by J. S Ellis
Sylvie giggled. The phone rang.
‘I’ll get it!’ Richard shouted from his study.
‘Hello, Richard speaking?’ he shouted happily. ‘Hello? Are you there? He paused for a while, then continued, ‘who is this?’ he said, exasperated.
‘Whoever it was hung up,’ he said to the others.
I swiped the screen of my phone and opened Michael’s text.
I’m sorry, let’s sort this out...
He sent it right after I switched off my phone last night. I shifted on my seat, there was nothing to sort out. He accused me of being drunk when I know what I saw. I’m not crazy. It was so creepy to see Sam lingering in the street, staring at my window. The phone rang again it made me jump. Richard picked it up, again.
‘Richard Knight... hello? ...I can’t hear you!’
He slammed the phone back down. ‘Someone taking the piss.’
‘I met someone,’ Sylvie said.
‘Great news. Who is he?’
‘His name Tim. He’s an engineer, divorced, no kids.’
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘At a friend’s party.
‘And what’s he like?’
‘He’s amazing... in and out of bed.’
‘Oh...’ I said, spluttering on my brandy.
She giggled. ‘Last time we made love, I told him I was sore, and he took it as a compliment. He said that means he’s doing something right.’
As Sylvie spoke about her sexual escapades, my mind drifted back to yesterday. Why was it so important to him for us to “sort things out.” There was nothing to sort out, but I did make it worse by kissing him. How could I be so stupid? I have come across attractive men before, and I didn’t go around kissing them. But Michael, he’s what exactly? My body prickles every time I think of him, his fire, his enthusiasm, his passion, his unapologetic attitude. So seductive, yet so arrogant.
Mike, there is nothing to “sort out” you made your point as I made mine. It’s best we leave this behind us and move on.
S.
I took Sylvie’s half-finished brandy from her hand and refilled our glasses. The phone rang again. I picked up it on the first ring.
‘Hello?’
Breathing. A bell ringing.
‘Hello?’
Silence answered me back. Shaking my head, I placed the phone down and sat back on the sofa.
My phone beeped.
Yes, there is, and you know it too. I can make myself available to you whenever you want me.
M X
My mouth gaped open like a fish. What makes Michael think I want to see him again? Wasn’t I clear in the text? Which part of moving on does he not understand? I like a confident young man, but who does he think he is?
‘Are you there, Sophie?’ Sylvie asked.
I raised my head. ‘Yes?’
‘Did you hear what I just said?’
‘I’m sorry... I...’
‘You seem distracted...’
‘I—‘
She leaned forward, looking at me skeptically. ‘There’s an affair written all over you.’
What made her say such a thing? ‘What an outlandish comment.’
‘I hope you don’t do anything foolish. I know Richard can be... challenging but he’s a good man,’ she said, getting up from her chair.
‘You’re leaving?’ I said unable to hide the panic.
I didn’t want to be alone with Richard friends.
‘Yes, I have to meet Tim,’ she checked her watch, ‘in half an hour, thanks for lunch. Will you say bye to Richard for me?’ She gave me a hug. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘If you need to talk, call okay?’
‘Yes, same here.’
The phone rang again. I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Jodie removing her earring and picking up the phone.
‘Knight Residence.... speak up! Hello?’
She placed the receiver back down.
‘Whoever it was hung up on me, how rude! Be a doll and fetch me a gin and tonic,’ she said.
‘You have hands, why don’t you fetch it yourself, doll,’ I snapped.
I reread his text again. I can make myself available to you - what a tempting offer. I deleted the message and his number from my contacts. There wasn’t any point in erasing it though because I already remember it. I left the mobile on the bedside table. My phone beeped again. I stared at it as if it was the most dangerous object in the room.
I’m outside. M
What does he mean, he’s outside? Outside this apartment? Is he out of his mind!
