Under Purple Sheets

by Coco Houston

  Brad returns with lots of treats and expensive foods to eat. He brings me some new night cream to try and Black Opium perfume, which I adore. The smell is so sweet and exotic; I discovered that men find it intoxicating on my skin as the comments made have been things like, “You, Coco, smell good enough to eat!” Brad has also bought me the most unusual gift of a voodoo wizard with a wand which has a jewel in the shape of a star at the end of it and he is wearing long purple robes. Its magic is to bring me absolute success in all I do, I am ecstatic with the wizard. Voodoo is black magic, is it not? I am a white witch; however, perhaps for now I should move to the dark side, I smile. Either way, however, I intend to use this little wizard and the spell he brings with him to get me to where exactly I want to be. Voodoo or not, this little wizard shall be casting spells with me very soon.

  22nd September

  It’s Mabon, also known as Autumnal Equinox amongst many other names. The second festival to celebrate the harvest. Brad shares in this with me today. As in the first one, it is done with a lot of feeling of loss. As it reminds us that everything is temporary, no season lasts forever. Neither light nor dark ever overpowers the other for long. Then how come I ask The Horned God and The Goddess, why do I feel so much in the dark all the time? Last time I cast a spell to bring Gucci to me. This time after the other celebrations of the second harvest, I sat alone conjuring a spell, to please keep Gucci safe, warm, loved, healthy and happy. The music box once again plays in my head. My friends sing along, "I love him? I hate him not? I hate him? I love him not?"

  End of September

  With the holiday over, I return home with Brad and I still cry a lot of the time, finding only bleakness in everything. I write my manuscript non-stop but that is all I do, as I do not eat that much or hardly sleep, so consequently, I look awful plus lose a lot of weight. A stupid row between us comes out of nowhere over Christmas, Christmas of all the fucking things to argue about, more so especially this time of year. Brad raises his hands to me again, knocking me into the wall. A lot of things are said by both parties which should not have been said; therefore we just fuel each other’s fire, making it all so much worse. I am so distraught I just walk upstairs to pack my clothes. “Don’t go, Coco,” he informs me, “I will.” I start to unpack then just leave the room, while he packs his clothes I sit down in my lounge staring at the walls looking for the image of my wolf, without realising that I won’t find him because it needs to be dark inside the room, with candles lit to create the shadow on the wall I am looking for – my wolf.

  He packs up the car. I go upstairs and take off my wedding band and put on under wear. I stand in a pale blue lace bra, tiny pants with lace top stockings and suspenders in the same shade of blue. I hand Brad the wedding band and shake his hand goodbye. I do not intend to have sex with him before he leaves, I just think, well the voices tell me, my friends in my head, they think it would be a good idea to wear this outfit as it is very befitting of me and appropriate for our relationship, besides the colour reminds me of the lyrics of a country song that I once heard a long time ago. She sang blue was the colour of sadness as was the dress she wore when she told him goodbye. He tries to take my hand as I walk away, he asks me to put my ring back on, begging me to stay with him. I don’t – I don’t think I want to anymore. I just keep on walking away in the underwear as he stands desperately watching me. I go down the stairs, out the house, along the street and I walk half naked in the pretty lingerie into the woods. That cold September night I sit there for hours alone in the dark. I am freezing while he searches everywhere for me, and the friends in my head, my only true friends I feel I can trust apart from my little dogs, tell me to hide, so that is exactly what I do, I listen to them and I hide from him. For how long, I have no idea, as I have no conception of time; the only one thing I do realise but do not care about is how cold I truly am.

  Eventually, dressed like a hooker, I walk back home as the cars on the road, pass me peeping their horns. That night I go to bed and sleep lightly. I dream I am in a world of pink bubbles filled with happiness. With fluffy clouds and bunny rabbits. All my little dogs are there and Gucci the donkey. Everyone whom I have lost, who are dead, are alive again as we dance in the soft wind, singing all day and night with the fairies and the good white witches.

