Learning Curve- Chapter Thirty (Christmas Chapter!)
Chapter Thirty
“Cold fingers, cold hands, don’t wait for the snow, it’ll last forever… it’s lovely weather,”
“Who’s this song by?” Russell called into the other room, stirring Noel’s coffee and his own heated strawberry milkshake with both hands simultaneously.
“What is it?” Noel’s disembodied voice replied, “What do the band look like?”
“Shirts… shiny leather shoes… they’re very good.”
There was a pause.
“The Feeling?”
“Yes, that’s it,” Russell replied, waving one spoon in the air, “Thank you Noel, that would’ve driven me mad all day!”
Noel walked through the doorway, a pair of scissors clamped between his teeth and a number of parcels in his arms. He set everything down on the countertop and looked at Russell with a smirk.
“And you couldn’t have waited ‘til the end of the song for the DJ to tell you what it’s called?”
“I wanted to know now, Noel, d’you expect me to wait up to all of three minutes for a man I don’t know to tell me something I could’ve found out from my stunning other half?” He smiled wanly, tilting his head forwards, a hint for a kiss that Noel chose to ignore, picking up his coffee and talking a sip.
“I can’t believe it’s only a week until Christmas, already,” He muttered, raising his eyes to the ceiling without a smile. Russell tugged at Noel’s sleeve.
“Aren’t you excited?”
Noel gently eased his shirt out of Russell’s hold.
“What have I got to be excited for, Russell? I mean really.” He looked at him, “You’re issuing your statements today. So Christmas will be spent hiding indoors- no snow, no parties, just confinement, and mess and the fact that I’m feuding with my brother hanging over my head.”
Russell blinked. Noel sighed. “You’d forgotten. Well, Russell, I wish I could forget. It’s been nearly seven months since I last spoke to Mike. And maybe he wasn’t always prominent in your life, but he’s always been there in mine. Julian and I have had to shelve dozens of Mighty Boosh ideas, in case Mike’s not coming back. I don’t even know if Mum’s told Dad about this yet, Russell.” He moaned, rubbing his face with his hands, “I just don’t know what I’m doing.”
“It’ll all be better after today,” Russell soothed, stepping closer to Noel, taking the older man’s hands and placing them on the bump, “We’ll be outed with this and everyone will know what has happened to us. We’ll really know who’s on our side and who’s a false friend. Like you’ve told me… we’ve got so many people on our side now.”
Noel gazed at Russell, and coughed, trying not to let his eyes fill up. Russell opened his arms and cradled his fiancée as he started to cry angrily, gripping Russell’s shoulder and digging his nails in.
“I’m just sick,” He growled, “Of all the articles, about you, and me, as if it’s any of their business. They’re dragging Dee into this story too, Russell. Headlines like- “What goes around comes around: Cheater Fielding tastes his own medicine” and then blabber on about Courtney Love and the Geldof girls and all this other shit! Why can’t they leave my past alone?!”
“They haven’t left mine alone yet. Ex-junkie is my most common prefix. Well,” He snorted, “It was. “Satanist” or “Evil tart” is probably what they’re using right now.”
Noel laughed,
“ “Evil Tart”…” He repeated, smiling, “That’s what makes you such a good comedian, Russ… you can take something terrible and laugh in its face. The best of us find happiness in misery!”
Russell let out a bark-like laugh.
“Fall Out Boy quotes now eh?” He grinned, “I interviewed Ashlee Simpson once, you know!”
Noel rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I know, Russell…”
“She’s gorgeous. She’s just had a baby actually!”
Noel stared off into the distance, a la Richmond.
“I have a horrible mental image of that Pete Wentz, his baby upside-down under one arm, some post-ironic pop rock emo inspiring book under the other, marching out of a club saying, “Oh my God, is it Bronx’s bedtime? Do babies need sleeping pills too?””
“Do babies sleep?!” Russell asked in jest, mouth dropping open. Noel shut it again with one hand, smirking. Russell opened it again, "I never did, from what Mum's said. I was up all night, yelling and screaming fit to explode!"
"Some things never change," Noel smiled slyly. Russell clipped him on the side of his head then put both hands on Noel's hips, moving his palms in slow, small circles. A glimpse of something sad flickered across Russell's face. "What's wrong?" Noel asked, frowning. Russell frowned too, shaking his head.
"I just felt... I don't know... I wish I was as thin as you."
Noel bowed his head, sighing.
"Not this again Russell... please don't start this again."
