Читать книгу Adults - Emma Jane Unsworth - Страница 8

‘That thing is the first thing you look at in the morning and the last thing you look at at night.’

We were in bed. It was a week or so before we broke up. I was looking at my phone while we were having sex. I see now how that might have been interpreted as rude – some might even say offensive. He put his hands on my shoulders and said: ‘Stop.’

I stopped.

He said: ‘Jenny, somehow I just don’t feel like I have your full attention.’

‘You do!’

‘I don’t. Even when you’re here it’s like you’re not here. It’s like half your head is somewhere else.’

It was. Half my head was in Copenhagen, where Suzy Brambles was having a splendid time. The earthenware in one particular eaterie was ‘lickable’.

Art said: ‘I feel as though this constant interfacing has become a wall between us.’

I almost said: But does sex require one’s full attention? Eating doesn’t, after all – and that is arguably as important as sex.

I looked back at my phone. I smiled at Suzy smiling.

Art pulled himself out from under my legs, sat on the side of the bed and whipped off the condom. He rubbed his face. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We have a problem.’

I finished my comment, a simple, single red heart emoji – the classic choice; just … enough – clicked the phone to sleep and looked at him. Art said: ‘You are on that thing when we eat, you are on it when we watch TV, you are on it when we go for a walk, and now you are on it when we are having sex.’

‘It was a slow bit!’

‘It was sex, Jenny. Not a film.’

I looked at him and tried a cute: ‘Sometimes it’s as good as the movies, though.’

‘Mmmmmmmm.’

It was a long sound, that mmmm. Like a door buzzer, or a hornet trapped in a jar. I watched the sunlight on the wall flicker. Summer was almost over. First thing in the morning and last thing at night. There was a time – even in my life – when that slot would have been reserved for a lover.

Art said: ‘Are you in love with someone on the internet?’

‘No!’ I said. Which was almost not a lie.

He said: ‘I’ve noticed a direct correlation between you growing more distant from me and closer to your phone.’

He said: ‘It’s like I can’t get to you when you’re there. Your eyes are all wide and you’re plugged in like a happy little robot.’

He said: ‘Except you’re not happy.’

‘How do you know I’m not happy?’

‘Because you’re never satisfied.’

I took his penis in my hand. ‘Maybe that’s just me.’