by J. S Ellis
‘What?’
‘A routine and treating each other like siblings.’
‘Marriage is hard work. Do you want to get married?’
‘Someday.’
I laid on the floor, his eyes penetrating me, tracing each shape and curve of my body.
‘The thing that happened to you-you don’t have to tell me, but was it bad?’ he asked.
‘... Yes.’
‘So you started to drink afterward?’
‘In a way...’
‘Does he know about your...’ he trailed off.
‘He makes remarks but, as I said, I don’t drink much.’
He stared at me. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I need to be honest. It’s funny that the only person I can be honest is with you.’
‘Don’t you think you should be honest with your husband instead of with me?’
‘You invited me here, and I came. I told you how things are... or maybe because of the music.’
‘The music?’ he asked, confused.
‘I listened to you for months. I’d light a cigarette, pour myself a glass of wine and sit by the window, wondering who it might be playing. It kept me company.’
‘Glad I could be of service.’
‘Thank you.’
He smiled at me, ‘He doesn’t know about you blacking out?’
I sighed, ‘No, he doesn’t. I don’t want him to worry.’
‘So, I’m the only one who knows about this secret of yours.’
‘I already told you, yes.’
‘Are you angry at me?’
‘Oh Mike, you’re the last person I would be angry with.’
‘You’re angry at him, aren’t you?’
‘No, I’m not angry at my husband.’
‘But you’re bored.’
I laughed.
‘I know you are,’ he said after I stopped laughing. Does he find my boredom erotic?
Michael listened to my every word, as if he wanted to savor my words for later. I laid my head on his lap, and the room fell silent. I listened to the sounds of the city rise and fall outside the flat.
‘How long you’ve been in England?’ I asked.
‘Two years, almost.’
‘Why did you leave Sweden?’
‘It’s not for me. I left my mother when I was eighteen, and I got by on my own, did odd jobs, saved up, and came here. I always wanted to come to England. I like London better than Sweden, there’s nothing for me there except my parents... but you—the Brits are so loud and obnoxious.’
I giggled. ‘So you plan to stay here or move somewhere else?’
‘New York seems a possibility.’
‘I’ve been to New York.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Like London, but bigger. If you like noise and crowds, it would be perfect for you.’
I closed my eyes to rest them for a bit. I woke up surprised to find myself still on his lap with his arms around me. I had no idea what time it was. I glanced at his lips - pink and tempting me, wanting to press mine against his. I longed to kiss and lick every bit of him, to taste all of his different tastes, and to smell him like a curious wild animal. It was time for me to go. Going there and exposing myself to him was idiotic.
‘We could get into trouble,’ I said, looking into his eyes.
He studied my face. ‘You’re such a beautiful woman.’
I stood up to go. ‘I better go.’
‘No, I mean it, you look amazing,’ he said getting up.
I turned away from him, smiling. ‘You’re adorable, but you don’t have to shower me with compliments.’
‘I think you should be lavished with compliments every day... stay a bit longer, please?’ he pleaded.
We lunged toward each other and kissed. His lips were like silk and tasted of beer and wine. I pulled away, and thought, what the hell am I doing? Coming here to talk is one thing, but kissing him is another. Panic and terror surged through me. I dragged my coat from the chair. The chair hit the floor. My heart raced, and my blood coiled. I had to leave as soon as possible before I ended up in his arms again. I got as far as the door, and something stopped me.
‘I saw your friend yesterday,’ I whispered.
‘Which friend?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
‘Sam. It was weird, I saw him in my street looking at my window.’
He looked at the floor. ‘Are you sure it was him?’
‘Of course, I’m sure. What makes you think I’m not?’
‘Had you been drinking?’
‘I had a couple,’ I admitted.
‘So you might have mistaken him for someone else.’
I crossed my arms across my chest. ‘I know what I saw. Please tell your friend not to creep around my neighborhood.’
‘Why don’t you tell him yourself when you see him!’
