by J. S Ellis
‘What?’
‘You’re different from everyone I know. You don’t carry a uniform of keys, briefcases, umbrellas. You are who you want to be, I admire that.’
‘The problem with most people is, they hide behind the mask society expects of them. What is this seminar you have to go to?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s boring... it’s about corporate turnarounds.’
He frowned. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s about a business that’s making a loss, and turning it around, getting it up and running again.’
He took my hand. ‘If it’s so boring, why don’t you stay here instead?’
‘Don’t tempt me.’
‘You’d rather go to a seminar than be here with me?’ he said. He let go of my hand and stood.
I crossed my arms. ‘Mike, please.’
He leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘I like you, that’s all.’
I uncrossed my arms and ran my hand through my hair. ‘I like you too.’
‘Do you like what you do?’ he asked.
I took a sip of Sprite. ‘It pays the bills.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘You mean it pays for the alcohol?’
‘Wanker!’
He smiled. ‘You want more?’
I regarded the pizza box. ‘No, I’m full.’
‘I’m not referring to the food.’ He grinned.
I ended up not going to the seminar after all. It was dark when I left. This affair is going to consume me more than the drinking, it will be the end of me. The more I see him, the more I want him.
2nd April
Morning,
Diary,
Last night, I dreamt someone was cutting off my legs with a saw. I don’t know who was doing it to me, but I didn’t try to stop them. I just laid there, motionless, as the saw sunk deeper into the bone, and the blood spilled onto the sheets. I didn’t scream, I laid there relaxed until my legs were completely sawn off my body. I woke up sweating, breathing heavily, and confused. It felt so real. I ended up inspecting my legs when I woke up to see if they were still there. It took a few minutes to calm myself. Richard was snoring beside me, with his mouth open. I wonder what the dream meant? Maybe, it was about punishment - for all the bad I’m doing. That’s why I didn’t fight back, because I knew I deserved it.
10th April
Evening,
Diary,
Went round to Michael’s. He was in a strange mood. He didn’t greet me with a kiss, or ask me how I was, or how my day was, as he usually does. I liked that about him. He showed interest in me, not just my body.
I sat on the sofa. The flat was really murky, with clothes on the floor, and blue plastic cups on the coffee table. He was polishing a silver saxophone, wearing a black fishtail coat with red cuffs. How odd he wears fishtails in the afternoon, during the week. It’s not like he was going to a wedding or playing at one! He gently placed the sax on the sofa, got up, and looked straight at me. ‘You’re a drunk, you should attend an AA meeting.’ He paced up and down. ‘What the hell am I doing with you? You’re married. This is bullshit. I don’t want to see you anymore, you should leave,’ he went on, thinking aloud to himself.
It would make sense for him to meet someone his own age, someone fun and pretty. I’m just someone to play around with in the meantime.
‘It’s like a different day with the same bullshit. You were right, I can’t go through this. I’m too young. I could break up a marriage. It will be my fault. I can’t carry that burden,’ he added turning around and staring at me.
I shook my head. I wanted him to stop him and plead to him. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
‘It’s too much, and I deserve better,’ he continued.
I felt a deep aching pain in my heart. I couldn’t breathe.
‘You have issues you need to resolve, and I have to stay away from you. It’s the most perverted thing that’s ever happened to me! It makes me sick!’ he said, lowering his eyes to the floor.
Why argue with him when he had already made up his mind? What more could I say? I couldn’t make any promises. I am the married one, and I’m the one that leaves.
He glared at me. ‘Well say something!’
‘I understand, thanks for clearing it up,’ I said.
‘Clear what up?’
‘That I’m a sick and disgusting person.’
‘Sophie!’
Once outside, I hailed for a taxi, looking over my shoulder thinking he would chase after me, but he didn’t. In the taxi, I watched life go by as I fought back the tears. I felt used and disposable. He saw me as the right candidate to fool around with until he had enough. He took advantage of me, and my vulnerability.
‘No smoking!’ said the cabbie, pointing at the sign.
At home, tears smeared down my face. I made myself a Bloody Mary and smoked. I never thought it would hurt this much. It wasn't just a fling. It’s much deeper than that. I’m in love with him. I’m the one who got hurt in the end. I crawled into a ball on the kitchen floor and sobbed. I was there for ages until I remembered Richard would be home soon. I picked myself up and poured the Bloody Mary into the sink. I had a shower to try and make myself look normal again before he got home.
15th April
Afternoon,
Diary,
I should be relieved it’s over, it’s the end of the lies, the sneaking around, and the faking, but I’m not. I messed up. Both of us were in the wrong, but what I did was so wrong on so many levels. It’s for the best - he ended it before we got caught. Imagine the trouble I’d be in? I could have lost everything.
I’m sluggish, but not suicidal, not yet, but I will be. The day will come when I stop caring altogether, and when I drink and smoke myself to death.
17th April
Evening
Diary,
Today was one of those days where I wanted to shoot myself. My drinking is spinning out of control, and it's affecting my job. I lost an important client’s file. I put it somewhere, but can’t remember where. I didn’t do any backups because I forgot. Charles wasn’t pleased. I tore the office apart looking for it. Charles also told me off because the balance sheet didn’t make any sense. He shook his head and sighed.
