by E. J. Wood
‘Subconscious please be quiet,’ I mumble. Am I glad those thoughts are contained and not spoken to a true Prius enthusiast! As I lock my subconscious away in the closet for the day I reverse out of the drive and notice a removals van parking up next door.
‘Hmm, new neighbours?’
***
The honking of an abrasive sound of a horn jolts me upright whilst driving to work, why is everyone always in such a hurry? It’s 7.15am for Christ sake, if only I could avoid rush hour. If you can make it to work here, you can make it anywhere, it’s chaotic, maddening, noisy, turbulent yet fascinating. It’s like between 7.00am and 9.00am in the morning the whole city is hiked up by a few decibels. The roads are mega-loaded with motorcycles and scooters weaving between traffic, honking every two seconds. Taxis dart in front of one another slamming their brakes as daring pedestrians step out at seconds before the traffic light change. Hand gestures and shrieking voices add to the concentrated pandemonium in the city. Claire warned me not to become intimidated by the madness and always look both ways but never second guess. With no choice but to brace the daily havoc it’s not as hard as it looks, face your fears, that’s what we are taught? Is it not? Amidst the honking hell I tentatively tap the brake pedal and breathe deeply lessening the apprehension as a screaming scooter pulls up beside me.
‘Hey Baby,’ he shouts in a foreign accent.
I reframe from commenting, what could I say? It’s so hard to gauge the core of one’s own sexual appeal sometimes and if Claire were here, she would only be lecturing me on accepting an early morning complement. I sigh and wait for the traffic to proceed, smile knowing I’m really looking forward to work this morning. Hell, who am I kidding, I do every morning. I really do enjoy my job. I know this is a rare thing, even if my boss is an asshole. The only thing that stands in my way from a well deserved promotion, even if I do say so myself, is Dr Thomas Cross. His name just sends shivers down my spine, that tea sandwich of a man and I quiver at the tedious day that most probably lies ahead.
***
I withdraw my ID card and hold it for the security guards to pass me through the main desk, two beefcakes dressed in black business suits, but although I have checked in on numerous occasions I am stopped anyway. With a quick look over my shoulder and a cheeky smile I am waved through, arriving bang on time. As I walk towards my designated desk I wince at the sight of my colleague and purse my mouth in my best bona fide smile, trying to dodge his attention. It is a good enough job and I have managed eight consecutive months so far without the need to slit my throat with a can opener in the staff quarters, so that’s a pretty good sign.
‘Amelia!’ His voice heightened and exaggerated the same every day, every time he calls my name.
‘Morning Dr Cross,’ as I pass hurriedly trying to avoid eye contact with him, don’t follow me please. You make me so uncomfortable (creep). His finger tips tap the back of my shoulder.
‘What now?’ I sigh.
‘Amelia dear I need you to do a few errands this morning if if if it’s not too much trouble?’ he says to me.
The only way I can tolerate him is the fact he makes me chuckle every time he stutters. I look down on him seeing as he is only 5ft, dark hair, well what’s left after his rather evident bald patch grows more and more each day.
‘Sure,’ I reply, smiling as if in great admiration. I clear my throat and shudder. Creep.
The day is long and drawn out, collecting facts about today’s case. Another John Doe spending my time driving here, there and everywhere gathering reports from law enforcement personnel regarding the conditions the remains were found in.
‘Amelia?’ Cross stands at the door leaning against the frame cocking his head to one side.
‘Yes Cross?’ I beam at him with my best smile.
‘Did you manage to obtain the reports?’
‘Yes I have them right here,’ I say as I lift the sheets of paper and manila folders (quite smugly.)
‘Ah, now I know this is a little menial for you, but I’d like you to accompany me to identify the victims age, race and any other characteristics you may see, even assist me on trauma,’ his brows rise.
Not my field? How much more condescending could this man be? I am fully qualified for heavens sake but I don’t want to “jump the gun.” I am grateful for anything other than the boring desk duty or errand runner, for once I cannot wait to be in the presence of Dr Cross.
