Tortured Minds

by Colin Griffiths

  Just after that, I had a chance of further promotion, which would have taken me away from Molly. Did I accept? Of course I didn’t. I hadn’t seen her nipples yet! Besides, as beautiful as Molly was, on the outside and the inside, Daniel was even more exquisite.

  Realisation dawned on me that morning after the funeral. I was sitting in my chair drinking my third coffee, the desperate need for a nicotine hit vying with the, couldn’t be arsed to go out to the veranda to smoke, feeling. (My place was rented and smoking inside was a big NO! NO!). I was due to return to work the next day. Whilst I didn’t know how much leave Molly had been given, I certainly couldn’t go back to work with her. Not now, maybe not ever!

  I rang work in a panic and eventually spoke to one of the junior HR girls who informed me Molly was off for another week. I relaxed a bit, as that would give me plenty of time to ask for a transfer. Failing that, I would have to orchestrate a transfer for Molly, or just allocate another sub-editor. Although that didn’t seem fair, even under these circumstances, I knew it needed to be done.

  I was even thinking of moving back down to be with my parents, but that thought didn’t stay in my mind too long. Even if it was possible they wouldn’t have wanted me. I wasn’t sure if I could ever leave this place, if I could ever leave Molly, or even Daniel. It felt like his spirit was still here. That somehow he was watching over me, over both of us, as I guess at that moment Molly probably needed him as much as I did.

  My cravings got the better of me and I went and sat out on the veranda, puffing on an Embassy. My eyes are always drawn in the same direction, across the city, to the place where she lived, the same place Daniel used to live. I don’t know how many times I had checked my phone looking for a text from her. Each time checking that I hadn’t accidently clicked it onto silent mode. I went on Facebook to see if she had posted anything. Of course, she hadn’t! What was she going to post “Just burned my husband... what a lovely day?” I even went onto her relationship status to see if it had changed. What kind of man would do that? One fucked up kind of guy I guess.

  One cigarette followed another as my thoughts wanted to lacerate my brain. One of us had to reach out, didn’t we? She knew how much I loved him, so surely she would know that I needed her now. As the bitterness embedded itself into my thoughts, I wanted to text her, to tell her a secret. The one secret Daniel and I had that she was never supposed to find out about. I had actually written the words into my phone, before common sense, or fear, or some other emotionally fucked-up feeling, brought me back down to earth. I couldn’t quite believe how close I got to actually sending it. One press of a button would have opened up a new world, probably filled with even more anguish and pain. After a while I did send her a text, though, it simply read:

  “Are you ok?”

  ***

  Chapter 6 – Daniel

  I was rapidly deciding that being a ghost totally sucked. Yeah, that’s right, a ghost. I had finally come to this conclusion after weighing up all the possible options. I figured if someone with a big, white light around their head, Jesus or whatever, was planning to take me to the promised land, then it would have damn well happened by now, wouldn’t it? Nope, no Jesus and it seemed also no Beelzebub either. I appeared to be destined to stay on this earthly plane for some time yet.

  One thing I can say about being a spirit is that it gives you lots of time to think. I mean, it’s not like you have to rush out and get the grocery shopping done, or put in an appearance at work. Nope, time is your friend... or enemy, depending on where your thoughts are leading you. I didn’t get to have that whole, “life flash in front of my eyes”, moment, when I was falling from the building. I was enjoying the ride too much. That must have been my adrenalin addiction kicking in, I guess, but now that it was all over and my body was ashes to ashes, dust to dust, so to speak, the time for reflection and introspection was nigh.

  Again, surprisingly, it was my time with Jake that came to my mind first. Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved Molly with a passion, but from time to time it did seem like we were just going through the motions. I often wondered if the relationship was the wrong way around, that Molly should be the best friend and Jake and I should be the married couple. Molly was such a complex individual, at least from my perspective, and at times she could have this overbearing, dare I say it, almost arrogant attitude to life and everyone around her. She was “Melinda Sampson”, the Sun at the centre of the whole damn Universe and all the planets, including me, revolved around her.