‘What happened that night?’
He stood up. ‘I already told you what happened.’
‘I find it strange that I danced with your friend, and then he starts creeping around my neighborhood, staring at my window. The same day you left me that bloody note.’
‘What do you want me to say?’ he barked.
‘How about the truth!’ I snapped.
He glared. ‘You’re thirty-seven, you’re responsible for your own life and actions. If you didn’t drink yourself senseless, then you wouldn’t be in this position now, would you? Where is your self-respect?’
‘Why don’t you go ahead and say it!’
‘Say what?’
‘Come on sweetheart, hit me with it. I’m a big girl. I can take it.’
‘You said so yourself, you’re an alcoholic. You’re weak and pathetic, it’s disgraceful the way you behave.’
‘Boy, you’re good-looking, but your mouth makes up for it.’
‘For what? For telling the truth? You told me to say it, and now you’re pissed off because I did. What’s wrong with you?’
‘I’m going to go now,’ I said.
‘You want to go, fine be my guest!’
I plodded towards the door. ‘I don’t understand what the fuck is going on?’ he shouted ‘first you are all over me, opening up your personal life to me and now you’re pushing me away. Fucking drunk!’
‘I wasn’t all over you. Stop being a pompous prick. Let me break it to you, sunshine, look in that mirror, embrace it because this,’ I pointed at my face, ‘it’s only temporary, enjoy it while it lasts.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘No, fuck you!’ I shouted, pointing my finger at him, and then stomped towards the front door.
‘Wait!’ he shouted.
He picked up my bag from the floor and handed it to me. I took it and stared into his eyes. My heart beat fast against my chest, and my body shook. I opened the door, and he kicked it behind me.
The air bit my skin as I stomped down the street. I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. It didn’t calm me down. Who does he think he is? Nobody has spoken to me like that before, not even Richard. I hailed a taxi. I won’t tolerate being spoken to like that, not by anyone, and especially by a twenty-one-year-old. What enraged me the most was not what he said or how he said it full of spite, but the way he kicked the door behind me. As I got in the taxi, the driver turned to me.
‘Hey, lady, can’t you read,’ he said, pointing at the NO SMOKING sign.
Richard was in the living room, watching a talk show.
‘Successful day?’ he asked.
It’s a habit of his whenever I go somewhere, he always asks me... Successful trip? Successful meeting? Successful seminar?
‘Yes, how was golfing?’
‘Golfing was good, you know who I saw today?’
I took off my coat. ‘Who?’
‘Hector Walsh bought his granddaughter with him today. She’s sixteen.’
I don’t remember Hector Walsh. I must have met him once or twice, but Richard’s friends are a blur to me. When Richard introduces me to t
hem, I don’t see their faces. When I’m around them, there’s no real me, just an abstraction. I’m just not there, perhaps I never was.
‘Lovely girl, bright. She wants to go to Oxford to study journalism. Girls like her give me hope. She wants to do something with her life. She has ambitions and goals, not just taking pictures of herself and posting them on social media.’
‘Hmm...’ I murmured, ‘I’m going to take a shower. We’ll talk about it later, darling.’
I jumped in the shower and shampooed my hair furiously, still worked up about how Michael treated me. He was so immature and disrespectful, but what should I expect? He’s still a boy for Christ’s sake! I washed the whole day off me. Mozart’s Lacrimosa started to play. How stagy!
I prepared a small meal, and hardly ate any of it, I wasn’t hungry. I spent the afternoon with a bratty, spoiled musician and kissed him as if I were a lover, and then had to sit across from my husband, having dinner with him as though it was just another Saturday night in. It was surreal. How could I do this? Thank God, I left on time. I almost let my desire cloud my judgment. I am supposed to be good this year, not the opposite. What’s wrong with me? I heard the music again in my head, this time it was a beat. Am I going insane?
‘Are you alright?’ Richard asked.
‘Yes, why?’ I said, taking a sip of water.
