by NC Marshall
Things had changed between them lately. Jess barely spoke to Dan on the rare occasion that she saw him. I could see that he was finding Jess difficult to tolerate, too. He barely even listened when I spoke about her anymore. I didn’t understand why, and still don’t. Maybe it was because she was such a strong person. She could be outspoken and opinionated at times, much like Dan could, so maybe they had been too alike. He had tried to put me off going to her apartment, but I had disagreed with him and gone anyway, knowing that he would be unhappy I had gone against his wishes. What was I supposed to do? She was my sister. Dan didn’t have any siblings and admittedly had been raised as a slightly spoiled only child. He could never understand.
When I arrived at the apartment, Jess met me at her front door and I cuddled her tightly. I can remember feeling her small frame in my arms. She had always been thin, but recently she had lost more weight and seemed so fragile and vulnerable. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and her long hair was tied messily into a loose ponytail gathered at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a pair of ankle length black leggings and an oversized pink sweat top which hung loosely off one shoulder, baring the pronounced edges of her collarbone.
I followed her into the living room and sat down as she went over to the kitchen and opened the fridge door. I watched as she poured herself a reasonable sized measure of neat vodka into a coffee mug and proceeded to switch on the kettle to make me a cup of tea. I didn’t make any attempt to tell her not to drink the alcohol. I had learnt from past situations that this would only lead to her ignoring my plea and doing the complete opposite by drinking even more. She had never liked being told what to do. I wasn’t optimistic enough to believe she was about to start now.
She came over with my tea and handed it to me, smiling warmly as she sat down next to me on the sofa. Although she was still drinking, she seemed to have sobered up somewhat to how she had been when I spoke to her on the phone earlier. She was now able to string together a sentence to a moderately good standard.
“So what’s up, why has your day been so bad?” I asked her coolly, trying not to sound as though I was speaking to a six-year-old after a bad day at school. I didn’t want to patronise her, I knew that if I did it would only add fuel to the fire.
“I just keep screwing things up Nat,” she replied, rubbing at her reddened eyes as they filled up once again with tears. Suddenly, without any warning, she slammed her mug down hard on the table in front of us, making the legs wobble slightly and making me jump. I was surprised that the force she had used hadn’t caused any damage.
“I thought things were already bad enough,” Jess said loudly. “Matt and I are arguing all the time, we just can’t seem to get on at the moment. Things are getting worse between us, Nat.” She paused and took another drink. “And just to top things off, I was fired today. So I am now unemployed too!”
I tried to act shocked, but in truth, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest by the fact that Jess had lost her job. It had been a long time coming, to be honest. Greg, her boss, had been more than fair with her, especially over the past couple of months, and I assumed his tolerance levels towards her had eventually vanished.
Jess had worked as a writer for a magazine since her return from Australia. She had been lucky and managed to secure an excellent position six months after she returned home from travelling. The magazine was the rival brand to the one published by the company I had worked for, before I left to have Josh. Jess and I used to joke regularly about how competitive she was over which company was doing better. Usually it had been hers, which I knew was largely due to the work that she did there. She had written a monthly feature based on the latest celebrity gossip, and Greg had fallen in love with it, and I suspected, a little in love with Jess, from the moment she started working for the company. Her work had been so creative, witty and even humorous at times. It would always leave you wanting to read more, and she had a lot of followers.
Lately, however, Jess’s work had started to slip. Her article was now a lot smaller after Greg had taken the decision to cut back on its space due to falling sales. Its reviews were plummeting, and it lacked the depth it had once boasted. It had become unimaginative and appeared repetitive and dull, losing the flair that had set her writing apart from other articles in its genre.
She had also taken far too much time off work. This was usually due to nursing a hangover or being simply too tired to be bothered with attending. Even the times that she was there, she was always running late. Although Greg supported her in any way he could, I suppose his patience had ultimately worn thin. He had been left with no choice but to let her go. I thoroughly understood from his point of view.
