by Natasha West
In my head, I still occasionally felt a little like that geeky girl that had sat in the back of her class, despite how I’d changed since then. Julia had felt like an unattainable goddess in those days. Thankfully, time had broken that illusion. And I didn’t wear glasses or drab oversized clothes anymore and I was certainly nowhere near as shy as that girl had been. But I still sometimes wondered what people thought when they saw us together. It was hard to imagine anyone would look at me and think I belonged with her.
Not that I think she saw it that way. One time we’d been in a restaurant and a group of gorgeous girls had walked past, the kind who exude easy beauty. They were seated at the next table and I began to feel a little self-conscious next to such good looking, coiffed creatures. So I said to Julia ‘Wow, did you see those girls?’ She didn’t even turn around to look at them. She simply said ‘What girls?’ and reached for my hand. And incredibly, I think she meant it. She really didn’t see them. She only saw me.
My phone rang. It was my mother. I let it go to voicemail as Julia watched, saying nothing. She knew why I’d let the call go. Talking to my mother had become a minefield. Because she still didn’t know about Julia. And I was tired of trying to talk around her, of dodging enquiries about my love life. Julia wasn’t pressing to be introduced to my parents, I think she would have been quite happy never to have to meet them. But sooner or later, the day would have to come. And we both knew it.
I was a little lost in these anxious thoughts and I guess it showed on my face because Julia broke my reverie suddenly.
‘Hey, are you OK?’
I looked up surprised to see Julia’s eyes flicking between me and the road, she looked concerned. I sighed.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Really? Because you’re chewing your nail to the quick.’
I looked down at my index finger. The nail was a ragged mess. I hadn’t even realised I’d been biting it.
‘It’s really nothing.’
She didn’t say anything and I could tell she was considering whether to press it.
My phone rang again and I thought it would be my mother but it was someone almost equally stress inducing. It was David Kelsey, my very new agent. My publisher had connected me with him before I signed the deal for the book, so everything could be taken care of completely above board. I’d need proper representation, someone to deal with the legal side of things, of which I was utterly ignorant. He’d seemed like everything I imagined an agent to be, a bit smooth talking and slick, but generally, he seemed like a good person to have on my side.
But why was he calling me right now? We had a meeting booked in for next week. Was he cancelling? Was he going to dump me? These were the thoughts that flew through my head in the second between seeing the call and picking it up.
‘David? Hi.’
‘Penny! How was your holiday?’
I’d only mentioned it in passing, how on earth had he known I was on my way home? The man was skilled.
‘Nice, thanks. Relaxing.’
‘Great, good. Listen, I know we’re booked in for a catch-up next week, but I wondered if you could come in for a meeting tomorrow instead. I’d like a chat about something.’
I didn’t like the sound of that.
‘Sure, what time?’
‘Why don’t we meet for lunch at The Veil? On the company expense, of course.’
I’d heard of The Veil. It was fancy and expensive.
‘OK, see you then.’
We hung up.
Being taken to an extravagant place by my agent? Was that good or bad? I couldn’t tell.
‘Who was that?’
‘Agent. Wants to meet tomorrow instead of next week.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘No. You don’t think…’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It’s not going to be anything bad, you know. You wrote a good book. It just takes time for the momentum to build. It was the same for mine.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure your right.’
But I wasn’t sure at all.
The rest of the journey passed uneventfully.
Chapter Three
I pulled into Penny’s road and parked the car right at her gate. Penny looked up at the house that she shared with friends. She made no move to get out of the car.
‘Why don’t you just stay with me tonight?’ I asked, ever the opportunist.
She thought about it for a second and she smiled at me.
‘No, I’d better go home. The holiday has to end sometime, doesn’t it?’ she said as a lock of her dark blonde hair fell across her face. I pushed it back behind her ear, wanting to see her jade green eyes one last time before she went into the house.
‘I guess it does.’
‘Anyway, you’ve got work to do.’
I heaved a sigh. I’d been pushing back the thought of sitting down to write, wanting to bask in Penny a little longer. But she was right. I’d had my fun. It was time to work.
‘I suppose you’re right.’
She leaned over and gave me a soft but lingering kiss. And then her lips left mine and she began to pull away. I grabbed her t-shirt, drawing her back to me.
‘Not so fast.’
She smiled, letting herself be pulled back and our lips reconnected, a deeper kiss this time, moan filled.
And then with regret, I let her go. She pulled back again and we looked into each other’s eyes, drawing out the moment as long as we could.
I rolled my eyes at myself, drama queen that I was being.
‘OK, go now or I’ll never let you.’
Penny suddenly jumped around and undid her seatbelt.
‘You’re right. I’m just gonna grab my bag and run into the house. Not looking back.’
She opened the car door, ran to the boot and grabbed her bag, all without glancing at me. I thought she was really going to manage it, to get into the house without another look. But as I watched her put her key in the door, she turned to me and smiled and waved. I shook my head at her in fake admonishment and she laughed to herself and ran into the house.
