Tail

by Julian Duenker

CHAPTER TEN

  The atrium kept its muscular walls taught at all times with the odd stretch mark plastered across the white walls. The room was a circle shape with consistent arches following the walls wherever they went. Beneath the arches was a dip that protruded into the wall. Bluntly coloured sheets draped around the room above the arches stapled to the cracked and crying walls. They were tortured with paint lathered over their undeniably old foundation as if the inhabitants were afraid of the natural ageing beauty of the building.

  The centre of the room was controlled by a tight group of Models flinging their daily thoughts at one another. Snapchat syllables and twitter pronunciation lifted their conversations to the already high perception of themselves. Their heads echoed similar movements towards Mathew and Susan that shuffled into the room.

  He guided her over to the fridge and pointed towards the salad. She guided her eyes around the empty fridge. The corners were empty with only the middle of the fridge occupied by food. Nothing looked that appetising but Susan’s stereotype perspective of the models bent once she saw heaps of actually carb food. A clump of meat in the corner especially surprised her, but then again she didn’t know who owned the food. Grabbing the plastic box of salad she dragged herself to get a fork and dig into it, desperately trying to calm the third world howls from her stomach.

  The food was so hollow of nutrition she could hear her own teeth clash together. While munching on her disappointment Mathew walked her over to the crowd of models perched in the centre of the room. He opened the gates of his arms and presented to Susan his work, his pride, his produce.

  “Susan these are the people that I torture every day. Ladies this is Susan.” They all gave her a welcoming smile merging her with the group. A few of them fell up to 6 foot and above. All in all they were a mixed bag of heights and appearances. But one thing that Susan had noticed that was similar between them all was how straight cut their hips were. She could barely see any of the reliable and relatable curves that she grew to love over time.

  As she waved innocently to them she concentrated on her food. She didn’t want to be anti-social but after meeting the model upstairs she felt strangely uncomfortably even thinking about them. The model had somehow tarnished Susan’s usual desire to imitate whatever brightly dressed female pranced across her screen.

  With all eyes on her she left the first line of dialogue up to whichever model was bored enough to engage with her. A brunette from across the circle raised her chest prompting a simple polite question. A series of the usual conversation starters proceeded, quite frankly nothing interesting, just the tired swings from the same old worn out questions. Like what do you think of the place? What do you do yourself? And then the air thinning joke that followed suit.

  While they dished out routine Mathew’s smile grew with every polite word. He didn’t say anything but instead enjoyed the simple dialogue between the models and Susan. Somehow it pleased him knowing that Susan was indulging in his work.

  “Do you own a dog Susan?” The thinnest model said to her. She was by far the most akin to a lamp post with her head receiving all of the attention. Her ankles fell onto themselves dealing with the daily weight that floated above them. The cartilage in her nose replaced the skin on the bridge of it and the hills of her cheek bones emphasised the digs in her face. All of the models looked relatively healthy whereas she held the mantle for the generic model appearance. It almost scared Susan to chat with a walking skeleton.

  “No I’m not a fan of dogs.”

  “O well that’s a shame... pets’ maybe? You that kind of lizard girl? Shit, not that I’m insulting ya, but lizards are getting really popular now. Saw one girl walking around with one around her shoulders. Fucking disgusting really but who am I to judge like ya know.”

  “Nope.... it’s enough to mind myself. I don’t have the energy or knowledge to teach a pet how to live. ” Susan said as she neared the bottom of her food. The plastic muffled sound of the fork hitting the bottom actually created some excitement.

  “Fair enough. Sam over here is the same as ya. I was just saying about my Fiona in fact. No matter how much food I put in front of her, she just won’t eat it. I can feel her ribs every time I hug her. I’m afraid that one day I’d by accident stab her with my fingernails or something.” She said with her bones now making up for the lack of tissue around her chest.

  Susan finished her food and occupied herself with looking at the models. Mathew still stood beside her strangely numb about the conversation that he was listening to. Neither of them were engaging, Susan knew she wasn’t interested in listening to the tall squabbles from them but she didn’t know what Mathew was thinking. He seemed very eager to introduce Susan to his arena.

