Don't Marry Thomas Clark
Page 17
Now what?
Going away would be the most sensible choice, I know – but I also know that, against all logic, and with the sole purpose of showing him that he’s wrong for once, I’ve decided to stay.
I look behind me one last time, and see my sanity, Mike, Rufus and my parents waving to me.
And then I turn back to look at the room, foreseeing my future: a slow decline, peppered with antacid tablets.
‘Good…’
As you make your bed…
I grab the handle, close the door and turn off the light. Thomas doesn’t comment. That’s something, at least! No, he just lays there watching me while I pick up my pyjamas from the pillow and disappear behind the bathroom door. I can feel his eyes glued to my back. To my skin. I stay in the shower longer than necessary to try and shake off the feeling, hoping in vain that water will also wash away that annoying sensation of discomfort that doesn’t seem to want to leave me. But it stays. In fact, it takes root and reassures me of its intent: it won’t give up until the divorce.
Resigned and lucid now, I faff about until I’ve been in there so long it’s starting to look like a kidnapping. I’m not tired and I hope that I’ll find him asleep on my return.
When I walk back into the room I can’t hear anything except his breathing. He’s lying on one side with his face to the window and his back to me. Rudy is no longer on the bed, which makes me think Thomas must have put him on the floor while I was away. How he managed to convince him, I don’t know.
Trying not to make any noise, I pull down the sheet, perch myself on the edge of the mattress and assume the same position as him, turning in the opposite direction. I already know that I won’t be able to get to sleep, but since there’s not much else I can do I try to calm myself by thinking about the fact that I’ll be able to get two or three hours of sleep in after he’s got up.
‘Are you going to be wearing that kind of lingerie for the whole duration of your stay?’ he suddenly asks, turning to me. His voice is gruff and barely audible, but I jump as though he’d shouted.
‘What do you care?’ I snap as soon as I catch my breath, before replying with forced indifference ‘That’s the last time you’ll be seeing my panties.’
Long gone are the days when all it took was a simple comment about my clothes to keep me awake through the night, my eyes wide open and consumed by the feeling of having committed some unforgivable mistake in my appearance.
I mean, if we were still kids, it might make sense. I’d be here now, curled up, reflecting, wondering, analysing every word in search of hidden meanings.
But unfortunately for him, we’re no longer teenagers in perennial search of consensus. We’re adults, for God’s sake! And it offends me deeply that he’s convinced he can still make me uneasy with these ridiculous games.
‘Good night!’ I snap in irritation, silencing all communication.
It seems to shut him up. He turns on his side and goes back to sleep, and I try to do the same.
Until after two interminable minutes I burst out, ‘What’s the matter with my underwear?’
‘You’ll have packed your bags by Friday!’ he laughs.
Chapter 21
Happiness is never having to say, ‘You were right!’ and at this precise moment I’m not feeling particularly happy. Rufus’s predictions all came true. The sharing-a-bedroom thing was only the start.
God, give me the strength not to put bleach on my cornflakes!
This week’s nearly driven me crazy. I haven’t had a moment’s peace. I start trembling as soon as I hear his voice, I’m constantly on the lookout for traps and ambushes at every turn and I don’t trust anyone anymore. Not even myself. You think I’m exaggerating? Oh no, not at all. It’s like walking through a minefield. Let’s say I’m in the garden, leafing through a book of Indian recipes, when…
‘Miss Price.’
‘Yes, Clementine.
‘The phone. It’s Mr. Clark.’
‘Err… OK.’ I put the phone to my ear without taking my eyes off my books. ‘Checking that I haven’t run off with the silverware?’ I ask coolly.
‘I’ve always loved your sense of humour,’ he says cheerfully.
‘What do you want? I’d like to remind you that, despite all your efforts, I actually do still have a life, a job and the odd unavoidable commitment.’
‘You sound as if you’re in a bad mood,’ he says sadly. ‘Has something happened, baby?’
‘Thomas, get to the point, what the hell do you want?’
‘Actually, I just wanted to say hello. Hear your voice. I missed you.’
‘Really, dear?’ I ask him, playing along. ‘And I missed you too,’ I lie sweetly.
‘Really?’
‘Of course,’ I say rapturously.
‘How much?’ he continues.
‘I don’t know…’ I stammer, taken aback. ‘About as much as a kick in the shin?’
‘Ah…’ He seems to have taken offence.
‘Mr. Clark, shall I put this on your desk?’ murmurs a voice in the distance. ‘No, put it here,’ he replies promptly, leaving me waiting. ‘We’ll check it as soon as I’ve finished with my fiancée. Have you met Sandy?’ he asks, suddenly cheerful again. ‘Sandy,’ he says to yours truly, ‘this is Arline Barnes, administrative manager.’
‘You’re not going to put her on, I hope?!’
‘There’s no need, we’re on speakerphone.’
I freeze. Paralysis. Collapse.
‘I was here in this meeting with my staff and I thought I’d introduce them to you,’ he continues as though nothing had happened. ‘You’re not mad, are you?’
