Unravelled

by Kirsten Lee

  He gave a funny laugh when I went into the kitchen after a quick shower, dressed in my pj’s. I gave him the umpteenth dirty look for the day, sat down at the table and started sipping the hot chocolate he had made. After a blissful second sip I realised he was still looking at my pj’s. I sighed and told him to get it off his chest. He said that he had never seen anyone wear Tigger pyjama bottoms and I told him that he should get out more. In a moment of sharing – scary indeed – I also told him that Tigger was my favourite childhood memory.

  “There are so many facets to you, Alex.” He said in a soft voice that momentarily distracted me from my delicious hot chocolate.

  “I think all of us have many different sides, just not everyone explores or reveals those sides.” That was a very profound thought for so late at night and I inwardly sighed at my philosophical side fighting to emerge so late at night. Alcohol combined with stress can produce the most profound insights into one’s life. Then I realised that he was still looking at me. Strangely. I cocked my eyebrows in a quiet question, ready for any response except the one I got.

  “It might be an interesting journey exploring all your sides.” This sentence had so many different meanings and the blistering look in Adam’s eyes made me realise that I should maybe interpret it in all those different meanings. As if my eyes were a camera with a zoom lens, the room went out of focus and Adam became sharply etched into my visual preceptors. I was all of a sudden very aware of his smell – that clean, just shaved smell, his naked torso and those gorgeous legs encased in jeans.

  Leaning against the balcony now, smelling the soft perfume of flowers drifting up on the breeze, I can honestly not remember what I said. I think there were a lot of “uhms” and “ahs” and I doubt I strung together an intelligent sentence. My mind was reeling faster than a one eyed cat in a fish market. Somehow I got myself out of the kitchen with a scalded tongue from drinking my hot chocolate at supersonic speed.

  At the kitchen door I had turned around to wish him a good night and the words dried on my scalded tongue when I caught him looking at my Tigger covered bottom. And he wasn’t looking at the adorable cartoon characters. Oh no! He was looking at my J Lo butt with some very unchildlike entertainment on his mind. Seeing him look at me like that got my heart beating faster than a bongo drummer on drugs and I had to listen hard to hear those voices in my head warning me. Oh, I was so tempted to just shut all warning signs off and throw myself at him, but my many disastrous experiences came rushing to the fore and I was able to smile at him with great difficulty and carry my Tigger-covered butt off to my new bedroom.

  How am I going to survive this test the gods have decided to throw my way? I know that I will not drink another drop of alcohol if it will lead to another night like this.

  Chapter 11

  “No!” Blossom lifts his head and looks at me with alarm in his eyes. I didn’t realise I actually shouted. My eyes are drawn back to the flat screen television and I groan in frustration. Only a short while longer to go and the batsman isn’t focused. As it is, it is a tight one day game and we really don’t need him screwing it up.

  I know, I know. Most people are surprised at my keen interest in cricket and my knowledge thereof. It started with a mild interest from a previous boyfriend and I had found a passion. I slap my palm against my forehead as the fast bowler surprises the batsman once again with a brilliant throw and the unfocused gentleman – good manners keep me from calling him what I really want to – just manages to stop the ball from taking out the wickets, but totally wastes the opportunity to score some runs.

  It is Sunday afternoon – more than a week of me living in the Montgomery mansion. Adam and I have been getting along surprisingly well and he even started calling Blossom by name and no longer ‘dog’. I’ve decided to accept Adam’s hospitality and feel so laid back today that I would make a bowl of cooked spaghetti seem tense.

  Something strange happened that night that the cottage flooded. Adam stopped being Mr Wall Street to me, he also stopped being that ornery grump and actually turned into a human being. I stopped being disagreeable and rolling my eyes at everything he said and somehow we’ve found middle-ground. How and why it happened I am not sure, but am mightily glad that I can save my fighting energy now for Zondra.

  The last week had gone by in a flash. I’ve had meetings with Jeremy about the dairy and with Andy’s aunt, Maude, about the transportation to and from the festival. Of all the meetings I had last week, she made the biggest impression on me. The voice that I got to know over the phone belonged to a petite, feminine lady in her late forties who looks fabulous. We got talking and she is the kind of woman who would run a company within a year of starting to serve coffee there. An amazing woman. I even had a meeting set with Zondra, but she cancelled at the last minute. Surprised I was not. However, I was feeling a bit premenstrual and was afraid of what I might do to her, so it was a good thing she cancelled, but poor Ray had to then bear the brunt of my hormonal imbalance, which he did with good humour.

  Jamie popped into the office a few times as well, but stopped coming when Ray wouldn’t leave him alone about that girl, Tariska, he is interested in. I haven’t even had time to think again of meeting her and might lose the opportunity altogether if Ray persists in pestering poor Jamie.

  “Yes!” I throw my eyes heavenwards and thank god for her mercy. I adjust the sleeves of my oversized sweatshirt and smile triumphantly at Blossom. “A six,” I say to a dog with no interest in cricket, and get back to the game. I’m rooting for Australia, but I must admit that the Pakistani team has given a truly impressive performance today. With only a few balls left, the game can turn in any which direction. That’s what makes one day games so great.

