Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner)

12 {vodka cleans everything}

I have a few sips of water. 

"Well?" Turner asks. He scratches the back of his head. "Any response? At all."

"I'm just deciding whether you're insane or very insane," I say oddly calm. 

"That's ignorant of you. I'm tastefully insane," the corner of Turner's lips raises slightly. 

I finish off the water, and then pause. I tuck my hair behind my ears, and then pick at the dirt underneath my fingernails. I look around at some of the books on the floor, contemplating what, I don't know exactly. 

"What are you thinking, Greene?"

I look up to his eyes. His gaze is deep. "Who are you? I mean. Why is getting this debt so important?"

"It just is."

I swallow. His gaze makes my face redden a little bit. I don't know if I should avert my eyes or not. "Honestly. You said you usually are more professional, not asking your students for favours--" something flashed through his eyes when I said student, but it passes quickly and I think I might of imagined it's existence, "--so why now?"

"Please, don't ask that," Turner whispers, sollemn.

Did I ask something wrong? I'm taken aback by the sudden change in his voice. "Why not?"

"That's the one thing I'm asking for you not to delve further on," he stands up. "Please." 

It's just in his tone of voice, that. Maybe it was in his eyes. Although I want to pressure him on it, instead I wonder in the confines of my head why the subject is so sensitive. He wanders over to the kitchen and I think makes himself some tea. 

"So you'd need the money all at once?"

"I would," Turner sighs. 

"How could you be sure that once I said yes to doing your favour before I'd fully commit to give you a loan?"

"I wasn't. But I needed to get the money in right away anyway. And then I needed extra time to convince you, darling."

I bring my glass to the kitchen, and set it down by the sink. "How... when do you need the money by?"

"That's the funny thing," he says in his low Shieffield accent. "I kind of need it by... tomorrow night."

"I don't know why you need the money, but you're in deep shit aren't you?" Why did I just swear in front of my teacher? God, I need to filter my words. Looks like he doesn't notice. 

"You have no idea, Greene," he says deeply. I notice the marks closer on his face. I'm worried. But for him. He stares at me for a second longer, then stirs his drink. I notice the few cuts on his jaw.

"Have you treated those right," I say out loud. 

Turner raises an eyebrow. 

I nod over to the cuts. "The scratches."

"I don't know how to clean them up," Turner shrugs. 

"They look like they're starting to get infected," I notice. 

"Absolutely wonderful," he says underneath his breath. 

"Do you mind?" I ask. He nods. I run my fingers across his chin and he clenches his jaw slightly, as if I wasn't supposed to notice. Maybe it was because it hurt. He watches my face, and it makes me feel a bit unconfortable, but I pretend not to know. I see the scar tissue, unhealthy cleanup of lines. "You need to sterilize that," I bite my lip. 

"I said I didn't know how," he says soflty. 

"Have any vodka?" I ask. 

"I... do."