‘I’d love to,’ I beam, better than bound to paperwork; I cannot wait, finally. I exhale steadily and controlled. I used to think Cross was a pretty cool guy until he started with unwanted advances. I’d never think of reporting him, this is the best job I have ever had since starting from the ground up although my phone answering abilities and woeful typing are thankfully not what landed me the job.
***
The afternoon with Dr Cross has so far gone exceedingly well, measuring bones, fine tooth picking any distinguishing characteristics to help us identify the victim, such as cracks and breaks in the bones to ascertain whether they were inflicted pre or post mortem or even as a result of animal exposure.
Although the remains are skeletal, my nose has just about had enough of the poignant smell of overpowering body odour from creepy Dr Cross.
By the time we are done I am exhausted but fortunately I’m due time off and this can’t come at a better time. I feel so ungrateful and hang my head in shame for hoarding such thoughts. Glancing down at my watch I find the day has flown by, it’s 5.30pm. I hug myself inside with glee, another step closer to that promotion. Stay strong and don’t forget, smile.
***
I slow the car down as if stalking my house leaning into the steering wheel as close as possible to find any clue of the movement next door. Nothing, just the van still parked across the way upon my return home, hmmm who could be moving in here? As I pull into the drive way my rather scatter brained housemates car is parked up. A shabby beaten up old blue Mazda – it really does look out of place here but then who am I to speak?
‘Claire please trade that scrap heap you call a car for something a little more, well, safe.’ I plead as I enter the front door.
‘It’s my blue patchwork saloon,’ she smiles as she hops up, bouncing like a puppy dog greeting its owner after hours of solitude, wrapping her arms around me and her strawberry blonde hair whipping my face. I grab her shoulders either side and look deep into her doe eyes on her fresh freckly complexion.
‘Calm down,’ I beg and sigh, ‘I’m thinking of buying a new car’.
That should get her excited, she has been lingering after my Prius ever since I brought it home … don’t mention Polliwog in front of Claire or you can expect one of her infamous one minute reviews.
‘As long as I have first refusal! Wine?’ she changes subject, her voice calm and unexpected. What is she up to?
‘Go on then, you left early this morning to have rung me so early. So who is this new man?’ I question, as dappy as she may be, she works many long tedious hours and often away days and weeks at a time working at the local hospital where we met. Claire is an exceptionally talented woman who makes patients feel comfortable and who is also adequately able to attend to the care needs of her patients as well as myself.
‘I didn’t want to disturb your sleep but YES my, I have met someone.’ She gazes at the floor wine in hand and proceeds to start her usual lecture about her latest squeeze as I glance out the window staring into next doors trying to catch a glimpse, peeking behind a curtain like a dirty peeping tom. Claire is detail orientated and a very critical thinker, we could be here for hours as she engages into her latest extravaganza.
‘Are we going out tonight?’ I hear her beckon. Out? It’s Monday? I raise my brow. ‘Oh come on don’t look like that,’ she whimpers again like a lost basset hound.
‘No Claire I’m exhausted, I didn’t get in until 2.00am, been awake since 6.00am and worked all day and now you want me to gather energy to actually manage a night out until 2.
00am, again?’ I sigh, returning my look towards the window. Besides I’d have to shower – I hate it – don’t get me wrong I do shower – It’s just the process afterwards, it physically pains me every day it takes forever, I couldn’t possibly wake up any earlier I’d never sleep, and if you are going out let’s be honest you really should shave your legs. I can almost guarantee 100% I’m going to feel like shit the day after I go out, especially with Claire.
‘What about this healthy eating plan you are always ramming down my throat?’
I quickly change subject. Claire is quite strict with her eating plan but, come on who is she kidding? She might think whilst intoxicated and stuffing her face that calories don’t count, but like this morning, she might just be in for a rude awakening feeling gross, bloated and pizza under the finger nails. Fortunately, this was not my case this morning. When I’ve got to go to work tomorrow morning, I think I will give this one a miss and save it for the weekend. She huffs in disappointment.
‘Don’t sulk Claire, I’ve just started a new case with Cross, he is giving me more responsibility.’ I hold her hand stroking the soft skin.
‘I’m sure he has. Just remember what he did last time he gave you more responsibility.’ The sarcasm is dripping off her words.
