The A-Z of Us by Jim Keeble

backpacking around the southern coast. It started out well; we got drunk, talked about our childhoods, skinny-dipped in the sharp bright waters, had sex on beaches and hill tops. Butas the dog days brought scorching unbearable heat, so I began to notice Neil’s increasing irritation with the things I did – the way I ate honey straight from the jar, the way I wanted to swim before breakfast each morning, the way I folded the corners of the pages of my books to mark my place. Each time Neil seemed annoyed with me, I became convinced that I was holding him back.
    By the time we returned to England in the middle of August, I had decided on a plan of action. At Heathrow bus station, I informed Neil that I thought we needed a break in our relationship. We should spend some time apart, and if the inclination came, we should see other people. I suggested that he didn’t call for the first two weeks of the new term. He was surprised, but didn’t I detect a hint of relief in his protestations?
    I returned to Sheffield full of fear but with a strong sense that my strategy would work out for the best. Because I didn’t think for one moment that Neil would turn his back on me, that he would abandon me. I was convinced that this was simply a small test of his love. It was only a matter of time (days, maybe hours) before he’d call me, breathlessly, and tell me that he didn’t want to have a more interesting and exhilarating time with someone else, that there was none other than me, Gemma Cook: I was the one. It was painful, waiting, but it would be worth it – soon I would have final, conclusive proof that Neil didn’t feel about me like Molly had about Mike Peters. I would know that he loved me like no other.
    After nineteen days of chewing my fingernails to the core, I called him, and asked why he hadn’t phoned. He was quiet, evasive and stumbling in his replies. Followinga particularly unpleasant silence, during which I heard music playing in the background which sounded suspiciously like Prince’s ‘Kiss’, he admitted he’d slept with someone in his first week back, and he thought I was right, maybe we did need to make the most of our short time at university.
    I was distraught, and demonstrated so by slamming down the phone. I sought out Ian in tears and asked him what to do. He told me to go straight to Liverpool and talk to Neil. I did, but Neil would not look me in the eye. He informed me that he’d been hurt by my rejection of him, and had slept with the other woman out of spite. But now, having broken the taboo, he’d come to think it would be better to be single for a while, to see what was ‘out there’. I pleaded with him, saying that I hadn’t meant it, that it had been a test of his love. He looked at me with his deep blue eyes and replied:
    â€˜I don’t want to be with someone who feels she needs to test me.’
    It took me the next three years at university to get over Neil. I had sex with only two men during this time, hardly the wild student experience touted by my sister. As the emotional pain grew less I became more convinced that in the future I would need to show unflinching love. That I couldn’t afford to waver, even for a moment. When I finally fell in love again, I told myself, it would be for ever.

E LECTRICITY
    Who walks a dog at five in the morning?
    I watch the figure (old, young, male, female, it’s impossible to tell in the big hooded coat) pace along the pavement, the little white terrier shuffling slowly alongside, as sleepy as its owner.
    I try to imagine the sort of person who gets up at 5 a.m. to walk a small dog – insomniac, new parent escaping screaming baby, old person? Or woman rapidly approaching thirty who’s wrecked her life by telling her handsome but work-obsessed husband that she doesn’t love him any more?
    The hooded coat and the terrier disappear into the park.
    I think about making