by Jo Duchemin
“Stay,” he mumbled, still half asleep. I snuggled back down against his warm chest, only his thin t-shirt separating our flesh, my ear resting against his body, his heartbeat echoing its constant, beautiful pulse along my cheek. I could afford to lie here for another ten minutes, I decided. Life couldn’t be better, really.
Too quickly, it was time to leave him. I couldn’t risk the wrath of Donna – not if I had to put up with her all day. We’d have tonight to pick up where we were leaving off.
Marty stirred as I moved out of the bed, catching my hand in his and kissing it as I walked into the en-suite. I didn’t have time to wash my hair, so I tied it up into a ponytail, which hid the worst of my bed hair. I brushed my teeth whilst waiting for the shower to heat up. I was in and out of the en-suite within five minutes. When I walked back into the bedroom, Marty was still in bed, but now he was sitting up, reading from the book I gave him.
“Good morning,” he smiled, “you look gorgeous. Come here.” I crawled across the bed to embrace him. He kissed my neck.
“Stop it; I won’t want to leave…” I said the words, but it was a feeble attempt at restraint and I let him pull me back into his arms. I sighed. This was how life should be.
“What time do you have to be there?” Marty mumbled, as he continued showering my shoulders with kisses.
“Nine. And you know she will hold it against me if I’m late.”
“I know. I wish we could stay like this forever.” He held me tighter.
“So do I. Are you reading something interesting?”
“A poem. ‘Love’s Secret’. It’s very poignant.” He raised an eyebrow at me.
“In what way?”
“The opening line. ‘Never seek to tell thy love, love that can never be told’. It’s us.”
“It is.” I wanted to change the subject; I didn’t want him to get melancholy. “Are you going to come to the rehearsal later? I’d love to see you charm Donna.” I smiled.
“Of course. I’ll be there in the afternoon.” He closed the book and kissed my fingertips. “Have fun.”
“Oh, I will.” I rolled my eyes and waved as I left the room. His chuckle followed me down the stairs.
I made it to the rehearsal with a few minutes to spare. I sat down with some of the girls from the chorus and listened to their conversation for a few moments, managing to catch some of their names in the process. Nobody had been told which scenes were due to be set today, so there was an air of slight panic in the room. I changed out of my Converse trainers and placed my feet in my dance shoes. The movement, so small and ordinary, evoked memories from a simpler time, the time before my parents died, before Marty came into my life. My life had changed beyond recognition since the last time I had worn these shoes. I’d experienced the worst and best of times. The feet I now put into the shoes had been on a difficult journey.
I was pulled out of my reverie by the entrance of Donna. I noticed the other students sitting up, paying more attention and I shuffled slightly in my seat. I was ready for anything she could throw at me. This play was just for fun – it didn’t matter to me, nothing mattered as long as I had Marty.
“I’d like to start with ‘The Chorus Isn’t Enough’ and then recap the numbers we did yesterday.”
Those needed on the staging area made their way there, while the rest of us grabbed our scripts and knuckled down with memorising lines. Donna was in her usual foul mood, making the students currently rehearsing uneasy. Again, I wondered why she was in this job if she hated it so much, then I remembered what Marty had said – she was bitter and sorrowful over her own missed opportunities. It was hard to picture Donna as a bright, young thing, with dreams and goals. I could only see the tyrant in front of me.
Donna berated the girl rehearsing so much that she cried, meaning it was pointless continuing with that scene. She shouted at them to go and rehearse outside and then called a recap of ‘In The Spotlight’. I took deep breaths as I made my way to the staging area. The other girls looked nervous too. This was the most uncomfortable working atmosphere I’d ever encountered. The room had a negative energy.
“Right girls, let’s get this car crash over with. Do as much as you can remember, I don’t want to waste any more time on this number. From the beginning.”
In my head, I made a decision. I would not allow Donna to get under my skin. I’d lost my parents and nothing in my life would ever be as hard as that. My newfound confidence soared out of my voice and filled the room. I imagined my confidence flowing out of me, filling the air with a golden, glittering light, encompassing my cast mates and altering the energy of the room.
Before I knew it, the song was over and it was time to meet Donna’s criticism. The only sounds in the room were the hum of the lights, the buzz of the now-empty speakers, and the animated breathing of my cast mates.
“OK. Can we see your solo, Claudia?”
I guessed that was as close to praise as we were likely to get. I placed myself on the same spot as the day before, closed my eyes and, in my head, I pictured Marty. The song was now so interwoven with him in my mind, I couldn’t separate the two. My golden light shimmered out from me as I sang, filling the air around me. I felt every word, every note, every heartbeat of the song. I not only matched my performance of yesterday, I felt I bettered it. As soon as I hit the last note, I felt the sharp intake of breath from those watching and heard the sound of clapping hands, as the students broke into applause.
“Don’t give her a big head,” Donna’s voice silenced the praise of my peers. “It was acceptable at best. Take twenty minutes for lunch, then we will set ‘Starlet’ – if you don’t know it,” she looked pointedly at me, “learn it in this break.”
