by J. S Ellis
‘I have lots to do at work.’
‘We’re having dinner, relax,’ he said, moving closer to me.
For a moment, I wanted to confess everything, and capture his humiliated expression. If anyone looked, they would have seen a respectable couple having dinner, but what they didn’t know was, I longed for another man, and was figuring out more excuses to go and see him again.
20thMarch
Evening,
Diary,
Charles came out of his office when he saw me walking past.
‘Sophie?’ he called.
‘Yes?’
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, checking his watch.
Shit! Think of something quick. Is he monitoring my moves?
‘I’m meeting a client,’ I said.
‘How come I didn’t know about this meeting?’ he asked.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
‘It’s a last-minute thing. He called to set up a meeting,’ I said, turning away.
‘Wait a minute,’ he said.
I froze.
‘Who is this client?’ Charles asked.
If I said a client’s name, there was a possibility that Charles would call the client to confirm. I was so screwed.
‘Charles, something is wrong with this thing?’ The clerk said, trying to free paper jammed in the printer.
He removed his glasses and wiped them with his jacket. He put them back on and attended to the printer. I think printers smell fear, the busier you are, the more it is likely to jam. Today, the printer saved my life.
I rang the buzzer. I expected another disappointment and was so relieved to hear the ‘bzzz’ to let me in.
I climbed up to the second floor. There was pop music playing, again. Michael stood by his door, waiting for me, dressed in a red shirt with ruffles and skinny black trousers. I smiled.
‘Hi,’ he said, gazing down at me.
‘Hi... who keeps playing the loud music?’
‘A neighbor, she likes her music loud, like I do, but I don’t like this kind of music,’ he said.
‘We need to talk...’
‘I know, come in.’
I didn’t take off my coat. I scanned the flat. There were more scarves on the coffee table - black, purple, yellow, and silver bracelets.
‘I came over looking for you the other day, but you weren’t in.’
‘When?’
‘Monday, around six.’
‘I was out with Sam. Why didn’t you text me, I gave you my number to use it.’
‘It didn’t cross my mind.’
He rammed me against the wall, kissed me hard on the lips, and undid my coat slowly, button by button. He lifted my skirt to my waist.
‘No! We have to talk.’
‘Right, of course,’ he said, taking a step back.
He went into the kitchen. I adjusted my skirt, and sat down. He returned with two beers. He hesitated about giving it to me. The beer was too mild for my craving, but I took it and gulped it down.
‘What are we doing?’ I asked rubbing my hands together.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘I’d rather not think about it.’
I glared at him. He blinked at me. ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ I asked.
‘I don’t see it as an accomplishment if that’s what you mean.’
‘You’re too young, you don’t want to go through this. I’m playing a part in the most important years of your life...’
‘I can’t explain it...’
‘Does it excite you that I am older, or that I’m a hot mess? Which one is it, or is it both?’
He frowned at me, ‘I don’t like your drinking, that’s for sure.’
‘So it’s because I’m older. You want the experience and the thrill of it all. There’s something sexy about an older woman and a younger man, don’t you think? God, I’m a walking cliché.’
He sat beside me and placed his hand on my thigh. ‘You do excite the hell out of me, and I don’t think you are a cliché.’
‘What do you think of me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well... you must have an opinion of me?’
‘Me! I like your grey, blue eyes, your lips, those high pouty cheekbones of yours, your wide face. I like the way your face crinkles up when you smile. I also like that you’re classy, elegant, and stunning.’ He said as his hand moved up to my inner thigh.
I stood up, shaking my head in disbelief, and lit a cigarette. He’s in it for the sex, for the experience, to turn his sexual fantasies into reality. I can’t deprive him of that, but why me? Why do it with a drunk married woman when he can do it with any woman he wants? It doesn’t make sense to me. He doesn’t need the drama. He’s got nothing to lose and is selfish, maybe that’s why. We’re all selfish, it’s in our nature.
‘I can’t do this to you. I’m a drunk! Now, I’m drunk on something I can barely understand. It’s like I’m on a runaway train, and I’m on a high from the delirious speed. Maybe I want to run away from it all, and that’s why I’m here, to escape.’ I took a deep drag from my cigarette.
The neighbor played Radiohead Creep. I forgot how much I love this song.
He stood up. ‘What are you running from?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
I stroked his cheek, traced his lips with my fingers, and ran my hand over his hair. My hand descended to his chest. He stared at me as if to challenge me to go on, alluring me deeper into his web. I stopped and took a swig of the beer.
‘What I am going to do with you? You’re in my mind all the time. You’re in my brain before I open my eyes. You’re the last thing I think about before I close my eyes. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? I can’t even think straight,’ I said.
I finished my cigarette and lit another.
He sighed heavily. ‘As I said it will be our secret. Put it out and come here.’
What an explosive secret to keep. ‘Are you going to fuck me now?’
‘Or we can talk like we are doing now.’
‘Sure, we can talk.’
‘You want to go through with it then?’ he asked.
I dropped my head and nodded.
He nodded too. We listened to the rain and the thunder rumbling.
