by Celia Hayes
“Ethan.” Practical, rational, confident. “I really don’t understand what you’re getting so worked up about. If there’s something wrong, then say it quietly, without making a scene. We’re both adults, we can discuss our problems calmly.”
“Are you taking the mickey?”
It usually works. Where did I go wrong? And I thought I’d chosen a reassuring, yet assertive, tone.
“No, Ethan, I’m just trying to solve our conflict in a civilized way.” And, okay, I admit it, when he looks at me like that, I feel my knees give way.
“Oh, really? To me, it just looks like you’re trying to beat a retreat.”
“Will you let go of me?”
“Annoying, isn’t it?” he says, still holding me tight so as to prevent me from leaving, and I start to find him terribly childish. “When you’re not the one in charge. When you discover that you can’t always control everything and everyone.”
“What is it that you want?”
“A reaction!” He shakes me. “So? Didn’t you say you wanted to solve our conflict in a civilized manner?”
“Exactly,” I say, trying to back away, but unfortunately I’m already half lying on the sink – another step and I’ll be sitting on the draining board. “But not now. Maybe another time. I don’t have time to waste. I have to work tonight. I know that’s hard for you to understand, but—”
“I have to work too, and yet I’m here. The pub is full of people, but I’m here. I have beer to unload, and instead, I’m here, wasting my time with you.”
“No one asked you to,” I snap, trying to free myself and grabbing hold of a cupboard handle. In response he lifts me off the ground and puts me back exactly where I was, between him and the sink, immobilized and totally at the mercy of his scent.
“Okay, you win, I admit it,” I give up. “It annoys me terribly – now will you stop?”
“No!”
“Ethan, for fuck’s sake stop it.”
This is all I need! I hate losing my cool.
“Ahhh, so you are a human being. Well how about that, I’m impressed!” he concludes with an expression of triumph. “Our Trudy Watts reacting to provocation. I didn’t think you would have lowered yourself that far. How very grown up…” he quips, placing both hands on the counter next to my hips. He’s so close that I have to lean back so as not to touch him. I can’t even look him in the eye.
“Ethan, if you don’t stop right away—”
“What will you do? Let’s hear it, what will you do?”
“Come on, let me go.” I escape from him, from his hands, from his gaze.
“You can avoid me, pretending I don’t exist! Trudy, I’m not Horace, or even that idiot, Adam. You can’t just make a few sarcastic wisecracks at my expense and hope I’ll go away with my tail between my legs. I won’t allow you to run away,” and he runs his fingers through his hair, demanding to be heard. “Trudy, look at me! I’m here, damn it, can’t you see me?”
“Yes, and you know what I see? That you’re just another idiot, exactly like Adam. And all things considered, not too different from Horace either.”
“Are you kidding?”
He stalks away, as angry as ever.
“I don’t think so!” I snap. “What did you expect? That I’d sit around waiting for you to decide to call me? One day you’re in bed with me, the next you call ‘Cookie’!”
What am I saying? I swear, I’d never even thought that.
As soon as I realize what I’m doing, I look into his eyes for some sense of indignation, disappointment – but no, all this noise for him is… is… normal?
“And did you wonder why?” he continues, unaware of the profound confusion in which I find myself. “You were the one who left,” he says. “You literally ran away. You were so afraid of what might happen, you didn’t want to take the risk of even finding out.”
“You didn’t do anything to make me stay” I retort.
“What should I have done? Tied you to the bed? Because if you want me to, I will!” he threatens with a dark, menacing face. He comes a few steps closer and I read something in his eyes that isn’t anger, but something I wouldn’t really… Because it isn’t really…
“Time out!” I scream hysterically, raising a hand. “Time out!”
“Wh… what, sorry?”
He opens his eyes, not understanding what I’m talking about.
“Okay…” I take a deep breath. “I have work to do. You have to go to the pub. And we’re too overwrought to have this conversation right now. So let’s leave it here for the moment. Let’s go back home, try to relax and when we have a minute, we’ll pick up from where we left off, okay?”
“What are you talking about? As soon as we have a minute? Leave it? Are you kidding me? I want to sort this out right now, I don’t give a fuck about the pub!” He exclaims.
“That’s not a very professional attitude,” I point out.
“Who gives a shit?”
“What do you want? What are you trying to achieve? Why are you arguing like this?”
“What do you mean? Because we need to, you stupid idiot! I don’t know how the hell to make you understand that you have to stop treating me like this. There’s nothing you can do about it – you like me, and, damn it, I like you.”
“But don’t you realize that the two of us have no chance of making it through even the first week of a relationship?”
“Why?” he asks, refusing to give up.
“Because you’re… You’re so… so…”
“Real?” he asks, embracing me. His hands run along my back, his fingers plunge into my hair, and his lips are on mine, biting me, sucking me, overwhelming me, destroying my every barrier.
I have no idea what happens next.
I don’t even have time to ask myself, I just know that he pushes me into the living room, his lips never leaving mine and his hands never ceasing to touch me or to undress me. He literally tears off my cardigan when we hit the back of the sofa; the lilac dress more or less ends up the same way over by the table, leaving me wearing a pair of black slingbacks and my lingerie.