  I knew what she was like, even from the get-go, but I couldn’t help myself from falling under that seductive spell she weaves so effortlessly around those she looks at as her ‘minions’. Jake and I were certainly in that category labelled ‘Molly’s Minions.’ The day I met Molly, she almost knocked me out and then had the absolute temerity and cheek to try to blame the whole thing on me. I should have probably seen the writing on the wall then. This woman had an arrogant streak as long as the Thames.

  Anyway, I’m getting away from my initial point, really, which was Jake. Sweet, vulnerable, easily-led Jake. Like all of us, he fell for Molly, head over heels. She just has that effect on men. She only has to raise her eyebrow, or crook her little finger and men come running to service her, but Jake! Ohh, my Jake was different, so much more sensitive than just any other lustful man. He had so much depth to his personality and such a beautiful soul, that no one else saw except me. If I was to characterise Molly and Jake in just one word it would be; Molly – Superficial, and Jake – Deep.

  Actually, I’ll relate a little story that might give you some clue as to the slightly warped (slightly warped? no...seriously fucked-up) relationship the three of us had. Molly and I had been dating for a while. She had lured me in with promises of sex, teasing and flirting. When we finally started dating, it had been, to say the least, tumultuous. Several of our dates ended in heated arguments, with one or the other of us storming out and threatening never to talk to the other again. Of course, we always did, but if memory serves me correctly, it was me, every time, who came crawling back to Molly asking for forgiveness. It was like I was hooked on heroin. Two or three days without seeing her, or even worse, seeing her in my lectures and having her storm past me without even a backwards glance, would send me into physical withdrawal symptoms. I’d start shaking, sweating and even throwing up, just like a real, “cold turkey”, drug withdrawal.

  This particular evening, we’d been out for dinner and were curled up on my sofa, just chilling with a glass of red and Luther Van Dross crooning away in the background. You’d be hard pushed to find a more romantic situation than that, right? So, I began to do what every red-blooded male would. I slid my hand up inside her sweater and began to caress her breast, through her lacy bra. She didn’t resist or anything, but as I slipped my hand down lower, into the waistband of her short, yellow skirt, she sat up and looked me straight in the eyes.

  “Dan, if we’re going there tonight, we need to set some ground rules, right now.”

  Whatever passion I had felt was quickly dissipated, deflating as fast as my burgeoning erection. I arched my eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. Molly was a tease, she didn’t even acknowledge my reaction.

  “Perhaps, when we’re married of course, we’ll have sex from time to time, but you need to understand that sex is complicated for me. It isn’t the only thing that gets my motor running.”

  I grinned at her. “That’s because you haven’t been doing it properly,” I responded, as any man in my situation would.

  She just shook her head haughtily. “No Dan, I mean it. The only thing that works for me, sexually, is fear and excitement. If I’m scared or in danger, then I’ll orgasm, it’s that simple.”

  I’d sat there dumbfounded for a while before removing my hand from the top of her panties. “Ahhhh... okay... I think.” I was totally at a loss what to do next and then it hit me... “ when we’re married”? Bloody hell, she’s already talking about when we’re married. Time I g
ot out of this weirdness before it all gets out of control, but it was already too late for that, I knew. I was in for the long-haul.

  I’d obviously angered her with my lack of a suitable answer. She jumped to her feet and quickly disrobed, dropping her clothes in a puddle on the floor. “Dan!” she said as if talking to a five-year-old schoolboy. “I didn’t say you couldn’t fuck me. Of course, you can, you’re a man, you have needs. I get that, just don’t get hurt when I don’t come, that’s all.” Faced with a situation like this, I should have done the only sensible thing and hightailed it out of there.

