Past Present Future

by Alexander, N J.

  We arrived at the lap-dancing club too early, so we decided to head into the city centre for a few drinks first. Rather than taking two cars we all crammed into Steve’s people carrier and managed to lose Maddy’s older brother in a multi-storey car park – deliberately; he was already hammered from drinking all afternoon. Maddy could sense that trouble was looming and considering she was still on bail, the last thing she needed was to be dragged into a brawl with him or anyone else he got tangled up with. They both had the same hot temper, so throwing alcohol at him was like hurling it at an already raging fire. We passed some time in a swanky wine bar, and eventually drove back to the club.

  It wasn’t quite the Moulin Rouge-type venue that Maddy and I had imagined. Where was all the magical lighting, glitz and glamour? Not to mention the lack of sparkly, diamond costumes. It was dark, tatty, and had a fusty smell of stale alcohol emanating from the carpet. It’s a smell you only notice when a club is empty. Apart from the scary-looking male staff that were obviously recruited to protect the girls, a few bar staff, and a couple of ogling lads in the far corner, we are the only ones in the club. The girls were heavily made-up; their angular, slightly wider faces indicated that they were probably Eastern European. They took it in turns to perform at the pole. Their underwear looked cheap and was badly fitted. They were clearly low paid and worse, probably exploited.

  We all sat in a row on one of the faux leather curved sofas overlooking one of the dancing areas, clutching our drinks, as though we were watching a theatre performance. Steve, as expected, looked embarrassed and was attempting to look elsewhere. Richard said he wasn’t that impressed with the place but was mentally critiquing the girls’ bodies – like he did to women on a beach; he somehow always managed to hone in on every flaw. Steve’s friend didn’t look that interested and was deep in conversation with his girlfriend. I wasn’t entirely sure but they actually looked like they were bickering with each other. He’d probably forgotten to mention where their night out was to be.

  ‘I need a pee, you coming,’ I said to Maddy. It was partially so I could find a temporary way out of the room.

  Even walking around the empty place to find the toilets made you feel conspicuous. I pushed my shoulder against the door to open it and was pleasantly surprised: contemporary floor-to-ceiling stone tiles in black and beige, strategically placed spotlights and white sinks with stone surround. All it needed was a few neatly rolled-up hand towels in a basket, and expensive-looking soaps.

  ‘I really can’t believe that this is where we’ve chosen to spend your birthday. Whose idea was it again?’ I said with a teasing smile, as I looked at her through the mirror and washed my hands.

  ‘I know, but you have to try these things…here, do want to top your blusher up?’ She handed her blusher over and then proceeded to re-apply her lip-gloss.

  ‘Why? Do I look pale?’ I asked, looking at my reflection again.

  ‘No, just thought you might want to, I don’t think the rest are enjoying it very much.’ Maddy had a laugh in her voice.

  ‘No shit, Sherlock.’

  ‘Right being though it’s my birthday let’s take a picture of us together. Where is your camera?’ Maddy asked.

  I flicked through the images we’d taken, there were loads of them but I spotted something intriguing on all of them. My camera had been playing up a few weeks ago when I was trying to capture William and Elyse on the first day back at school – that day every photo was blurred. This was different. Clearly Maddy hadn’t seen what I had seen as she continued to look at them.

  ‘Some are okay, but if they’re good of you, they’re bad of me. You wouldn’t think it would be that difficult,’ she said.

  ‘Errr…yeah, I would. But never mind that, look at the beam of light touching our heads, it’s on every single one. We’ve got one each. We look like we’ve been kissed by angels.’ I’d obviously got angels on the brain.

  ‘Oooh…yeah, spooky, but I hardly think that angels would touch us!’

  Laughing, I had to agree with her ‘It’ll be the reflection off the mirror, but it looks cool though,’ I said, giving a more logical, but boring explanation and dropped the camera into my handbag.

  ‘Come on, we’d better get back in there, they’ll be wondering what we’re up to.’

