The first Rebecca I knew was skinny and had long blonde hair. I loved her, but I was only eight. One day I put a drawing pin on her chair for her to sit on. I think I thought this was a show of love. It didn’t work out. She cried and told on me. I ended up being sent to the headmistress.

The next one I knew was when I was at secondary school. She was a friend of a friend, and I danced the last dance with her at a disco. When I pressed against her, I got a hard on – I couldn’t help it – and scared her off. I tried to get a letter through my friend to her – she was beautiful. Nothing came back.

After that, there was one I met while working in a hotel. She was a waitress and I was a pot-washer. She wouldn’t look at me. Apparently, I wasn’t worth it. At the end of the night when they all went for a drink, she made a point of inviting everyone else in front of me.

Next, there was one in this factory I worked at one summer. She wore the same clothes every day, clothes she didn’t wash. She stood next to me and stank. I moved, but she followed. She thought we were friends because I said hello to her. That, for her, was enough. I farted in front of her. She took it as a sign of intimacy.

Then there was Rebecca Little. She was in the room next to me at university, and would come home at 4am three, four times a week and play Duran Duran at full blast. I went out one day leaving Metal Machine Music on full volume. She didn’t see the funny side. We argued. I got the blame. I hadn’t just disturbed her. I’d disturbed the whole floor.

The fourth or fifth or sixth one – I’ve lost count – was this one at work, Rebecca Williams. She was older than me, but I got promoted quicker. She questioned everything I did, double-checked, found I was right, but then questioned me again about something else I was right about. In the end, I started sending her emails detailing everything I was going to explain at a meeting and why it was right as a sort of preemptive strike. I was told I was a bully.

So, no, we’re not calling our daughter that.


4 thoughts on “Rebeccas

    • I know. Been doing something that doesn’t really fit the format, stopped that, started thinking about something I’ve been wanting to do for years, and taking notes on that at the moment, trying to find a way into it. Once I do I’ll start putting it up on here. Felt the short fiction had run its course even if it gave me a good focus and good habit. Need to think about doing something more and this thing kind of got me into a habit in a bad way as well, only doing short and focusing on that and not on anything else. Good to see I’m missed tho. That’s motivation to come back and continue

      • I know exactly what you mean. I still love short fiction, it gives me a chance to experiment a bit, but it’s the bigger stories that I want to tell.

        You’re definitely missed man – I think you’re heads and shoulders above the other fiction writers I find hereabouts.

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