Sleeping Awake

by Noelle, Gamali

  Bryn whistled. “Bloody hell Noira.”

  “Indeed!” I reached for my teacup and took a sip. “You’ve made my tea go cold.”

  “I’ll put on another pot,” Bryn said, standing up.

  I wiped away the tears that were forming as he walked away, took up his phone and dialled Maman’s number. Knowing her, she’d have her phone in her pocket and would be checking it every other minute until I called. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hello?” she said; she sounded breathless.

  “Hi Maman,” I replied.

  “Ça va? Tu n’étais pas là ce matin et…”

  “Maman, I’m fine, don’t worry. I didn’t want to wake you last night,” I said. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

  “Are you taking your medication? Bryn said that you have it with you, but the bottles are here…”

  “Dr. Mintz brought me medicine this morning,” I said.

  “Nina’s doctor?” Maman asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  She knew that Dr. Mintz was Bryn’s mother personal physician, so this news would calm her down.

  “Okay, that’s good. When will you come home?” she asked.

  “That’s why I called you,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Please don’t be offended by this Maman, but if it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay with Bryn for a few more days. I know that it wasn’t your intention, but it feels as if I’m living in a prison at home. You and Cienna are always watching me, and it’s not doing anything for my self-esteem. I need to be alone for a while and to do normal things without having to look over my shoulder to see if I am being watched.”

  Maman was silent.

  “I know that you only want the best for me,” I continued. “I promise that I’ll take my medicine. Bryn has been very persistent about this.”

  “Yes,” Maman finally replied. Her voice was deadpan. “I assumed that he would be. He’s very responsible, Bryn…”

  Bryn rounded the corner.

  “Maman, I have to go. Bryn is bringing the tea.”

  “Wait!” she said anxiously. “You will come home in a few days, won’t you?”

  “Oui, Maman.”

  “A plus tard, alors,” she said. “Je t’aime.”

  “I love you too,” I replied. “See you.”

  Bryn sat down and began pouring my tea. “All went well?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I told her that I was fine and that I’d be home in a few days.”

  “So you’re staying over?” Bryn asked, smiling.

  I shook my head and smiled back. “I’ve got no place to go, do I? I can’t exactly go to…”

  “Tal’s?” Bryn guessed.

  “That’s the one.”

  “You’re even worse than I am,” he said. “At least I get their names before I take them home.”

  “I neither have the time, nor the patience for that,” I replied.

  “No,” he said. “You just play Mad Mavis and scare the shit out of them instead.”

  *~*

  A few nights later, Bryn’s mother had left to visit his grandmother in Cardiff, and we were driving up the path towards his house on the island.

  “Did you forget that you were having a party?” I asked. The driveway was packed with cars and a valet service was busy parking cars.

  “Bloody hell,” Bryn murmured. “Is today the 19th?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “What’s the special occasion?”

  “Shit! Anjali is going to kill me! Noira, love, go to my mum’s room and find a swimsuit. I’ve got to find Anjali.” Bryn unbuckled his seatbelt and was gone from the car before I could say another word. Sighing, I slid into the driver’s seat and continued up the driveway until I got to the valet.

  “This is Mr. Conchobair’s car, so be sure to park it in the garage and leave the keys with the house manager,” I said.

  The valet nodded. I made my way towards the front door. It was going to be a long night if Anjali was at the party. I allowed the tide of the crowd to carry me to the bottom of the stairs and went to Nina’s room to find a swimsuit. I made sure to select a bikini that had a tag on it and quickly changed. On my way out, I stopped to check my appearance in the mirror.

  My hair was usually dark brown, but as it was summer, it looked as if I had blonde highlights. I had my hair in a ponytail, but decided it against it at the last minute. Turning, I reached for the brush that was on Nina’s dressing table and combed out my hair. The curls cascaded over my shoulders. The ten extra pounds from the Cymbalta seemed to have gone directly to my breasts, and it was cleavage for miles. All the same, I thought, turning to view myself from the side, cleavage was never a bad thing.

  Parties were not my idea of a good time, but it was either go downstairs or have Bryn eventually come up and haul me towards the bar. As I didn’t need any unwanted attention that night, I chose to go downstairs on my own.

  Like an appraiser, I sat with a carefully formed smile on my lips and observed the frivolity in Bryn’s backyard. With clumsy joy, the revellers pranced about the place. They had genuine smiles on their faces and laughter was the chorus that they all sang. How could they do it? How had they mastered the art of carefree jubilance? How did they still have hope?

  I was contemplating all those things when Bryn, appropriately clad in a pair of loud board shorts, suddenly appeared.

  “Noira, you’re not being a Debby Downer, are you?” His face was flushed and his eyes seemed to dance to the beat of the music in the background.

  I took a sip of my martini. “I’m trying, dear, really I am.”

  “Try harder.” He looked rather comical as he shook his finger at me in an exaggerated manner. “I don’t need your negative aura spreading throughout my party.”