‘It won’t be like that this time; he knows I’m not interested.’ I murmur.
‘We will see, as long as he doesn’t ask you to bend over his desk so he can violate your poke hole. So, what did you do that was so enthralling today?’ She huffs and changes her tone. My mouth drops and I turn as red as a lobster, the mere thought of Cross at sixty something taking that next step curdles my blood. Besides at that age men are a little past that sort of thing, aren’t they? I crinkle my nose in perplexity and smile, filling Claire in on today’s new challenges and I relish the fact my career is finally taking off after a hectic start to the year. She seems genuinely interested.
‘Where’s that wine? My glass is empty.’ My eyes dashing around the room, pink wine makes me slutty and if I can’t go out I’m going to damn well make sure I enjoy myself here at home. I sigh in relief I can go a night without the anxiety and influx of options making plans for tonight. I will leave that to my very young and naïve house mate. I gulp and splutter stroking my throat, as the new neighbour emerges.
‘What is it Amy? What are you staring at, let me look, move over, ouch, let me see,’ she begs.
‘Stop pushing, it’s just our new and somewhat mm deliciously handsome neighbour,’ I casually murmur.
‘WHAT? Let me see, what’s he like?’ The eagerness in her voice makes me chuckle, it was only moments ago she was loved up with her new man.
‘What about this new man?’ Raising my eyebrows and cocking my head to one side.
‘Ah he’s a patient Amy.’
‘What about Patient-nurse rules?’
‘He is being released soon and besides I am allowed to window shop,’ she sulks.
‘Released? He isn’t a loony is he?’
‘AMY!’ We chuckle in sync.
A man about late twenties to early thirties strolls back and forth from the removals van and the front door. Tall from what I can see, intimidating, well dressed, white shirt, jeans, dark hair. My stomach flutters.
‘Go on then,’ she nudges; I stare at her with my big blue eyes as if to say piss off. ‘All men are not slimy warthogs,’ she states with her hands palm up in front of her.
‘Claire NO, I want to observe from a distance, but insecure frog he is not, he is probably married or … gay.’ My words slow, exaggerated. Who am I kidding. Go on, coward – the voice from within emerges. Hello subconscious, I wondered where you had disappeared to. There is absolutely no reason in the world that I, a fully fledged grown woman should allow myself to be put in any kind of deeply degrading and absurd situation as introducing oneself to the most exquisite being she has ever laid eyes on.
‘Claire in the words of Lupe Velez, “the first time you buy a house you see how pretty the paint is and buy it. The second time you look to see if the basement has termites.” It’s the same with men, I’m not rushing this time,’ both Claire and my sub-consciousness simultaneously mutter,
‘Coward.’
With a hand out stretched I introduce myself to the handsome stranger next door.
‘S h a r p e.’
‘Excuse me?’ He asks quizzically.
‘Amelia Sharpe, your neighbour.’ My voice softening immediately, that was definitely too abrupt. I point to the house next door with Claire peeking behind curtains. What are you doing Amelia you twat! The voice inside my head glares at me in horror. What? You asked me to do it, said I was a coward! Get a grip girl, you can survive this mortifying ordeal, you’ve done worse, even if your poor toffee sticky pudding is plumped up to the size of an army ant mound.
‘Hi Sharpe, Amelia, Amelia Sharpe, please excuse me.’ His brows crease, furrowing at the centre and his lips curl at the corners moments before he hurriedly chases up the removals van now leaving. My heart pounding within my chest winding me, I lick my lips, god he is beautiful. I slap my cheeks either side. Don’t fuck this up Amelia, my subconscious lectures.
He turns towards me and makes his way over walking elegantly running his hand through his dark hair and checking his shirt after his quick exertion, truly sensational. Slapped in the face of his exquisiteness I am stunned, I stare in bewilderment and something changes between us.
‘So… you are my neighbour? It’s lovely to be acquainted.’ His hand outstretched giving a firm handshake, his skin is soft as he radiates in front of the sun. I squint my eyes to see him and back off immediately noticing his perplexed expression of this freak that stands squinting and ducking in front of him. My lips part and the intense magnetism breaks as I am breathless standing in the bright sun and like a frightened animal I flee the scene.
