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She Is Haunted

Page 4

by Paige Clark


  ‘Getting a prostitute to suck my [insert body part here] isn’t cheating,’ Stuart Jay said to her on the phone.

  ‘The department defines any sexual act with another party as cheating,’ Gwendolyn said. She pictured Forrest reaching under the table, tousling her blonde hair in thanks.

  ‘It’s not cheating if I [insert expletive here] paid for it.’

  ‘I’ll make a note of your position on the issue.’ She ***ed the matter. Stuart Jay ’s score would be abysmal. Low fifties at best. She should have referred him to a counsellor earlier in their conversation, code 30TR/VS. Thirty Days to Terminate Relationship/Violence Suspected. But now she had gone too far and her numbers were already low from yesterday. Across the way, Forrest was bobbing his head, listening intently to his client, entering information furiously into his computer.

  ‘That [insert sexist reference to a woman here] had it coming.’

  ‘Hold on one moment, Stuart Jay, the computer is just processing your claim,’ she said. ‘Great news. We’ve got a plan of action for you to help you recover your ex-wife.’ The score was worse than she had thought it would be. A forty-eight. She finished the call as quickly as she could and took an early lunch.

  Gwendolyn slept with Forrest for the first time the Thursday he surpassed her number of claims in the weekly reports. It seemed Gwendolyn had met her match, and she told Forrest so as they left the office together. True, her numbers were down. Nonetheless, Forrest was excellent at his job. In fact, Gwendolyn’s reduced productivity was a result of his excellence. She spent hours staring at him. One time, Mr Boos even caught her with a thread of dribble on her chin. He handed her a box of tissues and told her to get back to work.

  ‘I’ve never worked with anyone as efficient as you,’ she said. They were out in the parking lot, under the moon. She turned to face him and he was already looking at her. She stepped in closer. She had heard about moments like this from her clients. Popular jazz music played in her head.

  Then he said, ‘I only like to have sex [insert sex position here]-style and I [insert bodily response to sex act here] very quickly. I prefer to have sex in five-star hotels with Chinese women. But if you’re up for it, I’ll [insert sex act here] you in my car right now.’

  ‘I’m a virgin,’ Gwendolyn said. Maybe she should have been embarrassed that she was a virgin at her ripe old age, but she knew from men on the phones that this was a big plus.

  ‘You’re pretty, though perhaps a bit bland in the looks department. I’m surprised you’ve never had sex before. But just so you know, that doesn’t get me off.’ He kissed her on the mouth and she kissed back. Then he kissed her neck, her left boob and her right boob. He took out his keys and beeped his car open. The car was Japanese with a fragrant leather interior. He pushed Gwendolyn onto the seat and flipped her over so that she was on her stomach. Then he [insert sex act here] her right there, Gwendolyn splayed out across the car seat. They [insert bodily response to sex act here] simultaneously. He removed his [insert body part here] in time to squirt [insert bodily fluid here] all over her back. It was exactly like Gwendolyn hoped it would be.

  That night, Gwendolyn skipped the gym. She went home and ate a plate of beans, rice and avocado with her mother. She wondered if her mother noticed the change in her.

  ‘Do I look older?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fifty-five. You’re always going to look young to me.’

  ‘Do I look different?’ Gwendolyn felt different.

  ‘You smell a little funny, like chow mein.’ Then it was true what her clients said about men’s [insert bodily fluid here]. It did change based on what the man ate! Gwendolyn often saw Forrest sucking down noodles. He even did this while he was on the phone. He did not care if the clients heard him eating.

  After dinner, Gwendolyn did not take a shower. She climbed into bed and began to count her claims. At around the fourth claim, she thought about Forrest again. About his porcupine hair. About the direct, professional way he spoke to her. She put her hand to her back and touched the residue there. She got out her phone and texted him.

  ‘I enjoy being with u,’ the message read.

  He replied almost immediately. ‘Let’s do it again. Thursday at 7.15 pm.’