I feel his body on mine and I find myself lying on the carpet, with his face covering every inch of my skin, his hands clasped to my breasts, then on my hips and even lower, taking off what’s still covering my tingling, tormented skin. I try to kick off my shoes while I tear at his T-shirt in a feverish passion. I don’t know how, but as soon as he realizes it, he throws it off and pulls me towards him, threatening and murmuring in my ear, “Don’t even try it.”
From that moment on, I lose control of what happens.
“I want you. Trudy, I want you…” he murmurs, almost breathless. “What have you done to me?”
He asks the question accusingly, as if all the blame for this was exclusively mine. Mine? It was him who dragged me into the kitchen, I wanted to go home!
“Don’t you move,” he commands, reluctant to let me go, and I peer over my knee and realize from his look that I won’t be going anywhere. I open my mouth to answer, but he doesn’t let me speak.
“Problems?” he asks, grabbing my thighs and pulling me towards him.
“I was trying to say ‘yes’!” I protest, clinging to the carpet to escape.
“Really?” he raises an eyebrow. “Good, I’d say that’s the right answer,” and he finally smiles at me.
*
I wake up after six, lying on my back completely naked, in his room, and…
No, tell me it’s not true… I’m still wearing my shoes!
I blink my eyes a few times and pinch my cheeks. It’s dark, but a bit of light filters through the curtains and I track down the door.
I can’t believe it, I did it again. I actually did it again!
What the hell’s the matter with me?
Incredulous, I slide off the bed being careful not to make any noise. He appears to be in a coma, which means that I have a chance of leaving without him noticing. I couldn’t handle a discussion in this
condition. I can’t win an argument with him without having at least my knickers on!
Uncertainly, I reach for the door handle and open it with extreme caution, checking the hall – it’s empty!
Who the hell was I expecting to find, Spiderman?
I think maybe I need a holiday.
I catch my breath, peek at the brown bear dozing behind me and… he hasn’t moved an inch. After all we did last night, I’m not surprised. Okay, but let’s not get distracted. We have a mission!
I’m heading towards the only way out when I hear him whisper, still half asleep, “I know where you live.”
Chapter 30
You’ll Be Saying It Soon Enough
I think we should reflect for a moment on the subtle difference between a date and a kidnapping.
“Have you finished with them?”
“Hmm?”
“Miss Watts?”
“What, Catherine?”
“I asked if you were finished.”
“Ah…” I give her a bunch of authorizations. “Yes sure. Take everything to Mr Ward’s office.”
“Certainly.”
Obligingly, she picks up the file and starts toward the door, but something seems to keep her where she is and I have good reason to believe that it might be me.
“Miss Hunt, can I help you with something?” I ask her, tired of being studied with feigned indifference.
“No. No.” she gushes. “There’s really nothing.”
“Great!” I smile. “So, give my best to Mr Ward.”
“Sure…” she holds the handle but doesn’t move and makes no attempt to leave.
“Catherine…” I gasp in exasperation, abandoning everything on the desk to fold my arms and wait for her to decide once and for all to tell me what’s wrong.
“Miss Watts, not that it’s any of my business…”
“Which more or less determines what my response is going to be, doesn’t it?”
“Eh?”
“Never mind.” I shake my head. “Go ahead.”
“The fact is that today you seem a bit…”
I hate it when they stop. If they already know they don’t have the courage to say what they want to say, why do they have to force me to put up with them babbling away?
“Catherine, please, have mercy on me,” I beg, massaging my temples. “What?”
“I just wanted to tell you that, if you need to talk, I’m here,” she whispers, timidly.
“Talk?” I say with a bewildered expression. “About what?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” she replies vaguely. “Maybe about your transfer, your job, or whatever it is that makes you so…”
“So?”
“So…”
She struggles to find the right adjective. She’s started something that she has no idea how to finish and can’t seem to admit defeat. I could help her by kicking her out of my office without waiting for her to conclude, but… Well, I am actually enjoying her discomfort.
“So…” she tries for the last time, clearly hoping that the fates will come to her aid – and guess what, somehow her prayers are not in vain.
“Unbearable?” says Ethan, peering into the room as he takes off his jacket.
As if I didn’t know why he’s taking it off. To let everyone see his stupid pecs? Why else?
“What?” cries Catherine, starting in surprise.
“Antisocial?” he says.
“Oh no, come on,” I say, wondering if he’s about to jump up on a chair and start shouting “Off with her head!”
“Hysterical?”
“But… But I…” she stammers.
“Frustrated, uncompromising, despotic—”
“Ethan, what a pleasure to see you. Thank you for coming, please drop by whenever you want.”
“Are you trying to send me away?” he says, pretending to be offended, as he dumps his stuff on the chair.
“Did I really give that impression?” I say, feigning remorse. “I don’t know how it could have happened, I’m mortified.” I bring a hand to my chest. “But I wouldn’t wish to bore you any further. Catherine, why don’t you accompany Ethan to the door? He must have come to the wrong office by mistake.”
