Read The Mushroom Diaries Page 7

me as we walk. Conveyor belted people gliding by, following the routes of a day to day existence.

  ‘Dom?’ Sam’s voice snaps me back to attention. ‘Dom, look at me?’

  I turn my gaze to him. He glides by, mechanical movements at a mechanical pace. My heart sinks. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I managed to get on one. Look, it’s so cool!’

  I reach out and grab his arm, pulling him from the conveyor belt and back to the static, unmoving floor.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ His voice childlike.

  ‘Do you want to be part of the crowd? Do you want to do what’s expected of you?’ My words feel harsh, harsh but right. ‘Think of what we have seen today. Do you want to be like that?’

  ‘Hell no.’

  ‘Well then.’ I smile, Sam always makes me smile. Together we click like one, our souls jigsaw pieces that lock together. Two halves of the same puzzle. I’d protect him with my life.

  Another memory. Sam following policemen, mouth full of gum, chewing like a lunatic. Drawing attention to us. My arm pulling him away, leading him in a different direction. Mind cuts to another scene. Stood outside a shop, cigarette in my hand, Sam not by my side. He’s in the shop, buying water, I can see him. Never allow my eyes to lose sight of him. When they do I feel alone. Alone with no one. Lost and without direction.

  Snap back to present. Memories of what we’ve done outside of the magic can mean only one thing. I look around, people walking normally. Step by step they go about their early evening business. The noise of a city ripe in my ears. I turn to Sam, he’s smiling.

  ‘I think it’s over,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah, same here. Was a bit of a weird one wasn’t it?’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘You know what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m fucking starving. Can we go eat?’ I smile broadly, my eyes performing a perfected puppy dog gaze.

  Sam laughs. ‘You read my mind. Let's get something cheap and simple.’

  ‘McDonalds?’

  ‘Yeah, I kinda fancy that.’

  We walk off, making our way through Chinatown. ‘I love you.’

  Sam smiles. ‘I love you too.’

  IV

  Golden arches shining out into the night, drawing the attention of everyone. A global company selling the same food worldwide, familiarity no matter where you are.

  Sam and I are laughing, enjoying the rest of the evening together, happy in each other’s company. No one else matters, we need only us. Our stomachs rumble, empty, we haven’t eaten for years, well it feels that way at least. We join the queue and look around us. Sam’s smiling, I’m smiling. Everyone’s smiling. Everybody happily eating the same food, cooked at the same time. Sam’s smile drops suddenly. He nods in a direction, my eyes follow.

  A woman. Black skinned with large frizzy hair, laughing, a brown paper bag in her hands. The laughter is disjointed, her movements jerky, frames cut from her life movie. She leaves, each step pushing her forward the distance of two. As she leaves, she is replaced by a couple who join the queue, their laughter disjoined, their movements jerky.

  I look at Sam, we nod. We know.

  ‘How can I help you?’ says a voice behind us.

  We turn, we haven’t thought about what we want. We just knew we wanted. I look at Sam nervously. ‘I would... erm...’ I don’t know what to say, I feel like a child ordering for the first time. Nervous, insecure, undecided. ‘I would...’ A giggle leaves me.

  ‘Yes sir?’

  Pressure. ‘Err... I would like...’

  ‘He’d like chips and a hamburger.’ Sam’s voice cuts across me. His tone eager and childlike. ‘I want the same.’ He looks at me, beaming widely. I smile back.

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I nod excitedly. Eager for the food. It gets handed to us in a brown bag. We pay and leave quickly, we don’t want to eat in with all the mechanical people.

  Sit on the floor outside, cross legged with our backs against the windows. The night illuminated a golden yellow. Open the bag and eat the food. It tastes good, a new experience, like we’ve never eaten a McDonalds before. Two eager children devouring a parent’s treat. Giant mouthfuls of food entering our empty stomachs. All around us smells, wafting over to us on the night breeze, from Chinatown, from the surrounding restaurants. A mix of fragrances in the night. Delicious. It fuels our hunger as we continue to devour our food. Two children experiencing London at night, alone for the first time.

