by E. J. Wood
‘Don’t,’ I whisper ‘please put me down.’
‘What on earth is this?’ he strokes the cut on my cheek; his voice is terse and direct.
‘Please don’t be mad.’
‘Amelia? You’re scaring me; do I need to put the kettle on?’
‘That sounds like a good idea.’
The tea is hot and burns my lips, which are already tender and swollen from my earlier ordeal. Guy is anxious and panics like a dog that has just lost its owner.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’
‘It’s Cross.’
‘Say no more…that fucking weasel.’
‘There’s more.’
‘More?’ his voice deepens and penetrates my ears like thunder.
I look to one side, unable to look at him in the face. I feel dirty, ashamed and worthless. Guy places his hand on my knee and kneels beside me beckoning an answer. I twitch and his face drops. His eyes widen, his pupils dilate and anger shadows his face. A demon has erupted. I gasp.
‘Did that fucktard touch you?’
I’m speechless and not three seconds pass before he yells at me.
‘ANSWER ME!’
‘YES, yes he did,’ I cry and whisper and before I say anymore he stands, grabs his keys and is out the door. The roar of the Jag sounds as he reverses out the drive way and screeches into the distance.
I hear a beeping sound near by, Guy’s blackberry; he must have left it behind. I stand and go in search finding it in the kitchen. You have 1 new voice message. I press re-dial on voice mail.
‘Guy, it’s me Olivia. It’s Harold, he knows, ring me.’
What the fuck? – My subconscious is stunned and wide eyed. I could do so much now but after all that has happened I have to remain cool and decide to reply struggling with the sword that pierces my heart which bubbles with rage and sadness of the days events. I realise the only person I could love, that truly understands me, is with someone else? My face and cheeks flush and envy envelopes like a tidal wave and the bubble bursts shattering me into a million pieces. I drop to the floor in the kitchen. My eyes water, my face reddens, I can’t move, a lump forms in my throat and agonises me to swallow. If I try to speak or move I know I will burst. My heart thunders and physically pains my chest as my stomach drops. I am numb as I embrace my legs towards me tight and envision my world crashing down.
‘Amelia? god.’ My eyes open and part themselves from the sticky residue on my eye lids awakening me from a deep sleep to see Guy hunched over running towards me throwing his keys on the side. The flood gates open and tears descend my reddened face as he picks me up cradling me tight in his embrace.
‘Please don’t cry.’
‘Where have you been? You left me,’ I state without a thought of the words leaving my mouth.
His face horrifies at my words. Suddenly a grey aura mists around him, a state of depression and a terrible weight as if a boulder is laid upon him. He loses his breath and my heart sinks further. Have I offended him? That was not my intention, or was it? Remember the voice mail. My subconscious reminds me. I take a deep breath and look at Guy in his big doe eyes and know nothing would ever be the same between us. I wipe my face from tears and step back away from him. My eyes are puffy and at last the tears had stopped. The tears had raked my body and I need a drink switching the kettle on. Guy stands still speechless and rejected.
‘I will never leave you; I swear you will never be alone,’ his words come soft and comforting and my innards tear themselves apart unable to comprehend the message from Olivia. It is not the right time for an inquisition and I nod at Guy in acceptance.
***
The ambrosial scent of the sizzling hot chilli peppers and garlic ascend my nostrils deep as I inhale watching Guy cook. Traditionally I love spaghetti with red sauce but Guy’s culinary skills are a world of their own. With parmesan cheese infused, I am in pasta haven.
‘What do we have tonight?’ I question as I lift my nose to scent the aromas cascading around the kitchen sipping on my Garrus Rose.
‘Spaghetti Aglio e Olio,’ the words falling off the tip of his tongue, he could be my Italian stallion.
‘You and your Italian references.’
‘It’s in my blood. At least that was what I was told at the agency.’
‘It would explain the dark hair and beautiful olive skin, hmm,’ the evocative smell and vision of him cooking relaxes me.
‘You need to eat Amelia; I like to see you eat.’ His tone changes and becomes more of a demand.
‘This isn’t another Italian trait is it?’
‘No, just my preference.’
I try to impress him in my only German, a language I am yet to hear him speak.
‘Guy?’
‘Yes my dear.’
‘Fick mich mit dem Fuß’ (Fuck me with your foot)
In a shock of horror Guy stops stirring and with raised eyebrows answers.
‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea Amelia, then you really would have a Fanny Chmelar.’
I scoff ‘a what?’ laughing at the play on words.
‘Fanny Chmelar is a German former alpine skier.’
‘Is there anything you don’t know?’
‘No, not that you’ve come across yet,’ he smiles smugly.
‘Asshole.’
I don’t indulge in spaghetti often as it is the ultimate comfort food. Tonight is one of those nights where good food and a movie helps numb the mind away for all stress, to not think about much and just relax. I change into my romper suit for adults and prepare myself for this winters evening as dinner is almost served. Guy’s face burns with embarrassment as he views me walking out of the bedroom with my onesie covering me head to toe. I can only describe his expression as seeing the most ludicrous thing he had ever seen; but he remains quiet, his stare is intent.
