by J. S Ellis
I tried to close the door behind me, but he pushed it open. The door banged against the wall, and my shopping bag dropped from my hand. Red wine splattered all over the floor like blood.
‘How dare you? How dare you follow me in here?’ I hissed.
‘I have... to talk... to... you,’ Michael replied, catching his breath.
‘What is it?’
I waited for him to recover, with my arms across my chest. He leaned against the wall, with the door still wide open. ‘When I saw you just now, I—’
‘What!’ I snapped.
He moved away from the wall. ‘I don’t know. I can’t explain it.’
Mr. Smith came out of his apartment. I shut the front door before he could see him.
‘I know you’re upset,’ he said, reaching to touch me.
Anger pumped through my veins. I grabbed his shirt and pushed him roughly against the wall repeatedly.
‘Get out!’ I shouted, ‘get out of my life! You caused me nothing but pain.’
‘You brought it on yourself,’ he said.
He shook himself free and stared at me accusingly. ‘Don’t blame me, you already had issues before you met me.’
‘Why?’ I roared, slapping him hard across the cheek, ‘why!’
He stared at me flinty. ‘Don’t do that!’
‘Or you’ll what?’
He sighed heavily.
‘Why did you follow me here? What do you want?’
His eyes dropped to the floor. ‘When I saw you in the restaurant, looking like a couple from a love story, I couldn’t bear it, you with him.’
‘He’s my husband! What do you expect? What are you doing? Are you spying on me?’
‘No! I was supposed to meet someone that night, but he didn’t show up, and then I saw you with him.’
The way he said him full of hate, it was all sexual jealousy. He had to see me with my husband to realize he’d made a mistake. He wanted me back, to have me all to himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of me going home with Richard, where we could go to bed, and wake up together. Is this what triggered this childish, immature behavior?
He came up here to see the home I share with Richard, to see the way we live, to look at our things for clues about our lives. I was supposed to be the woman who came and left, invisible, and forgettable. He couldn’t see this. In his eyes, this is real, this is my life, and this is what defines me. There is a past, a present, and a future. There is a history, a story, comfort, a sense of security, and stability. With me, Michael had none of this. We’d be together for a few hours, and then there would be a blank space between us.
‘I see, so you got jealous. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Is that why you’re here?’ I paced the room, ‘I can’t believe this, and I don’t owe you anything! I told you I’m married, I told you what it was going to be like. I made no promises to you. We went to bed, what? Eight, ten times? It wasn’t memorable enough to leave him! There’s a seventeen-year age difference, you’re just a kid! A boy!’ I screamed at him. ‘You were a mistake!
I moved away from him and lit a cig. Behind me, there was a crashing sound. I spun around. Michael was standing by the hall table, and my three hundred quid porcelain vase was in pieces on the floor. I imagined having to explain to Richard why the vase is not there, and making up a story about how it broke.
‘Do you have any idea how much that vase cost?’
‘I don’t give a flying fuck about your ridiculous vase, you poisonous bitch,’ he snapped.
I sunk on the sofa, taking a deep drag from my cigarette. It polluted my lungs, and I watched the smoke glide through the air, and disappear.
‘It hurt, didn’t it, seeing me with him?’
Michael sat on the floor. ‘Of course, it hurt!
‘You assumed I have the ideal marriage because you saw me with my husband. You’re naïve.’ I hid my face from him, as tears fell down my face, ‘no marriage is perfect.’
‘No, I know you don’t have the perfect marriage. But I still hated seeing you with him.’
I wiped the tears away with my fingertips. ‘So you chased me down the street, hoping we’d pick things up where we left off? You made it clear what you thought of me!’
His eyes dropped to the floor. I took a deep breath as if all of my anger might evaporate.
‘I’m going to make myself a drink, you made your choice, and it’s all for the best. Forget my name, forget I live here, and forget you know me.’
I poured myself a glass of whiskey. The back of my throat hurt. I lifted the glass to my lips then stopped.
‘Why are you still here?’ I shouted.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’
A hot wave flashed through me, I slammed the glass on the counter and pushed him against the wall.
‘Are you nuts?’ he protested.
He restrained my hands above my head. ‘What is wrong with you? Are you insane?’
‘Let me go.’
‘Calm down, I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
I tried to break free and pleaded with him to let me go, but his grip remained tight on my hand. He rubbed his skinny body against mine. I felt him protruding in his trousers. This is all a game to him. Of course, it is, he’s just a boy. He tried to kiss me, but I turned my face away.
He persisted.
‘Let me go.’
He ignored me. ‘I missed you,’ he whispered.
‘Too bad,’ I said, staring at his face.
My heart softened, and I pressed my mouth against his. My brain yelled, but my heart, my stupid heart.
Oh, Diary, what I have done? I’m such a shit! After we made love, I laid in my darkened bedroom staring into space, disappointed with myself. I had given in. I wanted to sleep and never wake up. I’m back where I started. Our matrimonial bed invaded by our lust. I wanted to perish. This is all my fault. I’m the mature one here, the one who is supposed to make sensible decisions.