I looked at her front door for a second, some part of me hoping she’d change her mind and come with me. But it wasn’t going to open again. I drove away.
I walked into my house and was surprised to see everything as I’d left it. I don’t know why but when I’ve been away a part of me always expects that I’ll come back to a burst pipe or burgled house. But no, everything was in order.
I immediately started throwing the clothes from my bag into the washing machine. Then I watered my plants. Once that was done, I was hungry, so I made myself a sandwich with some cheese left in the fridge and microwaved bread from the freezer. And then I thought ‘I should read the post’ but it was at that point that I knew my procrastination was out of control. I did not want to read my post. I was trying to avoid sitting down to write.
Technically, I had time to procrastinate. My publisher had given me plenty of time until she wanted to see preliminary pages, but I knew the longer I waited, the harder it was going to be to get started. And right now, I didn’t even know what the book was going to be about. I’d had ideas, of course, but I knew it was time to commit to one. I was beginning to think that it didn’t really matter what I chose, as long as I made a decision one way or the other. Any story has mileage if you put yourself into it, find yourself in it.
That was the theory, anyway. I considered it as I picked up my post and began to rifle through the usual bills until I came to a handwritten letter. I didn’t recognise the handwriting. I opened it and read it.
After I’d finished reading, I screwed the letter up violently and tossed it into the bin next to my desk. I couldn’t believe what it had said and furthermore, that I’d gotten it at all. But it didn’t matter, I told myself. I wouldn’t reply to it, or take any kind of action concerning its contents. What it had said was most certainly not my problem.
After a few angry minutes o
f making vows not to care about the letter, I decided enough was enough. I sat down to work.
I began to tap the keys furiously, trying to take myself as far away from the letter as I could. I didn’t know exactly what I was writing about when I started, but something began to emerge, a story, something I’d been considering about a man who has an affair with his wife’s brother.
As I wrote, I felt good, positive. Movement was happening.
When I finally felt myself grind to a halt, I let it happen. I had twelve hundred words. It was a start.
Two hours later, I re-read what I’d written. And I hated it. It was directionless, meaningless, a garble. It was nothing at all.
Chapter Four
I walked into The Veil and looked around for David, hoping I wasn’t the first one to arrive. But fortune smiled. I saw him waving to me, seated at a table already and looking at home among the affluent patrons of the restaurant. I was wearing my nicest item of clothing, a conservative green dress (Julia said it brought out my eyes), which I thought seemed appropriate for the venue. And looking around, it was the way to go. But still, I didn’t feel quite comfortable in this crowd. They looked like people that had money. And they looked as though they’d always had it. Even if I had camouflaged myself correctly, I knew I didn’t fit.
I sat down and David leaned forward, and I realised he wanted to kiss me on both cheeks. I submitted to it, reluctantly. We didn’t do the double cheek kiss in Pilldale.
‘I can tell you had a good holiday, you look fantastic.’
‘Oh. Thank you. Yes, it was nice.’
‘Great. Hungry?’
I wasn’t hungry at all; I was too nervous. But I nodded and took a menu. Looking at the prices, whatever the outcome of this meeting, I was thankful I wasn’t paying.
We ordered (I had a sandwich, him a salad) and after the waiter left and brought back drinks, only then did David address the fact that this was not just a random lunch.
‘So, I guess you might be wondering why I wanted to meet.’
‘You might say that, yes’ I said with a sardonic smile.
He laughed.
‘Well, I got an interesting phone call last week and I wanted to tell you about it as soon as I could, to see how you feel.’
I was still nervous about what was going to come out of his mouth.
‘Have you heard of Zara Powell?’
I wanted to be able to say yes but the name had no significance.
‘I don’t think so, no.’
‘She’s a film director. Her movie ‘Comet’s Tail’ was released a month ago. It had a very good opening weekend and pretty steady numbers thereafter from what I can gather.’
I knew the movie. I’d dragged Julia to it, despite the fact she wasn’t much of a science fiction fan. But we’d both enjoyed it. It was a movie set aboard a spaceship that accidently gets sucked into a black hole.
‘Anyway, to cut to the chase, Zara’s looking for a new project. And she read your book and fell in love with it. Her producer said they’re interested in optioning your book with a view to it being their next movie.’
I couldn’t speak. David took my silence as consent to carry on.
‘They’d like to meet with you, talk it over. Would that be something you might be interested-’
‘Yes!’ I said too loudly.
David smiled.
‘I thought so. I’ve already set something up. They’d like you to come to their production office on Thursday. Does that work for you?’
‘Yes, yeah, yes. Really? My book?’
I needed to stop talking, I was devolving into a blithering inarticulate idiot. But I was excited. Zara Powell was obviously talented, her movie had been interesting, intelligent and thoughtful. The idea that she might want to make my book into a movie? I had to admit, it was exciting.