‘The food is burning.’ I whisper.
‘Shit,’ he turns rapidly and removes it from the stove.
I don’t care what I look like as with the stress of today and the finding of Olivia’s message. My struggle with laces and fear of buttons make my onesie the perfect suit for an infantile slightly merry Amelia. Guy hasn’t looked at me since I left the bedroom in my cosy bunny hooded fleece romper suit, but the spaghetti is divine and the night could not have ended more perfectly. I struggle to block out today’s events and snuggle up to Guy watching Lost in Translation. They feel alienated and alone, not unlike myself despite surrounded by people and people that care. From what I can gather the moral of the story is to be comfortable with oneself. It is with oneself that ultimately is our lifelong companion and confidant.
Murray in a subdued, fond kind of way gives us wry faint comic gesture, as if to show what he could do, if he wanted to. Life is like that, a mystery of all things we could do if we really put our mind to them. I sigh as I sob. Why did I decide to watch this film? Known as profoundly a sad movie with moments of humour of which to be perfectly honest didn’t shed any light on my current mood. People are disconnected from those closest in upscale Japan, Tokyo to be exact. My chest is heaving and almost inhuman-like sobs deep from my soul with my heart kaleidoscoping. It reminds me of painful memories of my childhood and recent events. I have survived more. Sighing and inhaling deeply the tears dry and I clutch Teddy tighter as the character Charlotte is left in a hotel room as her husband runs away to photograph some bimbo. I hold the stuffed toy close to my face and snuggle into his fuzzy moth eaten fur. I look into his brown eyes and black nose remembering the tough times we have been through, even when I lost my favourite doll, or when Mom passed out most nights. He was there curled up with me with ample blocks of chocolate. I remember the day I got him, wrapped up in layers of bright crinkled paper, yes shiny gift paper, my little bear, my best friend, his little head held up all this time. Even now all worn, I remember our play times. I smell his fur and faintly the nail polish I spilt on him when I was ten. Through thick and thin I know teddy and I will be together forever
.
CHAPTER 19
A sudden succession of shrill rings cut the silence of my sleep and jolts me from my peace startled and alert. I peer towards the phone; it is a call from work and I hesitantly pick it up as Guy takes himself to the bathroom. I find myself in awe of his hard, lean frame as he walks nakedly away from me and I try to tear my gaze from the pale outline of his magnificent Adonis form. It is no use, and with his devilish good looks and handsome features I am shifted into a knowing grin as he glances over his shoulder catching me staring.
I sit up on the edge of the bed and with the sweetest voice usher,
‘Hello?’
‘DR Amelia Sharpe?’ the male voice is terse and direct.
‘Yes?’ I murmur.
‘It’s Stephen Fielding. I'm sorry to have to be the one to bring this news to you, but please feel free to call me if I can be of any further assistance.’
‘What news?’
‘There has been an incident; you are not required at work until further notice.’
‘What’s happened?’ I sit up right in bed and Guy shambles in from the bathroom running his hand through his hair and I smile.
‘Thomas Cross has been found, we believe murdered.’
My eyes suddenly widen.
‘What? How? Where?’
‘I am sorry I cannot divulge anymore information at this given time over the phone. If you wish to pop by the office I can discuss it further.’
‘I will be there.’
Holy shit! I end the conversation and pull the quilt up close as Guy climbs back into bed.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks quizzically.
‘There has been an incident at work. I need to go in.’ I keep my answer short and sweet; I don’t want to worry him after what had happened recently.
‘Do you think they know?’
‘About?’ I ask.
‘What Cross did?’
‘I don’t know.’ I swallow at the thought.
‘I will come with you,’ he states.
‘No,’ I shock myself at the sternness of my tone, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to shout.’
‘It’s OK, if you are sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ I smile stroking the side of his face. My Guy, so attentive ‘I don’t want to feel I can't do anything any more....even the simplest things.’
‘You can’t feel this way; you are a strong beautiful young woman, my woman.’
‘I feel so disgusted at myself and the memories, I’m a nervous wreck. I need to do this on my own.’
‘Ring me if you need anything, I will be there.’
***
Stephen Fielding is alone in the office and all the lights are turned off. A shudder trickles down my spine reminiscing the last time I stepped in this office only the day before. I glance around nervously, my eyes seeing sombre portraits and the room seemingly penetrating like a large cat hunting its prey. The aura has changed and this is not a good place to be. Light streams in through a crack in a door leading to Fielding’s office, casting eerie shadows on the floor and walls. I can feel someone watching me but the hallway is empty. I walk forward hesitantly swallowing forcefully continuing in the dark eerie bowels of the building. The shadows swirl around me and in a burst of panic I fumble on the walls for a switch before gaining the strength to continue towards the office. I flip it up and down but the room remains immersed in darkness and I frantically shake uncontrollably as fear sucks me in. Something brushes my back, I turn and see nothing. The wind howls and voices laugh, I scream fearful of being drawn in and drowned by evil with no escape.
