Under Purple Sheets

by Coco Houston

  “Brad, please not today; don’t start being stupid, it is raining, it is raining rainbow rain, look at all the lovely colours,” I counter him, keeping my face poker-straight the entire time. Hurrying on towards the jeep, I pretend to shield the rain from me; as he follows he’s still watching me, who knows what the fuck he is thinking as at this point his face is blank like it was set in stone. I just get amusement out of playing these little games then watching his reaction. He must think that I’m psychotic. (He often comments this, mostly in an argument – “You’re fucking daft!”) I may be older now but I’m still childish and full of mischief at heart. Brad falls for it every single time; he seriously thinks I am borderline mentally ill, but are we not all?

  On the way to my favourite coffee bar we stop by a dress shop; Brad picks out then pays for a stunning very exclusive dress in the same shade of dark forest green of my nails, it matches them perfectly. The colour is very alluring on me, it suits my dark skin. The dress also sparkles, complementing the Swarovski crystals on my nails. I thank Brad profusely, telling him I now have a beautiful new red dress that glitters to match my nails. He looks at me, then at the dress, then at my nails; still he says nothing. He just nods and smiles at me; I think he is not sure what to do.

  Now that I have my outfit sorted for tonight, we head for Megan’s house. Brad and I get ready, and then William (Megan’s son) gets changed to come out with us for a drink. William has no intention of staying long with us as he has planned later that night to meet up with his own friends, staying with us only for a while at the beginning of the evening. William and I get on very well. Brad’s nephew accepted me into the family with open arms; his nature is not one of many. As we entered in the doors of old worldly bar, we immediately notice that everyone else in the establishment is dressed up in Halloween costumes.

  “I’m the Green Goddess,” I turn, gesturing to Brad and William, curtseying in my dark green dress with the matching fingertips, wearing black leather shoes sprinkled with green crystals, holding a bag of the same.

  “No, Coco, you’re more like the Wicked Witch of the West,” Brad replies, laughing. William is also buckled at this remark.

  Needing a cheeky comeback, I notice William has gelled and spiked up his hair. “Oh yeah, well I am the witch from the West and you’re the lion with that big round face topped with a mane of spikey hair, so that leaves you Brad to be the wardrobe, since you’re as wide as you are fucking tall.” Everyone bursts out laughing, so it’s sorted then, this year we are all out as The Fat Lion, The West Witch and the fucking Wardrobe.

  Sometimes in my thoughts I start to wonder how many times I had longed to go through my wardrobe into a new magical world. How amazing it would’ve been to get away from boring day-to-day life, exploring a mysterious new land. I’d love for it to be a land of snow with me as The Snow Queen Witch of The Coco Kingdom, except in my Kingdom all the snow would be made of real cocaine (to hell with Turkish delight sweets) and in that land where all would hail the Snow Queen Witch wrapped in a huge pure white fur cloak, may all my servants live crazy, magical lives far away from the monotony and the hypocritical governing bodies of the real world.

  On leaving the bar, as our time was coming to an end here, we decide to go for a meal at the best Chinese restaurant in town. After our dinner was finished and we were on our coffee liquors, an argument fuelled by alcohol starts when we discuss his wife. In all the euphoria of the holiday, I had forgotten that at the end of the day I was just Brad’s mistress, we were still having an affair. As I get more upset, I just get up from the table, marching into the toilets. I sit crying in the stall. It just suddenly hits me that although I have had a sex and fun-filled romantic runaway jaunt with Brad, legally he belongs to someone else. I am still not his wife, even if we refer to us being each other’s spouse.

  I must have been in the toilets longer than I thought, because Brad got worried about me so he sent a woman in to find his WIFE Coco to please ask her to come out. As the woman who came in to help said the word wife, I burst out, “I’m not his wife okay that is the problem! He’s married but not to me!” This makes me feel even worse now; I feel bad for shouting at the messenger on top of everything, I also felt that the entire pub had heard me and was by now judging me behind my back. What a terrible way to end a perfect holiday… Then it dawns on me – legally, he is my common-law husband if we stay together, so he is mine now. Besides, what about our secret wedding vows made to each other? So even when he did stay with her, I was his wife in his head and his heart, with him being my husband likewise. He did call her his landlady because believe it or not, that was just exactly what she was.

