Fidget

This story features depictions of magical mind control and dubious consent.

Loretta took a tram ride on most days, of late. It had been to do with getting back into sketching. She'd dropped the habit as a teenager and it had returned to her life in her twenties. It had been something she did on the bus, before, and the tram had a romance to it that made it easier for her to loosen up and start surreptitiously drawing her fellow passengers. Most sketches, therefore, were of the backs of their heads, a hint of side profile, hats and scarves, collars, a nose poking round a cheek. Her book had filled with these images, and turned her into one of the daily characters she studied.

Today, it was overcast, and windy enough to keep the oversized tweed coat with the big lapels, covered in enamel pins, flapping around her legs, revealing thick purple tights beneath a blue wool dress that her grandma had crocheted for her aeons ago. It even still fit, though hugged her where it had once flowed. Deep brown curls batted her permanently pink face. Such that she was a mess upon boarding, hair and clothes just slightly out of order, the occasional spits of near-rain settling on her cheeks.

"Hey, Lorrie, it's Lorrie," sang Edward, from near the back. It wasn't too busy, yet he patted the seat next to him as though he'd saved it for her. "Red Lorrie,helloLorrie," he sang on. "You goin' a marry me today eh?"

"Er, it's feeling like amaybetoday, Edward." Her voice was a nervous pitch, apparently frazzled and unsure as ever of how to manage Edward's daily proposals. "If you don't call me Lorrie for the rest of the ride..."

"Ah, damn." He folded his arms. "No, I can't see that happening. Too fond of ye, Lorrie. Too fond to be so formal."

"Right, yeah."

"How could I win your heart if held mine in?"

"That's a really good point." She sat herself down. "I don't like insincerity, Edward, you've got me there."

"Well, sincerely, you're sweeter 'n ever this morning."

"Aw." Edward fancied himself a charming old romantic, and to Loretta, it wasn't entirely lost. She'd guessed he was heading for 70, still clean-shaven, tall and lanky, white hair curling around his temples with a speckled dome above. Edward wore sensible wire glasses and colourful suits: blues and muted greens, checked browns - stately, as though they'd been tailored for a younger version of himself, and probably had. These were usually accompanied by a tie with a very bold print. Her favourite was the blue one with the red elephants. Today it was yellow, and brown horses. Like a lot of the faces on the tram, Edward was known, and anyone you could ask would be sure to know him by face alone.

"You got your book?"

"I've got my book." She produced it, heavy sheets between covers of pressed leaves. It sat well between them, their old-fashioned textures mingling together. She began scribbling the outlines of a woman just up ahead, perhaps her age, with tight black hair and a clutter of earrings.

"She's pretty eh?"

"She is..." her voice slowed as her attention shifted to her pencil strokes. "You do like young ladies, don't you?"

"Ah well, you know." She glanced up in time to catch his over-sweet smile. He didn't go so far as to pour on another compliment. "I'm a lover by nature, I suppose. I like love."

"So who's the love in your life, Edward?"

"Ah I'm all alone, you know that..."

"I didn't, actually." She'd only been taking these rides for about a month. "So... what happened? I'm guessing there was someone."

"A few someones, yeah. I was married a couple o' times and then I was seein' someone for a while... that was going on ten years ago, now."

"Kids?"

"Don't think so."

"Right..." she smirked, humouring him. "Is your old girlfriend still around?"

"She didn't like me much, Lorrie. She wasn't a very trusting person."

She scribbled in silence for a moment, well aware of the bitter tinge to his words. To her, it sounded like a prepared response, borne of resentment. One side of a bigger story. Maybe he hadn't been so trustworthy. But then, she reasoned, it was a long time ago, and he was frankly too old to be a serious nuisance to anyone.

She didn't look up from the page.

"Got your eye on anyone?"

"I'm not even goin' a touch that, Lorrie."

"Besides me and her." She had almost finished the portrait already. Loretta worked fast - flurried strokes until a person took form from the mess.

"You've captured her just lovely."

"Thanks."

"S'true, I can see that it's, y'know, her..." The woman in question was getting up to leave. He gestured toward her back.

"Well, it's her hair. And a bit of her nose."

"No, I mean... if I knew her, I'd be able to tell that that's a drawin' of her."

"Ha ha. I know what you mean. Thanks, Edward."