I struggled to stop myself from rolling my eyes and smiled back at her instead. I knew the song – it was one of the few I knew well before we started working on this project. If we’d had a different director, I would have enjoyed learning a routine to go with the song. I looked to the door and saw the only sight that could have lifted my spirits. Marty.
He smiled when he saw me and I couldn’t help but respond. He made my day. His gaze shifted from me to Donna and then back again. I nodded, understanding what he was about to do. There was the slightest dip of his head in acknowledgement of me and he walked over to Donna. The other students were hurrying out of the door, desperate to escape Donna as quickly as possible, even though twenty minutes only represented a short respite. Perhaps it was the eerie quietness of the drama studio, but as I sat down to remove my dance shoes, I could hear every hushed word Marty said to Donna.
“Excuse me, may I have a quick word?” Marty smiled his radiant, dimply smile at Donna and I felt a stab of jealousy.
“Who are you?” Donna’s short answer couldn’t hide her intrigue. I guessed it had been a long time since someone smiled at her like that.
“I’m Claudia’s house mate. Marty Glean.” He held out his hand and, rather reluctantly, she shook it. I hated her touching him.
“Oh? And why are you here?” Donna wasn’t letting down her defences just yet.
“Well,” I could feel him looking deep into her eyes and I focused on my shoe buckle to stop me from interfering, “I was wondering if it might be alright if I watch the end of some rehearsals. Claudia doesn’t drive and with these rehearsals finishing so late, I’d be worried about her walking home alone.” His voice was like honey melting. Golden, oozing, mesmerising. Almost syrupy. I could feel bile rising in my throat and quickly grabbed a gulp of water to wash it down.
“Yes,” Donna’s voice sounded quieter, silkier, “I can understand your point of view. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Actually, I was wondering how Claudia was doing in rehearsals.”
“She’s better than I expected. For such a young, immature girl.”
“For such a young girl,” his voice had developed an
edge I couldn’t identify, “she’s been through hell and back. She could do with a bit of kindness. She’s been through more than most people. And, unlike others, she isn’t the one to blame for the way her life has turned out. She’s doing brilliantly at putting her life back together. And she should be congratulated.” I wasn’t sure if he meant on my acting or putting my life back together, but I loved him all the same. I’d never heard anyone champion me this way before.
“Of course.” Her words had become clipped, as though she had heard the way he felt about me in the words he’d chosen so carefully.
“Wonderful.” The word was said in a way to dismiss Donna and, to my shock, it worked, as she turned away and busied herself with collecting her script and heading off to the tech box as quickly as her feet could carry her. He watched her go and then walked over to me.
“Are you hungry?” He smiled down at me, as I finished changing my shoes. I shook my head. “You have to eat something.”
I produced a chocolate bar from my handbag. “Done.”
“Come outside for some air.” His blue eyes sparkled at me and even though I knew he couldn’t charm me, I felt powerless against him. I smiled to myself – he’d definitely won me over, despite his powers being next to useless when I was near him.
We walked out of the drama studio, to a little outside courtyard area that, in the summer, was popular with students, but now, as autumn gave way to winter, found itself little used. We sat down on the edge of a wall, our thighs touching, but restraining the rest of our bodies to avoid looking like anything but friends. We were silent for a few moments, then I found my voice.
“I felt jealous.” I stared at my feet, as though my Converse were the most interesting things I’d ever seen.
“When?” I felt him move his hand to touch mine, then rethink the move and replace his hand on his thigh.
“When you charmed her,” I paused, unsure of how to continue. “I only like it when you look at me like that.”
He sighed. “I only did it for you.”
“I know. I just…felt jealous. It was all I could do to not get in the way.”
“That’s how I felt when I was trying to get you together with Ben. And we shouldn’t really talk about this here.”
“I know.” I unwrapped my chocolate bar. “And I don’t want to faint either, right?”
He smiled. “Not if you can avoid it.”
I swayed into him and he nudged me back, spending just a fraction of a second longer in contact with my body than a friend would.
“Thank you for looking out for me,” I practically whispered the words.
“That’s what I’m here for.” Marty said, wistfully.
After Marty walked me back to rehearsal, the rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and within a few hours Donna had been through all the scenes. Then, she announced a rehearsal for the next day.
“Right, since, by some miracle, we have managed to rehearse all the scenes, tomorrow I’d like to meet in the theatre, to start plotting the lighting and trying out how your voices sound in a bigger space.”
The groans of my fellow students suggested that a Sunday rehearsal was unpopular, but it appeared to miss Donna’s hearing. I knew Marty was on a shift at the hospice in the morning, so I didn’t mind rehearsing when I wouldn’t be spending time with him anyway. I wasn’t going to dwell on what tomorrow might bring when I had an evening to spend with Marty.
I gathered my belongings and saw him waiting for me, my knight in a leather jacket. My heart fluttered in my chest, unable to contain the sheer pleasure that seeing him provoked in me. My day had improved dramatically. Marty smiled when he saw me, but I could tell something was weighing on his mind.
“Hi, how was your day?” I asked him, trying to keep my tone light and my voice even.
“Not the best. One of my patients is really suffering.” He looked away from me.
