***
“See what?” Carole watched Vincent rub the side of his head. That was worrying. He had an odd expression which made his features look ugly. She’d seen him wear it quite a lot recently but was surprised to see it now – she could forgive him, obviously he was distracted because of the past...because of the present...
Vincent stared out of the window. He didn’t feel right. There was something about him which felt different. As if he wasn’t wholly in his body and that he was just settling into his own skin and bone for the first time. One thing he wished though and that was PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR FIVE MINUTES WILL YOU? What the hell was he doing with her anyway...didn’t she realise he wanted to be alone...just him and his memories...
...she, on the other hand, was dying (damn, poor choice of word) to wipe that solitary tear which had been slowly creeping its way down his cheek for ages, but she didn’t. She kept her hands in her lap and her tongue in her mouth.
The journey (at least from her point of view) had been one of silence. She’d checked her cell several times but there wasn’t really anything of interest. A couple of people had asked about Vincent and how he was doing and one or two also wondered about her and if she was coping. Carole didn’t respond, she didn’t want to piss Vincent off, not after everything... she would have to keep an eye on him though.
Perhaps today would bring some kind of closure – that’s what she hoped. She’d noticed a change since...well, since it happened. He had once been so placid but now, wow, the way he could fly off the handle at the slightest thing that narked him – it was as if he had become another person altogether. She half-wondered if she had made a mistake but then shook her head, no of course she hadn’t. It was what he would have wanted – she had to remind herself that whenever it got rough or if he was rude to her.
As it soon became apparent he wasn’t in the mood for talking, Carole looked out through the other window. The sun was shining, the land was colourful – but in her heart, there was a constant bleakness. She hoped...
...well, what did she hope?
“Do you know who Thomas was fucking? Who he was with when he died?” Vincent enquired after a while.
Ah, there was one thing she did hope: that Vincent never found out that truth.
***
“I haven’t eaten oysters in such a long time; these are delicious, don’t you think?!” Carole’s mouth was running away with her. Too many oysters. Too much wine. Vincent didn’t acknowledge her excited outburst. He was lost in his own world. She could see the cogs and wheels of his mind turning. She didn’t want him to dwell, to not remember...she knew some tricks to try and lighten the mood but then shrugged, what was the point – it probably was a losing battle. She took a massive gulp of her wine. And that was why she hadn’t answered his earlier question, and yes, whilst he had continued to stare at her – eventually he began to talk about other things.
They were at a restaurant in the Cap D’Antibes because apparently it was Thomas’ favourite – that was what Vincent told her when they arrived. She replied that she was surprised by that but then again, if truth be told, was she really? She had never actually been a friend of Thomas’ – Vincent yes, but not him.
Fuck (she thought as she finished her glass and poured some more of the gorgeous red), if truth be told she had never liked Thomas from the get-go. There was something about him – yeah, that’s right – something about him that she didn’t trust. He had called it confidence. She called it arrogance. And look where it got him?! Six foot fucking under.
It wasn’t just arrogance – it was more than that – something hidden deep behind his eyes. They reminded her (yes, cliché alert!) of sharks eyes. Dark. Black. Cold. The worrying thing now was that she had seen that same look in Vincent’s eyes – hopefully, hopefully, it was only a phase he was going through.
Carole thought back to a time, quite early in their relationship when the three of them had gone out together. Vincent had wanted to introduce his best friend i.e. her, to his new boyfriend i.e. him, and vice versa. Yeah, it had been a fun night but she couldn’t bond with Thomas no matter how hard she tried. She had wanted to tell Vincent to be careful, to watch out that quite possibly (and look how that turned out) if he wasn’t careful then he could be the death of him – but just as the ideal moment presented itself, he had whispered in her ear how he’d fallen hopelessly in love with the guy and how much Thomas meant to him and quite possible could be the one. The opportunity was lost.
She had to admit though (and as much as it broke her heart to say it) that she had never seen Vincent so happy before – particularly in those early days and he’d certainly professed his love for some real assholes in his time. She had swallowed her pride and kept her opinions to herself. The following eighteen months or so she had – every time the three of them were together anyway – kept a smile on her face, laughed at all the right lines and pretended that everything was fine and dandy.
But now, fuelled of course by the alcohol, she really really wanted to tell him the truth – she wanted to tell Vincent what a complete bastard Thomas was (yeah, she had personal experience of that) and so she started: “Vincent, I’ve kept this quiet about this but perhaps there is something you need to know...”
He cut her off, smiled and said: “Thomas really loved you. He thought of you as a true friend. Someone who had his back.”
Carole murmured: “That’s nice.” She took another sip, fuck it then – perhaps she should just let bygones be bygones. Thomas was dead and gone. Vincent, a little battered and bruised, was still here – maybe he didn’t need to hear the truth, so why spoil things?
After a while he stated: “You’ve gone very quiet.”
“I was just thinking. But I’m okay. Honestly.” She slurped at another oyster, dropping the empty shell on the tray in the middle of the table. Vincent dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a serviette. He looked perplexed. “I wanted to say that Thomas and I came here all the time.”