Without asking, he took the pencil from her hand, and aimed it at the dead middle of the next sheet. Over the course of a minute he scrawled a tiny caricature - about two inches tall - of a gangly, elderly man in a suit. She suppressed any possessive feelings towards her sketchbook, and giggled - it did even look like him.

They rode and chatted a while longer. Loretta was destined for the library today, which meant a good 15 minutes more of Edward than her usual trip. His sweetness was infectious, although she could only keep herself kind to his advances with the certainty that they were meaningless. That this is how chatty old men are - this is what friendly means to them.

All the while, her fingers fumbled together. That was Loretta's least attractive habit, she thought. Fidgeting. Edward seemed to find it endearing. She tended to do it when she felt strong feelings. Fingers tugging at each other, wrapping round each other. Incessant.

She got up to leave. "You won't go without a kiss, will ye?"

She sighed, and rolled her eyes with a smile. "No, Edward, I suppose I won't." Leaning down, she allowed him to plant a soft peck on her cheek.

"Alright, bye now."

"We'll try the proposal again tomorrow, eh?"

She was already disappearing towards the door. "Anything's possible!"

"I'll have a ring for you an' all!"

"Alright then, bye...!"

---

"Is Edward the guy with the suits?"

"Yeah, I've told you about him."

"No, no, you have, I'm just putting it together now... he's that really tall one? He used to be in the café opposite school all the time."

Loretta had been seeing Ben for a few months, and it had been fun - and very sexual. Ben didn't fuss over his clothes much, it was generally jeans and a jumper, and messy black hair which she loved to tousle. He slugged his beer and she sipped hers. "That's funny. I didn't have a picture in my head, and now it's like, it'sthatguy..."

The bar was empty besides the two of them, the lunchtime trade having mostly cleared out. Ben had asked her to meet up quite suddenly, and she'd dashed out of the library.

"I didn't tell you this, but... he basically... like, he asks me to marry him. Every day."

"He what?"

"You know, like in a jokey way."

"Are you sure he's joking?"

"Yes I'm sure, Ben, fucking hell."

"I dunno, that sounds very weird to me. Does he bring a ring? Tell me what he says, exactly." Ben was very matter-of-fact when he felt threatened, speaking as though he was taking charge of a conversation that didn't need anyone in charge of it at all.

"Come on... don't be silly, Ben, please." She took his hand. He squeezed in response for a moment, reflexively, then pulled away.

"Actually, I don't know, maybe I need to just talk to you now."

"Now?"

"Yeah. I need to... come clean about stuff."

By the end of it she'd scoffed, nodded in jaded amusement, laughed, and left. And she hadn't cried. It was so basic it bored her: his ex was back in his life, they'd become close friends, they hadn't done anything, he felt a responsibility to see where it went.

They could still be friends. Loretta would probably get along well with her. That was when she walked out.

There were tears, of course - her elder suitor was nowhere to be seen on the journey home, and she afforded herself at least a small breakdown. As much for time wasted as for Ben. She might actually manage to drink less, without his presence. It was something she had been meaning to do. But ithadbeen fun, and the fun was over.

She spent her evening with a takeaway of noodles and dumplings, watched Blue Velvet, and scrolled the profiles of numerous Ben-likes. Including, disappointingly, Ben himself.

Opening her book to today's page, she alighted on Edward's tiny self-portrait, and chuckled to herself all over again. That was a personal touch, and it comforted her. She'd forgotten all about it. There he was, her daily companion, in miniature form. She knew she was part of his day, too. She thought of those scored, sad lines that turned into smiles when he saw her. To have the sight of you bring a smile to their face - this would be the measure for future suitors.

Next to the miniature sketch of Edward, she scribbled in herself, smiling in her big coat. Behind them, the tram moving past. It still took up so little of the page. Today, at least, she'd laid the marks of a friendship, beyond merely nursing a breakup.

---

"Loretta." Come morning, Edward's smile was exactly as she had imagined it - a sunbeam through folds of wrinkles. His route was pretty dependable. If she got the 11 o'clock tram, there he'd be. He'd be heading to the café to spend his pension nursing a pot of tea and chatting to other regulars. She rarely caught him on her ride home. She figured he left when he got bored.

"Good morning, Edward."

"Somethin' the matter, darling?"

She wavered over telling him, and then: "My boyfriend broke up with me." She welled up a little again, and felt silly doing it. It wasn't the worst news she'd ever had, in fact, objectively, it was a blessing. But still, she had to go through it, and she had to talk about it tosomeone, and baring herself to Edward was an escalation, of sorts.