  “Then why didn’t you take me home, Bryn?” I yawned.

  “Because you haven’t been out of your house at all in almost a month, and I want my best mate back, for fuck’s sake!”

  I lowered my head, suddenly ashamed of the way that I had been treating him. Before I could apologize for my surly behaviour, a porcelain doll-like creature flitted towards us in a blur of black hair and sweet-smelling perfume.

  “Bryn, darling!” she purred, batting her eyelashes like a whore on crack. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Have you been hiding from me?”

  “N-Never, Anjali.”

  I swallowed the last of my cocktail in a weak attempt to stop myself from hurling the contents of my stomach all over Bryn.

  “I’d die and carry the memory of you with me to Heaven,” Bryn continued.

  “Really?” Anjali flashed him a luminous smile and snuggled closer to him, like a serpent ready to devour.

  I cleared my throat. The sight of me made Anjali’s face twist in the most unnatural manner. Bitch.

  Anjali and I previously had the displeasure of meeting last summer. The day had been hellish with both of us practically clawing for Bryn’s attention and making catty comments at each other when he went to the restroom during lunch.

  The smile on my face was infectiously blinding as hers as I raised my empty cup to her. “Anjali, darling!”

  The murderous glare disappeared and was replaced by all-whites. “Noira, doll, how are you?”

  Without so much as giving me time to reply, she turned to Bryn, eyelashes batting away again. With a voice so low that it was pornographic she said, “Bryn, let’s go somewhere private.”

  Bryn, having melted into a pile of droopy butter, cast me a narrow glance out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t mind, do you, babe?”

  “Of course she doesn’t. She’s a big girl; she’ll be fine.” Anjali didn’t so much as look back at me as she dragged a rather willing Bryn away from me.

  How typical of him to just up and abandon me for a girl. Such a pussy.

  Resolved to continue sulking until the time came where I could safely go back upstairs, I shoved my way through the drunkards towards the hot tub. In the minute that it had taken me
to swim through the sweaty masses, someone had invaded my oasis. One look at him, however, and my annoyance was subsequently slashed into pieces. I didn’t know his name, but there were two words to describe him: absolutely divine.

  Breathing became an irrelevance as he stood on his toes and stretched, like a god, towards the heavens. He entered the hot tub as if the clouds had descended to escort him, and a sudden craving for a juicy, red apple engulfed me as I took in the sight of the curve that extended from his lower back.

  He was too beautiful to be true; an Adonis come to life. I knew then, as an unseen wind pushed me towards him, that he was the real reason why fate had made me decide to go to the hot tub instead of remaining in my dark corner, unnoticed by the rest of the world. I didn’t know him, but I recognised him.

  “Mind if I join you?” I asked. The velvety voice of lustful honey belonged to a woman transformed, overcome by her maddening desire. My eyes ran along the contours of his body, taking my time to get a good look at every inch of the exquisite creature before me. Not even so much as a scar was to be seen on his figure and his perfection heightened my arousal. A few minutes ago, I was lamenting the state of my miserable existence, and now it seemed that after years of imprisonment, I was finally being allowed to see the light.

  Our eyes locked: my blue-greys and his velvet mosses.

  He shook his head. “Not all. Free hot tub.”

  He had one of those intoxicating accents that made women watch shows in languages that they did not understand.

  I made no attempts to hide the fact that I was watching him as I got in. Beads of water dripped from his dark brown hair into his face. The one that attracted me most started its journey between his eyebrows, ran down to the tip of his nose, and dove into his mouth. I shivered.

  I desired nothing more than to trade places with that droplet and to lose myself in his depths.

  “Cold?” He had the kind of smile that would lead the most innocent astray.

  “No.” I took a seat across from him. He was even more beautiful up close. To distract myself, I reached for my box of cigarettes.

  “Dunhills?” he observed. “Only old men smoke those.”

  I exhaled and watched as the misty gray creatures curled themselves towards the starry night. “I can handle a lot more than most.”

  “Apparently,” he said. There was the tiniest of smiles on his face.

  I continued to stare, wanting nothing more than to know every inch of his skin. I decided that I liked his jaw; it was very angular. I was almost tempted to trace its shape with my fingers.

  “Like what you see?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  He let out a boisterous laugh. “Are you always this forward?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not into games.”

  “Are you saying that you’re easy then?” His right eyebrow formed into a perfect arch.

  “Did those words come out of my mouth?”

  “Relax.” He smiled again—that devilish smile, which brought oh so sinful thoughts of what his lips could be doing to the forefront of my mind. “I was just kidding.”

  “No offense taken.” I tossed my cigarette butt over the side of the tub.

  “I’m Nicolaas, and you are?”

  “Noira.”

  “So how do you know Bryn, Noira?”

  “He’s my best friend so to speak,” I explained. “You?”

  “I’m his cousin, so to speak.”

