by J Wells
We’re standing side by side, staring up.
“What do you see?”
I roll my eyes.
“A field, poppies, trees, a house…”
“For God’s sake, Natasha, you’re not reciting from a shopping list.” His grip tightens, and he shakes my arms. “I want you to focus on it for thirty seconds, then close your eyes and tell me what you see. Paint me your world, your picture, tell me a story, the way your nan used to.”
“Gabriel…”
“Ah, ah.” He waves his hand towards me. “Try using your imagination.”
One, two, three, four, five…. I stare so hard I’m going cross-eyed… Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty… Darkness.
“My fingers run through the long grasses, coarse yet warm. The only sound to break the silence is birdsong. Stretching out, I lay my head back and gaze up through red petals floating on the breeze; they resemble butterfly wings in flight. My eyes bypass the red and I’m looking at the blue sky and the curling white clouds that play within it. I hear the rustling of a skirt, the laughter of a child; I see a faceless woman pass by. I go unseen.”
He yawns. “Boring…” Gabriel’s voice trickles into my ears.
“I blink and look again into the face of a child with menacing dark eyes. I gasp as he sees me. The woman spins round and points. I jump to my feet and run. Grass shrivels up with every step, poppies bow their heads and wither, from beautiful scarlet to dark swarthy black, then fall like a path before me. Though I’m not Dorothy and this isn’t the yellow brick road. Voices shout after me. ‘Leave, you’re not welcome.’ I throw my hands over my ears, yet I still hear them. I turn sharp left, and far in the distance I see a house with white walls; a white swirl of smoke rises from the chimney. I blink to make sure; I’m not mistaken. My speed quickens as my feet pound against the floor. I’m not getting any closer; the house is getting further and further away… Gabriel…” I’m shaking his arm. “They’re catching up with me… Where do I go? Where do I run now?!”
“Shut the fuck up, Natasha, you’re freaking me out!”
My eyes snap open, allowing me to refocus on the painting. I peer around and see that I have acquired quite an audience. I turn towards Gabriel, bowing my head.
“You’ve surprised me, but I’ll give you first prize, a gold star, whatever you want for your imagination. Maybe you’re not quite as black or white as you first seemed. Poppies is supposed to be beautiful, but I’ve got to hand it to you, you’ve done a good job of destroying a classic.” He tilts his head towards me and smirks. “Interesting…”
“What?”
“Nothing; it doesn’t matter.” He leaves my side and heads towards Water Lilies, the next of Monet’s paintings.
I catch up and nudge his waist.
“Well, you asked, just don’t go getting mad.”
I frown. “Why would I be mad?”
“It’s just you’ve painted yourself as having a strong sense of not belonging.” He pauses, leaving me feeling he doesn’t know what to say next.
“What are you getting at?”
“Not belonging, is that how you see yourself in life? Are you happy with this guy you’re marrying, or do you feel trapped?”
Josh’s proposal flashes into my mind.
“Woah, my relationship is none of your damn business. I thought this was meant to be a laugh, a bit of fun. But you’re analysing me, so now who’s playing shrink? Tell me, Dr Owens, when you close your eyes and stand in total darkness what do you see?”
“My future, Natasha, my future is what I see.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly that.”
“Now things are getting personal, it’s my turn to ask, analyse or whatever you choose to call it.”
“Go for it.”
I take a deep breath. There are so many questions flying around in my head.
“Why live in a house with so many rooms when you live alone? Why have you let your garden get into the awful state it’s in? And why…” I continue, “have you got a female cat called Mr Pooch? I just don’t get you.”
“The house,” he mutters under his breath. “Some things are not easy to let go of.”
“It’s bricks and mortar, for God’s sake.”
“It’s not the bricks and mortar I’m talking about, it’s the memories wrapped up inside. The garden, I know it’s a mess … I had a gardener but he ripped me off. I might be partially sighted, but I’m not fucking stupid. He was the first and last gardener.” He shrugs. “Weeds can only grow so high; anyway, what I can’t see can’t hurt me.”