I opened the bedroom door and strolled past Richard’s office. They were all talking and drinking, sat on the sofa or in armchairs, with Richard behind his desk. I made it to the living room and opened the curtain. Michael stood on the pavement across the street. My jaw muscles tightened. What excuse am I going to tell Richard?
I dragged the garbage bag out and plodded down the street, without looking at Michael. I stopped around the corner. He came over to me.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I said.
‘I wanted to see you.’
‘What are you doing calling and sending me those bloody texts invading my space. My husband is in there with his guests, he could easily have seen you!’
‘So? He doesn’t know me.’
‘Yes, but there’s a good chance he saw me!’ I said, almost raising my voice.
He took a step closer. I jumped. ‘Come and see me again.’
If I were another girl, she would do it in a heartbeat. However, I wasn’t any other girl.
This can’t be happening, I shouldn’t have gone to his place, I shouldn’t have kissed him.
‘Why?’
‘Think about it,’ he said, placing his hand on my cheek. I tensed and pulled away. ‘Remember, I meant every word in that text.’
He walked away. I watched until he had disappeared around the corner.
When I got back in the apartment and paced past the study, Richard’s desk was empty. Jodie was sitting in one the armchairs playing with her hair. I couldn’t see Mary or their husbands. I hoped Richard hadn’t left me alone with these cows.
‘She’s doesn’t socialize with us, she’s always been distant. I told Richard he was crazy to marry such a young woman,’ Jodie said.
Yes, she’s not one of us, how can she? She’s young.’ Mary said.
‘She’s a gorgeous girl,’ Jodie said.
‘She’s beautiful, but the smoking is just vile.’
‘Yes, totally... ‘
‘You think she’s had work done?’
‘Of course, she has, her arse is in exactly the same place as it was ten years ago.’
‘Well, I need names.’
How ridiculous, I have never considered plastic surgery.
‘Richard could have done better,’ Jody fumed, ‘he married her to make himself look good.’
‘Richard’s a handsome man. He hardly needs a pretty girl to make him more appealing.’
‘You know how it is... she didn’t even give him any children, except miscarriages. Useless girl, all she cares about is to look pretty and smoke.’
I ran to the bedroom in tears. How dare she come into my house, eat my food, drink my booze, and say something like that! Is this what that cow thought of me? What a dreadful thing to say. Where is her shame? What did I do to her to cause such contempt? After what I did for Richard, they should get down on their knees and thank me. I was there for him, not them! They didn’t even come and visit him, so much for friends. Doesn’t she realize how the miscarriages affected me? I’ve never recovered from the grief.
The front door opened, and I heard laughter and talking. Was Richard outside? What if he’d seen me?
The phone rang. ‘Bloody phone,’ Richard said.
‘Richard Knight.... Malcolm, how are you? Good, good no, I haven’t forgotten about tomorrow, yes I see, good day to you too.’
2nd March,
Late at n
ight,
Diary,
It's official, I’m the shittiest person that ever walked on this earth! You are my only confidant. No-one must find you, and I mean no one. You hold a dangerous secret now.
I haven’t told Richard, what I overhead Jodie say about me. He would defend her, so what’s the point? So, I suffer in silence. I spent the day, trying to recall, when I was an ordinary woman, before the drinking, and everything else that happened. The first time I got pregnant, was a year after we got married. Oh, the joy of having a baby. I always wanted to be a mother. For me, it’s life’s greatest achievement. I was careful about what to eat and not to stress myself. I never knew that kind of happiness. I didn’t want to know the sex of the baby. I wanted it to be a surprise. We set up the nursery and had everything ready to welcome the baby. We were happy. Richard proudly placed his hand on my growing tummy. We came up with names - Grace if it was a girl, Tommy if it was a boy. However, there wasn’t any baby. The doctor didn’t give me a reason.
‘It happens,’ he said.
I stayed at home, staring at the walls. I didn’t want to talk, or go to work. I refused to do anything. It was like I’d lost the will to live. Richard friend’s wife was going to have a baby. Of course, there was a baby shower.