  Brad smiles at me as I approach him, we kiss, making up and apologising to each other. Then laughing we go hand in hand back to the table with glasses of wine, forgetting about the stupid row. Brad informs me that I know I am his wife and he is my husband in our world, so fuck everything else. I agree. His marriage to her was one of convenience, as everyone told me and Brad acknowledged himself. On returning to Megan’s, we find that she didn’t know we had eaten so has cooked food for us coming back from the pub. I struggle to eat the steak, having to keep slyly putting my food on Brad’s plate. I have no idea how he manages to eat it all, it is so funny. After our second dinner of the night, we have to go and lie down on top of the quilt on the bed; I am feeling so ill with the over indulgence of food. No Kama Sutra tonight. I was spread out like America while Brad was lying there like Moby Dick beached out of the water. Adding to the fact we both drank a lot of alcohol; my tummy feels even yuckier. Brad falls soundly asleep, as I struggle to do my face with cleansers and night creams before finally toppling into bed in my underwear, then passing out beside him.

  1st November 2012

  This morning as we’re getting ready to leave York to head back home to Ayr, unfortunately, we receive a phone call bearing bad news about Brad’s mother. Doctors have found her to be very ill. It is quickly agreed that Megan will come back up to Scotland with us given her mother’s condition In the jeep on our way back up the road home, the news has hit Brad and Megan hard, they’re so close to her, lost in thought, so the journey is mostly silent. Although I am only having an affair with Brad, I also have a very close relationship with his mother. She has always been kind, very accepting of me. It depresses me that she has fallen so ill so quickly, because selfishly I would’ve liked more time with her. I’m so worried about her, very much actually and angry at the illness inside her, it feels like I’ve been robbed, losing her now; I wish I’d met Brad earlier in life. I can’t accept ‘whatever will be will be’ – I just don’t want to.

  Once we arrive back home, I get dropped off at my house. I nervously make coffee while Brad and Megan go to visit their mother at her house to find out how she is doing. I understand the situation, knowing the circumstances why I can’t go; however, it doesn’t make it any easier as once I’m alone at home, things just start to begin playing on my mind. I wonder if his wife is there. I also stupidly question why Brad and I couldn’t have been together earlier; I am so different in nature from his wife, with him telling me that I am completely the opposite of her in every single way, besides his mother knew that I made him so happy. I often apply that statement to me and Brad though, that of the bird and the fish. They fall in love, but where do they stay? It was like that for a long time as Brad stayed with her up there and I stayed down here. Well, that was then as both of us are supposed to be living here now. But with Brad circumstances may change again, he may want to go back to her now his mother is so ill as the house he shared with his wife is just across the road from his mother. He still has most of his belongings there, and she doesn’t know I was with him in York, so him leaving her can be easily sorted. Brad can go home if he wants. Guess what? I won’t stop him but I also won’t be waiting for him to come back to me again. Not anymore. But just for now all I want more than anything is to be able to go and visit his mother… to offer her my condolences, to be able t
o spend some time with her, treating her like the mother-in-law I have felt (I know) she has been to me in the short space of time I have had with her.

  Brad returns from his mother’s sad, and I question him as to his whereabouts all the time he was out of the house, then all my stupid thoughts result in an explosive argument with Brad at a time he needs me most. I start going on at him about his wife, how he didn’t love her so the time spent there with her had ruined the chance I had to be a real part of his family; therefore, it short-changed the time I could’ve had with his mother. How right now because he hasn’t got the guts to tell the Crow (Craw as he calls her) I still can’t properly see his mother as her daughter-in-law to be able tell her how I feel, tell her to fight, tell her I want her to get well again. The arguing stops as Brad understands how I feel; besides he still hasn’t brought the rest of his belongings from his house yet. But mostly I don’t give a fuck about his wife or where his clothes are, the most important thing right now is his mother. He tells me he is staying with me as that is what he wants to do and that is what his mother wants. I don’t get the chance to ask if he is going back, he has told me quite clearly that he isn’t going to her as his home is now with me.