“And the cat?”
I see the corners of his lips twitch. “She’s special; she was a Father’s Day gift from me and Jase. Dad had just finished his dinner, I sat the cat on his lap and tears ran down his cheeks; he said he’d always wanted a dog of his own.”
“So why didn’t you get him a dog?”
“Maybe it’s because I just don’t like dogs, they’re far too needy, whereas a cat is independent, which was what Dad needed. Anyway, he decided to name her Mr Pooch.”
“I’m sorry.” Thinking of my Granddad, I pat his arm. “It’s an awful illness. How long did your dad suffer?”
“Suffer?”
“Yeah, with dementia.”
“He never had dementia; he was blind, totally, couldn’t see a damn thing.”
“Sorry, I just thought…”
“Maybe you should think less.” He sniggers. “Dad was overwhelmed with his new companion we didn’t have the heart to tell him, and then she started to purr. We couldn’t help but laugh, and after a few seconds Dad joined in and the name stuck.” Taking my arm, he smiles. “How about that drink in the Victorian tearoom? Think we could both do with one.”
The smile I return isn’t forced. I know he can’t see very well, but that doesn’t matter.
“Go on then, you’ve twisted my arm.”
I peer into the oval mirror close to my face. If I’ve checked myself once, I must have checked myself a dozen times, and after each time I’ve run the brush through my hair. My laptop’s on the dressing table ready and I’ve already signed into Skype. I heat up inside; any moment now. I can’t wait to see him, and even more I can’t wait for him to see me. It’s usually jeans, T-shirt and a touch of make-up, but not tonight. He’s coming home soon and I want him to see just what he’s been missing.
“Hi, Tash.”
Seeing his face, I smile.
“Josh,” I gasp, grabbing my mouth. “What the hell have you done to your hair?”
He lifts his hand to his head, running it over his scalp.
“Being in the office, I think it looks more professional.”
“Oh, oh right … I love it.”
He looks kind of different, older. He’s always loved his black shoulder-length hair, loose or tied back, and he said so many times that he’d never under any circumstances have it cut. Now it’s shaved off and hardly visible.
“I’ve not heard from you for a couple of days. You been alright? What you been up to?” I ask.
Placing his hands behind his head, he reclines back in his chair. He seems so comfortable in his suit and has lost the awkwardness he had when he first flew out.
“I’m fine, Tash, just been busy, signing contracts and getting this place up and running. The houses are out of this world, and I mean high spec. When they go up for sale we just keep adding on the zeros. This sure beats sitting behind a desk and bashing away at a computer keyboard.”
“That’s nice. By the way, I took Larry to the vets last week to have his bloods taken. They rang earlier today with his results, said the few extra pounds he’s carrying are due to his thyroid, hyper, hypo, I can’t remember. He’s got medicine I have to give him before his feed every morning, but they said we should soon see the pounds falling off. Adrianna has dog-sat for the last couple of weeks. God, I’ve missed the little chap. If I’ve missed him, God knows how you must feel.”<
br />
“Yeah… Hey, I may be staying out here a little longer than I planned.”
“You will be back in time for Mum’s birthday, won’t you? Dad’s booked our usual table at The Fox and Dogs and reserved our table, you know, the one next to the open fire.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He’s smiling but looking down, not at me; his face is illuminated and it doesn’t take much to work out he’s staring at the screen of his phone.
I roll my eyes. “Did you hear a word of what I just said?”
“I could ask you the same.” His eyes lift, meeting mine.
Now I’ve got his attention, perhaps it’s time I give him something worth looking at. Reaching down to my waist, I unwrap the black silky belt of my negligee, letting it fall open. He can only see my head and shoulders, and I smile. Josh will soon be in for a treat. Glancing down, I check the lacing on my basque and ensure my suspenders are in line.
He shakes his head. “You’re just waffling on about shit when I’m trying to talk about the future.”
