I notice that I’m swearing a lot these days. The words just slip out of my mouth and they feel natural and a part of everything. I don’t like that. I don’t like to hear other people swearing. It stops me with a start and it feels wrong. Like, there’s this girl at work and she’s really pretty and she’s got these dark brown eyes, so dark you could fall into ‘em and never come back. And if she stands close to you she smells of flowers – freesias maybe. Anyway, her name’s Rachael – though it might be spelled different from that cos these days there’s about ten different ways to write the name. So, the other day, we was drinking coffee at the machine – and by the way, the coffee from the machine don’t taste like coffee at all and at the end of a cup there’s a muddy silt at the bottom and a metallic taste left in the mouth. And we was just talking about this and that, complaining about the machine probably and talking about the men in charge above us and what they was wearing today and how this one guy was spending too much time sitting on the edge of this secretary’s desk. And right in the middle of what we was saying, Rachael dropped in a swear word.
It stopped me short and I might have looked at her funny. Disapproving, you know. Just briefly. And she apologized and she looked over her shoulder in case anyone else had heard. I smiled and I told her it was ok. I said that cos I’m worse these days. Not at work, maybe. But every place else. I’m swearing so hard the air has a colour to it, purple like a bruise. And I don’t like myself for it, and I can hear my mom, her voice in my head, and she’s speaking to me from the grave and she’s saying how I’m better than that and saying how she’s real disappointed.
And the thing is I know what’s what. I know why I’m swearing all the time. It’s cos things aint right or easy with me. It’s like a stress thing. Derek laughs if I say as much and he asks what I’ve got to be stressed about. He reckons I got things easy enough. All our bills is paid and with what he earns and what I earn we have enough to get by and a little over for extras. And he thinks things is still good with us cos we have sex twice a week, Fridays and Saturdays, about ten o’clock, unless there’s football on the tv and then he wakes me up when he comes to bed and he says he loves me and we do it then even though I’m half asleep. Yes, so he reckons I got it good and I got it easy.
Only, I’m swearing all the time, and so I know things ain’t right. And like I said, there’s this girl at work and she’s called Rachael – and it don’t matter the spelling cos you say it the same whatever. And I say her name over and over, playing with it, worrying at it, like it’s a space in my mouth where once there was a tooth and my tongue can’t leave the space alone. And I said it was ok when she swore at work and not just because I’m swearing some these days, but because it was Rachael, and like I said before, she’s got these dark brown eyes that you just want to fall into.
I kissed her once, but she don’t know – no one does. It was after an office night out, and we was all pushed into the one car to take us all home. People was smoking and drinking in the car, and laughing and singing, and keeping the party going. Only, Rachael fell asleep leaning against me. No one saw, but I dipped my head and kissed her on the lips, soft as feathers and quick as blinking, and ever since then I’ve been swearing every second word – except not at work, cos Rachael’s there and, well, I wouldn’t want her to hear me swearing.
Patricia Ann McNair 
I notice that I’m swearing a lot these days. The words just slip out of my mouth and they feel natural and a part of everything. I don’t like that. I don’t like to hear other people swearing. It stops me with a start and it feels wrong. Like, there’s this girl at work and she’s really pretty and she’s got these dark brown eyes, so dark you could fall into ‘em and never come back. And if she stands close to you she smells of flowers – freesias maybe. Anyway, her name’s Rachael – though it might be spelled different from that cos these days there’s about ten different ways to write the name. So, the other day, we was drinking coffee at the machine – and by the way, the coffee from the machine don’t taste like coffee at all and at the end of a cup there’s a muddy silt at the bottom and a metallic taste left in the mouth. And we was just talking about this and that, complaining about the machine probably and talking about the men in charge above us and what they was wearing today and how this one guy was spending too much time sitting on the edge of this secretary’s desk. And right in the middle of what we was saying, Rachael dropped in a swear word.
It stopped me short and I might have looked at her funny. Disapproving, you know. Just briefly. And she apologized and she looked over her shoulder in case anyone else had heard. I smiled and I told her it was ok. I said that cos I’m worse these days. Not at work, maybe. But every place else. I’m swearing so hard the air has a colour to it, purple like a bruise. And I don’t like myself for it, and I can hear my mom, her voice in my head, and she’s speaking to me from the grave and she’s saying how I’m better than that and saying how she’s real disappointed.
And the thing is I know what’s what. I know why I’m swearing all the time. It’s cos things aint right or easy with me. It’s like a stress thing. Derek laughs if I say as much and he asks what I’ve got to be stressed about. He reckons I got things easy enough. All our bills is paid and with what he earns and what I earn we have enough to get by and a little over for extras. And he thinks things is still good with us cos we have sex twice a week, Fridays and Saturdays, about ten o’clock, unless there’s football on the tv and then he wakes me up when he comes to bed and he says he loves me and we do it then even though I’m half asleep. Yes, so he reckons I got it good and I got it easy.
Only, I’m swearing all the time, and so I know things ain’t right. And like I said, there’s this girl at work and she’s called Rachael – and it don’t matter the spelling cos you say it the same whatever. And I say her name over and over, playing with it, worrying at it, like it’s a space in my mouth where once there was a tooth and my tongue can’t leave the space alone. And I said it was ok when she swore at work and not just because I’m swearing some these days, but because it was Rachael, and like I said before, she’s got these dark brown eyes that you just want to fall into.
I kissed her once, but she don’t know – no one does. It was after an office night out, and we was all pushed into the one car to take us all home. People was smoking and drinking in the car, and laughing and singing, and keeping the party going. Only, Rachael fell asleep leaning against me. No one saw, but I dipped my head and kissed her on the lips, soft as feathers and quick as blinking, and ever since then I’ve been swearing every second word – except not at work, cos Rachael’s there and, well, I wouldn’t want her to hear me swearing.