  In the morning I wake feeling worse than ever as I realise what I had dreamt about. The dream was teaching me a lesson on looking at my life. It was not going to be as I wished for, not fairy-tales for evermore. Now I have to face another horrible day in this world with the reality I am going off my fucking head and acknowledging so clearly this relationship is fucked on wakening from this fantasy slumber.

  Chapter IX

  Descent into Darkness

  October 2013

  The beginning of the month starts with me up unusually early on a frosty morning, with the sun looking weak in its warmth but bright enough high in the sky. I feel elated this morning as this is my favourite month of the year, whereupon I just like to think I own October. Miss Coco October, I call myself. My enthusiasm of giving myself the present of declaring the month to be mine does not last for long though, because just as I finish my coffee once again, I begin to feel dismal inside about the hopelessness of this love in my life. Shaking my head in the mirror, I stupidly try to put my thoughts aside for the present before deciding to go out for a walk. I wrap myself up from the cold by putting on warm clothes, and then pulled on my wellies. I leave the house with hope and anticipation of being in a much happier mood on my return. I don’t take the little dogs with me as the chilled weather is not to their liking.

  I ramble through the woods, then stroll past the river to find the water is making a lot more noise than usual, bubbling furiously as it rushes over rocky areas, causing little white waterfalls and almost bursting its banks in its haste to wherever it is rushing to. For a while I watch the twigs that had fallen into it being bobbed about as the water plays with them. Moving on I get annoyed at myself as the thoughts I want to bury for now come back with a vengeance.

  Frustrated by this I suddenly stop walking, lying before me is a broken tree trunk, which must have been blown down by the storm last night. I find that a huge pile of leaves has gathered beside it, sheltering from the wind, I smile. Effortlessly, I kick them up in the air, and then I just stand staring at the rich fusion of the vivid colours of autumn tumbling round in the damp atmosphere before floating back down to the ground. As the delicate clothing of the trees have no choice but to accept their forfeit, I feel ashamed, upset even as they retreat slowly to where they lay once before in peace. Unpredictably, I start to make a wish upon each one of them as they land. Abruptly, I point over and begin poking at them, surprisingly but distinctively saying, “I make a wish on this one and now I make a wish on that one.” Wishes of what? I ask myself, to which the answer being returned is a conclusion of I do not know what it is that I truly want. Perhaps I should ask the friends in my head for their opinion on which requests I should place in my pursuit? They sit in silence with no reply, I hear nothing. I must then assume that me disrupting the harmony of the woods, attacking the foliage for no reason, is in fact me only confirming to myself this is not a responsible way to behave, especially at my age. Neither is pretending that there are fairies that are sat nearby watching me, while I destroy the beautiful part of the landscape which was created by Mother Nature, whilst wondering why I am looking so sad on doing so. Maybe the real reason for the sadness they notice is that I am childishly just wishing my life away. A voice appears from one of those deceptive friends in my head, “How ungrateful is that, Coco, to play with your life?” It questions me unforcedly or is rather stating fact with a sarcastic note.

  “Fuck up, you!” I answer back too loudly, my voice echoes through the calm stillness of the forest; I can only imagine that now on this occasion my invisible fairies are affronted with justification. I go over the bridge heading for home, while convincingly and agreeably I dictate to myself who cares w
hat the fucking fairies think or mortals, for that matter? I am at this moment in time so lost in my own Coco world, crying all the time, feeling sorry for myself or maybe I am honestly just showing signs of deep depression. The last reason on my list of choices, which I had prepped for use in the making of a decision on my personal diagnosis on the state of my mind, is wrong.

  Me doing this depression shit? I don’t think so, me being diagnosed as suffering from a mental illness is a definition – that shall not in reality be the case. I hate the very thought of it. Worse still, I detest that you suffer day and night for months with an awful feeling of perception that there is a glass wall between you and the rest of the world. Now there in the statement lies the correct answer of my position, the one which I have to finally admit grudgingly yet arguably to my ego. I go home.

