. Did I sleep with Portia? Yes. Did I want to marry her? Not at all. Have we ever been officially engaged? No, I’ve never even considered it! How long will I have to justify shagging her a couple of times?”
“Parker, take it easy, no one is asking for that. Certainly not me! It was an example. What’s wrong with you?”
I sit on one of the benches at the side of the platform, and take my mask off. “Yesterday, Jemma asked me about Portia. It’s something we’ve never talked about, but yesterday she wanted to know what happened between us. I felt uncomfortable while I was telling her. She was next to me, naked and beautiful, and all I wanted to do was make love to her again, but I didn’t know if she would still want me after what I told her.”
“You’re a man, it’s normal that you had other women before her.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t want her to see me as an arsehole who has sex with women just for fun, and then walks away.”
“Someone like me, you mean,” Harring points out.
“Exactly.” He pats me on my back. “I love you too, brother!”
“So, that’s it. If you were all so kind as to file the Portia case once and for all, I’d appreciate it.”
“Case closed.”
“Can you believe it? I’m here with you, and I should be involved in a duel to the last thrust, but all I can think of is Jemma: where she is, what she’s doing, what she’s wearing and how long it would take me to rip it off…”
“It’s normal, it means that everything works here,” says Harring, grabbing his crotch.
“But it would also be enough to spend a whole day just looking at her! I’m even jealous of Cécile Loxley, just because she’s with her now!”
“Speaking of Cécile Loxley!” Harring says, jumping up. “What a temper she’s got. I’m starting to wonder what she’s like in bed. I’m sure she’s quite satisfying…”
“Loxley is asexual, and she’s with that Palo Alto nerd.”
“Well, never say never…”
“Are you implicitly confessing that you’re going to make advances to Cécile Loxley?” I ask, confused by what I believe I have just heard.
“Who? Me? Are you nuts?” Harring looks at me wide eyed. “No, it was just a hypothesis.”