  As she pulled the door open, a moaning Richard greeted us.

  ‘You’ve been gone ages. What the hell were you doing in there?’

  ‘Taking photos,’ I said, as we walked back to Steve and the others.

  ‘Photos? How long does it take to take a photo? Anyway it’s crap in here, why don’t we go home?’

  ‘What? I encourage you to come to a lap-dancing club and you want to go home – I can’t do anything right.’ I couldn’t argue with the crap comment, but the irony struck me at that moment that we were in a lap-dancing club, and he was the one wanting to go home.

  ‘Actually, I’d rather have a kebab.’

  Steve had seen his escape route and was jumping through it with both feet. Steve’s mate looked half asleep as we all turned to him.

  ‘He’s been working long hours and he’s knackered,’ his girlfriend said. I almost believed her until he confessed that he was bored too.

  ‘Right…why don’t we all get a kebab then go somewhere else?’ Maddy offered a compromise and everyone but Richard agreed.

  ‘No, I’m going home, you coming?’ he said, turning to me.

  ‘What do you mean you’re going home?’ I was now feeling pissed at him for being so rude in front of the others, and on Maddy’s birthday.

  ‘I’m going home, are you coming or not?’

  ‘I don’t want to go home yet,’ I said stubbornly.

  ‘Well I do, so you either come with me or go with Maddy and Steve.’

  ‘Fine, so I have to go home when you want to go home?’ I was now feeling like a feisty teenager; furious at my parent’s unrealistic demands.

  ‘No, I said that you can stay with Maddy and Steve if you want to.’

  ‘But that’s not quite the same…is it?’ If this was a contest – I was going to win.

  ‘Do what you want, I’m going home.’ We were still arguing as we moved down the stairs to the exit.

  ‘What’s up with him?’ Maddy was speaking to me, but aiming her question at Richard. She knew exactly what was going on.

  ‘Says he’s going home.’

  ‘What – is he leaving you here?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What, abandoning you like he did on your birthday the other year.’

  ‘Yep.’

  Steve was convinced that Richard wouldn’t do it; I think his logic was that surely he wouldn’t dare do it twice to me. I don’t think that Steve would contemplate leaving Maddy somewhere even once.

  Richard started the engine of the car, as we all stood watching in the entrance of the club. Steve was still convinced he was bluffing until he saw him drive his silver Mercedes CLS through the exit and disappear from view. At least he’d exited in style, but once again he’d left me on a night out without any cash.

  I stood there trying my hardest to make light of it, but my anger was simmering away. He’d made me feel bad for choosing to stay out, over going home with him, and if that wasn’t good enough reason, I now felt bad that I’d been drinking and he hadn’t, but he agreed to that one so that Maddy could have a drink. Richard and I on nights out just weren’t suited: cinema, restaurants, meals at friends’ houses were all fine. But bars or clubs, that’s where the age difference revealed itself and caused a rift. Some things were just best done separately as this occasion once again proved to me.

  The night was ruined after Richard’s departure; everyone had lost steam and Maddy had started to stress about her brother – he wasn’t answering his mobile and she was convinced that he’d been arrested. So we stopped off for a kebab before heading back home. I walked through the door a little after 2 am.

  Richard’s sister had gone and William and Elyse were asleep
. Richard had gone to bed but had left the lights on for me, so I knew that his temper must have dissipated. My anger had subsided too. If anything, it had been replaced with sadness. Even Blue couldn’t be arsed to get off the sofa to greet me; he’d barely managed to raise his head as I patted it on my way past him to switch the laptop on in the garden room.

  I logged onto Facebook as I was still feeling wide-awake. Anthony Hope was online. In fact, he was the only friend showing as being online. It was strange that the space felt as quiet as the real world - the Newsfeed was static; it wasn’t continually changing like it did during the day. Anthony must have been out for the evening too, or maybe he was always on this late?. But then I wouldn’t know because it was rare that I was ever up at this time.

