Last week, Connell mentioned something called ‘the ghost’. Marianne had never heard of it before, she had to ask him what it was. His eyebrows shot up. The ghost, he said. The ghost estate, Mountain View. It’s like, right behind the school. Marianne had been vaguely aware of some construction on the land behind the school, but she didn’t know there was a housing estate there now, or that no one lived in it. People go drinking there, Connell added. Oh, said Marianne. She asked what it was like. He said he wished he could show her, but there were always people around. He often makes blithe remarks about things he ‘wishes’. I wish you didn’t have to go, he says when she’s leaving, or: I wish you could stay the night. If he really wished for any of those things, Marianne knows, then they would happen. Connell always gets what he wants, and then feels sorry for himself when what he wants doesn’t make him happy.
Anyway, he did end up taking her to see the ghost estate. They drove there in his car one afternoon and he went out first to make sure no one was around before she followed him. The houses were huge, with bare concrete facades and overgrown front lawns. Some of the empty window holes were covered over in plastic sheeting, which whipped around loudly in the wind. It was raining and she had left her jacket in the car. She crossed her arms, squinting up at the wet slate roofs.
Do you want to look inside? Connell said.
The front door of number 23 was unlocked. It was quieter in the house, and darker. The place was filthy. With the toe of her shoe Marianne prodded at an empty cider bottle. There were cigarette butts all over the floor and someone had dragged a mattress into the otherwise bare living room. The mattress was stained badly with damp and what looked like blood. Pretty sordid, Marianne said aloud. Connell was quiet, just looking around.
Do you hang out here much? she said.
He gave a kind of shrug. Not much, he said. Used to a bit, not much anymore.
Please tell me you’ve never had sex on that mattress.
He smiled absently. No, he said. Is that what you think I get up to at the weekend, is it?
Kind of.
He didn’t say anything then, which made her feel even worse. He kicked a crushed can of Dutch Gold aimlessly and sent it skidding towards the French doors.
This is probably three times the size of my house, he said. Would you say?
She felt foolish for not realising what he had been thinking about. Probably, she said. I haven’t seen upstairs, obviously.
Four bedrooms.
Jesus.
Just lying empty, no one living in it, he said. Why don’t they give them away if they can’t sell them? I’m not being thick with you, I’m genuinely asking.
She shrugged. She didn’t actually understand why.
It’s something to do with capitalism, she said.
Yeah. Everything is, that’s the problem, isn’t it?
She nodded. He looked over at her, as if coming out of a dream.
Are you cold? he said. You look like you’re freezing.
She smiled, rubbed at her nose. He unzipped his black puffer jacket and put it over her shoulders. They were standing very close. She would have lain on the ground and let him walk over her body if he wanted, he knew that.
When I go out at the weekend or whatever, he said, I don’t go after other girls or anything.
Marianne smiled and said: No, I guess they come after you.
He grinned, he looked down at his shoes. You have a very funny idea of me, he said.
She closed her fingers around his school tie. It was the first time in her life she could say shocking things and use bad language, so she did it a lot. If I wanted you to fuck me here, she said, would you do it?
His expression didn’t change but his hands moved around under her jumper to show he was listening. After a few seconds he said: Yeah. If you wanted to, yeah. You’re always making me do such weird things.
What does that mean? she said. I can’t make you do anything.
Yeah, you can. Do you think there’s any other person I would do this type of thing with? Seriously, do you think anyone else could make me sneak around after school and all this?
What do you want me to do? Leave you alone?
He looked at her, seemingly taken aback by this turn in the discussion. Shaking his head, he said: If you did that …
She looked at him but he didn’t say anything else.
If I did that, what? she said.
I don’t know. You mean, if you just didn’t want to see each other anymore? I would feel surprised honestly, because you seem like you enjoy it.
And what if I met someone else who liked me more?
He laughed. She turned away crossly, pulling out of his grasp, wrapping her arms around her chest. He said hey, but she didn’t turn around. She was facing the disgusting mattress with the rust-coloured stains all over it. Gently he came up behind her and lifted her hair to kiss the back of her neck.
Sorry for laughing, he said. You’re making me insecure, talking about not wanting to hang out with me anymore. I thought you liked me.
She shut her eyes. I do like you, she said.
Well, if you met someone else you liked more, I’d be pissed off, okay? Since you ask about it. I wouldn’t be happy. Alright?
Your friend Eric called me flat-chested today in front of everyone.
Connell paused. She felt his breathing. I didn’t hear that, he said.
You were in the bathroom or somewhere. He said I looked like an ironing board.
Fuck’s sake, he’s such a prick. Is that why you’re in a bad mood?
She shrugged. Connell put his arms around her belly.
He’s only trying to get on your nerves, he said. If he thought he had the slightest chance with you, he would be talking very differently. He just thinks you look down on him.
She shrugged again, chewing on her lower lip.
You have nothing to worry about with your appearance, Connell said.
Hm.
I don’t just like you for your brains, trust me.
She laughed, feeling silly.
He rubbed her ear with his nose and added: I would miss you if you didn’t want to see me anymore.
Would you miss sleeping with me? she said.
He touched his hand against her hipbone, rocking her back against his body, and said quietly: Yeah, a lot.
Can we go back to your house now?
He nodded. For a few seconds they just stood there in stillness, his arms around her, his breath on her ear. Most people go through their whole lives, Marianne thought, without ever really feeling that close with anyone.
*
Finally, after her third gin and tonic, the door bangs open and the boys arrive. The committee girls get up and start teasing them, scolding them for being late, things like that. Marianne hangs back, searching for Connell’s eye contact, which he doesn’t return. He’s dressed in a white button-down shirt, the same Adidas sneakers he wears everywhere. The other boys are wearing shirts too, but more formal-looking, shinier, and worn with leather dress shoes. There’s a heavy, stirring smell of aftershave in the air. Eric catches Marianne’s eye and suddenly lets go of Karen, a move obvious enough that everyone else looks around too.
Look at you, Marianne, says Eric.
She can’t tell immediately whether he’s being sincere or mocking. All the boys are looking at her now except Connell.
I’m serious, Eric says. Great dress, very sexy.
Rachel starts laughing, leans in to say something in Connell’s ear. He turns his face away slightly and doesn’t laugh along. Marianne feels a certain pressure in her head that she wants to relieve by screaming or crying.