Gravitate

by Jo Duchemin

  “We’ve only known each other about three weeks, I think – he joined the rowing team I’m on, but then he had to leave due to his shifts and lectures for his course. He seemed like a nice guy, so we stayed in touch. We both already knew James, Russ and Bel, I suppose it is quite a small university, after all.”

  “That’s true; I thought it would take me ages to work out where all the buildings are and it took one hour – not that different from school, really. What course are you doing?” I realised I was actually enjoying myself, and I wanted to know more about Ben.

  “Television studies. I know what you’re thinking – I thought it would be a breeze, and originally I only signed up for it to piss off my dad; he wanted me to take a degree in economics and work with him. It is actually really interesting and bloody hard work. What are you studying?”

  “Drama and English. I’m not sure my heart is in it at the moment.”

  “Where is your heart at?” He stared right into my eyes when he said the word heart. Without my permission, my eyes flickered over to where Marty was sitting – his eyes met mine, then he looked away. I tried to focus back on Ben.

  “Um, my heart is in a state of shock at the moment, I think. In deep freeze, perhaps.” I needed to get away from this subject; it was making me think back to the safety of Marty’s arms this afternoon and my heart raced just thinking about that moment. “Could you excuse me for just a moment?”

  Belinda interjected: “Are you going to the ladies’? Great, I’ll come with you – it’s so nice to have another girl in the gang!” She grabbed my hand and tugged me off in the direction of the toilets.

  We stood in front of the mirror, checking our appearances. I lent Belinda my lip gloss and fluffed up my hair. It felt good to be out with people my own age – I’d missed having my girl friends around, even though they emailed and rang when they could; they were off living their own lives.

  “Wow, that lip gloss is awesome, I’ll have to buy some. I love your hair colour, by the way, is it natural?” Belinda barely paused while I nodded. “You are so lucky – I have to dye mine and it is such a pain. James always complains about the smell, but I’m sure he’d complain a whole lot more if I let my roots show! Oh, and don’t get me started on him whining about my fake tan smelling of biscuits and staining the sheets! We women, eh, we make our hair lighter, our skin darker and what for? Men, who then moan about the smell! Mind you, I don’t think Ben would mind if you got his sheets messy, if you know what I mean?” Belinda winked at me, then continued without actually pausing for breath: “I’ve seen him chatting up girls before, but he’s way more into you than I’ve seen him with other girls. Did you see his body language? Totally leaning in towards you, legs parted, hands in his belt loops – that means he’s trying to draw your attention down to his penis! Seriously, I study this stuff, it’s totally what apes do, but then of course, we all know man is descended from apes, well in the case of my boyfriend it’s totally true. Oh, and he keeps touching his mouth, like he’s trying to make you think about kissing him. You know it’s a good thing James is so drunk, or he would think I fancied Ben – I’ve been watching him so intently – but then watching him flirt with you totally beats listening to my drunk boyfriend and his drunk best friend talking about the greatest goals that have been disallowed. Poor Marty looked like he was doing the same thing as me,” my ears pricked up when she said Marty’s name, but she seemed oblivious to the light I saw dawn in my reflected eyes, as she continued, “but then again, he’s never really shown any interest in football, and he’s too polite to tell them to shut up. Do you know, we really should stop chin wagging in here and get back out there to the men – my boyfriend will be doing tequila shots if I’m not there to supervise him – honestly, sometimes it’s more like babysitting a toddler than having a loving relationship!” She ushered me out of the toilets and back to the table.

  Sure enough, Russ and James had their heads tipped back with shot glasses in their hands. Several empty glasses, slices of chewed lemon and an upended salt shaker lay across the table. Both men slammed the glasses back down on the table and stared at each other, willing his opponent to suck a lemon slice first. It was Russ who backed down first. I could feel the waves of fury radiating from Belinda. She pulled James to his feet and stood eye to eye with him.