  I wondered where he was, where he was sat, what he was wearing and whether he was with his girlfriend? Thinking of his new girlfriend, no one had added any more comments to his Relationship Status change since earlier in the day, I noticed. I then clicked back onto the Newsfeed again, just as Anthony’s Status popped up at the top of my screen. It made me jump; like someone had secretly hot-wired my heart and then sent a jolt through my body.

  2:15 Anthony wishes you were with me…

  It was 2:15 – my watch confirmed when I checked it against the laptop.

  He’d just that second posted it, then strangely logged off immediately. God…it felt like it was aimed at me. I log on; he updates his Status within seconds, and then instantly logs off after posting it. I replayed the last few minutes of events in my mind. Obviously, the message was meant for his girlfriend…I tried telling myself. It irritated me that I’d even allowed myself to think that it was aimed at me. I couldn’t even face my own secret thoughts or had I just faced them but was still trying to deny them? It was too early in the day for self-analysis so I turned my focus on to my own Status Update.

  02:19 Nicole is thinking: 3 males, 1 Lap-dancing club…one wants a kebab, one is bored and the third falls asleep…Maddy we are just too bloody good.

  I knew Maddy would find it amusing when she next logged on. Thinking of Maddy reminded me of her brother. I thought about my Facebook quiz earlier in the day, and hoped that Maddy was wrong about him getting arrested. I said goodnight to Blue, switched the lights off and made my way upstairs.

  The en-suite light stirred Richard from his sleep and he managed a weak, ‘Hi, you’re home.’ I brushed my teeth, but couldn’t be bothered to take my make-up off and slipped out of my dress; lazily dropping it on the floor in a heap. I climbed into the bed, pulling the quilt snugly around me. Richard’s hand reached over to pat my thigh.

  ‘Did you have a good time after I left? Where did you go?’ he still sounded sleepy.

  ‘For a kebab and then back here.’

  ‘So you didn’t go on to another club?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So…I didn’t miss anything by coming home then? Are you still angry with me?’

  ‘No and no.’

  ‘Okay, night night Little N, love you,’ and he patted my thigh twice again before rolling back onto his side.

  ‘Love you too…night.’ I said. I fell asleep thinking about Anthony Hope.

  The mere fact that we’d spent most of the night driving around in a car, rather than getting hammered, paid off tenfold the next day as William and Elyse were particularly hyper. The rift between Richard and I seemed to be forgotten, but lap-dancing clubs, he decided, weren’t for him. Maddy had been right about her brother – he had been arrested. It wasn’t his fault though – he’d been ripped off by a taxi driver, who drove off with his cash while he was standing at a hole-in-the-wall trying to get enough money to cover his fare home. As he kicked off at the side of the road, a police van happened to be passing and picked him up. Maddy brought him back around lunchtime, but the whole thing made me think again about the timing of the questions on that stupid Facebook quiz.

  This was one of those grey, miserable days and even my skin looked grey. Richard had gone to see his mum at the nursing home; she had a form of dementia, which meant that she was permanently mixing up reality and imagination. Sometimes it seemed quite a nice state to be in; on the occasions where she thought that the Queen had been to see her, or her late husband had popped in – Richard’s dad had died when Richard was only nineteen. But sometimes she would tell you that she’d just had a lovely dinner with him, but now he’d gone back to base – he’d been an RAF man. Other times the confusion was too painful to see.

  I found a moment’s peace to upload the pictures that I’d taken with Maddy onto Facebook and, when I logged on, I spotted a friend request. It was from Richard’s wife who’d obviously decided to sign up. I agonised over whether to add her as a friend or not, but then decided that it was just plain rude not to. I noticed that she’d set her Relationship Status to ‘It’s complicated’ It was probably the most accurate description for both of us. I had a quick look at her page; she hadn’t really started to embrace the Facebook culture. I, on the other hand, was starting to feel like a real diehard pro.