Michael started to stroke my hair, his warm body pressed against mine. I wanted to fuck him again.
Is there such a thing as being addicted to a person?
The effect Michael has on me is beyond my control, only twenty-one, but his power is too strong. I washed all traces of him from my body. I stepped out of the shower, dried myself, and reached for the moisturizer. Something was odd. Richard’s aftershave wasn’t in the same place as it was this afternoon. I remember it was definitely on the left when I cleaned the bathroom, like it always is. How did it move from left to the right? Did Michael use it, perhaps? But, he didn’t use the bathroom, or maybe he did when I was asleep? I placed the aftershave back in its rightful place. I think I must be losing the plot!
I washed the bedclothes for the second time, along with the floor, and cleared away the broken wine bottle. I opened all the windows. I have to get rid of the smell of us.
23rd May
Evening,
Diary,
I called Richard on Skype.
‘How is New York?’ I asked cheerfully.
‘Chaotic, how is my favorite girl?’ he asked.
Talking to him behind a screen was weird. He looked grey and tired. His job is having too much strain on him. I am a terrible wife, but I worry about his health.
‘I’m good, how are you? Are you taking your medication?’
‘Yes, tell me how you’re going to spend your day?’
‘Nothing much, watch TV, get some work done.’
‘You should go for a walk in the park.’
‘Alone?’
‘You have to get used to doing things by yourself.’
What an odd thing to say.
Michael wanted me to go over to see him today, so I obliged. The flat was a little messy, with an empty pizza box on the coffee table, and saxophones on the sofa. Michael was dressed in tight black trousers and a yellow shirt. As I entered the room, I ran my fingertip over his bottom lip, as I did so many times before, and stared intense
ly into his eyes.
I am in love.
The travesty of loving someone so young. It’s laughable, we have no future. I can’t deny him his youth. He sees me as a sport, the insipid drunk wife, a hobby.
‘Here I am, where you wanted me,’ I said to him.
‘It’s simple. If you want something you reach out and grab it,’ he replied.
‘If all of us reasoned the way you do, we’d be in so much trouble.’
‘Why?’
‘So you wanted me, is that what you’re saying?’
‘You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.’
So, because he’s beautiful and talented, it gives him the right to dismiss women like rags as he did with me, and now I’m summoned again, do I have any say in this?
‘I see,’ I said.
He sat on the sofa and crossed his legs. He studied me like I was an exotic creature.
‘Beauty and youth are not accomplishments, Mike.’
He flipped his hair confidently. ‘No, but it leads you to places.’
‘Knowledge is power,’ I said to him.
He didn’t give me a response.
‘So you think you made it this far because of your looks?’ I said to him.
‘No, hard work and sacrifice led me to where I am,’ he said.
I don’t know what his story is. He hardly ever talks about himself.
‘Have you ever considered what my husband would do to you if he finds out?’ I asked.
He nodded his head. ‘He would kill me with his bare hands.’
‘That’s exactly what he’ll do unless the pain killed him first.’
‘Because of his heart?’
‘... Yes’
‘Do you love him for his weakness?’
I looked at him in horror. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
‘His money then?’
‘You seem to forget I’m an accountant. I know money. I work with figures every day.’ I plodded towards the window, ‘I make my own money. I certainly don’t need his.’
‘What is it then?’
‘My husband is a serious man. In his world, there’s little room for error. He’s also ambitious. I admire him for that, but he can be tough. Once, we were at a friend’s dinner party, and there was a teenage boy who couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do with his life. The boy was fifteen. Even I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do at his age. Anyway, Richard lectured the boy. Telling him that he knew what he wanted to do at nine years old. Go to Cambridge, put on a suit, be an important man, work in a powerful firm, travel the world, and see an opera at Teatro Alla Scala. I jumped in and joked, or be a ballerina, a clown, or a fireman. He was not happy with me. It was funny for a nine-year-old boy to dream about stuff like that but, he did know.’
‘I don’t see how a man like him can please a woman like you,’ Michael said.
I smiled. ‘I was such a different girl back then. When you start to look back, you realize your life is so different from the one you dreamed about, do you know what I mean?’
I looked over at him. ‘Of course, you don’t.’
‘Why do you keep saying that, like it’s a threat?’
‘What?’
‘I am young.’
I reached for another cigarette, ‘I need a drink.’
‘You’re getting none here, how is your drinking by the way?’
‘Don’t be a twat, my drinking is fine.’
‘Yeah right...’
He leaned forward. ‘You’re ruffling too many feathers.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘I heard you were asking around about that night.’
I remained composed. ‘Because I still don’t have all the answers, and the more I find out, the more baffling it gets.’
‘So you went to Andy?’ he said.
He sounded irritated, a bit like when Richard talks to me like I’m a twit for forgetting to “switch off the bloody light, again.’