Russell moved backwards, looking at the floor and blinking. "Are you worried about putting on weight over Christmas?" Russell hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. Noel put one hand on Russell's shoulder, spun him around and frogmarched him into the sitting room, where he sat him down on the sofa and set himself down beside him. "Listen to me, Russell Brand. And look at me." Russell looked up from his lap. “I know you're scared you'll get heavier than you're supposed to- I know that'd be bad for you and for the baby. But you're doing fine now- Rob said you're on target when we last went, remember? You know that. But... it's more than that, isn't it?”
Russell turned his head away. “Russ. If your eating habits don't go back to normal when the baby's born, then... I don't know. We're going to have to get you help, I s'pose.” Russell edged away slightly.
“I'm alright, Noel, loads of people worry about their weight all the time, it's just natural, there's nothing wrong with it.”
“There is something wrong, though, with your distorted perception of yourself, and... anything you might resort to in order to regain your figure...”
Russell spun around.
“I don't want this conversation. I'm sorry I started it. It's Christmas, I want to be happy and pretend that problems don't exist, and I'm going to eat, Noel, you mustn't worry about that, I'm still following the book. I wouldn't ever try and lose weight whilst I'm pregnant unless I was medically required to. Thing is...” He ran his hands through his hair as he picked his words, “When I'm slim, I'm good at maintaining it, but when I'm not, it's hard getting there, you know?”
Noel put a hand on Russell's cheek.
“You've got no expectations from me. You can take as long as you want to get back into shape after the baby's born, and I'm going to help you. But truth be told, I like it when you have hips...” He moved his hands down over Russell's chest, down his sides onto his waist, tilting his head and drawing him in for a kiss. He smiled, enjoying the taste and the feel of his fiancees soft lips, moving one palm over onto the younger man's protruding belly. Russell shuddered in delight, lowering Noel's head to kiss Russell's neck as he tilted his own head back, eyes shut, breathing quick. They both jumped and broke back as there was a sudden hammering at the door. Noel stood, hesitated for a moment and then ran to the door, peering through the tiny peep hole to look outside. He leapt back with a confused and angry yelp, turning to Russell, who had followed behind him. He grabbed his hands. “Russell, it's fucking paps, interviewers, everything, what's going on?! Where's your security guys?!”
Russell swallowed, averting his eyes.
“I had to tell you about that... they've quit, Noel. No amount of money could keep them... when they found out what's wrong with me.”
“Russell, when was this? Why didn't you tell me? We could've got someone else-”
“There's no one else!” Russell roared, “I've tried, they won't touch me with a barge pole! I'm disgusting, Noel, I'm unclean, I'm a freak, I'm wrong!”
“You are none of those things!” Noel yelled, “You're unknown of ,so people are scared! When people know, when they understand, they'll- look, just go, I'll get rid of these jokers-” Russell stayed still. “GO!” Noel screamed. Russell retreated into the next room, closing the door behind him. Noel could hear the gasping sobs. He flung open the front door, and swung a kick at the first man trying to push his way in. “FUCK OFF!” Noel shouted, “This is a fucking intrusion! I'll get fucking restraining orders on all of you! Russell's done nothing wrong- NOTHING- JUST STAY AWAY FROM US!” He pulled off one boot and flung it at a paparazzo, knocking the flash gun of his camera with a crack. The throng surged forwards, all proffering microphones or cameras.
“How do you feel about Russell's affair?”
“Does he plan on supporting the child?”
“Are you going to leave him?”
“Was your relationship really just a publicity stunt?””
Noel stared, unable to speak. He felt a hand push on his chest and the next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring up in disbelief at Russell, stood in the door way, howling at the crowd.
“LISTEN! I'm Russell Edward Brand: comedian, writer, actor, man, thinking feeling human being! Born on the 4th June 1975, thirty-three years old, engaged to Noel Fielding- and pregnant with his baby. YES, PREGNANT. This year I was involuntarily involved in an illegal genetic experiment, when I was injected with a parasitic liquid that caused a womb to form inside me- I'm going to have a baby at the end of January- NOW GO AND FUCK AROUND WITH MY WORDS, USE MY EMOTIONS TO FILL YOUR PAY PACKETS, SPREAD THE HATE, DARLINGS- SPREAD THE FUCKING HATE!” He slammed the door and collapsed against it, his mouth stretched in a silent wail as his hands clawed at air, reaching for Noel. Noel scrambled toward him and grabbed him, pulling him close and rocking him.
“You're so brave, Russell... you'll be alright, Russell... everything will be alright..”