Jess had continued on with the story of her day. She waved her hands in overly dramatic gestures, as she called Greg all the names under the sun. The poor guy didn’t deserve it. All he had ever done was look out for Jess and had given her opportunities she was oblivious to.
Vodka from her now almost empty cup spilled onto the expensive white leather sofa. She looked down at it, unbothered. I leapt to my feet, searching the kitchen for a cloth to mop it up, suddenly finding her nonchalant demeanour somewhat frustrating. I tried to console her in the best way I could, telling her that she would find something else but that she needed to pull herself together, and she understood that only she could do that. We also talked about her going to counselling, a subject that had been mentioned throughout the family on numerous occasions recently. We were all so concerned about her well-being. She hadn’t gotten over Dad’s death, that was obvious to see. The way that it had happened, and the fact that she hadn’t been there when he died would always haunt her.
The conversation had ended with her agreeing that counselling would be a good idea. Although, I didn’t know how much of her willingness was just the drink talking. I desperately hoped that this wasn’t the case. She had objected to the idea so many times previously.
Finally, Jess stopped crying and calmed down. She had started to look tired, and I could see her eyes growing heavy. I helped her into the bedroom, and she staggered to the bed to lie down on her side. I pulled the covers over her and drew down the blinds to the windows overlooking the city below. The sun was just starting to set and cast a bright yellow glow across the whole room. The room instantly darkened from the shade, so I turned on the small bedside lamp. I stood next to her until her eyes closed; she immediately fell asleep. I went back into the living room and called Matt on his mobile, explaining what had happened. He was on his way back from work so I knew he wouldn’t be long. I busied myself tidying up the messy apartment. I cleaned the kitchen surfaces, then got rid of the almost empty bottle of vodka that had still been standing on the kitchen counter. I threw the small amount that was left in it down the sink, then put the empty glass bottle in the outside recycling bin. It’s not that I was trying to hide the evidence from Matt, but he didn’t need to witness the extent Jess’s drinking had reached that day.
Matt arrived home soon after and thanked me again for being there. He went into the bedroom to check on Jess, who was still sleeping deeply. I felt truly sorry for him, as I knew how much he loved Jess, but she was always pushing him away. He couldn’t get through the barriers that she had built up around herself anymore. He looked so tired. It had broken my heart to see him in the state that he was in. I think that at that stage he had lost both the strength and determination to keep trying anymore.
At that point, I remember feeling guilty at the fact I was so happy with my own life, while my sister’s was steadily falling apart around her. I left the apartment that night feeling a strange sense of gratitude for what I had. I hoped and prayed as I never had before, that Jess would get herself pulled back together. Hopefully, with some professional help, her life would be built back up, bringing back with it the woman that she used to be.
Unfortunately, that never happened.
Back in the present day, and at this moment in time, I don’t possess the same feelings for Matt
that I once had. Up until now, I had felt sorry for this broken man who had lost the love of his life and had been left battling for a new start, forced to face the world alone. Now, I’m not so sure that everything is as black and white anymore. My confusion is growing, and with it I am beginning to develop a feeling of unease around him, which I admit is totally unjustified. I hadn’t yet allowed him to tell his side of the story, but I can’t shake the feelings I am having. I’ve known Matt his whole life, but I am now wondering if I truly know him at all. Once again, I scold myself about these feelings, I know that there is not one ounce of real and substantial evidence in sight.
Matt comes back over to the sofa and hands me a cup of tea. I take a sip too hastily and burn my tongue. Ouch damn it! Matt balances himself on the arm of the chair opposite where I sit as he looks at me, cocking his head, as if wordlessly questioning my reason for being here.
“I’ve had another dream,” I say bluntly, wanting to get quickly to the point for both our sakes. My voice is monotone. I barely recognise my own dark, heartless sound. Matt looks concerned and moves forward towards me. I edge away from him. The move is only slight, but I still think he’s noticed.