‘Are you having problems at home?’ he asked.
‘No.’
He removed his thick glasses with his meaty hands. ‘Jesus Christ, Sophie! Mistakes like this make us look bad in front of clients. Do you know what this means?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your eyes are bloodshot, there are dark circles under your eyes, and you’re behaving strangely lately. You’re leaving the office at odd hours or don’t come back at all. You hardly socialize with us anymore. I’ve looked the other way, but now...’
I was hot all over. ‘Are you firing me?’
‘No, but you should go on leave, resolve your issues, and come back when you’ve sorted yourself out.’
My hands started to shake. ‘But I have so much work to do.’
‘Don’t worry about that, just go and bury your head in the sand somewhere.’
I didn’t tell Richard what happened, if I did, he’d try to persuade me to quit. Instead, I told him I’m going to take some time off.
‘Good idea, you been looking haggard lately’ he said, taking out his wallet. He handed me a few notes, ‘go relax, go to a spa, it’s my treat.’
I took the money knowing exactly where I’m going to spend it, and it has nothing to do with spas or, any form of pampering.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Richard asked, putting his hand on my shoulder, ‘you stink of whiskey. You’ve been drinking, again?’
‘I went for a couple drinks, yes.’
‘With who?’
‘On my own.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes, alone... what’s so strange about it?’
‘It’s not you being alone that bothers me, it’s more the fact you’re drinking too often.’
‘It’s been a lon
g a day,’ I said.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Richard said, taking off his bow tie and jacket.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
I have a lot to apologize for. If only he knew the other half of it.
His face was serious and frank. ‘What are you apologizing to me for? I think you’ve been drinking a lot these past few weeks. You need to sort yourself. Or else I will do something about it.’
20th April,
Afternoon,
Diary,
I haven’t left the apartment today, not even to buy cigarettes and booze. I don’t want to know what’s happening out there. All I think about is Michael, I can’t get him out of my system.
If I died, would anyone mourn for me? I bet nobody will come to my funeral. Michael wouldn’t go for sure, but my parents would. My parents would be devastated and Richard too. He would die right after me from a broken heart. That’s a comforting thought.
I cleaned the apartment until it was spotless, it kept me busy. I could do other things, like read a book, go for walks, or meet up with Sylvie, but I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t have the drive to leave the apartment. It has been two weeks since the affair ended. Two weeks of emptiness. Would Michael laugh at me if he could see me now drowning in self-pity? A month will pass, then six months, and then the years will fly by, and he’ll become a memory. I feel useless sitting here doing nothing, staring at the walls, recalling each touch, each caress.
I have to go back to work. I’ll be good, and control my drinking, I’ll be careful. At least at work.
The fridge is almost empty. There’s cheddar cheese, rotten tomatoes, milk, and a bottle of white wine. I threw the tomatoes away and ordered food in for tonight. I’ll tell Richard I cooked it. I’m lying to him even about the cooking. I need to go to the supermarket. I’ll ask Richard to come with me. I can’t face the world alone.
21st April
Evening,
Diary,
‘Would you like to come with me to Tesco?’ I asked Richard.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, dear. I’ve got lots of things to do,’ he said, opening the Financial Times, ‘I bought us tickets by the way.’
It was like I’d asked him to take a trip with me to the moon. Why couldn’t he just say he didn’t want to come?
‘Tickets for what?’ I asked, masking my annoyance.
‘Phantom of the Opera,’ he replied.
How dramatic. On my way back from Tesco’s, I unloaded the purchases from the car, and noticed Andy across the street, with a dark-haired young man, I’ve never seen.
As I slammed the car door shut, Andy turned in my direction. I glared at them and made my way into the flat. Has Michael told him about us? What has he said? Are they all laughing about me? Do they think I’m scum?
When I got inside the apartment, Richard was talking on the phone. I could hear the music again, the melody of sax flooding my ears and into my brain.
I dumped the bags on the table and peered out of the window. I couldn’t believe it. Andy was staring up at the window. The other bloke said something to get his attention, and they both stomped off. Was it Andy sending me those notes? And what about when I saw Sam hanging around out there? Will it be Nicky next? Why are they doing this to me?
OMG, something has just come back to me. That night, there was a woman in a red dress with Andy and the boys. An argument erupted, and she stormed out. I remember someone followed her, but I can’t remember who. I totally forgot about what Sam said about me taking a look more on Facebook, what with everything that’s been going on with Michael. Who was the woman in the red dress? Was it Evelyne? I need to look at Facebook!
23rd April
Afternoon,
Diary,
Spent the day trawling Facebook. I checked out Evelyne’s profile, hoping she’d taken photos of that night. There were lots of pictures of her and Andy, of Andy playing guitar, and of Andy with Sam. There’s something about Sam, I can’t put my finger on it. Not in a dangerous, or psychotic way, but in a weird way. Is he the reason why I got the bruises? I stumbled across a photo of Michael. He wasn’t looking at the camera. Evelyne must have taken it when he wasn’t paying attention. My heart thudded. He’s so beautiful, and he was mine for a brief time. Men like him don’t belong to anyone except to themselves. I shut my eyes and closed the tab. How many photos can one take of themselves and their loved ones? It’s uncomfortably narcissistic and banal to share your whole life with the world.
