by J. S Ellis
I noticed a blond young man walking towards me, and a vision came to me. I was lying somewhere, maybe on the floor, faces around me, but they were blurry. Why was I lying on the floor?
I froze and then realized, he was looking straight over at me. It was one of Evelyne’s roommates. He was lanky and skinny and staring directly at me. It was like I was looking at an angel. I felt sick, and couldn’t breathe properly. My eyes traced his facial features: his blue eyes, and small straight nose, his bee-stung lips and full mouth, his sharp cheekbones, and laser-cut jawline, and his strawberry blond hair which cascaded to his chest. He wore a red jacket, black jeans, and a t-shirt, with something written on it. It wasn’t in English. His fashion sense was like the teddy boy style from the fifties. He wore silver bangles on his wrists that jingled as he walked over to me. He also wore a snake ring on his index finger and a plain platinum ring on his middle finger. He was too colorful, and it hurt my eyes.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked in a soft-spoken voice.
I detected an accent.
‘Yes, no, I don’t know,’ I mumbled.
‘You were really drunk last night,’ he said.
I stared at him, confused, ‘Sorry? What do you mean?’
His eyes sliced through me, ‘I’m Michael, you and your friend partied with us last night.’
‘I did what?’
He blinked at me, ‘you don’t remember, do you?’
‘No, I don’t,’ I gasped.
‘I didn’t think you would, you passed out.’
‘Passed out!’ I shouted in horror.
‘Yeah, you blacked out or something,’ he said.
‘Oh, I err, sorry, I’ve got to go.’ I said, walking away from him. I could feel his glare like he was judging me. I paced back up the street, with his face haunting my head, feeling like shit.
Once I got home, I rang Sylvie. According to her, we went to Blagclub after we left the Yellow Door. We had a drink at the bar, and some executives invited us over to their table. I didn’t want to join in, but Sylvie insisted. They turned out to be boring. A young man came over and tried to burn one of the business men’s hair with a lighter, as a joke. We left their table and joined the table of young men.
Sylvie was impressed by their sense of fashion and good looks. Apparently, I insisted I knew them, even though I’d never spoken a word to them before that night. She got on well with Nicky and nipped out with him for a while, leaving me alone with the other three boys. What happened between the time she left the club with Nicky, and when she returned, she can’t say.
‘Ask them,’ she said, ‘one of them didn’t drink or smoke - the blond one.’
‘I’ve already spoken to him,’ I said.
‘Really, when?’ she said.
‘I bumped into him in the street.’
‘And what did he say?’ she said, sounding surprised.
‘He didn’t say much only that I passed out.’
‘Well, you can always ask him to be more specific.’
‘As if I am going to knock on his door and ask him. It’s too embarrassing.’
‘You weren’t drunk when I left. Well, you’d had around five drinks, like me. And I was fine, so...’
‘So, you left me alone with three strange men, to go and have sex?’
‘They weren’t strange boys, they were cute.’
I thought of Michael and his angelic face, oh, he was cute all right.
‘What happened then?’
‘We took you home.’
‘Who’s “we”?’
‘Me and the boys,’ Sylvie added.
‘You brought strangers to my home!’ I snapped.
‘It was only one of them.’
‘Who?’
‘Nicky.’
Why can’t I remember any of this? I sighed, ‘and then?’
‘I took the keys from your bag, unlocked your door, and I made sure you were in bed and all.’
‘How considerate. So, you’re the one who undressed me?’
‘Yes, and put on your pajamas.’
‘Sylvie, my dress is covered in soil, and it’s ripped from the shoulders.’
‘You must have torn it when you fell.’
‘And what about the bruises all over my leg, my swollen forehead, and the graze on my cheek? Are you sure I didn’t get into a fight?’
‘No, I don’t think so. They said you hit the floor pretty hard.’
Sylvie started talking to someone in the background, and then returned to the phone, ‘something’s come up, and I have to go,’ she said, ‘it was a fun night we should do it again, without you passing out, of course.’
‘That’s not funny, Sylvie.’
14thJanuary
Morning
Diary,
Richard came home late at night. I didn’t know where he went. I didn’t ask, and I didn’t care. I was more concerned about what happened to me. I guessed he was at the golf club. I detected cigars and whiskey on him. He’s not supposed to smoke or drink, but I wasn’t going to tell him off, not after what I did.
Why do my thighs ache? Was I raped? Should I go to a GP or a gynecologist, or maybe the police? And tell them what, that I passed out and suspect I’ve been raped? What if I haven’t? How stupid would I look then? They have better things to do with their time. What if I wasn’t drunk, but drugged? And, who would do this? Michael? His friends?
Richard fiddled with his drink as we sat on the sofa opposite each other.
‘I’m sorry I behaved appallingly,’ I said.
He glared at me, ‘you have.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He sighed. ‘When I married you everyone thought you were too young for me. I knew the risks, but for God’s sake, is it so hard for you to behave?’
I stared at the floor.
‘And can you put the cigarette out? You’re like a chimney!’