  But I’m a man after all. You didn’t really think I would just leave, did you? More fool you. No, I did what most men would do. I undressed and proceeded to show her just how wonderful, how ecstatic and how fantastic good sex really was. It wasn’t though, well not for her, anyway. She lay there and made all the appropriate noises and even gave a little yelp at one point, but I could absolutely tell she wasn’t getting anything from my frantic efforts. Still, I had fun!

  So, that’s how our story began and that’s how it has always been. I get laid maybe two or three times a year, but our sex life is in no way normal. Crazy? But then again, who ever said Molly was sane? Hopefully, by now you have a slightly deeper insight into our complex relationship. Nonetheless, I had started this off by talking about Jake... sweet Jake, so back to him.

  I think Jake and I have always had this “will we, won’t we” thing going between us. Neither of us wanted to admit to those sort of feelings, but Jake and I never actually needed to verbalise our feelings. At times, I felt we could communicate with just a raised eyebrow, a slight nod of the head, or a subtle wink. If there were soul-mates in this world, I would say it was Jake and me. Molly and me, well we were just... complicated.

  Did we do anything about it? Well, that’s our dirty, little secret, for now, anyway. I do recall one evening when we’d all got back from some rock climbing in the Lake District. We were incredibly exhausted, having spent three days stumbling through snow and ice, in blizzard conditions, at the top of Scaffel Pike. We were totally zonked and Molly’s suggestion was to relax and watch a movie. It seemed the perfect way to round out an ultra-physical weekend. We sent Molly next door to the DVD rental place to choose something appropriate. We both knew she’d come back with some adventure story or other, of survival against the odds on K2, or some such thing.

  She arrived back, waving the small DVD case, proudly declaring, “I got us a Western, guys. I just love a good ‘shoot-em-up’, when I’m feeling exhausted. It gives me renewed vitality. “

  I laughed as I glanced at the title. “Yeah, this one will definitely get your juices going Mol,” I giggled.

  We were quite some distance into Brokeback Mountain before Molly actually realised it wasn’t quite the sort of Western she’d had in mind. She zoned out somewhat and ended up quietly snoring between Jake and me.

  We, on the other hand, were engrossed. I could tell it awoke as many feelings in Jake as it did in me. Every so often, I would glance at his profile and see that dancing, sparkling, look in his eye, or his mouth creased into a sweet smile. He was as much into the movie as I was. When the credits were running, I turned to him and grinned.

  “Enjoy that buddy?”

  Jake tittered slightly and adjusted himself on the sofa to make himself more comfortable. “Yeah, it was okay, eh?” he replied laconically.

  I laughed... ”yeah... okay... right.”

  That was always the way it was with us, nothing was ever said verbally, but both of us knew, deep down, we were inextricably linked. Oh Jake, I miss you so much.

  ***

  There is only so much reminiscing a body can do, or even a spirit for that matter and I decided it was time to shake things up a bit. Most of all, I needed to know if they had let me go on purpose, or not. It didn’t make any sense to me, though. I mean, if they’d planned this, why weren’t they together now? Why were they both going through this whole angst and grief thing?

  I’d decided this must be the reason I was still caught between the two worlds. I needed to find out the truth before I could move on.

  One thing about being a ghost is you don’t have to worry about public transport, or driving a car anymore. All I had to do was think of being somewhere... and... voila... there I was. Cool! Ha! I decided to pay a visit to Molly first and check on her.

  She was lying on her bed, staring out the window, the look on her face telling me how conflicted she was inside. My heart went out to my beloved. It hurt so much to see her lying there, her face twisted in emotional pain.

  “It’s okay babes,” I tried to tell her, but of course, she couldn’t hear me.

  I desperately wanted her to know I was there, that I was watching over her, but I was a ghost. When I tried to hold her, my arms just went straight through her. I was at a total loss as to what to do and then it came to me.

  I began twirling on the spot, faster and faster, becoming a blur. I could feel the air around me spinning with me and finally when it reached maximum velocity, I stopped suddenly. The air continued to swirl though and I could tell, by the look on Molly’s face, that the breeze and the noise had alerted her to something happening in her room. I smiled to myself, she knows I’m here, I thought. Good.