We were invited, but I didn’t go. I urged him to go. I thought to myself, how could she have a baby when I didn’t. What have I done wrong? We were scared of trying. Seven years passed, and I got pregnant again. This time, I wanted to do everything right. I stayed in bed from the moment I found out. We didn’t think about what we’d name our child or make a nursery.
Again, before the three months, there was another miscarriage. It threw me over the edge. That’s what triggered the smoking and the drinking, and it’s got worse over the years. Then there was Richard’s heart attack. He was doing a seminar when it happened. I was working late on an audit when I got the call. Before the operation, he told me to call his solicitor, to change his will. I wanted to hear nothing of it.
‘You’re not going to die, you hear me, you are not going to die,’ I cried.
After the operation, he stayed home, so I wasn’t just his wife, I was his nurse too. I made sure he took his pills, made sure he was comfortable, and I cooked and cleaned. I didn’t mind. We never tried for a baby again. It died right after Richard’s heart attack. Last year, I brought up the option of having a surrogate, or an adoption. Richard said no, point blank.
I never got over the cruel response, no. I am an island. Now I smoke and drink, to forget the pain. The pain that my own husband caused me. I only wanted one thing from him, and he didn’t give it to me.
I paced from room to room, with my hands clenched. I didn’t want to be in this tomb of a place. I went down to the club. Nobody was playing, yet. Sade pumped out from the speakers. I ordered a double Chivas. The liquid sang in my mouth. I scanned the room, a few people were drinking, talking, and laughing, having a jolly wonderful time. Michael was sitting on the stage, dressed in a white jacket with a black collar, leather pants, a purple shirt, and a red scarf around his neck. He wasn’t alone, there was another man with him. He was having an in-depth discussion and took no notice of me. Seeing him, even just a glimpse, has become the high point of my day, everything is downhill from there.
Michael chatted with his friend and brushed his hand through his golden hair. I finished my drink, tempted to order another, but wanted to be sober for once.
Michael glanced at me, and so did his friend. Michael said something to him, and they looked away.
I got up to leave and stepped out of the club. My eyes filled with tears. I turned to see that he had followed me out.
Thwack.
I slapped him because of that night, for not knowing what happened. I slapped him for the way he talked to me at his flat, and for kissing him. I slapped him for sending me the texts and the barrage of phone calls. I slapped him for showing up outside my apartment.
His flared his nostrils and held his cheek. He pulled me against the wall. He smelled of aftershave, weed, and beer.
‘Don’t you ever slap me again!’ he roared, studying my face. He frowned and backed away, ‘sorry...’ He placed his hand back onto his slapped cheek.
‘Do you think you can manage to get away for a few hours?’ I asked him.
‘What?’
‘Can you?’
‘Now?’
He glanced down at the ground, ‘Yeah, I suppose... sure why not?’
‘Good.’
‘Fine... give me a minute, okay?’ he snapped.
He disappeared into the club. I scanned the street to make sure no one I know was passing by while I waited. Richard was at a business dinner with Malcolm, and those dinners always take a long time.
Michael came out glaring at me. I stared at him adoringly. Is that why he showed up outside my apartment asking me to see him again? I was about to make it easy and straightforward for him. I threw my cigarette to the ground, moved away from the wall and hailed an approaching taxi.
‘Hey! Can you tell me what this is all about?’ he shouted.
‘You know what this is about.’
‘Do I?’ he asked in bewilderment. I didn’t reply, the fewer words spoken, the better. The taxi stopped, ‘oh I get it. You’re still mad about Saturday. Or is it about yesterday? Is this why you came all the way to slap me? Fine, I deserve it.’
I opened the car door, ‘It’s not just about that.’
That text, that bloody text, I wanted to tell him, but instead, I kept quiet.
‘Are you drunk?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m not bloody drunk.’
‘You look odd.’
‘I’m having a bad day.’ I said getting in the taxi.