"Oh, my love." Without asking, he put his arm around her shoulder, and squeezed her against himself, bringing his other arm round to enclose her.My love.The words were as equally unwarranted and soothing as the embrace. "D'you mind if I call him a bastard an' that?"

She giggled through sniffles. "No, he is one."

"Aye, he is."

"He is."

"Why did he do it? He doesn't know he's got the prettiest girl in town?"

The timbre of Edward's voice was like a folk song. Sweet, true. Softly flitting from note to note. He ever spoke like music.

She didn't answer, letting the hug hold her together. She didn't need this much comforting, she thought, but... resisting felt rude and unnecessary, and on some level, she liked it. She did want to be held, and wanted. She took some amusement at knowing he'd asked permission to insult Ben's name, but not to touch her, or speak so affectionately. She wondered, had he asked, if she would have refused? But now that it was happening, she was happy to be with him. No - she corrected her own thoughts - to be held by him.

"I'm okay. I'm alright. Thanks Edward." She gently heaved his arms over her head, and wiped her cheeks.

"Oh, love. You're lookin' rosier than usual, now."

She went redder yet at this observation, and knew the blush was spreading beneath her clothes. She felt like he could see it. She affected a nervous laugh, and fumbled in her bag for her book. "I wanted to show you something." She opened it to the page where he'd put his drawing, where she'd added her own. He studied it, quietly. She watched the smile fade from his face.

"I thought you'd like it."

"Aye, no, it's nice, it's..." he adjusted his posture a little. "You shouldn't mess with someone else's drawin' without askin' them, Lorrie."

She watched his face, in surprise. He didn't look up from the page.

"Are you... really?" He hadn't asked her if he could draw in her book. Or if he could touch her.

"How would you have felt if I'd have drawn on one o' yours?"

"I... sorry, Edward, I thought it would be nice..." Now the blush was embarrassment. "I was just looking at it, and I thought..."

His manner softened. "No, you're right love, it is nice. Thank you."

"Are you sure? I didn't realise it would offend you." She wondered why she was apologising. It was her book. It wasn't real estate. It was a living document of hers, that he'd marked for himself. She had had every right to reclaim it, she thought, as she fawned.

"It doesn't offend me, love, I'm sorry."

"Do you..." she grasped, her hands fidgeting together, smudging yesterday's drawing on the opposite page. "...Would you like to draw a new one?"

He reached a hand over and placed it over both of hers, and they settled still beneath. "It's alright, love."Love."Tell you what, why don't we make this our page? We can draw it together, alright? That's us in the middle, and there's our tram, look, and... we can add things around us that matter to each of us."

"Yeah? That sounds... fun..."

"We could even do a bit o' magic with it, eh? Cast a little spell?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's only a bit o' fun," he crooned. "We can do a bit o' magic with it, a wee hocus pocus."

"I'm not... I'm not really someone who believes in magic, Edward." She lied; Loretta had some sneaking superstition, and was only half-suppressing her instinct to pull away from this direction.

"I said it's only fun. You don't have to believe in it. Will ye do a spell wi' me or no?"

She exhaled, acquiescing too soon. It already felt like he had her under a spell; her mind had a habit of drifting with Edward, in whichever way he seemed to blow.

"Alright, so... we'll make it a spell for happiness, no... for new love. New love for you, and... for me." He winked. "Why not, eh? I've got some time left..."

"Why not," she whispered.

The two filled the page in a spiral, with little sketches of things close to their hearts. Edward began with his suits and hot drinks, and Loretta with her pencils, sketchbook, the knits her grandmother had made. As the spiral spread out, she found herself being overly honest: she introduced details she hoped Edward wouldn't ask about, like a little constellation of dots to represent the freckles all over her body, her love for whom was hard-won. Or a set of lips, for her wish for a good kisser. Edward's contributions grew even more arcane, though. Something that looked like a tadpole or spermatozoa, an unusually dilated-looking iris, and a closed eye next... what looked to her like sigils, or maybe just shapes, occupying the outer rim of the now too-wide circle, cordoning it off before it reached the edge of the book. Her stare drifted between these and another image, one that Edward's nodular finger had now rested on: a miniature vignette of clouds parting, and a clear sunlit sky behind.

"Hoping for sunny weather?"