‘Can you tell me what the fuck you’re doing going round to my friends, and asking them questions?’
‘I see, Andy told you.’
‘We’re like brothers. He told me how you showed up at the club wearing a short dress, asking about that night. Give it a rest will you,’ he said.
‘What bothers you the most? That I went to talk to your friend wearing a short dress, or me asking him about that night?’
‘Both!’ he shouted.
I turned away from him. ‘If you’re upset, it means you’re hiding something.’
‘I’ve got nothing to hide...’ he sighed, ‘Andy’s not a sweet guy. He’s unpredictable and a hot head.’
‘Are you describing your friend or yourself?’
He glared at me. ‘Just don’t go to him again okay?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m telling you.’
‘That’s not enough. I need a valid answer.’
He kicked the coffee table with his foot. I didn’t like his attitude. Why did Andy have to go and brag, why couldn’t he be quiet?
‘I’ve told you what happened. How many times are we going to have this conversation?’
‘Until the truth comes out!’ I snapped.
‘What truth? Why don’t you believe me?’
‘Because something is missing. I need to find out. I believe you’re all telling me half the story.’
‘I assure you we’re not.’
‘Right, now I have your assurance. Did I get into a fight with Sam’s girlfriend?’
‘Sam doesn’t have a girlfriend.’
‘Ex-girlfriend.’
He sighed ‘yes... you did.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before? You can’t decide things for me, I have a say in this too!’
‘It was best not knowing.’
‘So you were telling me half the story. You lied!’
‘I didn’t lie, I kept it from you.’
‘It’s the same thing.’
‘It’s not the same. You lie to your husband to come here because he can’t fuck you properly.’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t like you anymore, you’ve changed, or perhaps I was so dazzled I failed to see you, for who you truly are.’
He lowered his head in dismay and then stared right at me. I wanted to hurt him, the same way he hurts me.
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I don’t like what I’ve become when I’m around you. You obviously came back to me to feel good about yourself. Do I stroke your ego?’
‘No, I know what I look like. I don’t need you or anyone to tell me.’
‘Arrogant, pompous, spoiled brat.’
‘I’m tired of going round in circles,’ he said, putting his hands over his head.
‘You’re tired? I’m sick, when I’m not sick, I’m tired, when I’m not tired, I’m fed up. Did you tell your friends about us?’ I asked.
He removed his hand from his head. ‘No, I didn’t. Do you think I’m stupid enough to tell my friends I’m seeing a married woman? I thought we were going to make up for lost time, not wasting our time with pointless arguments?’
I undid the knot of my dress. ‘Here, go ahead.’
‘I want to talk,’ he said.
‘Don’t talk, talk is dangerous, it makes things happen, it makes them real.’
‘What are you talking about?’
I sat on the sofa and glanced at the saxophones. ‘May I?’
He nodded. I ran my finger along the golden saxophone, ‘what’s the difference between the two?’
‘One is an alto, the other is a tenor. The tenor is larger, and the alto is higher and brighter.’
‘Which do you use the most?’
‘Alto...’
‘Mm...’
‘What’s wrong with you?’
I went over to the window and looked out. ‘It’s a lonely neighborhood without the music. I used to wait, anxiously. It helped me to relax, it excited me. I wanted to strip naked to your music
while painting pictures in my head of who was playing. Thinking to myself, how can someone create something so wonderful? And I’m here with him right now, exposing myself in a way, I never have done before.’
‘Would you like me to play for you?’
‘Later, now I want you to come here.’
I spent the afternoon there, as the city rose and fell around us. He played the sax for me, while I sat on the floor listening and smoking, the music filling me with ecstasy.
When he finished serenading me, he lifted me up onto his shoulders and spun me around until I was dizzy. He laid me down on the floor and ran his hand over my belly. He took the cigarette away from my hand.
‘You need to quit this shit,’ he said, stubbing the cigarette into an ashtray, ‘I turned twenty-two.’
‘Oh when?’
‘May 24th.’
‘Oh honey, happy belated birthday.’ I kissed him on the lips, ‘I should get you something.’
‘No don’t, getting back with you was a gift.’
I ran my hand through his hair. ‘Did you dye it?’
‘Yes.’
‘But it was so beautiful, it was like gold, why?’
He curled his bottom lip. ‘I wanted a change. Why, don’t you like it?’
‘Of course, I like it, sweetheart.’
I didn’t want the afternoon to end, I longed to be there forever, but it would never happen. I put my clothes on as he laid on the bed watching me.
‘This part I hate,’ he said.
‘Which part?’ I asked.
‘You putting your clothes back on. It means you’re leaving, and going back to your life!’
I cupped his face. ‘Oh honey, I’m yours.’
‘Does he touch you?’ he asked.
I put on my shoes and almost toppled over; taken aback by this act of jealousy.
Michael watched me rapidly. ‘You still share a bed with him?’
‘He’d find it odd if I don’t.’
He clenched his jaw not liking my response. What did he want to me to say?