‘Why? Why would you want to do this? You know what this means, don’t you? You’re the other man, you’re cheating with me. I took vows that I broke, and you’re breaking them with me.’
I stood by the window, and watched a man’s umbrella blow inside out, and giggled. Michael was sitting gracefully on the sofa, his hand resting on his chin, pouting as if he were a model ready for his close up.
‘There’s going to be a lot of sneaking around. We can’t be seen together in public, and you’re going to spend weekends and holidays alone. It will be a relationship based on lies and shame, everything in secret. I’m sure you don’t want that.’ I paused, hoping for a response, but he sat there waiting for me to elaborate.
‘You’re very young, so it’s best I’m upfront and honest with you. I worked hard to get where I am. I have built a good life for myself-’
‘Is that why you drink and smoke because your life is so fucking fabulous? Who do you think you’re bullshitting?’ he said.
I shut my eyes. ‘Don’t you have any vices?’
He looked away, without giving me a reply.
‘Maybe we should call it a day and nobody will get hurt?’ I asked.
‘If we end it now, I’ll get hurt... or maybe, we’ll get fed up with each other and it will end anyway.’
‘God, I hope I get fed up with you.’
He stared at me for a long time, silent.
‘Where did you meet your friends?’ I asked.
‘Andy and I met when we were about fourteen or fifteen... a friend of a friend introduced us, and we hit it off.’
‘In Sweden?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What about the good-looking one?’
‘Who?’
<
br /> ‘Sam!’
His raised an eyebrow. ‘You think Sam is good looking?’
He sounded amused.
‘Well... err...’
‘Do you want him too?’
‘No, of course not!’
He grinned. ‘Sam’s a friend of Andy’s. He’s a year younger than I am. He didn’t like me at first.’
‘Why?’
‘He told me after we became friends, that he thought I was a gay.’
I reached for the glass of wine. ‘Oh.’
‘We’re blood brothers Sam and me. We were separated by birth.’
‘What about the other guy?’
‘Which one?’
‘Nicky.’
‘Nicky’s a friend of ours,’ he said as if it explained everything.
He got up and came over to me. He took the wine glass from my hand, and drank from the same spot I drank from.
‘Enough about my friends. What are you thinking? What’s going on in that head?’
‘I’m thinking... How I’ve spent these past two days thinking of excuses to come here to see you.’
He took my hand, and positioned me on the table, as if I were a dummy,
‘And how do you feel when you know you’re going to see me?’
‘I’m as calm as I was today, but hating myself.’
He parted my legs and positioned himself between them. ‘Do you hate yourself now?’
‘Yes...’
‘Why?’
‘I just do.’
Afterward, we laid side by side on the floor, my cheeks raw, and breathing heavily. Michael lit a joint. ‘Where does your husband think you are right now?’
I placed my hands on my hot cheeks. ‘At work.’
‘Do you work late?’
‘I used to when I worked for a big company.’
‘How late?’
‘Very late.’ I snatched his joint, and took a puff. I coughed. He laughed at me, ‘and on weekends, when there’s a deadline, until two in the morning.’
‘And you got paid?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want to bore you about the details of my job. It’s tedious.’
‘No, I want to know, I want to know everything about you. Is it stressful, what you do?’
‘Yes, very.’
‘Why?’
‘People always have a problem, and you have to solve it for them. All I see are papers and figures. It’s a puzzle. I do their accounts, making sure they don’t exceed their deadlines. I do VAT returns, and Tax Returns. That’s the worst period, Tax returns.’
‘I’m sorry, but if you drink so much, how did you manage to sustain your job, it requires a lot of attention. Have you ever screwed up?’
‘I try to keep my drinking at bay when I’m at work.’
I hated myself for lying to him and to myself, given all the mistakes I’ve been making lately.
‘How do you manage?’
‘You don’t want to know...’
‘I do...’
‘Mike!’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop now.’
We split the joint, listening to the sounds outside, footsteps, a dog barking, his neighbor yelling at her husband. Apparently, she caught him with the blonde again.
‘Do you do drugs?’ I asked.
‘Sometimes...’
‘You hardly drink or smoke, but you do drugs!’
‘I said, sometimes, not all the time. There’s a difference... unlike the others, all they want to do is party every night, they’re such clichés.’
‘They’re young.’
‘I’m young, but I’m not like them... well, I’m no angel but...’
‘Were you addicted?’
‘No...’
His mouth tasted of weed and wine. I caressed his cheek. ‘God... you are going to be the death of me.’
25th March
Evening,
Diary,
You’re making a huge mistake. Look around you and you’ll find the truth.
Okay, now this is getting creepy. This person has nothing better to do with his/her life, sending crap to people’s mailboxes. How childish! How nasty! I’m keeping this note, just in case I need to go to the police.
This is becoming a habit, I don’t know how I can go on without being caught. I’m lying more than I have ever done in my life! I invent all the fictional appointments, meetings, and seminars. I write down to whom I tell the lies to keep track of them and hide the paper in the filing cabinet. It’s humongous, but I keep on doing it so I can lead my secret life with Michael.