  “How many have you had? Five? Six? On top of all that lager! I honestly can’t believe you; I can’t leave you alone for two minutes! That’s it, we’re going home, right now!” Belinda grabbed the now unsteady James round the waist and started hoisting him out of the pub. “Ben, please can you get Tweedledum for me, while I take care of Tweedledumber here. Goodbye, Claudia, it was lovely to meet you, I’m sorry my boyfriend is such an idiotic imbecile, I hope he didn’t spoil your evening. Ben, could you help me get the boys into the car? Feel free to bump their heads on the roof of the car, it might knock some sense into them…” Belinda left the pub, steering her very intoxicated boyfriend around tables and other customers, whilst Ben tried to do the same with Russ. I was left alone with Marty – it was like the room suddenly grew smaller.

  “Does everyone always do exactly what Belinda asks?” I felt self-conscious of the silence between us.

  “You can’t argue with her, she won’t let you get a word in! Have you had a good night?” Marty’s dimples became more pronounced when he smiled.

  “I’m having a great night.” Well, I thought, I was now. “Your friends were really lovely to me.” In my head I added: I’m glad they’re gone and we’re alone. I was starting to think I was going crazy; I’d only just lost my parents and here I was, getting a crush on my lodger.

  “I think Ben will be back in a moment. You two looked like you were having a good chat together. He’s a great guy, isn’t he?”

  I never got to respond to Marty’s question. At that moment, there was a loud crashing sound coming from the bar, with angry shouting cutting across the hubbub of the music and laughter. Before I could ascertain what was happening, Marty had pulled me out of my seat and behind his back, shielding me from whatever was causing the commotion. I could hear screams and saw people running out of the pub door on the other side to where we were sat. Whatever was happening, it was near us and between us and the exit. I stood on tiptoe to sneak a peak past Marty’s shoulder and saw two men fighting. A flash of silver reflected the overhead lights. A knife. My heart stopped as the brawling pair came closer, the knife slashing wildly out of control in the bigger man’s hand, and nothing between it and Marty. My heart raced. It was only when Marty let go of my arm that I realised he had been holding on to me the entire time, keeping me protected from the impending danger. At first, I thought he’d been stabbed and I was relieved when I felt him take a deep breath of air. He stepped forward, away from me, and pushed the men apart with unbelievable strength and dignified grace. The smaller man fell backwards from the impact of Marty pushing against his chest and remained on the floor. Marty turned his attention to the bigger man and took control of the knife in what appeared to be an effortless movement. He turned around and drove the knife deep into the table where we were sitting, leaving it wedged through the wooden surface. Other people now came to help restrain the brawling men, leaving Marty free to return to me. For the second time that day, it wasn’t until Marty brushed away my tears that I knew I was crying. He held me tight to stop me from shaking. He was whispering in my ear, his lips touching my skin.

  “It’s OK, it’s over. I’m so sorry; I didn’t think anything like that would happen. I normally have such a good sense about these things, but everything seems off today. I don’t feel like my usual self. And I’m not making sense. Shh, baby, it’s OK.” I wasn’t paying attention to what he said, just listening to the gentle tone of his voice and embracing the soothing impact it had on my trembling body. I could feel his heartbeat, still agitated from breaking up the fight, and also felt a tiny shiver in his muscles. He took a deep breath and I coul
d feel the air moving around my neck as he inhaled. “Let’s go and find Ben – he must still be in the car park.”

  He led me by the hand out of the pub, scanning the room for any further danger. The cold night air hit me like a slap around the face. Ben came running over as soon as he saw us. He was asking us how we were and what had happened, but I didn’t hear anything; I slumped against Marty and the last thing I remembered was him lifting me up and carrying me home.