Now do you see what I mean? I can’t relax, not even for a moment.
As busy as he is, he always manages to find time to see his family, organize dinners with friends and drinks with colleagues. Occasions on which he becomes an adorable boyfriend, always desperate to underline how deeply attached he is to me. The worst thing is that if at first he only tormented me in public, now he doesn’t even let up when we’re at home. He rings me up in front of his colleagues to remind me how special I am, with that voice… Grrrr! And he’s constantly sending me flowers, taking me out to dinner, to the theatre and to see sad movies, and he always remembers to take one or two pictures to post on Facebook, along with some tiresome, irritating comments about how wonderfully nice, sweet, adorable and blah blah blah I am…
God, I think I’m getting an ulcer!
I scan through my emails and I find myself staring catatonically at our last conversations. He’s got into a habit of sending me two or three emails a week. At first I ignored them, then I was forced to change my approach.
Subject: Hello sweety
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 11/07/2012
I’ve been thinking about you all morning. I can’t wait to get home to cuddle you. I’m thinking of making up an excuse and leaving the office in one or two hours at the most. What are you doing? Did you like the flowers?
I love you
Thomas
Subject: I hate Mondays
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 14/07/2012
Today’s a disaster here in the office. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away early. Aunt Josephine called to invite us to dinner. Told her we’d be there by nine. I’ll pick you up as soon as I’m done.
Thomas
p.s. When I left, you were still sleeping. You were snuggled up between the sheets, hugging a pillow and your face looked so peaceful. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.
I love you, baby.
Subject: Change of plans
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 18/07/2012
I do not know how, but we’ve finished early. I’ll be back in Canterbury tomorrow morning. Really sorry I had to go away. I hate knowing that you’re there on your
own, but I just had to go. There were some complications in the acquisition of a company and I spent the whole day discussing it with a bevy of angry lawyers. I’ve only just got back to the hotel. I tried to call you at home but you didn’t answer. I’m starting to worry.
Has something happened? If you can, message me. I can’t stand not hearing from you.
Thomas
p.s. Why don’t you ever answer my emails? Starting to think that they annoy you. Am I being too pushy? :(
Subject: PC not working
From: blackdeath85@me.com
To: teddybearinlove@me.com
Date: 18/07/2012
Sorry for not answering before, but I only checked my mail today. The computer was at the repair shop until this morning. I think I caught a virus when I downloaded some files from a Japanese cookery site.
My mobile phone’s been charging, but the phone here hasn’t rung. Are you sure you’ve got the right number? Just imagine, I actually thought you’d forgotten about me. I spent all night wondering when I’d be able to speak to you. If I hadn’t been afraid of bothering you, I would have phoned!
Sandy
p.s. Are you really coming back tomorrow? What wonderful news! As soon as I wake up I’m going to do some shopping. We could celebrate with a nice candlelit dinner, what do you reckon?
Subject: Re: PC not working
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 18/07/2012
That would be great. I was really hoping we could be alone. Can you cook?
Thomas
p.s. You never bother me!
Subject: Re: Re: PC not working
From: blackdeath85@me.com
To: teddybearinlove@me.com
Date: 18/07/2012
Yes, I’m planning a truly unforgettable menu!
Sandy
Subject: Re: Re: Re: PC not working
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 18/07/2012
You sure you do not want to go out to dinner? I wouldn’t want you to get overtired!
Thomas
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: PC not working
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 18/07/2012
Don’t worry. For you, this and much, much more! :)
Sandy
As I read back through the last message, an icon of an envelope appears on the monitor, informing me of the arrival of a new message. I leave the page and click on ‘Inbox’, unsurprised by the appearance of a familiar address in bold type.
Subject: Thinking of you
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 23/07/2012
What are you doing, darling? I just got back to the office and I found your five messages. I’m sorry that you were worried. I thought I told you I was out lunching when you called me at eight and I told you again when you called at nine, at ten, at ten-thirty, and, if I’m not mistaken, again at eleven and, shortly after, at noon, when you so kindly informed me that you had finally chosen the tiles for the bathroom. I’m so glad that you did – it would never have occurred to me to get a ceramic reproduction of the Mona Lisa above the bath.
Before I forget: I had lunch with Cameron Hill today. He says hello.
You know, while we were eating, I thought about last night. I didn’t want to say anything until this evening but I just can’t wait. Sandy, believe me – it had never been so intense. Taking you like that, without restraint or inhibition. Feeling you melt on my ton…
Bam!
I slam the laptop shut more violently than expected, my mouth dry and my heart pounding. Rudy, crouched by my feet, jumps up in fright and stares at me in amazement.
‘What kind of…?’
I decide to cancel it without reading further. No. I can’t. I freeze. Maybe just a little bit. Just to be sure that I hadn’t misread it. I open my laptop a few inches and take a rapid peek. I can’t see anything! Angrily, I open it properly and settle it on my knees, looking around all the time as though afraid that at any moment someone will appear and tell me what a pervert I am. Curiosity gets the better of me: I devour the rest of the email in seconds, reading so fast that I have to read it a second time when I realize that none of it has actually gone in.