“Oh. You should go back to the hospice.” I put my hand on his arm, trying to reassure him. “I can walk home on my own.” He turned to face me as though I’d just yelled out a string of profanities.
“No, of course I’ll walk you home first,” his face softened, “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. But I really do need to get back to him. I can sense how close the end is for him.”
As we stepped outside, I could see why Marty didn’t want me to walk home alone. Even though it was late afternoon, darkness had settled and a thick fog swirled in the air. Cold breezes circled around us and I shivered involuntarily. He was right, of course, I wouldn’t have wanted to walk home, alone, tonight. I stored up the questions I wanted to ask him, making a mental checklist of things I needed to ask him. We walked in silence, briskly, and were back home in a few minutes. Selfishly, I hoped he would be coming inside with me for a few moments, as I turned the key in the lock.
He gently guided me into the dark hallway by my elbow and shut the door with his leg. Then his arms encircled me and he kissed me passionately. My heart accelerated and, suddenly, it was hard to breathe. All too soon, he pulled away from me.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“I know. I’ll see you later.” I was grateful for the darkness, as I knew I was blushing.
“I won’t be long.” The sentiment was double edged – his excitement at knowing he would soon be home with me and his sadness that a patient would be passing over shortly.
He left quietly, closing the door softly behind him. The darkness was stifling without him. I flicked on all the lights downstairs, hopelessly trying to fill the void he’d left. I tried not to think about how I would feel if our borrowed time ever ran out.
I needed to keep busy. I put the radio on in the kitchen, and began cooking dinner. I decided to make a risotto – a dish that needed constant attention if it was to cook successfully. The song on the radio was cheesy, but it made me feel a little bit lighter and I began dancing around the kitchen, singing as I gathered the ingredients from various cupboards.
Soon, I had plenty to keep my hands and mind occupied, the risotto gently simmered as it thickened and I stirred it in time to the music. I tried a mouthful and decided it needed a touch of the fancy, expensive, balsamic vinegar my parents had brought back from a trip to Italy a few months ago. I opened the cupboard to get this ingredient, noting with annoyance that it was on the top shelf. Considering that both my parents were quite tall, it amazed me that I had ended up at a less-than-medium height. They often put things away at levels where they could reach it, but I couldn’t – a throwback from my troublesome toddler years, I guess. Now, having finished growing, I still struggled to reach things from high places. I struggled up, leaning on the work surface and stretching my hand up. I could feel cold air hitting the skin around my waist as my shirt lifted up with my movement. Still not high enough. I tried climbing up onto the work surface with my knees. I wobbled unsteadily, my knees sliding off the counter and I realised I was falling.
Suddenly, Marty was behind me, hands catching me on the exposed flesh around my waist. He held me tight, stopping my fall and placing my feet gently back on the tiled floor. I didn’t know if it was the shock of nearly falling, the surprise of him being there to catch me, or the feeling of his fingers caressing my naked skin, but I felt breathless and dizzy. He reached one hand up, past my face and reached for the bottle I had been trying to grab. He placed it on the counter, and then returned his hand to my waist, gently brushing the skin in small circles with his fingertips. A trail of goose bumps rose on my skin where he’d touched me and I trembled with pleasure. He kissed my neck and I could barely contain myself.
I swung around to face him and threw my arms around his neck. He kissed me, gently at first and then with increasing passion. His breathing became more urgent, his lips more insistent and he lifted me up so I was sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with my legs wrapped around his body. My heart was drum
ming out an irregular rhythm and it felt so loud I thought it would burst. I couldn’t stop now, even if I wanted to, and I didn’t think he could either. I felt combustible, like he could set me on fire at any moment. My hands moved around his back, feeling the muscles rippling as his arms cradled me. I grabbed the back of his jumper and pulled it up. This time he didn’t stop me, pausing only to break off from our kiss as I eased the jumper over his head and then he was crushing his lips back to mine. My fingertips traced over his newly exposed flesh, relishing every touch.
A loud, piercing, stabbing sound interrupted us. I felt dazed, intoxicated by the closeness of him, and it took me a few seconds to realise that the noise was the smoke detector. The risotto was burning to the bottom of the pan. He was aware of it before me, of course, and broke away from me to turn off the hob and silence the alarm. I sat on the counter, watching him. I’d never seen him without a top on before and the sight made me feel giddy as I watched him fan the smoke detector with a magazine to clear the air around it. The phrase ‘poetry in motion’ could have been written about him. He even made the most mundane of movements look graceful.
I jumped off the counter to examine the damage in the pan. It was beyond repair, a sticky, burnt mess welded to the metal pot.
“Damn. I think I’ll just throw this out. I’m never going to get this pan back to normal.” My voice sounded husky and I knew it wasn’t the smoke in the room that had caused the effect. When I turned around, Marty had put his jumper back on and had resumed clearing the air by opening the French doors.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have distracted you from the cooking.” He gave me a guilty grin.
“You can distract me any time you want.” I looked away, embarrassed now that the spell had been broken.
“Don’t tempt me, Claudia, my willpower is weakening every second I’m around you.” His voice sounded serious. “I don’t know how I would have stopped if the alarm hadn’t gone off.”