  In total confusion, thinking stupid thoughts plus making problems in my head, I was now in a foul temper as on top of all of that I had a bad headache. I had taken all my anger out, emotionally burdening him with more shit when all he really needed was my support. It was selfish, me being me, because I don’t like what is happening, how can Brad stop it? Yet I expect him to. I try to cheer myself up by thinking about all the things I shared with Brad (basically everything except a child). I start to wonder if maybe we would’ve had a child if we had met sooner in life… he would have made a brilliant father, and I know he has regrets big time of not having a child of his own. Fate had decided that it wasn’t to be with me, I guess. As for her, well he tells me he certainly hadn’t wanted one with the crow, it would have been an ugly child, he says, and the thought of it makes him feel physically sick. I just look at him, saying nothing; my thoughts are that it is strange of him to refer to an unborn child as perceived to be ugly.

  Brad makes us supper downstairs, as I go upstairs for a bath, then my phone bleeps as a text comes in, it is from Brad.

  “You’re my life, you’re my wife. I need you so much, please don’t ever leave me. xxx”

  Feeling even worse now about everything, I text back,

  “You’re my world, Brad, I love you infinitely. xxxxx”

  3rd November

  Brad goes to his hometown to visit his mother. She is so frail now Brad told me; at this point I just walk away from him crying, feeling very sad and empty, just so hopeless with the situation, and worse was still to come.

  Later that evening, Brad ventures out to the shops to buy bubble bath salts with some bottles of wine. Chocolate, also cake, all that make you feel good, shit we eat when we’re feeling down. When he comes back, he tells me that he wanted us to share a bath.

  We have a romantic bath together, lighting candles, drinking the red wine in the bubble bath. It is a very nice atmosphere, besides it kind of feels good to see him unwind, relaxing even just a little bit, given how he has been since he heard about his mother. I don’t like to see him so upset. At least it is me he has come to for comfort; it’s me he wants rather than his wife.

  We get out of the bath, dry each other laughing and snuggle into bed. We reach over to kiss each other at the same time. My clitoris is tingling for him as our romantic evening has set the mood for me; I want him inside me, but I refrain from acting upon it, given that I understand the last thing he needs is sex.

  I was wrong as Brad cuddles into me; his hand wanders down between my legs. I lie there, breathing heavily as he slips his fingers into me. He rubs my clitoris in soft circles, and then pushes his fingers deep up me. He plays with me for ages, the movement of his fingers getting faster and faster still, I raise my ripe swollen lips up to him as my legs start to tremble with excitement before I cum all over his hand. Then he slides down my body, placing his head between my legs before licking my clitoris with his tongue, followed by gently kissing it. Opening my legs wider as Brad gets up on his knees, he asks me to play with myself as he watches while he is wanking himself. I play with myself then cum again. Brad is groaning as he looks on, masturbating hard and fast, ending in his hot white sperm shooting out of his tip, landing all over my tummy, finally dripping on my glistening pussy.

  Afterwards, we clean up, get back in bed to try to get some sleep. I lie awake awhile thinking, Brad spent so much time pleasuring me despite the pressure he’s under but I guess it was just his way of showing me he still loves me very much. He doesn’t need to do that, so I’m unsure why he perhaps thinks he does, especially at a time like this; maybe he just wanted too, I guess.

  4th November 2012

  This is D-Day… or should I say THH-Day (To his hometown day). Brad is going to his wife’s house today to get the rest of his belongings that she’d packed for him. This makes me feel physically sick, and I end up throwing up multiple times, once I vomit straight onto my bedroom carpet.

  I am sitting in the kitchen with my head in my hands when Brad goes to leave; he comes in to give me a kiss.

  “Just go,” I mumble, refusing to look up.

  Brad attempts to say something to me but then thinks better of it, instead he just lifts his car keys, deciding simply to shout from the doorway: “I love you, Coco, I’ll be back very soon,” those were his last words before leaving to go there.

  The back door opens then shuts, he is gone. While Brad is away, I don’t know what to do or think; I sit on the table with the mug of coffee, talking to my broom, convinced I’m going insane!