  “Sounds exciting in here.” Adam walks into the room with two beers and a bowl of popcorn. He puts the refreshments on the coffee table in front of the couch and sits down next to me. I’m halfway through giving him a quick update on the game when the blank look in his eyes registers with me.

  “You don’t know anything about cricket!” I am shocked. Horrified actually.

  “And you know a lot.”

  I am momentarily distracted by an almost catch that to my great relief the Pakistani fielder blotched. I release the breath I didn’t realise I was holding, grab a handful of popcorn and start stuffing my face in a manner that would dispirit my mother.

  “How can you not know anything about cricket?” I give him a disapproving sideways glance and immediately return my attention to the screen. This is going to be such a close call – a really good game.

  “The same way you don’t know anything about soccer.” His comeback registers with me a bit slowly since this is not the last over and we’re not home free yet.

  “Touché.”

  The next fifteen minutes has me chewing the inside of my bottom lip when I’m not shovelling popcorn into my mouth. I love the tension of a good game of sport. I watched European football with Adam last weekend – my first weekend in his house – and enjoyed the tension of the game between Manchester United and Liverpool. Adam had given me the basic outline of the game rules when I proclaimed my ignorance, and once I knew a bit more I really enjoyed it.

  At work Adam has been friendlier, which I must admit I find disconcerting, but it does make for a better work atmosphere. The only thorn in my side is Zondra. A lot of the final contracts were drawn up, but nothing can be done without her and she continues to be evasive. Except for her everything else is running smoothly. Most of the big events and artists have been organised and we are now focussing on the logistics.

  On the home front, Adam and I have established a comfortable companionship and I actually enjoy staying here. There are still moments when I would gleefully strangle him, but mostly I enjoy bumping into him every now and then somewhere in the big house.

  But I’ll be caught wearing twelve inch heels before I admit that.

  My problems with breathing and an overactive heart have not eased though. Ev
ery time I’m anywhere near Adam, my mouth goes dry. And then I start salivating at any body part my eyes fall on. A few nights I’ve had to take care of business while in the shower just to get some relieve from this constant awareness. But nothing would make me leave.

  It was his suggestion on Wednesday that I continue to stay in the house, even though the cottage was habitable again. After the first surprisingly pleasant week of sharing accommodation with Adam, I had no problem accepting his offer. A sort of routine has been formed where Adam have assumed kitchen duty.

  After my attempt at grilled cheese sandwiches which left the kitchen thick with smoke and me red-faced, he claimed to love cooking, but I suspect it’s a self-serving decision to protect his kitchen from me. When I stumble into the kitchen in the mornings, there is a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me. At night we’ve been repeating the first night’s episode by drinking a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen. Adam no longer laughs at my pyjamas.

  I’ve learned quite a lot about him. He’s a hard businessman with strong principles and an unyielding sense of moral and ethic responsibility. And underneath all of that, he hides a poet’s soul. There might be a few redeeming qualities to the annoying man. A few times he’s said something so profoundly poignant that I was stunned, but wise enough to not crack any jokes. I almost told him that I once thought he might be like a historic romance novel hero, but decided against admitting to him that I actually read books like that. I like the fact that he thinks I’m intellectual.

  He’s also shown a keen interest in learning more about me and I find myself on the verge of opening up to him. I’ve told him a heavily censored version of my history; a little bit about my parents, a lot about my grandmother but nothing about Pam, the one person who I owe my sanity to, and absolutely nothing about my love life. I know he wants to know, but I’ll give him credit for not having asked yet.

  I am a bit worried about Pam and told Erin so when I phoned him yesterday. Since our last conversation when he asked me to phone Pam, things were so busy that I only got around to it two days later and haven’t been able to get hold of her at all.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” The last ball and the batsman hits a six! I whoop loudly and plant a wet kiss on an unexpecting Adam’s cheek. “Wow, what a game!”

  “Yea, what a game.”

  I give him the evil eye for his sardonic reply and hit him across the chest with a cushion. “Hey, at least I tried to understand twenty two men running after a piece of inflated leather just to kick it around. I did not belittle it.”

  “Okay, okay.” He laughs in that resigned way I’m getting to know when he realises he won’t win or maybe he just knows that arguing with me would be a futile exercise.

  The noise of the crowd on the television cheering almost drowns out the ringing telephone next to the couch. Adam leans over and gestures at me to turn down the volume as he picks up the phone. I am riveted by the playbacks of the last six, but when I feel the air next to me change the television no longer holds my attention. It’s as if someone turned the air-conditioning down a few degrees.

  Adam has now been on the phone for maybe two minutes and has not said much more than “Yes, I understand” and “Hmm”. I look at his face and can see that he is not on the receiving end of good news. He nicked himself shaving this morning and I feel the uncanny unction to kiss it better. This inappropriate thought yanks me back to reality.

  “Erin, I am truly sorry to hear that. We will be there tomorrow.”