“Talking about shit? Mum’s birthday? And I thought you loved Larry … I thought you’d be interested.”
“I told you,” he mutters, pushing a black biro behind his left ear, “I’ve been busy.”
“Sounds like things are getting you down. I’ve got a passport, I could always fly out.”
I get up off my small padded stool and, moving it aside, take a few steps back, dropping my negligee to the floor.
“You mentioned cyber-sex a few weeks back … well, I’ve been thinking, how about it?”
“Tash!” The biro catapults from his ear as he launches forward. “Get dressed, I’m in the office!”
“So what?” I wink. “Something kinky about the office.”
I turn my back to him and lift my leg onto the bed; peering over my shoulder, I shake my bum from side to side.
His head shoots round. “Shit! Someone’s at the door. Look, I have to go. Speak later.”
I’m left open-mouthed, looking at a blank screen.
I walk into the bathroom, drop my negligee next to the toilet and step out of it. At the sink I gaze into the mirror. Fucking waterproof mascara… After using about twenty face wipes, cotton wool and eye make-up remover, I still resemble a panda. My eyes sting, and are red and sore. He’s never upset me and never acted like that before. I sit down on the side of the bath feeling like a total idiot.
I notice a text on my phone. No, I’ll let him stew. I’m not going to let him have the satisfaction of thinking I’ve read it. He can stick his apology up his arse. My eyes wander to the screen, as I can’t help being inquisitive. It’s not Josh, and it’s no apology. I see Adrianna’s name and read the text: Just had a Chinese delivered, think they got my order mixed up with someone else’s. Well no, I don’t think, I know!!!! Tash, it’s a fucking banquet. Fancy getting your arse over here and helping us eat it? x
Leaning over the sink, I splash cold water on my face, then dab my cheeks dry with a small towelling flannel. Thinking about it, I haven’t eaten much today, just a small ham sandwich Gabriel made, and that was hours ago. There’s nothing to keep me here now, so I decide to get dressed, grab Larry and be on my way.
Sure x
I press send.
Three bags of prawn crackers and twenty foil trays lie scattered around the dining table. Adrianna sits picking meat off the last couple of BBQ ribs. I wonder whose door her chicken chow mein turned up at; I’d love to have been a fly on the wall to see their faces when they opened the brown paper bag.
Adrianna clears her throat. “How’s your painting going? How many sittings have you got left?”
“I wasn’t too sure at the start, but yeah, it’s going well. A couple of days and it should be done.”
“Would you ask him if he’d mind painting me?”
“You? You don’t even like your photo being taken.” The only photos I have of my sister are with her hands covering her face.
“Okay, don’t worry.”
“No, I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“Night, girls, see you in the morning.”
Lifting my head, I grin as Mum and Dad get up from the table.
“Night, Mum; night, Dad.”
Mum’s eyes seem to make their way past the two of us.
“Don’t worry, we’ll…” Adrianna grunts. “I mean, I’ll clean up the mess.”
“I enjoyed today, love.”
“Me too, Mum,” Adrianna mutters whilst picking remnants of her dinner from between her teeth.
The door of the dining room screeches to a close.
I lean my elbows on the table. “What is it you’ve not been telling me?”
“I was going to show you later.”
Adrianna grabs my hand and pulls me out of my chair. With her fingers secured tightly around my palm, she drags me across the hallway and into the lounge. I stand propped up against the arm of the settee while she kneels on all fours in front of the telly.
“Sit down,” she bubbles, opening the arms of her glasses and slipping them on. “Watch this.”
I’m watching, but the screen’s black.
“Shit, hold on.” She plays around with the DVD player, opening and closing the disc tray.
“I may as well go and tidy up.”
“You’ll do no such thing; stay where you are.” It’s more of a demand than a request.
Puffing, I sink down on the nearest cushion.
She curses and slams her fist against the feature wall. I watch as she nurses her knuckles with her other hand.
“That was clever.” I let out a sarcastic chuckle.
Lifting her arm, she sticks her middle finger up.