Selfies.
Photos with friends.
Photos on holiday.
Photos of food.
Photos of cocktails.
More selfies.
Photos of the boys.
Photos of parties.
Photos of concerts.
Drawings.
It took longer than I expected. There were many pictures of Andy playing guitar on stage. I opened another window and typed his name on Facebook. He has a fan page, Andy is a rock music producer and an accomplished guitar player, and he’s playing an event that’s happening two weeks from now. I closed the tab and proceeded on with my other search.
I clicked on an album called “nights out.” More selfies and photos with friends. I was about to close the window when a photo caught my eye. It was a selfie of Evelyne pouting at the camera, dressed in red. I spotted myself in the background, leaning against the wall, with Sam in front of me grinning at me. It looked like I’d been hit by a bus. Fucking Facebook! What if someone shows this to Richard? I’m hardly recognizable, but it could do loads of damage if anyone knew. Maybe, I should ask her to take it down. I carried the laptop to the study and plugged it into the printer. I studied the image looking for clues.
Evelyne was there, dressed in red. The photo proves it. Why didn’t Sylvie and Michael tell me she was there? Sam wanted me to see this, but why? What’s he playing at? What’s it got to do with anything? Sylvie should have taken me home, and then none of this would have happened. If only she had been sensible enough to call a taxi.
‘It was ages ago, Sophie. I think you should let it go,’ Sylvie said.
‘I can’t. I’m sure something else happened. I just know it.’
It doesn’t feel like ages ago, the night that started everything still remains a mystery to me, a missing piece of my life I might not retrieve back.
She sighed.
‘Do you remember a girl with them? She was blonde, dressed in red, a girlfriend of one of the lads?’
‘No, maybe she got there after I left.’
‘Are you sure you don’t remember anyone?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. What does this have to do with anything?’
‘I’d rather not say over the phone. Can we meet up and have a chat?’
‘Sure, how does Thursday afternoon sound?’
24th April
Afternoon,
Diary,
I tracked down where Evelyne attends collage, The Royal College of Arts in Kensington Gore. It was easy to find because she has all the details plastered on her Facebook. The reason I tracked her down was to ask her about the photo, and anything that might be helpful about that night.
After an hour of waiting for her to show up, Evelyne came out of the college, dressed in knee-high boots and a grey cape. She was talking to a girl and a chap with a beard. She laughed, and let out a snorting sound. They took a few photos of each other in different poses. After what it seemed like the hundredth photo, Evelyne turned in my direction. Her face went white. She said something to her friends and fled. I followed her, but as I turned around the corner, she vanished from sight. I’ve never spoken to her before, but whenever I’ve seen her, I’ve smiled or nodded her way, and she’d always do the same.
Why would she run? It’s obvious, she’s hiding something. All of them are. What though? All of them lying to my face. Did I do something that night to upset her?
Oh no, it can’t be. Oh God!
25th April
Afternoon,
/> Diary,
Met Sylvie in Mayfair at cafe Fratelli. She was already there when I arrived and was drinking a cup of coffee. We exchanged hugs.
‘So, how are you?’ she asked as I sat down.
‘Tired.’
I ordered a black coffee from the waiter.
‘You look like shit,’ she said, flipping her hair.
‘Thanks!’
‘So, what’s new with you?’
‘I took some time off from work.’
I was embarrassed to tell her the truth that I'm close to getting the sack.
‘But you never take time off, how come?’
‘I’m trying to get to the bottom of it.’
‘You’re not going back to work until you figure it out?’
I sighed. ‘I can’t go back when I feel like this.’
She nodded. ‘What’s this thing about the girl?’
‘She’s the daughter of a rich man who owns several estates in the city. She lives in one of his properties with her boyfriend and the lads.’
‘All three of them?’
I didn’t want to tell her Michael moved out. She didn’t know about us, and I want to keep it that way, especially now it’s over. There’s no point.’
‘I think so. Anyway, I tracked Evelyne down at the college she goes to. I wanted to have a word with her about that night, but it was bizarre because as soon as she saw me, she ran off.’
‘Are you sure she saw you?’
‘Yes, it’s strange. I don’t know why she ran off like that.’
Sylvie frowned. ‘But what could she possibly have against you?’
‘Fuck knows.’
‘Maybe she’s mad you were talking to Sam?’
‘I think she’s mad about Andy.’
‘Why would she get upset with you for talking to him?’
‘Andy’s her boyfriend.’
‘Oh, I see!’
I covered my face with my hands. ‘It’s so frustrating, I can’t think why she’d be mad at me. I looked at her Facebook, and there’s a selfie of her from that night. She was definitely there.’
‘You’ve been busy.’
‘I remembered a woman in a red dress, and now I know for sure it’s Evelyne. She stormed out the club, and someone slammed a glass on the table and went after her. I presume it was Andy.’