* * * Russell walked slowly down the gaudily lit street, his boots finally having failed him, his footwear downgraded to black trainers with generously soft and thick insoles. He could hear the brass band nearby, belting out a splendid rendition of the first nöel, stirring nostalgia and anticipation somewhere in his chest. He sighed. It was Christmas Eve. He could see a man further down the street, hunched up against the wall, no coat but a fraying denim jacket, hugging his knees to his chest. Russell approached him slowly, and squatted down to the stranger's eye level. His eyes were large and milky white- he was blind.
“Hey, mate,” Russell said softly.
“I 'eard you coming,” The man replied, “What I can't see is made up in me 'earing, y'know.”
“Are you cold?” Russell asked, and then felt patronising and idiotic. He removed his own grey canvas coat and draped it around the man's shoulders. He flinched.
“It's alright,” Russell soothed, “S'just a coat. I'm trying to help.”
“I s'pose a coat's a start. Tah.” He murmured in reply.
“And I've got no money on me, swear to God.” Russell apologised, “I don't bother carrying money anymore. I just walk everywhere: ain't got a driver, ain't allowed in taxis or on buses, and God forbid I set foot in a shop. No one wants me stood by their products in public. They just want to pretend I don't exist.”
“Why? You done somethin' wrong?”
“No,” Russell replied firmly, “All I've done is love. Do you think love's a crime?”
“If it is, lock me up an' throw away the key, there needs to be more blinkin' love in this world.”
That line sent a genuine sense of happiness through Russell, the first in a long while, and he managed a laugh.
“Good for you. I'd lock you up for no reason other than to keep you and your loving heart safe.” He looked at the man's hand, checking for a ring, “Have you got a family?”
He snorted.
“I've a daughter, but I'm dead to 'er. She wouldn't take me in if I paid bleedin' rent.”
Russell sat down besdie him.
“I've got a baby on the way,” He told him, resting his cold hands on the prominent bump, “It's a little daughter. At least, I think it is.”
“Is your wife cravin' white meat?”
Russell moaned inwardly, hating how much he had been wanting chicken, but relieved that his morals had been winning over craving thus far.
“Yes.” He replied. The man nodded and smiled knowingly. “Does that mean it's a girl?” Russell asked.
“It's what my sweet Irene craved when she was carryin' our Jess, and what Jess craved when she had her baby girl. It might be a family thing, y'know. But either way, you get your little baby, eh?”
“Yes. Yes indeed.” He sniffed, remembering how in the past he had longed for people to know who he was, and how now it had become his biggest fear, but he had to check, “Do you know who I am? My voice, and what I'm saying- do I sound like a bad person?”
“Listen to me lad- I say whatever you're doing, whatever they don't like- keep doing it. Show 'em what you're made of, fuck society. All the best to you.”
Russell stood up, rubbing his cold hands together.
“What's your name?” He asked.
“Me name? Harry. And who are you?”
“What does it matter, what's in a name, eh?” Russell said quickly, “Well, Harry, I'm really sorry to be leaving you- Merry Christmas. Actual love to you. Hare Krishna.” He began to walk away.
“Wait-” The man called suddenly, “Hare Krish- Aren't you Russell Brand?!”
Russell kept on walking.
* * *
“Hello, do you live here?” Noel said crossly, sticking his head around the door but not taking it off the latch chain.
“I'm sorry, Noel, I know I said I'd be back... but I just wanted to clear my head... and then there was this homeless guy and we got talking-”
“You spoke to someone? Wise move, they're gonna go to the press now, aren't they!”
“No, Noel, he was blind, he didn't know it was me-”
“You didn't give him any money did you? Where's your coat? Don't tell me you gave your coat to a tramp!”
“Shut up Noel, you're degraded it, you're making it sound horrible!”
“Oh, was it lovely and romantic then? Was the baby Jesus involved? Did you bring him a lamb?”
Russell slammed his hand against the door frame.
“Noel, let me in! This is my house, and I don't have to have you in it!”
Noel flung the door open and stamped away as Russell slipped inside. He didn't attempt to speak to him until they were both in the bedroom, stood at opposite sides of the bed. 'Love you, you know.”
“Love you too, you idiot.”
“Good.”
They both got into bed. Russell reached to turn off the bedside light. They lay in the silence and dark for a while, until Russell rolled over, slipping his arms around Noel's middle and nuzzling his neck, the older man's black hair tickling Russell's face.
“Happy Christmas,” Russell whispered.
* * *