‘You look pale.’
‘I’m always pale.’
I mean, more than usual.’
‘I’m fine, just a little tired?’
My mobile went off and Michael’s number flashed on the screen. I ignored it.
‘What do you want to do tomorrow?’ Richard asked.
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes, it’s a Sunday. Let’s have lunch. I can call Judy and Patrick.’
Judy and Patrick are Richard’s friends. He’s a lawyer in real estate, I think, but could be wrong. His wife, Judy, hosts fundraisers, and charity events. An obnoxious woman. The last thing I needed was to spend a Sunday afternoon with a snobbish, uptight couple who bore me senseless.
‘Or we can go watch a movie,’ I suggested, pushing the plate away.
‘Movie? What movie do you want to see?’
‘Whatever’s showing.’
He frowned at me like I was mad.
My phone lit up again. Richard took a sip of water. ‘Aren’t you going to get that?’
‘No,’ I replied.
‘Who’s calling you at this hour?’
‘A client. You know how these people are, no consideration of the time or day.’
Why is he calling me? What did Michael want? He knows I’m home and Richard is here. We said what we had to say, there’s nothing more to add.
‘Or bowling?’ I suggested.
‘Bowling?’ he asked. His eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of their sockets.
‘Why not?’
‘Sophie, I am a middle-aged man, bowling is for children.’
‘Adults go bowling, there is nothing wrong in playing once in a while. Let your guard down.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, darling.’
‘I don’t want to have lunch with Judy and Patrick,’ I responded. The mobile lit up once more. Richard sighed. I rejected the call and switched off my mobile.
‘Are you sure you’re feeling alright?’ Richard asked.
‘I’m tired.’
He got up, and leaned over and kissed my cheek. I couldn’t bear to look at him.
‘Why don’t you go and lay down. I’ll wash these for you. Tomorrow, I’ll take you for lunch at Dinner. They might set up a table for us,’ he said, reaching for my hand and kissing it.
Great another luxurious restaurant.
‘Whatever you like, Richard.’
1st March
Evening
Diary,
I woke up with the sounds of the clatter of pots and pans and groaned. My head was pounding. I placed the pillow over my head and tried to block out the noise, but it was of no use. I was never going to get back to sleep.
Richard used to love making me breakfast in bed until he eventually stopped. Now, if he wakes up before I do, he makes it just for himself. Where did it all go? The sweet gestures, the staying in bed longer to snuggle? What happened to all of that?
As I walked into the kitchen, the smell of glazed onion and garlic filled my nostrils. It didn’t smell like breakfast, plus there were pans and pots all over the counter.
‘Richard, darling, what are you doing?’
‘Good morning dear, I assume the goddess wants coffee,’ he said, pouring coffee into two mugs.
I glanced around the kitchen. On the table was a chopping board with potato skins, and carrots cut in thick circles. He wasn’t making breakfast.
‘I’m cooking,’ he said, pouring the milk into the coffee.
He handed me a mug and took a sip. ‘I can see that, what for?’
‘This afternoon.’
‘This afternoon?’ I asked, confused.
He had marinated the beef, which was for more than just two people. ‘I thought you made a reservation at Dinner?’
‘I changed my mind, we’re staying in.’
‘Ok.’
I sipped more coffee, as relief washed over me. I preferred to have a quiet Sunday in, rather than going out to a restaurant that serves fancy food.
He hummed a song to himself. I ambled over to the counter, and placed a couple of crumpets into the toaster, and had a nosy at what he was doing. Richard rarely cooks. I am the cook in the house.
‘That’s a lot of beef for just two people.’
‘I invited friends over. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Who?’ I snapped.
‘Jody, Patrick, Hector and Mary, they’re joining us for lunch.’
‘Without consulting with me first?’
The last thing I needed after Michael yelled at me and kicked the door after me, was to have to spend my fucking Sunday afternoon with uptight, snobbish farts.
‘It’ll be fun.’