Why am I doing this? How had a drunken night out led me to do such a thing? Those few hours I spend with him, are an escape from the reality of life. I can be whoever I want to be, not Sophie Knight, the accountant with a drinking problem. A shambles of a woman. I can detach myself from the stress of my job, and a sick husband. I go there for a few hours, leave, and go back to my life as if nothing happened. How much longer before the affair, becomes part of my reality? What then?
27th March
Evening,
Oh, Diary,
Twice in one week. Oh, how could I? I’m such a shit! I’m a cheating dirtbag!
‘I need to see you! I said to him over the phone with a voice full of desperation. As if my life depended on it.
This is an ego booster for him, or is it for me? I have a toy boy. A toy boy what a dreadful way to put it. I don’t see him like that though.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I’d love to see you too. I’ve got some errands to run... meet me around 1:00pm at my place. Can’t wait to see you.’
There are important things to attend to, like taking my coats to the dry cleaners, vacuum the carpets, renew my passport, but no, there I was, on my way to Camden in high heels, and my hair in a messy bun. I didn’t go to him right away. I nipped into the pub first. It wasn’t busy. There was a young couple at a table in the corner, and a middle-aged man on the stool sipping on a pint. The TV was showing a replay of a football game. I ordered a neat whiskey from a barmaid with blue hair. I haven’t seen her before. She looked like she didn’t want to be there. I glimpsed down at my hands and noticed how terrible my hands are. It’s the one thing I’d change about my body. They’re not long and elegant, they‘re bony and thin. I bite my nails too. I have to stop biting them, it’s not an attractive look.
I drained a couple of whiskies, and each sip danced in my mouth. As I went to order another, the pub door opened, and in walked Michael. He ambled over to me, scowling at the fresh glass of whiskey the blue-haired barmaid placed in front of me.
‘Oh Sophie, Sophie,’ he said.
‘Hi Mike,’ the barmaid said, betting her eyelashes at him.
She knows him? Does she know who I am? Has he slept with her too? I have to find a new pub.
‘Hey,’ he said without looking at her, keeping his eyes focused on me.
The barmaid rolled her eyes, and refreshed the middle-aged man’s pint. ‘Oh knock it!’ he shouted at the TV.
‘What are you doing here? I thought I was going to meet you at the flat as we agreed.’
‘You’re one firecracker aren’t you? Don’t be irresponsible, it’s this kind of attitude that can lead us into trouble.’
‘You’re here getting drunk, and you’re telling me I am irresponsible?’
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I saw you coming in. I knew what you were up too. Come on we’re going,’ he commanded.
‘Let me finish this first.’
As I lifted the glass, he took it from my hand and slammed it down. The liquid splashed on the counter.
I felt eyes upon us and, for a split of a second, the bar fell quiet.
‘Is this faggot bothering you?’ the middle-aged man asked.
Michael gracefully turned his head to the man. ‘Why don’t you bring your wife over here, and I’ll show you.’
The man slammed the glass and stood up. The last thing
I needed was a scene. He shouldn’t have come here. I didn’t need this.
I rushed to the man. ‘Please sir, don’t mind him. I don’t want any trouble.’
‘He has a big gob your boy,’ he said, sitting back on the stool. He reached for his pint and looked up at me up and down. ‘You like em’ young, don’t you?’ he said.
I grabbed my bag, while Michael placed a few notes on the counter.
‘See you around,’ Michael said to the barmaid.
‘Bye Mike,’ she said, checking him out as he made it to the door.
‘Don’t do that again!’ I snapped at him once we’re outside.
‘That guy insulted me, you expect me to keep quiet?’
‘You shouldn’t have come down here in the first place!’
I lit a cigarette and lurched away from him, it was rather difficult to walk fast in high heels.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Away from you!’
‘Don’t be dramatic,’ he said, chasing after me.
He dragged me to a corner. ‘I thought we’re going to spend some time together, not waste time arguing.’
‘I’m such a shit.’
‘Sophie, you’re not a shit. Stop the drinking.’ He took my cigarette, and threw it on the ground, ‘and then you’d be perfect.’
Like a woman adrift, I wrapped my arms around him. It was primitive. Why am I doing this? Why not do it with a man of my age? Why someone so young? I parted myself from him, my hair in a mess. I followed him to the flat. I sat on the sofa looking at the beautiful collection of scarves and jewelry. I took out a compact from my bag and inspected the damage. My hair looked like a nest. I let it down and brushed it with my fingers. He got a bottle of Sprite from the fridge and offered me one. I declined. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching me adjust myself.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.
We ate pizza together in his kitchen. He watched me eat, as though intrigued by something he’d never seen me do before.
‘Is there a place you have to be?’ he asked, standing up and taking out two Sprites.
‘I have a seminar at three, why?’
He placed a bottle in front of me. ‘No reason.’
I gazed at the bottle, and then at him. ‘God, you’re so beautiful, it’s breathtaking,’
‘You see me that way because I’m unusual to you,’ he said, sitting beside me.
‘No, it’s not that. You know what I like about you?’