  Chapter 3

  I woke up feeling fuzzy. The events of the previous night came back to me in flashes. The blur of the room as Marty spun me out of danger, the fear of seeing the blade of the knife getting closer to us, the sheer relief of being held in Marty’s arms. I couldn’t remember getting into bed, but I was definitely back in my room. I knew I was still wearing my jeans, the belt buckle jabbing into my stomach. My cardigan was still buttoned up. I looked around the room – my handbag had been placed on my bedside table, my shoes were neatly lined up on the floor and there was a piece of paper on my pillow. I snatched up the paper and read:

  Dear Claudia,

  I am very sorry about last night; I should never have allowed you to be placed in any danger. I am also sorry for invading your privacy by entering your bedroom, but you were asleep in my arms and I knew you needed a good night’s sleep after your shock. I also took your shoes off to help you sleep, I hope I haven’t offended you. Ben said he would call later to see how you are; I also hope you don’t mind me giving him your phone number. I feel like I have so much to apologise to you for, please forgive me.

  Your friend,

  Marty

  I had to read the letter three times to make sense of it. Marty was apologising to me? For saving me from the brawl?! I thought that I must have been impossible for him to live with during the past few days for him to feel so apologetic. He must have felt like he was treading on eggshells. I felt terrible. I owed him so much.

  I wanted to do something for Marty to make it up to him, to try to make amends for my awkward irritability with him since he arrived at the house. I’d always found men hard to buy for and what do you get for a man like Marty – someone so self-sufficient, self-confident, self-aware. What could I buy to earn his forgiveness? Nothing sprang to mind.

  I took a shower, still thinking about the previous night. It had been quite fun, if a little overwhelming, until the fight broke out. However, I noted that my most memorable and enjoyable parts of the evening had been spent with Marty. I knew I was thinking about him too much. His friends had been so nice to me but for the entire evening I’d felt subconsciously aware of him. It was as if, no matter what I was doing or who I was talking to, my thoughts seemed to gravitate towards him. I blushed just thinking about him.

  Choosing an outfit to wear suddenly seemed like a real dilemma. Normally, I would have spent the day in baggy jeans or trackies, but having a crush on my lodger changed all that. I felt ridiculous – what did it matter what I wore: after how horrible I’d been to him, he couldn’t possibly have been thinking about me in that way.

  As I made the bed, small feathers from the duvet sailed into the air and floated down gently. I thought about what I knew about Marty – the things I knew he liked. I remembered something Marty had said on the day we interviewed him and I realised I had a brilliant gift for him. He’d mentioned that he was a fan of William Blake’s poetry and how he was very interested in the visions Blake had seen. I knew there was a beautiful book of Blake’s poetry in my dad’s study – I could wrap it up and give it to him.

  I skipped down the stairs feeling lighter than I had in ages and headed into the study to look for the book. I could hear Marty talking on the phone in his room next door. I tried not to listen, but the temptation was too strong. I could only hear Marty’s side of the conversation, and the words were a little muffled, but I could pick up that he was feeling confused. I felt bad, but I couldn’t help listening just a little bit closer.

  “You don’t understand. I’m trying to do the task; you know I’ve completed a million of these before. This time it feels different.” There was a pause – someone must have replied to him. “No, no that’s good, no problem there.” I guessed that he was having a problem with an assignment for his course. “No, but I didn’t pick up on it.” Another pause. “No, that wasn’t a major problem. The only problem here is me. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, give me a few more days, if I’m still concerned and it isn’t working as it should, I’ll get back to you.”

  I heard Marty’s footsteps walking towards the study and busied myself looking at the books on the shelves so Marty wouldn’t know I had been listening to him. He poked his head in the doorway.

  “Good morning, Claudia. How are you feeling? Did you get my note?” Marty gave me a warm smile, and I felt an involuntary contraction in my stomach and the desire to giggle even though he hadn’t said anything remotely funny.

  “Yes I did and thank you, it was very thoughtful of you to leave it there for me. Thank you for looking after me last night, you really didn’t have to apologise.” I could feel my cheeks burning, and inwardly cursed my copper colouring.

  “No, Claudia, I should have been more aware of possible danger to you.”

  “No harm was done. Have you had breakfast?”

  “Yes. Actually I was just about to head into town, but I shan’t be long. Do you need anything?”