“But you didn’t?” She knew the answer before she asked the question.
“Twice. Three times maybe. I’m unsure.”
Well, that was something which was true. He did seem confused. She knew of course why this particular restaurant as soon as they’d walked through the door and saw the attractive blonde boy standing there (who had EVAN on a name-badge on his chest) meeting and greeting the customers. Thomas had been fucking him. What a cunt, even in death, rubbing it right there in Vincent’s face. He couldn’t have been that naive surely about what Thomas was really like?
“Well, the oysters are excellent.” Carole drizzled some Tabasco sauce onto the last one, put it to her mouth and let it slid between her lips, onto her tongue, down her throat.
“Aren’t they? Though I do find snails a lot lot tastier,” he replied, with no sense of irony.
She was positive however, that there was some insincerity.
***
“That bitch really hated me – I’ve told you that all along haven’t I? I guess you know now that she tried to fuck me...yeah, you heard me – incredible right?! You and I had been going out for six months or so – we’d gone...clubbing, yeah: ROMAIN’S. The place that shut down...I’m not surprised about that either by the way. She snarled at me that I wasn’t good enough for you. She said that she didn’t even think I was gay and that I was just gaming you for your money...I told her about all the dicks I’d sucked and taken up the arse but it meant nothing to her. She was relentless. Fucking evil. I think you had gone to the bar or even the toilet and when she thought no-one was watching she put a hand on my thigh, then between my legs. She grabbed my junk and I mean – can you fucking believe this?! I actually got hard. She undid the zip of my trousers, stuck her hand right inside my pants and whispered in my ear that we could go out back, into the sex room and fuck. What a bitch, using her cunt as a weapon – did they even let women into the sex room?”
“That’s just so fucking typical.
”
***
“What is?”
Vincent was scowling but his face softened. “I was miles away. Remembering something I shouldn’t have.” He sat forward, drummed his fingers on the table – that was something she had never seen him do before but she did recognise the action – her heart fell, though she quickly recovered, just in case it was pure co-incidence.
“It’s strange, when I think of him,” he said as he tapped his head. “I can only get so far and then a shadow creeps across my mind and blocks everything else out.”
Shit, shit, shit. This had been an error hadn’t it? She realised...one big...no, breathe, breathe, breathe...she shouldn’t have...she shook her head, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.
“I wonder what it means?”
“The shadow?”
“That’s what I’m talking about...” Vincent polished off his Chardonnay, signalled to the waiter he wanted another bottle.
The moment presented itself so she could change the subject – well, slightly.
“And how is work?” she asked.
“What? Oh, not bad. Recently we have been experimenting with some new technology.”
She pushed her plate away. Now her heart was in her mouth. She was blushing but could blame that on the wine. Under the table she clasped her hands tightly together, her fingers went white, her nails dug into her palms.
“Anything you can talk about?”
He paused (over) dramatically and then ensuring no-one was in earshot he whispered: “You really want to know?”
Carole grinned, giggled and replied coquettishly: “Why of course professor, tell me, tell me everything.”
***
“Wait a goddamned second, are you sure you should be doing this? It’s supposed to be secr...”
“But I thought you would be happy, you could sort out...”
“...no, I’ve told you before about her, didn’t I warn you...”
“...stop! Will you please just stop? I need to tell her, I need to know...”
“...please, don’t – why won’t you listen to me...”
“Can you just fuck off?! I’m not really in the mood for this bullshit...oh, sorry, let me get that for you.”
***
“Always the gentleman,” Carole said as Vincent opened the door. She stumbled inside. He walked around the rear of the limo and sat down next to her. He signalled to the driver and slowly the car pulled out onto the road.
“These silences of yours...do you mean for them to be so deliberate?” he asked.
She had to choose her words carefully, the next few minutes were crucial. “I’m just shocked if I’m honest. I have to get my brain around it all.”
Vincent rested a hand on her thigh, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t you think that something like this was inevitable? It’s quite exciting if you ask me – and to think that my company is at the forefront of all this new technology. We’ve been lagging behind the others for years but now...well, it is definitely a game changer.”
Carole waited as long as she felt possible before responding. Her words needed to be...right. She turned, stared hard at Vincent. “So what you are saying is that he’s right here now, with us, in this car. Well, technically not in the car but in your head?” She added a laugh at the end.
“Technically? Yes.” He paused for a second. “The essence of him anyway. Obviously the physical part we burnt this morning.”
“Indeed.” She smiled thinly. He wasn’t getting any of this was he?
“I suspect it’s a lot to take in in one sitting.”
Carole took several deep breaths – she wondered how far she could push him. “What is it like being you...I mean you must feel a little different?”
Vincent shrugged. “I’m not sure I feel any different...hearing another voice in your head does take a little getting used to. Do I have to explain the science behind it again?”