  “I love you, Molly,” I whispered softly.

  “Did you kill me, Molly?” I followed up with.

  I doubted she’d heard me, but I blew her a gentle kiss and decided I would take myself to Jake’s apartment.

  ***

  Chapter 7 – Molly

  I checked the time, seeing that it was just past six in the morning. My eyes burned with tiredness though I hadn’t slept a wink. I couldn’t. I yawned as I sat up on the side of the bed. It was no use trying any more, the sun was now beaming through my front window.

  I stood up fatigue making me clumsy, not really sure what to do with myself. I walked over to the full-length mirror. God, I look like death, I thought and then chastised myself. My husband was dead and here I was, making jokes. I could be so bloody heartless at times. I peered closer at my face. My eyes were blotchy from crying and the dark circles under them looked more like bruises. I wasn’t going anywhere today, looking like this. I was almost glad I had signed myself off work for the week. I could have longer if I needed. After all, I had lost my husband, and under incredibly tragic circumstances. But no, that wasn’t the real reason I didn’t want to go back there. The reality was, I wasn’t sure I could face Jake.

  I felt a little hurt that he hadn’t called me since the accident or even after the funeral yesterday. Perhaps that was the reason I couldn’t sleep. I needed him. I needed to know he still cared, somehow. God, I had really messed this up! Tears started flowing, burning my tired eyes. I realised I truly was messed up. I was crying for the man who was alive, not my husband who was dead. I was so selfish, but I needed someone to hold me, take away the pain and make it all right. I wanted the last week to just go away.

  I jumped at the sound of my phone buzzing, a text. Racing over to the side table, I sighed when Jake’s name appeared, with a simple question; Are you okay? I smiled, my Jake, my protector, my love.

  I remember that first moment I laid eyes on Jake Marsden. I had made a decision right there and then that he would want me. Want me as a woman and want me to be in his team at the Sun-Star Daily . It was only a relatively small, regional-news rag, but it was my stepping-stone into journalism and my escape from the checkouts and goddamn shift work. I had been doing night classes for far too long and I couldn’t wait until I graduated to get a ‘runabout’ job in a newspaper. I needed to be in the real action and if I wanted to do so, I had to make an impact.

  He didn’t even notice me that day. He had come to one of my classes to talk about the editing process and what a modern, daily paper was looking for in their next reporter. I had watched him from the back of the class, his confidence in his profession and his passion for good reporting. I needed him to want me. I sa
t there when the class ended and watched as a myriad of students bombarded him with samples of their work, resumes and cards. He was sweating with discomfort and I smiled knowing that all he wanted to do was escape this voracious crowd of ambitious students.

  I left him to it, quietly exiting the lecture theatre, but knowing that of all the students in that room, soon he would want me. This industry was ruthless. It was kill or be killed. If I wanted to make it as a successful journalist, I had to go the extra mile and I was certainly prepared for that journey.

  It took some weeks of thought, but finally, I had a real plan, an exposé on the College itself. My classes were almost over for the semester, I had strong enough grades to get away with it and only something truly controversial would catch Jake Marsden’s eye.

  It was a piece that would certainly send the College into a tailspin, but that was what journalism was... right? I had solid sources, anonymous of course and I had evidence. I just had to craft it in a way that would truly catch his eye. After a week of writing, rewriting, editing, and mulling over the piece, I was finally ready. I uploaded it online, onto my blog, tagging it to my social media sites and then forwarding links on to various contacts at the Sun-Star Daily - anonymously of course. I had researched the key influencers at the paper and decided to send it strategically to those who would talk about it and give it the attention it needed. I didn’t send it to Jake as that would be too obvious. It was midnight by the time I was done and I was pumped. Too pumped to sleep, wondering if my plan would really bring the response I had hoped. I decided a glass of merlot would take the edge off before bed and after a few restless tosses and turns, I finally found myself dozing off.