‘AMELIA – I’m here,’ a voice ushers towards me concerned. It is Stephen, a large relief.
‘Never knew you were afraid of the dark!’ his voice is soft and comforting.
‘Cross, what has happened to Cross?’
‘Come, come into the office. From our first findings it appears he has suffered a loss of blood, a lot of blood. He was found on his living room floor with a penile defect; I imagine as a result of a traumatic accident, but it is more than likely suspicious.’
‘Penile defect?’
‘His genitals have been removed.’
I gasp and flashes of yesterday’s events torment me.
‘He’s dead?’ I question, genuinely concerned.
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Murder?’
‘We haven’t ruled it out.’
Suddenly I see light and am no longer afraid of the dark, darkness is loneliness and loneliness is darkness. The placid world I once lived in before all of this chaos now coming to light.
‘Please keep me informed,’ my last words confused, upset? How am I supposed to feel? Isn’t it normal to feel a sense of shock? To have physical and emotional reactions, dizzy, nauseous, numb or even empty? I know shock may affect people in different ways for I have experienced it myself when colleagues deliver news to loved ones. When they first hear news of death they may laugh hysterically. Shock is different for everyone but I have never ever witnessed an absence of emotion until now.
***
‘Where have you been? I have been worried sick,’ Guy questions as I walk through the door still not fathoming my feelings towards the unwelcoming news.
‘I had to go into work; Cross appears to have been murdered.’
Guy’s eyes change to a deep seated rage and repressed at the core.
‘Guy? Please tell me no?’
‘I did it for you,’ the words slip from his tongue, no, this cannot be happening. Only free moral agents can commit an evil act, please not Guy.
‘You don’t understand Amelia. When I found out what that scum did to you, my blood boiled. I cannot express how much anger I felt.’ Guy’s usual pleasant demeanour vanished as he explained to me his feelings upon finding out about Cross. His face contorts in consuming anger. His eyes are flaring and his plump lips form a thin quivering line. Not sure how to react he erupts like a volcano and his fists tighten as he draws near.
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ I beg.
He stops and his eyes widen, the anger vanishes as quickly as it came and he stands back horrified.
‘Amelia, I’d never hurt you, I promise you, I will take care of you.’ His words are genuine and are hurt by my comment. Oh Guy please, please. The water welling in my eyes as I sigh.
‘It’s just…’ I start.
‘From before?’ he asks.
‘Yes,’ I answer.
‘In good time Amelia, please, you will understand.’ Would I? How could I?
‘I believe you. What have you done? How do you know where he lives?’ as soon as I ask the question my eyes roll. Guy and his connections.
‘I wanted to make sure he never hurt anyone ever again.’
‘You cut his dick off!’
‘You know about that then?’ his mouth creases and he looks to one side.
‘Fielding told me everything. He was found in a blood pool on his living room floor. He left the office yesterday erratically, we can both guess why and he raised some concern and by the time anyone found him it was too late.’
‘No one hurts you Amelia. I promised myself that a long time ago,’ he states and all I can think of is how he must have been an exception to the rule when I woke up in that dungeon!
‘And a thump in the face was not sufficient?’
‘Listen, you are thinking too much about this. It won’t be traced back; I fed it to the dog next door.’
‘Jesus and that is supposed to make everything alright? That you got away with it?’
He steps closer to me and places his hands my shoulders.
‘Amelia please, whatever happens, you need to understand that I have never loved another woman. You are my everything and to think someone has harmed you infuriates me more than you can ever imagine. Never ever please think that my love for you is a lie.’
***
A Hummer Limousine is parked right outside the entrance, sleek with black tinted windows, sure enough the driver
waiting patiently for its diners inside. It is huge and I always believe that Hummer ownership is kind of like hiring a Hollywood pyrotechnic company, definitely overkill and hugely expensive albeit almighty impressive although the testosterone IV drip styling really is not my thing.
‘You like?’ Guy smiles as he glides me towards the door.
‘Little too crass for me.’
‘It isn’t that long ago they were the preferred status symbol among the celebrity set.’
‘Hmm and all I can think of is a gas guzzling SUV.’
‘A gas guzzling SUV is not of any concern among the elite.’
‘Well, I am clearly not of the elite and will stick with my less gluttonous fuel appetite Caddy.’
He smiles and tilts his head to one side stroking my back.
‘Come on you, I have a surprise.’
The Jefferson Hotel’s old world ambiance is delightful with its careful Virginia touch and cobble stone entrance. It is a boutique hotel with stylish well trained and courteous staff and I have never quite experienced anything quite so fine. As a uniformed member of staff approaches I know this is going to be an outstanding experience.