“I…” she doesn’t know what to do.
“There’s no need, Catherine,” he says, touching her shoulder. “Miss Watts is looking forward to accompanying me personally, before I tell the staff about her obsession with pistachio ice cream.” And he winks.
I turn purple.
“Ethan…”
“Oh, does she like ice cream?”
She lets him guide her out of the room while I hide my face in papers, trying not to watch the proceedings.
“Does she like it? She’s crazy about it!” he replies, leading her over the threshold.
“I like it too. Why are you making that face, Miss Watts?” She looks at me sympathetically. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. You’re so thin… Heavens, I should be ashamed,” she mumbles while smoothing her skirt. “I could do with losing some weight.”
“Miss Hunt, stop talking nonsense!” I say angrily. “You don’t need to diet, you’re fine. Ethan, I’m busy. Now get out of here immediately, and—”
“Now?” Looking at the clock.
“Exactly!”
“Do you really want to go out now? Are you sure you can leave work at this time?”
“When did I say I was interested in coming with you?”
“Oh, but there’s not much else to do,” says Catherine, stepping back in for some reason. “If you want, I’ll take care of everything. And then there’s always Mr Ward,” she nods. Finally, the fog disappears and she has a clear glimpse of my forlorn love life. The bastard! And then I understand. She knows everything. That’s why she gave that little speech just now. If I find out who told her…
“So it’s perfect!” says Ethan, playing along with the game, joining me next to the desk.
Okay, I need a drastic remedy urgently.
“Mr Ward…” I call him on the phone. “We have an unwanted guest, I would like him to be sent away immediately.”
“Trudy!” Ethan exclaims resentfully. “What you’re doing really isn’t nice. First you invite me in, then you throw me out? If you keep sending such mixed messages I’ll never understand what you really want!”
And he concludes this little speech by taking an approach which is more familiar to him: jumping on me and dragging me out of my chair. “Where did you put your bag?”
“Ethan, I’m not going to come.”
“There it is,” He’s not listening to me. Just for a change. “Because if you don’t hold it tight, it’ll slip.”
“I’m not coming.”
“Yes, fine, but we’ll talk about it while we walk,” he says, pushing me over the threshold. “Be careful not to trip. One more step. Another step. And another. You’re doing great!”
“Ethan…”
“Goodbye, Catherine.”
“Goodbye, Ethan,” the traitor salutes him, waving to him with a hateful smile on her face. “See you tomorrow, Miss Watts, have a pleasant evening.”
“ETHAN!” I scream, clawing the walls in an attempt to prevent the kidnapping.
“Yes, not bad,” he says, nodding. “Even though I did prefer last night’s version,” he murmurs once we’re outside the bank.
“What?”
“‘Ethan…’” he imitates me, this time using a voice as hoarse as a monk seal in heat. “Or that other one: ‘Oh, Ethan, yes… you’re a sex god’.”
“I never said that,” I snap.
“You’ll be saying it soon enough!”
And he gives me a smile…
*
“So – do you like it?”
“Err… What?” I look up from something that I really hope isn’t the faeces of some weird animal as I observe the vegetation. “Oh, of course. It was my dream to end up standing in the mud wearing a pair of suede sandals.”
“Your ability to adapt never cease
s to amaze me,” he teases, walking in front of me with his hands tucked in his jeans and a backpack hanging from his shoulder.
“Would you mind telling me where we’re going?” Exhausted, I sigh and cling to a fence. Not even a battalion of tanks would move me.
“Trudy, we’re not explorers lost in uncharted forests – it’s just a park,” he notes.
“And this is a quagmire.”
“It’s a dirt path, walked by dozens of people without the slightest problem.”
“It’s a quagmire,” I insist.
“A path—”
“A wet path that has been reduced to mud – therefore, a quagmire,” I correct him.
“God…” He snorts and walks back towards me. “Okay, it’s a quagmire. And in reality I’m an ogre, this is my swamp and you are my dinner. Now we’ve got that cleared up, do you think we can make it to that sinister bench over there or do I need to carry you?”
I peer over his shoulder at the bench and find myself staring at a set of creaky mouldy wooden planks.
“It’ll be full of rusty nails.”
“Okay, you can sit on my jacket,” he concedes, pulling me by the hand.
“Ethan—”
“Not yet,” he jokes. “At least give me time to undress you.” And he laughs.
“I—”
“You adore me, I know.”
Once we’ve got over the swamp, we sit down. Yes. However much I protest, we end up sitting on the shaky bench. He on one side, me on the other. I put a little distance between us to restore the proper detachment, which I’d already made clear the other night. Friendship. There can and must only be a normal friendship between us and he must finally get that into his head.
“Comfortable?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. I imagine that I’m not exactly a picture of relaxation, perched on the far end of the bench with nails poking into my knees and a wild eyed stare for fear of any sudden movement in the bushes.
“I would really like to know why you brought me here,” I grumble.
“Because it’s pretty,” he says as he opens his backpack. “There’s the moon—”
“I could see that in town as well”
“There’s the lake—”
“There are midges.”
“And we’re alone.”