‘I better be going,’ I murmur and leave him standing before he can answer and make my way back inside. My lips purse as I attempt a hurried shuffle to the home comforts of my bathroom to have a secret few moments to mentally wank myself. Give me a thesis on exsanguination any time. Men? I’m just a gibbering fool. Butterflies inside my stomach turn somersaults and I feel quite pleased with myself as I open the front door and find Claire jumping up and down like an excited baboon.
‘What’s his name?’ She begs.
‘Ermm…’
‘What was he like?’ The eagerness in her voice a little alarming. That I can answer.
‘Smart, polite, nothing wrong, a gentleman,’ I smirk.
‘Amelia,’ she pauses, “a gentleman is just a patient wolf.”’ Claire’s head tilts towards me nodding like one of those Churchill dogs in the rear window of cars.
‘What did he say?’
‘Not a lot,’ I answer.
‘You are very vague; you need to work on your social anxiety Amy. You are a beautiful young woman, nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘You’re right; I know my anxiety is distorting my thinking.’
‘You passed up a perfect opportunity out there, you pay too much attention to the bad feelings you have about your body.’
‘OK stop with the inquisition already, I have heard it a gazillion times, if you aren’t going out which it doesn’t appear so with your copious drinking, shall we watch a movie?’ I need to distract myself away from his breathtaking face, his beguiling smile; dark intense shrewd eyes and mouth watering body perfect for any budding Michelangelo.
‘Amy if you so dare put that Predator back on so god help me.’
‘What is wrong with Predator? It’s a classic!’ I answer.
‘What’s right with it? That creature is so ugly a beast that even I could sufficiently justify Sweaty Knickers’ hatred for it and why oh why would an alien species want to even invade planet Earth; to just swing from trees like Neanderthal apes and skin soldiers?’ She gasps, take a breath Claire, take a breath.
‘Sweaty Knickers? You mean Schwarzenegger’s? And I don’t know. That’s w
hy they call it a movie,’ I answer slowly.
‘How would something like a retarded bulldog looking based creature even be over come by a mere human and bother in hand to hand combat when it could just zap Arnie or “beam him up like Scotty?”’
‘You think way too much into things.’ My eyes alight and roll at Claire’s amazing one minute review. ‘I just want a bit of action after today’s events for a movie that old you have to admit the special effects are extraordinary and the location is incredible. I might be heading somewhere similar soon for work hopefully.’
As we sip our wines we watch “Sweaty Knickers” as Claire refers to him and a mercenary team of equally pumped up muscleheads fight an icky alien invader with dreadlocks wearing futuristic camo gear. Claire is right about the movie on some aspects, the beef cakery reaching hilarious proportions but I still enjoy the film none the less.
‘OH…my…god,’ she yells as she stands in front of the television re-enacting fight modes swinging her arms from side to side and re-enacts the famous goring disembowelling scenes.
‘Will you sit down?’ I gasp.
‘That reminds me Amy, I’m away for a few weeks.’
‘When?’ I quiz.
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Thanks for telling me.’ I groan.
‘I’m telling you now; don’t get up to anything I wouldn’t,’ she smiles.
***
CHAPTER 2
‘Damn you,’ I shout at my hair, how can some people just have perfect hair never a hair out of place? Horrendous morning mess again, a shower will fix it– wet hair always the solution – yes sexy fresh out the shower look, but I'm not shaving, too bloody cold for that.
It’s Tuesday morning and the days are dragging on. Claire is away at the moment having left early this morning; I don’t know how she does it. I'm glad I only had a few glasses last night, my mirror image a little more forgiving than yesterday. The kettle whistles from the kitchen, a cup of PG Tips calling my name, I cannot be dealing with this coffee rubbish. I glance up to see the morning sun shining through the window and see Him. I smile; he's like Christmas morning, just delicious, jeans, white shirt, short dark hair, wet from what I can see, fresh out the shower? Mmmm…delish. He really should wear a health warning sign with “you are required to need at least four orgasms and a shot of JD (Jack Daniels) when in company.” Wait, where is he going? He's walking towards my house! Shit.