  People around us. Groups of people moving by. I watch their darkened forms as they pass, feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The food has cured the rumbles in our stomachs. Satisfied we look at each other, smiling as we do. ‘Home?’ I hear myself say. We’ve been out all day, I want some time alone with him.

  ‘Yeah, shall we go?’

  I nod eagerly and we rise. Pick up the bag, put it in the trash and walk our way to the nearest tube station.

  V

  We’ve had a little argument. Well not really, it was one of those joke ones. I said something that upset him and now Sam’s stropping off in front of me. ‘Sam,’ I laugh after him.

  He stops, stamps two feet against the floor and looks over his shoulder at me, his lip pouting. ‘I’m not talking to you.’ He turns away.

  ‘Fine.’ I child strop past him. My arms by my side, lip pouted I turn and look over my shoulder. ‘I’m not talking to you then.’

  We stamp our way to the platform and sit down, glancing sideways at each other before quickly looking away. Sam’s feet shuffle towards mine. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. I can hear that his lip is pouted, I know he’s pulling a puppy dog face.

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ I mumble before looking at him. Our eyes make contact, as they do hysterical laughter leaves our lips. The train pulls up. We get on.

  We sit opposite each other. Next to me are two figures. Old, wrinkles cut deep on their faces, the ravishes of an earthquake across the skin. The doors close. We’re locked in with them.

  They’re huddled together, the female rummaging in her bag before pulling out a drink. She pushes the straw through the foil seal and hands it to her husband. His quivering hands take it. Love, you can tell they are in love. Happiness with each other into old age. It’s a nice warming sight, but something about them disturbs me, their wizened forms frail with the pressures of a long life. A worn love filled with despair. Despair for the future. Despair in the knowledge that with each passing day they step closer to the end, that soon they will be alone. One will pass over leaving the other devoid of half their puzzle. Lonely until they can join again through death. Life in its final stages, a love that will tear one of them apart.

  They huddle closer. To my eyes they look like corpses. I jump across the carriage and sit next to Sam, comforted by his presence. They look up at me and frown before carrying on with their business. Sat opposite it’s even more disturbing. Watching their wrinkles move, knowing they both saw each one form together. They lived together, loved together, watched each other grow old together before dying alone. Looking at them is like looking at a possible future. Sam and I hopefully sitting like them, two youths watching us. To have that much love for someone, to feel that much love for someone. I look at Sam and I know. I know I will love no other. The love I feel is real. I’d massacre nations just for you.

  The train stops. We leave. All I want to do is scoop Sam in my arms but can’t. It hurts seeing all these couples showing their affection for each other and knowing if we did the same it would be frowned upon with looks of disgust. True love turned seedy in the minds of others.

  Sam wants a drink so we pause at a shop. I wait outside with a cigarette between my fingers. Inhale, exhale. Feeling alone without Sam’s presence around me, even though I know he’s only in the shop behind. He returns to my side. Complete. I take a swig of his
drink and we make our way back.

  We walk in through the door, kick off our shoes and hang up our coats. Our feet ache, we’ve been walking all day without break. Our legs will be stiff in the morning. Walk to the bathroom and piss into the toilet. Look at my eyes, pupils still large but shrinking, returning to normal. I flush, wash my hands and open the door to Sam’s room.

  I fall onto the bed next to him. We hug, we kiss. I hold him tight, pull him as close to me as I can. Finally able to do what I’ve wanted to do all day. I feel him rub his head against my chest. I love it when he does that. Make the most of this, I have to leave in a few hours. We kiss, a long passionate kiss. When our lips break apart, the world has returned to normal. We lay there, Sam cradled in my arms, head on my chest. Happy. I feel the first tear roll down my cheek.

  FOUR

  Fifteenth of November

  Two Thousand and Four

  This duckling never grew into a beautiful swan. It remained unchanged and hated...

  Hated by others and hated by himself...

  Then a beautiful prince came along and made the duckling feel good about himself...

  But on this day it didn’t work and the duckling cried in his arms...

  The duckling wants to be a swan.

  FIVE

  Nineteenth of November

  Two Thousand and Four

  I

  We’re on the Victoria line, stood up in the rush hour. I met Sam at Waterloo today and from there we went straight to Camden, bought the mushrooms, and are now making our