‘Is that supposed to be my problem?’
‘Get in the car.’
We traveled in silence. My hands were shaking. He looked out of the window, deep in thought. I placed my hand on the leather interior; it felt cold against my sweaty palms. I stole a sideways glance at him. I could see he was looking at my legs, tracing them up and down. I looked away. My heart was palpitating.
Rain beat fast against the taxi windows. What would my parents say if they saw me right now? What would they think? This is not how they raised their daughter. I’m not as close to them as I used to be. Since I married Richard, our relationship became strained. My mom thinks Richard is condescending. We’d have dinner together as a family and hardly say a word. Richard looking as if he didn’t want to be there. We should have gone to couples’ therapy, instead of playing hide and seek with our feelings, pretending we were fine, that the miscarriages and his heart attack were part of the past. But the past is affecting our future and my drinking. I did consider couples’ therapy once, Richard disapproved of the idea, he said it’s a waste of money. He said we would solve our own problems, and not address them with strangers. Did we address them? No. I still want a baby. It’s the only thing I want in my shitty life. Richard tries to avoid this as much as he can. So, there I was seeking solace with a kid. It’s absurd, or is it though?
I paid for the fare and followed him into the flat. I knew that once I went in, my life wouldn’t be the same again, that it would change drastically. The flat was messier than the last time, with packets of biscuits, milkshake glasses, an empty pizza box, and comic books strewn on the floor. I sniffed the chilled air. He slammed the door shut, but didn’t switch on the lights. He put the keys on a sad-looking cabinet by the doorway.
I took off my coat and let it drop to the floor. I glanced into the bedroom. The bed was unmade with grey sheets, and a book lying face down on it. There was a Les Paul in the corner, an amp, various other musical equipment, and a leopard-skin jacket placed on the chair. He shut the door. I walked over to the window and looked out at a group of young people in the street. I stared at the darkness of the sky, and the heavy rain beating against the window. A thunderbolt shook the whole room, followed by a lightning flash. I swung around to see Michael. I to
ld myself, why fight something that’s there? Why hold back? Why restrict yourself, when both of you know it’s going to happen either way? I could almost hear him thinking too. I wished he would do anything, instead of just stand there, like he’s never been in a bedroom with a woman before. I wondered how to make myself sensual for him, and if to start undressing while he watched, or if I should walk up to him and kiss him.
‘You’ve done my brain in,’ I said, and looked down.
I walked over to him and started to unbutton his shirt, while he stood still, watching me.
I didn’t know him or his body, and yet, there I was undressing him, feeling both excitement and fear.
As I made my way down to the last button, I admired his smooth, fair chest, and his flat stomach, and the beauty in front of me. What has he done to me? I’ve never been like this. It was like a dream. Like I was under his spell. I pulled my blouse from the waistband of my skirt and took it off. I trembled as his eyes inspected my white lace bra. I slipped off his jacket. We kissed hard, and moved to the bed, hitting my toe on something. I yelped but kept on going, dropping onto the bed. I traced his perfect features with my fingers, so beautiful just like an angel. He wanted to take control, and I allowed it. He was so eager to please me, and he didn’t have to work too hard.
It felt like all this time, I’ve been asleep, and now I’m finally awakening. It was painless, easy, urgent, a thing of hunger, of instinct. Looking back, I’m overwhelmed how confident I was as if I’d done this before—but nothing like this has ever happened to me. I was sure of myself and of my body. I wanted it, I needed it, and now it would be something I would do for myself. My secret.
What I’ve done hasn’t sunk in yet. Nor how easily I could destroy everything. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt right like I had become myself.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine...’
‘You seem upset? Is it me? Did I hurt you?’
I smiled. ‘No, no, not at all. Can I ask you something?’
‘Yeah...’
‘Err... how to say this... do people make remarks about the way you look?’
‘All the time, but I don’t give a shit what people think of me, why? Did someone say something hurtful to you?’