“The recurring one you've been having... about Jess?” he asks, nodding, apparently interested in what I have to say. I know that Ryan told him about the dreams a while ago, so am not surprised by his knowledge of the matter.
“Yeah, only it’s not recurring anymore,” I say, glaring at him hard and straight in the eye, holding my stare. “The dream has moved on. It’s changed now and taken a turn that has quite honestly freaked me out a bit.”
“What kind of turn?” Matt asks, moving forward and putting his coffee down steadily on the table, frowning. I resist the urge to back myself any further away from him.
“Jess called you, the night she fell, asking you to go and meet her. Were you there, Matt? The night she died, did you go to see her?” I ask.
The question snaps out of my mouth before I even have a chance to control my words. One part of me instantly wants to take it back, to pretend nothing is wrong, but another is relieved that I had the vigour to ask.
Matt’s mouth drops open and a look of utter astonishment momentarily crosses his face. He looks as though I just stabbed him in the chest with a red hot poker. I now know I have his full attention as I proceed to tell him the whole dream, in detail, describing the images just as I had seen them. I fall silent when I finish, and wait anxiously for his reply.
Matt’s response isn’t quite as I had pictured. After staying quiet for a few seconds, he suddenly erupts, his face red with fury. I see a glimpse of a side of him that I would never have imagined he possessed. He stands up, abruptly folding his arms and then places one hand under his chin. He paces the floor back and forth in front of me, before finally responding to my shock accusation.
“So you think that I lied to the police, and to everybody else that I’d not seen Jess that night?” he retorts. His voice is uncharacteristically loud, it’s tone irate. “You know damn well that isn’t true Natalie! I hadn’t seen anything of her since early that morning when she packed some stuff in a rucksack and went to stay with your mum at the lake.”
I knew that part was correct. Jess had called me on the morning of the day she died, telling me that she was going to stay at Mums for a couple of days. She didn’t go into any detail, but said that she and Matt had hit a brick wall, that she had needed some time to clear her head. She thought it was the best move for both of them. Matt had agreed.
“Jess did call me that night and left me a message to meet her, but I was so hammered I can’t even remember listening to it. Your brother even had to put me to bed, I was so out of it.” He bows his head, lowering his aggravated voice and stares at the floor. He fixes his gaze on one spot and doesn’t look up at me as he speaks.
“I was hurt. We had words before she left for the lake. As far as I was concerned we were pretty much over. To be honest, I didn’t feel like talking to her, never mind going all the way to Milton Point to meet her. In any case the state I was in I don’t think she would have wanted to talk to me either.”
“What did you argue about?” I ask directly. I knew they had argued that day, but had never known the reason. Jess had died before she had the chance to talk to me properly about the row she and Matt had.
Matt pauses as if carefully working out an answer to give me. “The usual, just how she was being distant and pushing me away again,” he says. He’s lying, I know he is. I’ve known this man too long to be unable to spot the tell-tale signs that he isn’t being truthful with me; his blatant unease and change in mannerisms makes it evident. It’s like looking at him when he was twelve years old. The time Jess broke the kitchen window with a football, and Matt took the blame, unsuccessfully lying to our parents in case she got into trouble. His ability to lie certainly hasn’t improved with age.
“Ryan had put me to bed that night. It must have been about ten. The next thing I knew, it was two in the morning, and the police were hammering on my front door to tell me my wife was dead.”
I sit back in my seat with my hands tightly grasped together as he continues, wondering what they had argued about. It wasn’t their normal argument, that’s just what Matt is leading me to believe. Whatever it had been must have been bad enough for Jess to walk out and to make Matt feel that their marriage was over. I want to ask him again about the reasons she left that day to stay with Mum for a while, but I resist, knowing that it’s really none of my business.