‘Sorry,’ I said, putting the cigarette out.
Richard got up and went to the kitchen. ‘Promise to cut down the drinking, we all need to blow up some steam, but you seem to be blowing a lot of it lately,’ He said coming back into the room with a snack, ‘where did you go?’
I laid on the sofa. ‘For a drink with Sylvie. I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.’
‘Would you like a sandwich?’
‘No, thanks. I needed a change of scenery, darling. All I see is figures and papers,’ I said.
‘I know you have a stressful job and I don’t mind you going with Sylvie, but please take it easy.’
‘Ok. I will. I’m going to bed. I need to get some rest.’
I laid on the bed staring at the ceiling for ages. My whole body still ached. Richard didn’t come to bed, I could hear the TV blaring out for hours. I couldn’t sleep at all. My brain was going haywire trying to remember what happened to me last night.
16th January
Afternoon,
Diary,
A client, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, came into the office today, claiming his VAT had never been paid and was years overdue. This is the last thing I need. He sat across from me with his old suit and greying beard.
‘I need to see the books,’ I said to him.
‘Books?’ he asked.
‘Yes, you do keep your accounting records, don’t you?’
I knew what was coming, he didn’t do any bookkeeping that year.
‘No, I didn’t. Can you fix this for me? I need this done this week.’ He demanded.
Excellent, a man who didn’t do his books and, by the scared look on his face, has no clue where that year’s actual documents are and wants me to sort out his mess in less than four days. Why am I even in this business, again?
Evening,
I can’t stop thinking about that night. What if I did something horrible? There is one last hope, to shamefully go and ask Michael. Maybe he can help me pick up the pieces. I don’t want to see him. The prospect of being intimidated by someone so young is laughable, but there’s some
thing about him which is dangerous and sexy.
My mind’s racing. What if they pulled a practical joke that went horribly wrong? I can’t think of anything in particular. And how much did I have to drink? How much would I have needed to drink to fall over and pass out?
The truth is, diary, I thought my life would be so different from what it is right now. I had good grades and worked hard to get my ACCA. I thought being successful was everything. But I paid the price for this achievement and didn’t put myself “out there” as the other girls did. Go out, party, and go on crazy one night stands. I was the girl who had long-term boyfriends, not escorts.
And now, what’s become of me? I pass out at the age of thirty-seven in the company of twenty-year-olds. It’s disgraceful and pathetic, a woman of my age allowing herself to get into this position. I’m living my life in reverse.
18th January
Afternoon
Diary,
I’ve done it, I left a note addressed to Michael in the mailbox.
I need to speak to you. There’s a small coffee shop a few blocks away from here called Teas Me, can you meet me there on Tuesday around 5pm?
Sophie.
I hope he can make it.
19th January
Evening
Diary!
He was there all right, facing the door by the window, drinking a cup of coffee, looking bored. He saw me straight away and smiled.
The smell of coffee was overpowering. Etta James played in the background. I placed my bag on the stool and felt my cheeks flush. He looked me up and down. I wondered what he thought of me. His elbow rested on the table. His fingers curled his glorious hair, looking demure and serious.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘Thank you for coming.’
‘I had nothing better to do, so...’ he said with disinterest.
I ordered a double gin and tonic from the waiter. Michael flashed me a disapproving glance. I noticed him looking at my legs, his eyes followed the length of them. I looked away.
‘Do you really need that, lady,’ he said, looking at my drink.
‘My name is Sophie.’
‘I know.’
I felt my cheeks flush again.
‘What do you want to know?’ he asked, stirring his coffee.
‘Anything you can remember would be helpful.’
‘You don’t remember anything?’
I shook my head. The waiter brought my gin. I let it sit there for a while, so I didn’t show any signs of desperation. My mouth watered thinking about taking a sip. I began to tell Michael what Sylvie told me.
‘After she left, you just sat there. You didn’t join in the conversation, and my friend went to the bar, and you followed him. And then, you two were on the dance floor together.’
‘Who is this friend of yours?’
‘Sam.’
I grabbed the glass of gin and took a big gulp.
‘And what happened?’
‘Nothing, you just danced.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’
I admired his full bottom lip. I wanted to reach out and run my finger ever so gently on those pillowy lips, and stare deeply into his eyes. It was ridiculous, I was there to gather information about that night, with bruises all over my body, and the suspicion that I was assault or raped, but instead, I was sick with desire for this boy. I bet girls won’t leave him alone or maybe boys too.
‘You two did slip, though,’ he said.
‘And?’
‘When he tried to pick you up, you pulled him back on the floor.’
I started to think it was better not knowing.
‘You weren’t that bad...’ Michael continued, ‘you have nothing to worry about.’
‘I am worried because I can’t remember a bloody thing.’
‘That’s what you did. You danced. You slipped a few times, but you were having a good time. It looked like you just blacked out and collapsed on the floor. I think that’s when your friend came back. I’m not sure. I had to leave because my friend Andy got into a fight.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Yes.’