Subject: Thinking of you
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 23/07/2012
What are you doing, darling? I just got back to the office and I found your five messages. I’m sorry that you were worried. I thought I told you I was out lunching when you called me at eight and I told you again when you called at nine, at ten, at ten-thirty, and, if I’m not mistaken, again at eleven and, shortly after, at noon, when you so kindly informed me that you had finally chosen the tiles for the bathroom. I’m so glad that you did – it would never have occurred to me to have a ceramic reproduction of the Mona Lisa above the bath.
Before I forget: I had lunch with Cameron Hill today. He says hello.
You know, while we were eating, I thought about last night. I didn’t want to say anything until this evening, but I just can’t wait. Sandy, believe me – it had never been so intense. Taking you like that, without restraint or inhibition. Feeling you melt on my tongue. Inebriated by your smell. The image of you lying there between the sheets has been all I’ve been able to think of, and it leaves me breathless. You looked magnificent, your hair spread out over the pillow and your bare breasts offered up to my eyes, without embarrassment. I’m getting to know sides of your personality that I’d never imagined possible. You’ve got inside me like no one else has done before, and the idea that you might not feel the same way is tormenting me. How did you feel when I took you? When you screamed with pleasure?
I love you more every day
Thomas
Is there anything more depressing than discovering that the only erotic letter you’ve ever received was sent by someone who would find a microfibre brush more exciting than you?
Subject: Re: Thinking of you
From: blackdeath85@me.co
To: teddybearinlove@me.com
Date: 23/07/2012
Hello darling. Wow, I was just about to call you! I’ve been out doing the shopping. I was so mortified the other night. You were right to be angry. I can’t keep wearing my old clothes. I stupidly embarrassed you in front of all your friends. I must admit, at first I was too upset to answer. Hearing you call me ‘tacky and embarrassing’ when you should be supporting me, when you should be my rock, just took me completely aback, but then the anger subsided. All this crying has done me good. It’s got rid of all the tension and made me think objectively. It can’t have been easy for you at all. You have a position, a reputation to maintain, and I threatened to compromise it all. It’s inexcusable, I know, but don’t worry – you’ll never be ashamed of me again. I’ve bought the best evening dresses, shoes, accessories, suits, and cocktail dresses, and I’ve been to the hairdresser to enquire about a new hairstyle – nothing too elaborate but suitable for every occasion. I hope I’ll finally manage to make you happy. That’s the only thing that matters to me.
As for the other night, I don’t know how to convince you of the sincerity of my enthusiasm. I feel awful that you’re still so worried, so insecure. Yes, it could have lasted a little longer, but we are both under a lot of pressure. It’s normal. You just need to let yourself go. You shouldn’t give all this importance to sex. It’s just one way, like any other, to tell you that I love you… OK, it was only five minutes, but so what? I can promise you that it was the best five minutes of my life!
Sandy
p.s. Unfortunately, my credit card’s got demagnetized, so I sent the bill to your office. Hope that’s not a problem.
I check it a couple of times and send it off with a cackle of wicked glee. Something tells me this will be the last time he’ll think about send
ing sexy emails.
Finally I can relax. I let myself sink into the chair and take a peek at the dozens of unopened envelopes scattered on the floor. When Thomas gets the bill, he’ll have a heart attack. That in itself is enough to put me in an extra-good mood.
I’m about to turn off the computer when a trill warns me of the arrival of another email.
It’s him again.
I open it, fearfully.
Subject: Re: Re: Thinking of you
From: teddybearinlove@me.com
To: blackdeath85@me.com
Date: 23/07/2012
I behaved awfully. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I’m just jealous. You looked so charmed by that businessman from Toronto we met at Robert’s. What was his name? Oh well, it doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse. You looked wonderful. You always do, whatever you wear. I hope you can believe me. For my part, I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you. If I’m not mistaken, you have a lot of new clothes to show off now, right? Well I’ve got a surprise in mind that will leave you breathless!
Thomas
p.s. You see? You’re so gorgeous that I can’t even control myself around you! Try and be patient. I’ve never been in love before.
Fantastic. I’ve just found the man of my dreams. There’s only one problem: he’s completely made up!
Chapter 22
‘It’d be nice to know where we’re going,’ I complain impatiently while I let Thomas take me to his car.
‘Like I said, it’s a surprise,’ he says, struggling to keep a straight face. I try and control my curiosity.
What’s the bloody rush?
I barely had the time to put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before he dragged me out of the bathroom. I tied my hair back with a ribbon and put on some make-up in the hallway as he put his laptop into his briefcase. The only thing that reassured me a bit was that he chose casual clothes: a shirt, a sweater and black jeans. It’s probably just the umpteenth visit to some relative or other.
‘What the hell did you put in here?’ he asks as he heaves my suitcase towards the boot.
‘The bare minimum,’ I mutter angrily.
‘For what? A trip to Mars?’
‘If you’d tell me where we’re headed, I might have been more careful choosing what to bring with me and what to leave at home.’