  Gwendolyn tried to fall asleep, but nothing settled her nerves, not even reviewing her finest cases. She [insert sex act here] looking at the message from Forrest, [insert bodily response to sex act here], then went to the kitchen and ate two marshmallows. She got back in bed and then she got up again to pee. Afterwards, she still couldn’t sleep and so she grabbed the whole jar of marshmallows and brought it to bed with her.

  When she woke up in the morning, there were marshmallows scattered across her bed. She had slept through her alarm and had two missed calls from Mr Boos. She was over an hour late to work. Oh, Boos hoo! You only lose your virginity once. She ate one of the stray marshmallows and remembered the [insert sex act here] fondly as if it had been a dream.

  Over the next couple of months, Gwendolyn and Forrest kept seeing each other on Thursdays after the weekly report. Forrest’s numbers were the best, but he said encouraging things to Gwendolyn about her performance, often before they [insert sex act here]. One Thursday, after Gwendolyn recorded particularly low numbers, Forrest splashed out and took her to the Sofitel. He did not get a room, but he did give Gwendolyn a black bobbed wig and a spaghetti-strap dress. He handed them to her after work, wadded up in a plastic bag that had been used for potatoes.

  ‘Put these on and meet me outside the men’s bathroom in the upstairs bar of the Sofitel.’

  At work, she changed into the dress—too tight and too short—and put on the wig. She brushed potato dirt out of her synthetic hair. She tottered down Collins Street to the hotel, afraid her boobs would pop out and attract unwanted attention. Even in tracksuit bottoms, Gwendolyn normally aroused stares and whistles. But without her blonde hair flowing behind her, nobody looked at her with anything more than a passing interest—nobody even smiled.

  Forrest was waiting for her at the entrance to the men’s bathroom.

  ‘Quick, there’s nobody in there right now,’ he said.

  They entered and he fastened the interior lock. The bathroom had floor-to-ceiling windows and, from the urinals, you could see the entire skyline.

  ‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘God, you’re plain in that wig,’ he said. ‘Do you mind taking it off?’

  Gwendolyn took off the wig and Forrest took off all of his clothes. He stood in front of the large window, naked, his [insert body part here] in a state of arousal, the shine of the city in his hair.

  ‘Take off that dress too. You’re spilling out of it.’

  The next thing Gwendolyn knew, they were doing it [insert sex position here]-style, facing out towards the buildings. There was a knock at the bathroom door, but they both ignored it. Then, as they always did, they [insert bodily response to sex act here] in unison, Forrest pulling out his [insert body part here] to [insert bodily fluid here] on her back.

  ‘This is the best night of my life,’ Gwendolyn said. She cleaned off the [insert bodily fluid here] at the sink as Forrest relieved himself at the urinal. Behind him each skyscraper was lit up like a city. That view! This evening!

  There was another knock at the door.

  ‘I’ll leave first,’ Forrest said. ‘You wait in a stall. I’ll come tell you when the coast is clear.’

  When she was safely inside one of the cubicles, she heard Forrest unlock the bathroom door. He said, ‘I think we need to stop seeing each other.’ Then she heard the door close behind him.

  Gwendolyn’s numbers were down. She still woke up early, exercised and ate breakfast with her mother. Since Forrest had broken up with her, she had expanded her phone food repertoire to include raw vegetables. How loud and delicious carrots were! She got to work early too, before everyone except Forrest, who seemed to have got rid of Mr Washor. She missed the sound of his vacuuming. There was nothing to d
istract her from Forrest’s arousing phone voice, urgent yet calm. During these earliest hours of the day, she was prone to invention. Most of her reveries were of the typical office variety. In them, Forrest took her to the print room and did her [insert sex position here]-style over the copy machine.

  Gwendolyn initiated her own plan of 30DNC/SIR, Thirty Days of No Contact/Self-Improvement Regime. There was little to improve, though. She had been self-cultivating since she started at the department and that was years ago now. There were only so many hours in the day that a woman could exercise and only so many hairs on her [insert body part here] she could pluck.

  On day thirteen of NC, she slipped up. It was a Thursday. She was on the phone with Paige Elisabeth , who had broken up with her partner because he wouldn’t share food with her at restaurants.

