An Alleyway by Blake Wheatley
Baby Teeth is thrilled to be publishing works from Lexicon Innovations Well Fair Project this month!
The project was produced in association with Baby Teeth, the South Coast Writers Centre, and the Merrigong Theatre Company. It’s aim was to give a voice to the experiences of the long term unemployed in the Illawarra through writing and performance. You might have seen performances from participants on our Lit Stage during Viva La Gong last year! We’ll be sharing works from two of the participants as well as our March Features. First is a prose piece from Blake Wheatley.
CONTENT WARNING: sexual assault, sexual violence
An Alleyway
An alleyway. The dark bricks are moist from passing rain that puddles on the tar. The walls push together, closer and closer, the further you look down to where there is—allegedly—an end to the pitch black. The streetlights are too afraid to light the mouth of the path, and instead throw long shadows down it. Even the lights from the windows marking each separate apartment seem distant and unreal, as if the grime on the glass were a fog that kept whatever happened in the alley invisible. Who would want to look out the dust-smeared glass to see a void of brick, tar, and garbage?
Still, people have to take these paths. Otherwise, all the stories of dark alleys go away. Like Daniel; drunk and swaying from wall to wall in zir new heels and trying not to trip. Lanky and 6’4” in zir heels, ze lives on a diet of pre-packaged mac and cheese and daydreams.
Ze had been out hoping to impress Jacob. This was difficult to do in heels ze should have worn in first. An image kept springing up behind zir unfocused eyes. One drink too many and ze had hit the floor. Hard. It might not have been so bad, after all there were no broken bones or heels, but Jacob had seen. And that wouldn’t have been so bad either, but Jacob had laughed. And even that might have been bearable except that it had been an ugly laugh. It was one of those throaty, phlegmy laughs. Daniel had thought ze’d heard a bubble of mucus pop in the back of Jacob’s throat.
Ze leaned against the damp bricks to rest zir blistered feet and dragged up memories of Jacob, looking for one that kept its radiance.
The time he did a back flip into a pool—or at least attempted one. Now ze could see Jacob’s movements were subpar at best. Like the shadow of an elegant swan parting the reeds to reveal a duck. An ugly, stupid duck.
Or when he came out of the pool looking like a supermodel. A super wet, rat model.
The last time they’d had sex? Ze could gag.
The universe has the same sense of humour as any bastard. Just as Daniel’s thoughts equating Jacob to a wet duck-rat started to rattle in zir brain, the man himself entered from the mouth of the alleyway.
Daniel didn’t need to ask. Jacob had followed zir, the way he always did. He’d probably told his friends he was catching up with one of the girls, the way he always did. But Daniel had heard him laugh and now he looked disgusting. Ze couldn’t stop him from putting his hand on zir waist. It was wet through zir shirt. Ze hoped he had been holding a bottle or something, because the alternative was sweat. Judging by the stink of beer on his breath it was condensation from a bottle. Probably. Hopefully.
Jacob put his mouth against Daniel’s neck, and ze swallowed a gag. It was sloppy and wet, and his tongue pushed against zir skin. Ze gave him a shove to make him back off.
‘Not tonight.’
‘Come off it,’ Jacob laughed. The sound made Daniel feel like ze was shriveling up inside zir skin. He pushed himself in closer and ze shoved him away.
‘I’m serious. Go for one of the girls or something.’
‘Oh yeah?’ He pushed in closer. ‘But you’re all dressed up.’ Daniel tried to shove him away and he pushed closer. He was wider than zir, stronger than zir, and the slug tongue was on zir neck again.
Daniel tried to keep zir words sharp, ‘Get off!’ If they could cut through the alcohol, Jacob would realise what he was doing and step back—but they were blunt, and he pushed closer.
The options ran through Daniel’s head. Ze had options for moments like this. It happened too much not to. Fight back or get it over with.
Ze always picked the former in zir daydreams. It was the noble option. The strong option. The good option. Fight back so you aren’t helpless. Fight back so you don’t have to get it over with. Fight back so you can say you did.
It was easy to fight in daydreams, but the reality was, ze couldn’t. Ze couldn’t actually fight. Fighting required people to believe ze didn’t want it, and right now not even Jacob thought Daniel didn’t want it.
Leaving only the second option: get it over with. Not a crowd pleaser. Not as satisfying to hear about. Not as cinematic, and a little too real when the damp bricks are pressing into your back. When he’s pushing closer and closer until you can’t breathe.
Just shut your eyes. Just pretend it’s someone else. Just suck his dick. Just get him off. Just get it over with. The mantra of the second option.
Daniel was good at getting it over with. Jacob was good at convincing himself that getting it over with was the same as being into it.