  7th October

  Another row starts with me suffering more mental torture from him. This is my world now; hurt, I sit angrily wondering what had happened to Brad, I had somehow lost the man I used to know. Perhaps it is me that has caused all this, maybe I deserve it, well that is what being in an abusive relationship is like, it makes you begin to blame yourself. His bullshit, however, is not going to wash with me anymore, certainly not tonight. I go for a bubble bath, planning to have a girlie night of pampering myself and casting candle spells while he sits downstairs sulking. And guess what? He can sit there until the fucking sun comes up, because I am done running after him. The evening passes tranquilly, I go to bed totally relaxed as still he sits in a moody silence exactly where I left him.

  12th October

  Today we go on holiday with my parents to a log cabin at Fort Augustus. (Brad and I had gone there before; we’d stayed in an exclusive hotel at the beginning of Loch Ness. We went on to Oban, where we stayed in another hotel for a few days. From there we drove to Loch Awe where sat an old church on the banks of the Loch. I lit candles inside and out the back of it, Brad went down on his knees, asking me yet again to one day marry him there just as a rainbow shone over the loch. I smiled answering, “Yes!” After that special loving holiday, yet again he returned home to his wife. Oh! He was always going on fishing trips, he told her, and actually he was always on holiday with me and not once was a fishing rod placed in the water, not ever.) On arriving the cabin is difficult to find as it sits right in the middle of thick woodland; quite quickly though we get our bearings, finding it sooner rather than later. On first impression of its appearance, my mother comments that the look on my face would have sunk a thousand ships. I stare in horror, thinking surely this cannot be the place we had booked to stay in. It looks from the outside in bad need of repair, resembling some sort of old hunting lodge. Horrified, I get out of the jeep as my father entered the premises with Brad; I anxiously follow them inside, instantly stopping in my tracks. I am stunned, this clearly is not what I had expected to discover. It is amazing, the heating is on, making it very warm, along with being precisely tidy, and it is spotlessly clean inside. There is a basic welcome pack filled with all the necessities you needed to get started or in case you arrived late at night. This package is gratefully accepted as we all are desperate for a cup of coffee. The size of the interior is very deceiving on looking at the cabin from its exterior. It is so cosy in simple décor, with the lounge upstairs; in that room there are huge worn leather sofas situated around a real log-burning fire. Taking pride of place, there facing the front of the cabin, stands a wall made of large panes of glass overlooking the forest. These windows showed everything off to the extreme, and it is magical to be able take in the forest from this height.

  Then later in the evening when it is dark out, you feel you can reach out and just touch all the stars that shimmer silver in the cloudless night sky. They shine like diamonds glittering in the pitch black; they remind me with fondness of an evening gown I once had, which was made of delicate black silk covered in tiny Swarovski crystals. I sparkled as I walked in that dress, creating attention beyond belief. It was so me. This night though, I am just dressed in my usual bedtime attire of pyjamas worn with Ugg boots, sitting on the porch drinking a glass of wine. It is so peaceful out, with only the quiet sounds of the tired forest whispering as some of the animals settle down to sleep for the night while others in their nocturnal ways of life stay awake hunting for food. I jump with fright as Brad appears from out of nowhere; sitting down beside me laughing, he takes me into his arms. I look up at him, first pretending to be annoyed but just playfully winking, he winks back. On turning my face away from him again, I smile secretly in the darkness at my erotic thoughts. My eyes search over the dark silhouette of the fir trees, as I remember a time not so long ago, when under the moon both of us were naked, making love out on the patio of another log cabin. The wooden structural design of the balustrade box was similar to this one. That night in particular, the love we shared between us I would have described as being infinitely unbelievable. Perhaps now tonight, though it is a different story, no perhaps about it, because I know it is just another tale to tell, as the love we shared back then is starting to leave us, maybe it had already gone in that short space of time, who knows? It seems to me that night had happened very long ago, which obviously was not the case. Everything just feels so distant, surreal even, as if it had only actually existed in my undisturbed dreams. I get up to go back inside, feeling the chill from mist falling in a blanket covering over the woods. As I stand up Brad pulls me backwards with the hem of my top, I lose my balance then clumsily stumble over his legs, nearly falling on my arse as he catches me in his arms, both of us burst out laughing. He kisses me again, whispering, “I love you, Coco!” I cuddle up into him for a moment longer than I should have done. Now in the warmth of the country-style kitchen whilst pouring more wine for us both, I acknowledge regretfully to myself that his statement has made me feel a little better inside but it is nothing to write home about. The friends in my head inform me perhaps I should write a ‘Dear John’ letter instead. I ignore them, gulping down my wine, and then pouring myself yet more.