  ‘I love him, but he’s selfish. Does that count as resentment—knowing who someone is and loving them anyway?’ Did Gwendolyn resent that Forrest was better than she was at her job? She glanced at him, sitting erect at his desk, fingers a blur and forearms muscled. No. She admired him. She had admired him ever since she first heard his voice ask about targets at orientation. What a question!

  She accidentally said the last part aloud.

  ‘You think it’s a great question?’ Paige Elisabeth asked.

  ‘Resentment is only one part of why a relationship breaks down. I’ll make a note of it. Let’s move on.’ Gwendolyn did not bother to *** in the margin.

  ‘He knows I love him. I don’t want him to change. But if he thought about what I wanted. A taste of his lemon pudding, even.’ Her voice trailed off into a whimper.

  ‘Did he ever accuse you of being critical or of putting him down?’ Gwendolyn asked. Forrest finished his claim, hung up his phone and rose from his chair. She watched as he walked over to Kol’s desk and stopped to chat.

  ‘I didn’t ask him for anything out of the ordinary. I just wanted him to enjoy my company. To touch me.’

  A big, hot, wet tear slipped out of Gwendolyn’s eye and fell onto her keyboard. She tried to speak but no words came out. Poor Paige Elisabeth!

  ‘Hello? Are you there still?’

  How good it was to be touched! Was Gwendolyn greedy for wanting more? Across the office, Forrest and Kol laughed. His elbow grazed hers.

  ‘Can you call me back? I think there’s something wrong with the connection,’ Paige Elisabeth said and hung up.

  Never before, not ever, in her thirty-four years living on the planet, had Gwendolyn ever asked to be loved by anyone, not even her mother. Did Forrest resent her for asking it of him? How could you resent someone for that?

  She marched over to Kol’s desk, where Forrest was still lingering, looking at a photo of a quokka on her computer.

  ‘Can I talk to you?’ she asked.

  ‘Later? I’m in the middle of something important.’

  Gwendolyn did not think quokkas fell under the jurisdiction of the department. Back at her desk, she googled ‘quokka’ and ‘social behaviour’ and ‘mating’. Nothing related to their line of work came up. Then she went to image search. Quokkas were often photographed alone. She was clicking through the photos—such blissful, solitary animals!—when Mr Boos appeared behind her. He did not stand as close to her as he used to. ‘I’m concerned,’ he said, eyeing her screen full of marsupials. He asked to see her in his office.

  When she got home, Gwendolyn told her mother that most of the staff had been put on two weeks’ leave because of a downturn. Only half of what she told her mother was a lie.

  ‘What if someone has an urgent relationship problem?’ her mother asked.

  ‘Why do you care?’ Gwendolyn asked. Her mother didn’t have any relationships, except with her. She told her mother to make some popcorn. She sat on the couch and ate it in large handfuls while she watched TV. Every few minutes she checked her phone. She didn’t hear boo from anyone. She tried to focus on the unpopped kernels. The ominous crunching sound they made when she ate them. The way they got lodged in her teeth. Next, her mother, who said idiotic things and believed them—like ‘You can’t live on popcorn alone’—served her a dinner of baked pasta in her rice bowl. But the likeness of Forrest made her lose her appetite. She put herself to bed.

  Instead of her claims, she counted all of the times Forrest had [insert expletive for sex act here] her. Their first time. The sound of the remote unlocking the door to the backseat of the Japanese car was like music in her head. The next time. Forrest had used his guest pass to take her to the pool at his gym. Gwendolyn let him put his [insert body part here] into her [insert body part here] in the sauna. She remembered the smell of the sauna, mixed in with the smell of [insert bodily waste here] and [insert bodily fluid here]. She missed how he tasted like reheated takeaway. How when he inserted his fingers in her [insert body part here], they were sweaty from typing. Then she got to the night at the Sofitel. That had been the best night of her life, until it wasn’t.

  Eventually she fell into a fitful sleep. Even though Gwendolyn was on leave, she only dreamt about data. Tonight, she was trapped inside the giant spreadsheet again. She entered information into the cells as quickly as she could, but it was not fast enough. She screamed for help and Forrest and Kol appeared. They made out with each other, on top of her data. Forrest caressed Kol’s face and then he descended and began to lick her [insert body part here].