Fun? Is this his idea of fun? All I saw was old. I am thirty-seven going on ninety-seven. We have become Mr. and Mrs. Old!
‘You wanted excitement, isn’t that what you said?’ he asked placing the cooked onions on a plate and setting them aside.
‘We have different ideas of what excitement is, Richard,’ I said, buttering my crumpets.
I slammed the innocent plateful of crumpets onto the table and sat down.
‘Problem?’ he asked.
‘I wish you told me...’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll clean it all up,’ Richard said.
‘You better,’ I warned him.
I suddenly had a brainwave. Invite Sylvie for lunch! He invited his friends without my permission, so I thought I’d do the same. Thankfully, she accepted my offer.
Richard stared at me as I hung up. ‘What?’
‘Nothing...’ he said.
Hector and his wife Mary were the first to arrive. I’m sure I’ve seen them before, but I’m not sure.
‘Ah Sophie,’ he said, ‘looking beautiful as always.’
‘Thank you.’
He seemed to know me, but I had no clue who he even was.
Richard ushered them to the living room. They sat on the sofa and chatted. I went to the kitchen and checked on the food, and added more salt to the gravy.
‘Sophie!’ Richard called out.
‘Yes?’
‘Pour us some drinks will you? A martini, and two whiskeys,’ Richard commanded.
What am I? A waitress! I took a deep breath and made them the bloody drinks. As I was about to sit down, the doorbell went. Jodie stood before me with a long face. She has long brown hair, hazel eyes, and high cheekbones. For her age, she’s still an attractive woman.
‘Sophie...’ she said, taking off her cream coat. She handed it to me and slipped past me.
‘Jodie!’
‘Richard, darling!’
I hung her pesky coat on the hanger. Patrick
came in.
‘Sophie,’ he said, giving me a warm hug and kissing me on both cheeks, ‘whenever I see you, you always look younger.’
‘Oh, thank you.’
‘Such a stunner,’ he said, ogling me. Dirty old man.
‘Patrick!’ his wife called out.
She was sitting on the sofa. ‘Come here,’ she said, as if I had the plague.
I wondered where Sylvie was and what is taking her so long!
‘Sophie, be a darling, make a gin and tonic and a whiskey,’ Richard said.
Can’t he do them himself? They are his guests! After I made their drinks and poured myself a large glass of gin and tonic, I sat on the armchair, not paying attention to what they were saying. They mumbled words, naming people I didn’t know, or I do, but I don’t remember. I lit a cigarette and took a large sip of gin. Jody scowled at me.
‘Still smoking I see,’ she said.
‘Aha...’
She rolled her eyes. The doorbell rang. Sylvie at last. I took a deep drag from my cigarette. Richard eyed me and proceeded with his conversation. Sylvie was casually dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a grey coat. Sylvie and I exchanged hugs, and I introduced her to Richard’s friends.
‘Sophie, I wasn’t aware you have such beautiful friends. Richard, you should invite me here more often,’ Patrick said.
Jodie gave me a nasty glare. I poured a glass of gin and tonic for Sylvie and me. I got my phone from the kitchen table and sat back in the armchair. Sylvie moved a chair next to me. She didn’t look impressed by Richard’s friends.
‘Thank you for coming, you saved my life,’ I whispered.
‘Hey, that’s what friends are for,’ she said, leaning in closer to me, ‘did you manage to gather something about that night?’
I shook my head.
‘Did you speak to the lads?’ she asked.
I nodded.
‘Did you tell him?’
Who?’
‘Richard...’ she whispered.
‘No... I intend to keep it that way.’
‘And what about-’
‘I don’t want to talk about it this now.’
After lunch, Richard and his crew retreated to his study, while Sylvie and I stayed in the kitchen. She helped me wash the dishes, and then we smoked cigarettes and drank brandy in the living room. We heard laughter coming from the study.
‘Happy bunch,’ Sylvie said.
‘They’re such assholes.’