“I wished I had spoken to her that night,” says Matt, his voice now lowered. “I listened to her voice mail the following morning. It was only then that I understood how much she had needed to meet me. She was desperate for us to talk, but by then it was too late. She was dead, and there was nothing I could do to change that.”
So she had called him that night. The dream was right.
Matt slumps back down on the seat opposite me, holding eye contact as he rubs the side of his face. His soft silky tone returns and he now talks calmly, back to the Matt that I know.
“So you see Natalie... your dream is just that—a dream. We all have them. Do you think I don’t still dream about her? It’s just your imagination, making up images and stories that seem real, but aren’t.”
He laughs gently, a sudden sadness clouding his face. “I wish we hadn’t argued and I wish I’d fought harder for her to stay. If I had, she wouldn’t have been at Milton Point that night, and she wouldn’t have fallen.” A single tear slips silently down his cheek. He rubs at it angrily.
I don’t know what to say. I want to believe him, but at this moment I can’t. The dream is fixed so sturdily in my mind that I can’t just forget it, as I would like. I had hoped that having a word with Matt would have made me feel better, but instead he has told me facts that I already knew and my confusion is just stronger. The room is silent and stays that way for a good few minutes. It’s Matt who finally breaks it.
“I think you should leave Natalie,” he says unemotionally, rising to his feet. His words are icy. I look up at him. My face is most probably full of guilt, but he doesn’t falter. He turns away from me, swallowing hard. I take on board that I am no longer welcome in his house and nod in response. I slowly move to my feet, pick up my handbag and make my way past him to the door.
I want to say I’m sorry, I want to apologise for making any false allegations. However, until these dreams end or show me otherwise, I simply can’t do it. Maybe I am just totally screwed in the head. Tears start to sting my eyes and I bite my tongue in an attempt to try to delay them. I lower my gaze as I walk out of the door. Matt follows me. I can feel his stare burning into my back as I leave. I have overstepped the mark to a massive extent. I leave Matt’s apartment silently. As I pass, I glance at the closed door of Ryan and Lola’s apartment a little further down the corridor, before I make my way back downstairs.
As I head outside, back towards the car, I have an intense sensation that Matt is s
till watching me. He’s most likely standing at the apartment window watching me leave. I have the urge to turn back around to look up and face him. But for reasons unknown to me, I'm too scared to. I’ve known Matt forever, but today I’ve been forced to see a side to him unfamiliar to me before now. So, instead, I keep my eyes focused forward until I’m safely back on the road and on my way home.
Chapter 11
I call Kate as soon as I am in the car. It’s only just gone two o’clock, but I know she has an earlier finish from work on a Monday. Josh is going to his friend’s house for tea, so I don’t have to pick him up until after five. I don’t fancy going back home to sit in the empty house alone and allow my mind to start roaming again. Kate tells me to meet her at work as she will be finishing soon, then we could go for something to eat in town. I gladly accept the invitation. I need someone to talk to, a logical brain to inject some kind of sense into this madness.
I pull into a multi-storey car park near the salon where Kate works, then leave the car and begin the short walk towards the salon. It’s now a cold and miserable afternoon, and the wind is freezing as I turn the corner to the large glass fronted salon on the main high street. I am glad of the warmth from the door heaters hitting me as I enter. Just a few minutes from the car park and I’m already numb through.
I am politely greeted by the salon staff as I walk in. Of course, they all know me well. A lot of them have worked here since Kate opened the salon four years ago. It was a far cry from the small little corner hairdressing place that she used to have. I am immeasurably proud of her for what she has achieved.
The salon is large, filling two levels. Street level is where the hair styling is done. The second tier above is used for beauty treatments. It is very fashionable, and the reputation of the place just keeps on exceeding itself. I’m sure Kate would have never imagined herself to own such a great place when she first started out all those years ago as an inexperienced, but ambitious teenager. Today, although Mondays are usually a quieter day, the atmosphere is buzzing as stylists rush round. Loud pop music blares through the speakers.