  I blink a few times in confusion. Erin? Why has he not asked to speak to me? A bad feeling enters my body like damp in an old flat. Even my bones feel cold with dread. Adam puts down the phone and turns to me.

  “Who died?” Death is what has crawled through my soul the moment I felt the atmosphere next to me change. My voice is quiet and the tears are ready to fall for the person whose name Adam is going to give to me.

  “Pam.” Adam’s voice is equally quiet and I can imagine that Erin told him the impact this news would have on me. But nothing ever prepared me for what I’m feeling right now.

  It feels as if someone kicked me in my stomach and I bend over with a load groan. A pain starts deep in my soul, travels trough my heart and starts pushing at the back of my eyes. I know that I am about to cry, but the tears just don’t want to come. I concentrate on breathing and realise that I’m doing it loudly, so loudly that it sounds like a series of groans. Somewhere through this fog I can hear Adam saying something, but his words don’t reach me.

  No. Whether I said it out loud or not does not concern me. I just hope that the gods hear my objection to their choice. I realise that my one hand is pressed tightly over my mouth and I’m whimpering. Oh god, the tears are coming.

  It is amazing how many thoughts can go through one’s mind at a time like this. This ridiculous thought crosses my mind that I’m very unsexy at the moment and I laugh with a weak hiccough. Then images of Pam float through my mind. Pam and I in her kitchen while she bakes my favourite cookies. Pam touching my hand, like she did so often, telling me to be true to myself. Pam and I in her kitchen working our way through my three bottles of cheap wine. Another wave of yawning pain washes over me and I lay my forehead on my knees and weep.

  I weep for myself. Not for Pam. I weep that I’ll never be able to listen to Pam sharing her wisdom with me again. I weep for the times I phoned her when she was on my mind, knowing that she didn’t need those calls – it was I who needed it. I weep in memory of the last time I saw her and how much we laughed that day. I take a deep breath, and then again I weep when I think of our last conversation when she told me that I must be true to myself. She always said that.

  After an unsure amount of time I become aware of a strong pair of arms around me and realise that I have been crying against Adam’s chest. I can’t remember getting there. I lie there for a few more moments shuddering with grief and concentrating to breathe. After a few focused breathes I lift my head and look at Adam through tear-stained eyes.

  “Your shirt is very wet.” There is a very large dark stain on his blue t-shirt. I’m surprised that I can still function after losing so much fluids, but I sit up and stare straight ahead.

  “Here, have some water.” He offers his half-full glass that was standing on the coffee table and watches me empty it. “Can I get you anything else?”

  I want to tell him to go and get Pam from the place where she is, but the words get stuck in my throat and I start crying softly. I put my face in my hands and allow Sorrow to work his way through my system, knowing it to be the best way to deal with it. If I feel its full force now, I’ll have more strength to deal with tomorrow. I hope.

  Another length of time passes and when I return to the present I find Adam next to me with a roll of toilet paper.

  “I don’t know where the tissues are.” He says softly and pushes a wayward strand of hair behind my ear in such a tender manner that I almost lose control again. I take the roll from him and give a strangled laugh.

  “Wow, that was intense.” I roll a handful of toilet paper off the roll and dry my face. Another handful and I blow my nose. Where does all these fluids come from? As if on cue Adam hands me another glass of water. I down it in one gulp and realise there was some alcohol in it. Good. I lean back against the couch and close my eyes. I feel Adam take my hand and lace his fingers through mine. The tears are stinging against the back of my eyelids.

  I don’t know how long we sat like that, but I will remember Adam’s kindness for the next few lifetimes. I sigh loudly and turn my head to him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Any time.”

  “Did Erin say when?”

  “Late this morning. She phoned him earlier to tell him that she was leaving and he immediately went to her.” Adam looks at me for a moment weighing his question. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but who was Pam?”

  His usage of the past tense stabs at my heart and I take a few more calming breathes.

  “My angel.” I sm
ile softly. “She is … was…oh my god.” I cry some more, use another few handfuls of the toilet roll and concentrate on my breathing. “She was Erin’s aunt. She was also the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Eccentric to the core – typical artist. She was in the process of selling her art gallery. She never got married and lived with her four cats: Arthur, Guinevere, Robin and Alexander. If one cat died, he or she immediately got replaced by another of the same name.” I wonder what is going to happen to Arthur IV, Guinevere III, Robin V and Alexander II.

  “She also played a very important role in my life.” How important I’ll never be able to tell anyone. Pam was my inspiration. She was the one who told me that I could make a go of the company when Erin and I were talking about it. She pushed me to move on with my life and develop myself. She was the one who told me to not define myself by the men who were in my past and to design my own destiny. She always knew what to say, when to say it and especially how to say it.

  “She’s been fighting cancer for years now, but the last few months have been really bad. We all knew that she had limited time with us, but it never really sunk in that she might actually leave us. I suppose I simply didn’t want to believe that she was mortal. Pam will always be immortal to me.” Pam would’ve loved to be immortal, to live forever. But we can’t always have what we want. “I guess it is better for her now. She hated the treatments and meds and now she can sit, or stand up there and look at us being silly down here.”