  Brad is soon back with all his gear. We quickly sort it out before making some dinner. He has to be on his way to work the night shift soon, he starts back tonight. I still have another week off. After he leaves I’m alone in the stillness of the house. I’m left to think over everything that’s happened recently, Brad leaving her as we go on holiday in York, then the strange emotional journey since discovering Brad’s mum was ill. Next Brad has moved in with me for real, bringing all he owns in the world with him. It’s a lot to observe when I’m still not sure if this is for the best, attentively asking myself if this is what I truly want.

  A text comes in from Brad whilst he is at work:

  “Coco ur my life ur my wife, need you so much please don’t ever leave me”

  Class, Brad, just fucking class. Given the thoughts I have been having alone, those words cut through me like a carving knife. He is the one who had been constantly leaving me to go back to her, it is only now that he has apparently left her for good that he now claims he has no regrets; if he has this time left her for good, I wonder for how long? He is the one now who is terrified I will walk as he is the one now who is always constantly begging me to stay.

  Looking down at my hand, I admire the gold wedding band Brad gave me. It reminds me of the day he put it on my finger. Brad took the signet wedding ring his wife gave him and one of my gold rings, then taking them both to be melted down in the goldsmiths creating two plain heavy gold wedding bands. We wore one each as a commitment to each other, sealing our love with our hearts. He says he wants me to never take it off, that it protects me, keeps me belonging to him, and tells the world that I am not available (Fucking suiting Brad). Despite his reasons, I love the fact he calls me Coco Blake. Mr Bradford Riley Blake and Mrs Coco Blake. I think it suits us nicely.

  In a happier mood now with his wedding ring on my finger, I text back before bed;

  “You are my world, Brad. I swear I love you infinitely. Always have done, always will. Goodnight. xxxx”

  Do you really, Coco, or do you just say that? Perhaps, sometimes I do; others I don’t.

  5th November 2012

  Brad is in from work now sound asleep as I lie awake beside him. I get up, tiptoe downstairs so that I don’t wake him. This
morning my mood has changed once more, I’m so happy that we live together now. I decide to make a special treat for Brad. He usually doesn’t sleep much; therefore, he always makes dinner soon after getting up, so today for once I will.

  I prepare him roast chicken with spices using Jamaican Jerk sauce (one of his favourite dishes). I leave the doors slightly ajar so that the scent travels through the house. As the chicken is browning, I sprinkle a little brown sugar over it, and then add the Jamaican Jerk sauce while chilling some Chardonnay, and for our dessert, I finish the dinner off with my homemade Eton mess with Channel Island cream, before making my own homemade raspberry coulis to compliment it.

  When I want to be, I am brilliant cook, although most of the time I pretend I can’t just to get out of doing it, which Brad finds cute, and other people who know my culinary capabilities find it rather amusing that I do this, just lazy maybe or just because I can get away with it. Well, mostly.

  Brad wakes up; he comes stumbling downstairs half asleep to see what is cooking. As he enters the kitchen, I kiss him as he tells me the smell of the roast is amazing and it’s drifting through the house right up to the bedroom. He sniggers at me cooking, making fun of me, but the laugh is on him when he is presented with the meal, which he eats enthusiastically, along with his earlier words.

  We both enjoy the dinner with wine. Brad only has one glass as he is working later but I have a couple of glasses. I finish the whole bottle.

  “You excel in your cooking of chicken, darling, it’s delicious,” he says, handing me an empty plate.

  “Aww thank you, Brad,” I respond, pretending to blush with a little smirk showing on my face.

  After our dinner is finished, I take on the chore of cleaning up, which consists mostly of piling dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Every woman’s best friend! We have a few hours before Brad has to leave for work so I climb up on his knee as he cuddles me in his arms, holding me tight while we chitter chatter away about the usual pish as well as everything in life. At one point though he started rocking me back and forth, singing love songs with the wrong lyrics and out of tune. It was so funny, cute and fucking awful at the same time. I start to wish he didn’t have to go to work tonight after all. Sometimes, no, perhaps most time, I can’t wait for him to get out the door. I love my own space, enjoying my own company very much.