Pursing my lips and with a loud puff, I blow her a kiss.
“Love you, too.”
Without turning her head, she opens her hand and catches it. My eyebrows raise. She’s like a terrible twin; she knows me so well, too well sometimes.
I glance at my phone to check the time.
I read a short message off Josh that just says Sorry x. We spoke well over an hour ago and I’m still angry, but reading his message I find myself softening slightly. I text back, Speak tomorrow and allow my finger to hover over the X, then send one solitary kiss.
With Josh on my mind I peer towards the wall unit at Mum’s collection of cows, a joke that will surely haunt her for the rest of her days. The black one with the broken ear was from the car boot sale in Devon. Another, brown and white, is the tallest of all and I’m sure she was from the corner shop in Bradford. Then there’s a bull donning a kilt that hides very little, all the way from Bonnie Scotland.
“Nearly sorted!”
I look back at the black screen, then to the wall unit again, and see a space that’s been polished and left for our first overseas cow, our new little addition to the family, all the way from sunny Florida.
“Tash, look.”
My eyes return to the TV screen.
“Wow!” I feel my eyes widen. “The baby?”
She nods. “Sure is.”
“He’s so clear; you can see every little movement of his arms and legs.”
“This is nothing.” Adrianna crawls across the floor and sits cross-legged in front of me. “Keep watching,” she prompts, shaking my knee with her hand.
I blink and the baby is suddenly in 3D, then in 4D. He’s looks so real, if that’s the right word. I feel I could walk over to the screen, pick him up and hold him in my arms.
“Where did you go today?”
“Baby Scans Limited … couple of doors up from the library. Mum booked it without me knowing.” Her round face beams up at me. “I have two DVDs, four photos, and just before we left I was given a complimentary pair of booties and a blue photo frame.”
“Let’s see.”
“You can, but not now; they’re still in the bag upstairs.” She turns her head and rests her chin on my lap, then gazes up into my eyes. “He’s lovely, isn’t he, Tash?”
I squeeze her cheek between my finger
s and thumb, exactly how our nan used to.
“Argh, you big softie.”
“Guess that’s what motherhood does to you,” she titters, cradling her stomach.
“Any news from…?” I hesitate.
Adrianna frowns. “From who?”
“The father; is he coming back for the birth?”
“No idea,” she says, pulling at the sharp edges of her gelled hair.
“You could always invite him to the wedding.” I swallow. “It’d be a good way for him to meet all the family.”
“Cut the bullshit; you know as well as I do there is no guy.” She peers down at her growing bump. “Well, obviously there was; he was a Turk, a drunken one-night stand.”
“Your holiday?”
Her eyes drop and she nods. “I feel awful, Just don’t go telling Mum. I can imagine the way she’d look at me.”
“Weren’t you careful?”
“Of course.” She shakes her head. “Obviously not careful enough.”
“What was his name? What was he like?”
She pushes herself off the floor and sits at my side.
“Asim; I can’t pronounce his last name. He was nice, a real looker, so God knows why he chose me. The day after we slept together he took me home to meet his mum.”
I laugh. “He was keen.”
“Yeah, I thought that. It was over thirty degrees and I’ll never forget that five-hour car journey. We only stopped once. All I wanted to do was get back to my hotel room, have a cold lager and lie by the pool.”
“So did you get to meet his mum?”
“Yeah, and his brothers, all six of them. We sat round a table in a cramped room, and apart from Asim, none of them could speak a word of English. His mother sat opposite me with a permanent grin on her face, just staring at me.”
She sniggers behind the back of her hand.
“What?”
“She only had one eyebrow.”
I laugh, covering my left brow with my hand.
“No, I don’t mean that, she had one fucking eyebrow, it was humungous!” With her finger she draws an imaginary line from one side of her forehead to the other. “Honestly I could hardly look at her,” she chokes out, biting her lip.
I grin. “You mean a mono-brow, like Miss Andrews, our music teacher.”