  I’d managed to upload the last five years’ worth of holiday snaps on over the last few months and this latest album I decided to call ‘Nicole & Maddy Lap-Dancing In The Toilets…200 pics later’ – as just eight out of the whole lot were considered decent enough to be posted on there. The accidental beam of light slicing through the corner and the golden rays above our heads struck me again because it did make them look really mystical; in stark contrast to the depravity of our location. I thought about all the all strange and spooky things that had happened recently.

  I finally got around to getting dressed when Mum, Dad and Grandmama popped in to see William and Elyse, before they set off to see Lysander. He was our horse that we kept in livery at the stables in the next village. He lived in our field at the top of the garden until last year, but Mum decided to move him because he wasn’t weathering the winters without a stable very well and she was fretting that Elyse would get kicked now she was running about and not strapped in a pushchair anymore. But Mum and Dad always tried to tie both visits in together whenever they could, and, by including Grandmama, they managed to kill a staggering four birds with one stone. I could feel mum’s glare from the leather sofa at the far end of the garden room.

  ‘What are you doing on that laptop? Are you just going to sit there all afternoon?’ she said irritably. ‘Are you on that Facebook thing again? Tammy says you’re on there a lot,’ she added. Tammy was my brother’s girlfriend and worked in Dad’s office with Mum. As usual I was the odd one out, being the only family member not working in there. So I had a lot of egg on my face when my company failed and theirs was still ticking along. But that meant that Tammy got ample opportunity for harmless chitchat with mum and clearly my Facebook usage had cropped up in their conversations.

  ‘No…it’s okay – I’ll get off in a minute,’ I said, without looking at her and continued with my important research on Anthony Hope’s Wall. I was intrigued, because Anthony’s Relationship Status had changed from ‘in a relationship’ to ‘it’s complicated’. Why is it complicated? Is it because his girlfriend is married, separated or already got a boyfriend? I felt like a detective trying to solve a clue.

  But there it was again, that ugly pang of unwanted jealousy. It would have been so much better if I’d added him and he’d got married to someone in New York, or at least engaged; even a long-term relationship in this country would have been preferable to this. Unable to reach any further conclusions, I read through a long conversation on his Wall with one of his friends. He was chatting about his dad and the fact that his law firm was struggling with real estate being in such a mess in the States.

  I pulled myself away from the laptop in an attempt to be more sociable.

  The next day, at 19:00, my Status said:

  Nicole has changed her Relationship Status to It’s Complicated

  And the emails from Friends flooded in, wanting to know if everything was okay with me and Richard. Damn
…I hadn’t thought it through properly. Do I say we’ve had an argument or that I changed it to be the same as his wife’s Status? I thought about it and went with argument, a petty argument but we’re fine, and I told everyone that. It was partially true, as we had had a little fight earlier in the evening over Richard saying that we didn’t need our cleaner anymore now that I wasn’t working.

  A few hours later…

  Anthony is thinking that ‘complications’ are something you throw in your own path :-)

  Oh no…shit! Had his girlfriend coincidentally in less than one day left a husband, got a divorce or ditched another boyfriend? Or was it that he’d seen straight through me and was taking the piss? Oh shit, shit, bugger. I ran my hands through my hair. It could have been a coincidence or bad timing – I knew that. But what if it wasn’t? I was going to have to leave mine that way now – I couldn’t change it again, not now, not after that had just happened.

  Anthony was starting to make me suspicious.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sundays in our house were utterly boring. Mind-numbingly so unless you included the occasional imploding window of which Richard had still not bothered to show me the explanation he had. It was like the whole thing wasn’t even open for discussion. But this particular Sunday, appeared at the time to be no exception to the boring rule.

  Richard, as usual, had spread the newspapers right across the kitchen island; they spilled over onto the tall stools. For some reason he always prefers to read them standing up, with his reading glasses on, and football text on the television behind him. I walked into the kitchen to fill the water jug back up for the iron. As I walked towards the sink, an advert in one of the newspapers caught my eye. It was the Sunday Times, which had been folded in half and placed on the stool.