Loretta was hoping for what Ben had given her: hard, wild abandon. The clear sky was her mind. When they'd fucked she'd felt the tension in her chest resolve, the muddle and chatter of thoughts drift apart to a serene, blue quiet. He'd been firm, and in control, and she'd loved in that dynamic, her wonky brain had given way to tranquility. But she didn't want to give Edwardthat...

"I was thinking... someone who calms me down."

"Oh, girl," he practically sang. "Don't we all." He reached over and gave her hand another squeeze.

"Alright... to make this work, we've gotta do a last thing... now... I said I had a ring for ye, didn't I..."

Oh, god.She willed her hands to remain still once more.Please don't actually have a ring...

He produced an aged-looking loop of brass from his pocket. It was perfectly nondescript. "Give us your hand, girl..."

Without even thinking, she raised her left hand and let him slip it on her ring finger. It was heavy. Enough that she felt she had to adjust her movements with it on. When she got out of his sight, she slip it off again... or...

"Now, there's one more thing I need from you to make this real, my dear."

"Yeah, sure." She heard herself agree in advance, and checked herself again. She wasn't normally this agreeable.

"I need a little clip of yer hair..." He fished a pair of scissors out of her pencil case. She didn't even think to resist; she merely tilted her head and proffered some curls from the lower layers. With each passing second, she worried less. He snipped a lock away, and it felt oddly good to have his hands close to her neck. He was a sweet man - elderly, and harmless. And handsome, of course, it hadn't eluded her. Handsome, stylish... and so kind to her. It wasn't dangerous to humour him, or to enjoy it. She could allow the game to go on. The sketch had been so thoughtful, and she felt bad for insulting him by drawing on it. He had secured the lock of her hair in a paperclip, and slipped it into the pocket the ring had come from. She loved her ring. Was it hers? He gave it to her. So it must be hers. It probably did mean they were married, by some custom. But not, like, a binding one. So why was that bad again?

"Okay, and we're all done."

"Okay!" She giggled. "That was fun! I've never done a spell before."

"That's our spell, for you an' me." The tram was already approaching her stop. She suddenly didn't want to go. "You'd better get going, gorgeous. I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

"Uh, okay, do you... do you want... the ring--"

"Nooo, no, I wanna see you wearin' that tomorrow, alright? You keep that on."

She was blushing. Again. She couldn't figure out why she was blushing. She'd forgotten all about Ben. She wanted to stay, for some reason, and keep talking with this beautiful old man, keep figuring out what was happening in this moment. But he had urged her to leave, and respecting his wishes seemed unusually important, too. So she stood up, offered him her cheek without asking, felt the goodness of his kiss on her cheek, and departed.

---

Loretta awoke at 5am, in a sweat that soaked through her sheets and left her in a slick, cold puddle, the bed humming with her odour. She threw the duvet off and attempted vainly to brush the liquid from her skin, before her dehydration took hold and she sat bolt upright, grasping at the pint of water on her bedside table and gulping it down in full.

She sat awake in the dark, aware that the blush was back, too, as well as the sweats that had now ruined her bed; and... arousal. Through the confusion and discomfort, it was unmistakable. She wasn't just sweating, she was very wet, and her hands were fidgetin' together once more - busying their selves while her dozy brain disentangled the urge to touch.

Most nights, if she'd a' woke up like this, her busy fingers'd be in her cunt by now. Routine. Get somethin' in there, get off, back to sleep. She wanted 'em in there an' all. Nice wet finger-fuck to drift off to. Her fingertips brushed against the ring - that's right, she hadn't took it off. He wouldn'a wanted her to. And now, she felt, he wouldn't want her to touch, either. Would he be angry? She recalled his reaction to the drawing. She had his ring on. Could she touch herself with it on? It would be like cheatin'. She should ask him tomorrow.

She screwed her eyes shut. It was like a migraine.Ask him tomorrow?Permission to masturbate? But obviously she could just take the ring off... no. She couldn't... didn't want to do that, either. It was the ring he gave her. He wouldn't want her takin' it off. He wouldn't want it. He wouldn't like it.

She lifted her sketchbook from the lower shelf of the nightstand and opened to that page, tracing her stare around the shapes he'd drawn. It was as if she was reliving the motions of his hand, his beautiful, weathered hand... a fresh sweat poured from her skin. The way he'd clung her tight. She was so fuckin' wet, her knees yawned wide and then locked tight together, the fidget spreading over her body.