  Gwendolyn woke up. She knew the department was open for business. One person would be working. She looked up the number for the hotline. She had never had reason to call it before. The website tagline read, ‘Miss your ex or the sex? Don’t despair. Let us help.’

  She dialled the number. It rang only a couple of times before he answered.

  ‘You’re accessing a service provided by the Department of Recovery Victoria. Your call may be monitored and recorded for quality assurance purposes. Can you please tell me your full name and the status of the relationship before you broke up. Husband? De facto partner? Boyfriend? Or Other?’ the voice asked.

  ‘Boyfriend. My name is Carolyn Marilyn ,’ Gwendolyn said.

  ‘I’m going to ask you questions of a personal nature now. This information will assist us in processing your claim and ensuring the best outcome. How long were you in a relationship and is this the first time you’ve broken up?’

  How long had they been dating? ‘A couple of months,’ she said.

  ‘Was there fighting?’

  ‘No.’ On the other end of the line there was the sound of typing, a pause and then a conspicuous chomp. He was eating his breakfast.

  ‘Was there any cheating on your part or on his?’

  ‘No.’ Gwendolyn knew elaboration would not help her case.

  ‘Physical changes in either party besides general ageing?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We’re halfway. One of the major reasons relationships end is because of resentment. These next questions look for signs of resentment in your relationship. Are you happy to continue?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did your boyfriend ever raise the issue of your timekeeping?’

  ‘Never.’ Gwendolyn felt calm as she spoke to him. His voice was clinical and curt.

  ‘Did he ever raise any issue with your listening skills?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Accuse you of being overly critical or putting him down?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I am beginning to sense a pattern here that suggests a lack of intimacy and communication in your relationship. You said you were only dating a couple of months. Was it made clear to both parties that you were in an exclusive romantic relationship?’ In her head, she could see him ***ing her claim.

  ‘Well.’

  ‘Did the other party identify you as his girlfriend or partner?’ There was a pounding of keys. More ***ing.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Did you?’

  ‘[Insert expletive here], Gwendolyn, you can’t call here.’ His voice had lost its edge.

  ‘
I know, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have called you at work.’

  ‘No, I mean, you can’t call here. You’ve got the wrong department.’ The professional tone was back. It was the same tone he used when he was putting his [insert body part here] into her [insert body part here]. ‘I’m going to finish up this claim now. I don’t have any further questions for you.’

  It was the time to beg. After all, hadn’t she been his … ? Hadn’t he been her … ? ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Please. Don’t do it.’ She did not cry.

  ‘I have to,’ he said. ‘You know the rules.’

  ‘But I don’t want to have to—’

  ‘The recommended plan is for you to terminate the relationship with the other party immediately. You have thirty days to do this. Please note that we are also referring your case to the Department of Unrequitement Victoria. Direct any future inquiries to them.’

  ‘I want to see you,’ she said.

  ‘Your claim has been finalised,’ he said. ‘Please stay on the line to complete a survey about your experience with our department.’ He redirected her call.

  ‘How happy were you with your experience today, on a scale of one to five?’ the prerecorded message asked. ‘One, meaning extremely dissatisfied. Five, meaning extremely satisfied.’

  ‘Five, five, five, five, five, five,’ she said until she heard a dial tone.

  She had been satisfied. Oh, she had known real pleasure! He had awakened something in her that she did not even know existed. And that was how she knew.

  She knew she would never be satisfied again.

  SAFETY TRIANGLE

  Davey is not afraid of earthquakes. He doesn’t believe in them, the same way some people don’t believe in ghosts. When the Northridge quake hit in ’94, he was woken up by the shaking only to blame it on the wind. ‘Go back to bed,’ he told his mother. ‘Don’t,’ he said at the age of eight, ‘be daft.’

  Hard not to picture him as he would have been then. The tremors begin. His head of black curls appears at the top of a mountain of blankets, surrounded by a halo of plush dolls. Though his face appears to be made out of porcelain, he wouldn’t shatter if dropped.

 

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