  15th October

  Brad and I, along with my parents, have been getting up smart every morning to have an early breakfast, so we can leave the cabin at a reasonable time soon after. It gives us all day to visit the different tourist attractions in the surrounding area. Up here at Loch Ness the scenery is fantastically stunning. The loch itself is as fascinating and as mysterious to look at as the legend of the monster that is supposed to abide in its waters. Scotland really is one of the most beautiful countries in the world, holding its place with pride and rightly so.

  This morning we stick to our schedule as usual, so mid-morning finds us at the top of Loch Ness, wandering through a small quaint village called Drumnadrochit. It is full of unusual shops selling all the Loch Ness Monster memorabilia and shows off with the wonderful Loch Ness Museum. It has a very highly recommended bar restaurant serving excellent food, besides that, it also accommodates lots of coffee shops to take a break in. I am totally at ease, walking slowly along the central street hand in hand with Brad. I love this place and the hotel sits at the top of the road, where we once had our wedding dinner after our secret marriage in the little church just along the way from there. Both of us look very happy together, strangers would easily assume, well mistake us, for any regular couple in love. In my own way, I guess I still do love him, besides deep down I hope he still loved me too. Well at times, we do still actually feel that way, I correct myself.

  We have coffee in one of those exclusive little coffee shops, and then lunch in a hidden-away restaurant, which is so retro, with a superb choice of dishes on the menu. Brad today is seriously being so romantic, with or without my parents’ presence. He makes me laugh, kisses me all the time in public, he keeps on buying me gifts and expensive Harris Tweed handbags, in fact he buys me anything I want regardless of the cost. He buys me a beautiful pair of crystal clear hand-blown glass teardrop-style earrings, second pair representing the tears I have cried over him. He hands them to me with tre
mbling hands. I am touched with the genuine look of love or is it regret that shows in his eyes? His sense of humour is one of ‘My Brad from the past’; he treats me like he used to when together we made an inseparable team. He momentarily makes me question yet again or rather change my perception of our future together. Maybe we would be okay after all, as today he really showed how much he loved me, with confirmation of that in the amount of money he spent on me alone. To whoever witnessed that it had made a statement that I truly was his spoiled ‘Princess Coco’. One he was definitely buying.

  Later that evening Brad comes up to me in the lounge whispering, he is informing me that we were going on a trip. I glance at the glass wall behind me, looking at the dark forest, I was thinking, has he gone mad? It is freezing cold outside, besides it is almost eleven-thirty p.m. I go down to the kitchen for more coffee, intending to ignore the stupidity of his idea. He follows me down as he whispers to me repeatedly that we are going out; while observing him more thoroughly, I realise he is serious in his intentions of following through with this incredible proposition. He orders me to go for my jacket, boots, scarf, with gloves and to be quick on doing as we don’t really have much time. Half frightened, casually unsure, I hurriedly oblige him. I half run, half walk up the log cabin’s open stairway to the lounge, off from there is a door leading into our bedroom, which is very large with an en-suite bathroom, much the same. On searching in the wardrobe for my outdoor jacket, I also pull out a pair of jeans with a thick jumper. I need warmer clothes on too as I only stand in my pyjama bottoms worn with a silk camisole top. Brad appears in the room behind me, he looks frustrated plus he is still ushering me on to rapidly get dressed.