I still sensed there was more, and blurted, ‘My dress was ripped. There was soil all over it. Did I leave the club?’
‘Not that I recall, maybe your dress ripped when you fell. You hit the floor quite hard.’ He said looking at my scratch. I adjusted my hair to hide it.
‘Are you sure there isn’t more?’
‘No.’
‘I remember lying down.’
‘Maybe you remember yourself lying on the floor of the club. Is that all you can recall?’
‘Faces, but I can’t make them out.’
I watched him playing with his bangles. I felt butterflies stir in my stomach. My heart beating fast against my chest. There was an uncomfortable silence. My breath rose and fell in rapid succession, unable to stop staring at this strange, but stunningly beautiful boy. I’ve grown so accustomed to Richard’s body, the grey hairs on his chest, the scar from his surgery, and the softness of his body. Michael was like a newly hatched man in front of me. There were no grey hairs, nor a scar across his chest. Just a trim, tight body.
‘It’s amazing...’ I blurt.
He stared at me. ‘What is?’
He held my gaze, for the first time he looked at me properly. It was as if he could see me as a whole person. He studied my face. I haven’t been looked at like that for ages. It’s nice to be looked at by someone else who’s not your husband. This sort of behavior is going to lead me into trouble. The more determined I am to be good, the more unsuccessful it’s becoming.
‘I know what I look like,’ he said.
My eyes widened. Of course, he’s aware of his beauty. He’s confident, and sure of himself, and no doubt spends a long time in front of the mirror studying himself.
‘That’s a little vain, don’t you think?’
‘No, beauty is what’s on the inside. I believe modesty is admirable, but everyone wants to look good. Why not admit it? Besides, I am a musician, I have to look good,’ he said.
As much as I admired his confidence, I found him arrogant. ‘That’s most impressive... so you are the one who plays that music?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been listening?’
‘Hard not to. We don’t live far from each other.’
‘Oh yeah,’ he said.
I was sure he didn’t want to be there with me, in that coffee shop. I must have dragged him out of bed. How old was this boy anyway, nineteen, twenty?
‘Where are you from? Your English is perfect, but you’ve got an accent... I’m not sure-’
‘Sweden,’ he said, inspecting his nails, ‘I suppose you’re English?’
‘Yes, very.’
‘From London?’ he said without looking at me.
‘Yes.’
He smiled, still not glancing at me.
‘Are your friends Swedish too?’
‘Yes, except Nicky, he’s English. Sam and Andy are from Sweden too.’
‘I see. What’s your second name?’
‘Frisk.’
‘And how old are you, Michael Frisk?’
He sighed. ‘Twenty-one.’
I smiled. He’s still a baby. Oh, to be young again, I wanted to tell him to cherish those years, and you’re only young once, but I didn’t want to appear like I was lecturing him. He wasn’t interested in what I had to say.
‘That’s a hell of a good age to be,’ I said, and stood up to leave. ‘It was nice talking to you, Michael, and thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For taking your time to come here,’ I said, taking out a five-pound note and placing it on the table. ‘But before I go, may I ask...’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you play in a club? I don’t recall the name of it.’
‘Mau Mau, yes, I play there with my band.’
‘I thought it was you.... anyway, I must go.’
‘Take care,’ he said.
Something isn’t right. I know Michael’s hiding something. He didn’t tell me the whole truth. But, why?
20th January
Evening
Diary,
I haven’t thrown the dress away, or washed it either in case it helps me to trigger something about that night. It’s all still a blur. I’ve kept the dress hidden in my closet so Richard won’t see it. I haven’t mentioned anything about the night to him. I don’t want to worry him. I’ve avoided sex, so he won’t notice the bruises on my body and start to ask questions. I should go and see my gynecologist. There’s got to be more to the story than Michael told me.
21st January
Afternoon,
Diary,
Just got off the phone with my gynecologist’s secretary. It was an awkward call since I couldn’t go through the details over the phone. ‘Can it wait two weeks?’ She asked.
‘No, it can’t, I need an appointment fast.’
The secretary sighed and flipped the pages of the diary. The only available space was a week from now. All I knew was, the longer it took, the more difficult it would be to tell. I made the appointment anyway, despite how difficult it would be to tell now so much time has passed.
22nd January
Evening
Diary,
I’m shaking here. WTF? I’ve just checked the mailbox, and there was a note inside with these words:
Be careful, nothing is what it seems.
It was typewritten. Was it really intended for me? Who would post such a thing? It must be a practical joke. Kids taking the piss. Anyway, I’m going to throw it in the bin. Kids pull these kinds of pranks all the time, don’t they?
24th January
Evening
Diary,
Ugh! Last night, Richard and I went to an opera, Tosca. It made me cry! Operas have that effect on me. When we got home, Richard unzipped my dress. I wasn’t in the mood for sex, not after what happened. Or didn’t happen? Oh, I don’t know!
‘I was thinking, we should go away somewhere,’ he said, caressing my back.
He brushed my hair away from my neck and kissed it. ‘I’m tired, Richard.’
Richard sighed and pulled away.