  “You’ve neither an Welsh nor an English accent. Where are you from?”

  “The Netherlands mostly.”

  I loved the Netherlands. My father’s family had a farm in Delft, and we’d sometimes go there when I still lived in France. I smiled as I remembered the excitement of holding a baby chicken for the first time and my failed attempt to grow an onion plant. Philippe had promised me that he’d help me with my gardening on our next vacation in Delft, but that never happened. He left us a few months later, and we moved to America instead.

  I looked at Nicolaas again and focused on his exquisite face. I didn’t want to get sucked into the darkness of my father abandoning us. I didn’t like the tightness that always occurred in my chest.

  “So what brings a Dutchman to New York?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I’m French, by way of the Netherlands… My father is Dutch, but my mother is French.”

  “Ah vraiment?” I said.

  “Vraiment.”

  “Je suis française!” I replied. The realisation that Adonis and I had something in common sent my heart on a pounding fury.

  “Quel chance! Bryn told me to come to the States for my birthday. He told me that I’d like Americans. He was right.”

  I laughed. I wasn’t surprised that Bryn would coax his cousin to America’s shores with promises of wild natives. “And when is your birthday?”

  “Tonight.” Nicolaas replied. He looked around the pool area where everyone had more or less coupled off. “This was supposed to be my welcoming and birthday party.”

  “Bonne anniversaire, alors!”

  “Merci.”

  What luck indeed that I had shown up at his party.

  “Why are you skulking in the hot tub instead of making merry with everyone else?” I asked.

  “Why are you?”

  “Crowds intimidate me,” I replied. I could not explain why I felt the need to be brutally honest with him, but I did not regret my decision.

  “This crowd could intimidate anyone, I suppose.” Nicolaas observed.

  “Hhhmmm…” I replied. “What’s your surname?”

  “Armgard.”

  I sat up straighter. “The Nicolaas Armgard?”

  Nicolaas rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me that my reputation precedes me even in the U.S.”

  “I doubt that it has,” I said. “I just happen to read The Times whenever I’m with Bryn, and I subscribe to Le Monde. You made a quite a splash in London last year, young man.”

  “One could say that.”

  “It’s strange that Bryn never mentioned that he was related to you…” I mused.

  Nicolaas shrugged. “We weren’t close until this year. I had to stay with him for a few months after....”

  “After you caused a scandal by dating that male model, you mean?”

  Being the twenty-fifth in line to the Dutch throne, Nicolaas had absolutely no chance of ever being king and seemed to revel in that fact. He had a new bed mate every other week, narrowly escaped jail for cocaine possession, dabbled in bisexuality for a brief stint, and at the age of twenty-six, refused to heed to the suggestion of his dear aunt, Queen Beatrix, and find a serious partner. The soap opera that was the House of Windsor could not light a match to the one that Nicolaas alone had written, produced and directed for the House of Oranje-Nassau.

  “Precisely,” Nicolaas replied. “Cambridge seemed as good as any place to lay low for a while.”

  “Are you still dating men then?” I asked. Nicolaas had disappeared from the papers after he had caused a scene during Paris Fashion week last year. He’d caught his model boyfriend fiddling with the hairdresser backstage and was photographed being tackled to the ground, the cutting sheers that he’d attempted to attack them with in his hands for the world to see.

  “I most certainly am not,” he replied. His face contorted into an unreadable expression.

  “And is this a permanent or a temporary thing?” I inquired.

  “That depends on why you’re asking,” he answered.

  I closed my eyes. My mind drifted towards thoughts of my delicious, Adonis-like creature. I was on a tropical isle where he was the apple dangling temptingly before me and all that I had to do was reach out to touch him and damn myself to hell.

  “And now that you’ve discovered who I am and gotten my attention, you’re going to fall asleep on me?”

  Still watching the apple before me, I replied, “I always had your attention.”

  “Like I always had yours?”

  I open
ed my eyes, smiling. “If possible, you are becoming more and more attractive by the second.”

  “Et toi.”

  He was a magnetic pole slowly reeling me in. I felt the tug and wondered if he felt it as well.

  For a brief moment, I thought it possible that my hidden self had remained dormant waiting for such a moment such to be released. I became Lady Lazarus in his eyes, pulled from my secret depths. I wanted to damn myself to whatever tortuous hell awaited the decision that I made, and I hoped that he wouldn’t fail me by cowering under my prowess.

  “When do you leave?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Whenever I decide to. I don’t really have a plan for this summer besides not ending up in the papers again. Why?”

  “I have a crazy idea.”

  Nicolaas grinned. “Excellent. I knew that you couldn’t be Bryn’s best friend for nothing. What is it?”

  “We should test the zodiac together.”

  “Pardonne?” His brows knitted instantaneously.

  “You’re a Cancer, and I’m a Scorpio,” I explained. “We’re perfectly matched according to the zodiac.”

  “Ah, je comprends.”