“I understood it the first time, back in the restaurant. I’m not an idiot,” she scoffed. She knew she had spoken rather harshly and Christ she hadn’t meant too (especially after everything!) but she didn’t like being taken for a fool (if only he knew). “Basically it’s a silicon chip which has been fused onto the side of your skull. It has become one with your brain and what was Thomas, his essence, has been imprinted onto that chip.”
“Bingo. It’s amazing what this world has become isn’t it...”
Carole shifted position so she faced Vincent more. She kept her voice as low as possible, she knew the driver was probably listening but didn’t want him to hear everything.
“I want to speak to Thomas. I want to test your technology. I want to ask him something that only he and I would know.”
Following a moment’s pause, Vincent nodded. “He’s listening.”
“Right, ask him...”
Vincent shook his head. “That’s not it works. He’s with us. Ask him yourself. There is no need for me to play middleman. His ears are my ears. His eyes are...” She noticed he was right about that as his voice trailed off – his face took on a slightly different appearance. He had begun to look like: “Thomas,” she whispered.
He stared back at her.
“Thomas,” she repeated. “I need to speak to you.” Suddenly all affections of being drunk had left her voice.
“What do you want Carole?” It was definitely him! Yes, he was using Vincent’s mouth but the voice was his.
“You need to tell me Thomas, what does Vincent know?”
“You are a fucking bitch Carole do you know that?”
“Yes, yes, you’re probably right and I’ll take that to my own grave. But you have to tell me...what does he know?”
“He thinks he knows everything.”
“But he doesn’t?”
“No. I’ve been able to block certain parts of my memory out. He can’t access them.”
“So he can’t hear us at this moment?”
“He can hear us, he just can’t comprehend.”
“Good. Good. So what does he know about that day? About the crash?”
He turned and looked out of the window. “This is all such a fucking mess isn’t it?”
***
After Carole and Thomas had conversed for a while they’d driven to her apartment. Slurring, playing the fool, she told Vincent she had some wine in the fridge and for her it wasn’t going to be a problem mixing her whites / reds, she was in the mood to get totally out of her skull – she needed to relax she said as it had really been one of those days. Draining. He had asked her if she had spoken to Thomas and she replied that she had and he wondered whether she had got everything she had hoped for. At that statement she had blushed and mumbled something. He smiled and looked pleased with himself that his technology was really proving to be a success. There would be no limitations on all this once he’d gone public and...he had talked and talked and talked and then said he had a headache and would it be rude of him to take a nap. She led him into the bedroom, had had lain down on the bed and within moments he was soundly asleep. She watched him for a little while before leaving, closing the door and pouring herself one fuck-off-large glass of wine and knocked back as much as she could in one gulp. Shattered she collapsed onto the orange faux-leather sofa and closed her eyes too...fuck, what had she done and was it too late to undo it? Answers to both those questions, in the Land of Nod, were not forthcoming...
***
Some unsettling days followed. Vincent’s dreams were always nightmares. He tried not to sleep, to stay awake as long as he could before finally succumbing. There was always that one image he couldn’t make sense of and that shadow...whatever the hell that was...it wouldn’t be shaken...he tried talking to Thomas, to ask him if he had any idea but for some reason Thomas wasn’t speaking – he could be like that, Vincent noticed. When times got tough Thomas was never to be found.
He threw some water on his face, dabbed at his reddened eyes with a
moistened tissue. He was holding onto the sink tightly. He was in one of his funks – something he noticed that was happening more and more frequently. He shook his head, stared at his hands.
And then at the reflection in the mirror. Damn, he looked terrible. But they would understand wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t they? Anyway, perhaps it was just his imagination...he needed to be on point right now and his professionalism was something he was known for. He could knock it right out of the park when the chips were down. He laughed as he thought of the continual clichés. What a jerk he could be at times.
A light tapping at the door brought him back into reality.
“Yes?” He tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. People were...no not just people, perhaps an entire industry...counting on him to get this right. Imagine the possibilities...
“It’s time,” another male voice called.
“Just finishing up and I’ll be right with you.” He dried his face, then his palms, in between his fingers, he brushed his hair, straightened his tie – made sure his teeth were clean, sprayed some fragrance on his suit, unlocked the door and stepped into the office.
Claude, his assistant, was waiting for him. His hands clasped before him.
Vincent smiled, it seemed such a long time since he had seen him in fact ever...he frowned.
“Nerves getting the better of you?”
“Not at all...” He looked around him. “I’m just a little confused. Has this place been decorated since I was last here?” But after a second or two he smiled, reached out, and touched his old friend on the shoulder. “I don’t suppose that is important. You know, it is good to see you. I’m glad you are here with me. Knowing you are by my side, I feel reassured.” He paused then added: “And how many have turned up to see the show?”
“A good couple of hundred easily. We needed to be...discreet but there is a full house as they say.”
“Just from the Hexagon?”
“No – no, representatives from all the major players around the globe.”
“With me as the star attraction.”
“Is there any other?”
Vincent took a deep breath. “We’d better get on with it then hadn’t we?”
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