  “Not that I can think of.” I felt disappointed that he was leaving. “I’ll walk down the stairs with you.” I carefully placed the Blake book back on the shelf without him noticing which book I’d been looking at.

  In the hallway, Marty headed out the front door, while I sauntered into the kitchen, feeling quite smug about the gift I intended to give to him. I indulged myself in a little self-satisfied smile and flicked the switch on the kettle. Lying just along the counter was Marty’s mobile phone. I’d heard him talking to someone upstairs, but now his phone was here. If he wasn’t on the phone, then how was he talking to someone?

  My first thought was that someone was in my house. I felt panicked and betrayed. How could Marty have brought someone here without telling me? I stormed up to his room, ready to confront whoever was there – this was my house, not his, I had a say on who stepped over the threshold.

  My bravado started to slip as I approached his room. My hand shook as I reached for the door handle. I paused and listened but I couldn’t hear anything, not even breathing. I carefully opened the door. The only thing I heard was a small squeal as it revealed the empty room. Bed neatly made. Wardrobe shut. Desk tidy. Marty’s laptop sat on the desk, headphones and webcam connected. I mentally kicked myself. Of course, he was talking to someone via webcam, using the headphones so as not to disturb me. So thoughtful, again. And here I was, accusing him of sneaking someone into my house without my permission. I felt terrible, closed the door carefully and left his room, determined, more than ever, to repay him for his kindness and my poor behaviour. I wrapped up the Blake book and went downstairs to the kitchen to await Marty’s return.

  I didn’t need to wait for long. He returned in less than an hour. I was still feeling guilty about going into his bedroom and for my suspicious thoughts that were totally unwarranted. I gave him my most radiant smile as he walked into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Marty. How was town?”

  “It was very quiet which made it easy to buy what I wanted.” He smiled and I noticed he didn’t have any shopping bags with him.

  “You didn’t buy much?”

  “There was only one thing on my mind.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a small, plain jewellery box. “I got this for you – do you still have your father’s wedding ring?”

  My mind was racing – he’d bought me a gift? After the way I’d behaved around him? Overcome with emotion, I stumbled on my words as I answered his question.

  “Yes, it’s upstairs, in my jewellery box.
You bought me a gift?”

  “I did. I wanted to apologise again. Would you mind getting your dad’s ring?”

  “Not at all. I have a gift for you too.” I could feel my cheeks blushing.

  “I’ll wait here for you and we can open them together. But the only gift I want is your forgiveness.”

  My heart pounded as I ran up the stairs. He really was an unbelievably kind man, I didn’t deserve such treatment. I scooped the ring out of my jewellery box, pausing for a moment to put it next to my mother’s ring on my finger. A matching pair. I’d avoided thinking about my parents and their demise as much as possible recently, the pain had been too raw, too fresh. The emotions evoking from within me were unpredictable – ranging from vicious anger to uncontrollable mourning. I noticed that today it hurt just a little less. It still ripped me apart, but I felt I might still be able to hold my life together, something that seemed impossible a few weeks ago. I felt guilty that Marty was part of the reason for this change – did that make me a shallow person? Before he’d arrived in my life, I felt like I was surrounded by thick, dark clouds, with no hope of ever seeing sunlight again. Now, the clouds were still gathered above me, but a ray of sunshine was just beginning to emerge.

  Back down in the kitchen, Marty had made two cups of tea and was sitting down with my gift in front of him. He looked relaxed and serene, making me think that he had finally figured out that I was clearly not upset over the events of the previous evening and that, in fact, I was indebted to him for his kindness over the past few days and his protective care of me last night.

  “Here’s the ring. I think you should open your present first.” I suddenly felt quite shy – what if he thought the book was too personal? What if he thought I was cheap for not buying a gift? I sat down and kept my eyes focused on the table, not daring to look in his eyes, but instead studying the grain of the wood. Marty’s gentle fingers brushed under my chin and tipped my face up to his. He looked me in the eyes and I felt a blush creep over my cheeks.