I’d been picking at my lunch up until that point, but suddenly, I found my appetite. I bit into my sandwich with gusto.
Chapter Five
I was at the end of a long and frustrating day. I’d been looking at the twelve hundred words I’d written and I’d tried not to react emotionally. I tried to look at them as I would have done for a student, to find the problem and potentially its fix. But I couldn’t see the actual issue, only that I hated it. I had no idea what was specifically wrong with it. Wrong with me.
I tried going for a run to shake out the blockage. Four miles later, I came home, sweaty and body tired. After a hot shower, I sat down again. Somehow it was worse. Because I’d been pinning a lot of hope on the run. It had worked before, why not today?
It was two in the afternoon by this point and I decided to try one last thing. A stiff drink. I wasn’t too sure if it was the best idea, but I knew that many writers swore by alcohol as a creative aid. It wasn’t the norm for me, needing a clear head to work, but I decided that if it didn’t help, at least it could be consolation.
Two double vodkas later, I knew full well it wasn’t going to help. My brain felt slower, clunky. Nothing useful was going to come out of it now.
I felt weary all of a sudden and I lay down on the sofa, just to rest for a moment.
I found myself standing in a corridor, at least that’s what I thought it was at first. Then I began to realise the walls were really high shelves, stretching upward and forward, seemingly forever. I stepped closer to the one on my left and saw that it was a bookshelf. The stacks were filled with an eternity of books.
I pulled one off the shelf and opened it. The first page was blank. I flicked through, every page was the same. Blank. I dropped it to the ground and grabbed another. More empty pages.
I pulled out book after book to find nothing but white pages, containing nothing. I felt deep disappointment at these pointless items. And then I heard a rumble. I looked up to see that the stacks of books were beginning to fall, and books rained down on me, slowly at first, building to a downpour. Before I knew it, I was up to my knees in the empty books and I knew without doubt that within minutes, I would be buried alive.
As they continued to fall on me, I tried to pull myself out but as fast as I could climb, the quicker the books seemed to fall. And as the piles grew neck deep around me, I began to find it difficult to breathe. My lungs were seizing up. And I knew I was taking one of the last breaths I would ever take.
And then a voice, male, older called to me from far away.
‘Jules. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.’
And I did. My head disappeared underneath, buried alive…
Briinnggg!
I sat up with a jolt, the dream world still fresh and frightening. I had to tell myself that it was only a nightmare. And then I realised, something had woken me, what was it? A noise?
Brinng briiingg.
It was the doorbell. I climbed to my feet, a little confused. I went to the front door and opened it to see Penny.
‘I’m sorry to just turn up, I... Are you OK?’
I realised I must have been wearing my nightmare on my face and I instantly tried to look more relaxed.
‘Yeah, sorry. I… I was asleep. Guess I’m still kind of out of it.’
But I was coming to, thankfully. Looking at Penny made me feel more connected to this world, further away from the dream one. I looked down to see that she was dressed up, looking even more gorgeous than usual.
‘You look edible, where have you… Oh, your meeting!’ I remembered with a start.
‘Yeah, that’s what I came to tell you. I’ve been ringing you all afternoon.’
My phone battery had been low as I’d come in from my run. It had probably died.
‘I’m sorry, stupid technology. Anyway, come in and tell me all about it.’
We went into the living room. I was still slightly discombobulated from my nightmare but I wanted to hear about Penny’s lunch. And I was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed about letting a dream scare me so much. Letting Penny see me a little wigged out, even for a second, wasn’t comfortable.
‘Are
you sure you’re-’ she began.
‘If you’re trying to build suspense, you’re doing an amazing job.’
She sighed, giving in.
‘Fine. David told me this director is interested in making a film from my book. I mean, I don’t know for sure if it’s going to happen but…’
My jaw dropped open.
‘That’s amazing!’
I grabbed her for a hug, thrilled for her. The news made me forget my own disappointing day.
‘We should celebrate.’
‘I think it’s a bit premature for that. At the moment, it’s just a meeting.’
‘You can be cautious if you like. I’m going to be happy at the inevitable recognition of your talent.’
‘That’s nice, but… I don’t know. It was really cool to hear David say that someone was thinking about making a movie of my book but who knows how likely it is?’
Penny had always been humble about her talent. But I hoped she’d be able to enjoy the success that was coming her way.
‘But back to you’ she deflected. ‘You looked pretty freaked out when I knocked on the door.’
‘I guess I was having a little nightmare’ I admitted.
‘What about?’
‘It’s fading now’ I said, truthfully.
‘Are you sure? You don’t remember anything at all?’
I thought for a second. There had been something. A voice…
‘Well, I did here someone calling my name at the end. He was telling me to give up.’
‘He? Did you recognise his voice?’
‘No, I don’t…’
I remembered something else. He’d called me Jules. No one called me Jules. Almost no one.