  No one had realised but Steff was leaning up against one of the pillars behind Susan and Mathew. They weren’t aware of the tattooed man that lurked behind the walls. He wasn’t trying to hide himself, just trying to postpone them seeing him. Leaning against a pillar he smoked on one of those e cigarettes with a contemplative grin.

  “Mathew” He shouted. Their heads turned and presented their disappointment to Steff on a platter made out of dry wall. He bowed and raised his arms leaving his smoke between his lips. Mathew raised his hand to Susan gesturing to her the five minute finger rule and an apologetic smile. Walking over, he watched Steff keep his head at chest height, shaking his hips to the drum in his knees. His fingers twirled themselves as if stirring an imaginary lamb stew. It was all very theatrical. Steff shuffled back under the lip of the arches dragging Mathew further and further into him.

  As Susan watched them, she was once more subjected to the worries of the high heeled people. Another girl started to share about her own beloved dog. She was particularly young still holding onto what can be bought with an innocent raise of an eyebrow and a thigh.

  Whenever Susan looked at her she saw how empty her eyes were. The movements of her neck mimicked the curiosity found in babies. Susan was picking up on all of this, but didn’t find it as difficult to look at her as the other models. Perhaps it was the youth. Well her private analysis was abruptly broken up by tears from the young girl.

  “It has been two weeks... two weeks and it is so… hard. I still feel like when it happened. Why did my precious Maggie have to run onto the road? Why did that car have to be driving on the road?”

  “These things happen my dear, it wasn’t your fault that she got out. She was an innocent little dog. Ya can’t expect Maggie to know the difference between a car and a couch.”

  One of the older models said to her while placing her comforting hand on the young girls shoulder.

  “What about that spaniel? I heard you got Maggie replaced. Does he not work for you?”

  “No!! I hate that dog. The way he shits on anything he wants. I will never get Maggie back and it is not getting any easier. Ye said it would get easier. Bunch of liars ye are.”

  Susan didn’t know what to tell her, but she was definite that she didn’t want to get involved. There were enough consoling hands the girl to keep her occupied. Susan doubted very much that she would be of any help. So she took that low in the conversation to roam her view around the group eating in all the details that hung from the models.

  “I don’t mean it. Ye aren’t liars. I just feel so stupid for letting her out of the house without her sparkle leash.”

  At that moment Susan was expecting to feel that familiar desire crawl up between the crevasses of her skin, but she was left lacking. The crowd of self-sufficient woman were daunting. They were all vastly different from one another even though they complied to the clean sheen that a model lathers their legs with. Looking at them made Susan feel slightly self-conscience. Their hair is what stood out the most to Susan. Locked waves, each strand of hair frozen like some piece of ice. Glacier designs and curls inflicted the scalps of the younger models.

  Mathew reached his regretful destination hiding his hatred beneath the dark arches of the atrium. Steff’s gr
in sharpened with the edges of his cigarette. He was wearing a calm Christmassy hoodie that retained the smallest amount of fashion within its wool. Underneath he was wearing a very expensive suit pants accompanied by the loyal clapping of his leather shoes pointed like the tips of knives. They stood straight, backs up, looking and praising the uncompromising beauty of Steff’s knees like a pair of repurposed loyal puppies. He hadn’t said a single word yet and he was already waving his hips waiting for a response from Mathew.

  “What. You expecting me to dance with you. Huh? I don’t really have the shoes for that right now I’m afraid. So unfortunately you are going to have to find a new dancing partner.” Mathew said with his shoulders hunched like a bear trying to hide the dealings that attacked his good mood.

  “I genuinely don’t understand why you brought her here. After all that jazz from a couple of nights ago and you bring her right here for me. We’ll all I can say is thank you.”

  “She is here for me.... not for you... never for you.” Mathew said with guarded teeth.

  “She is here for you?! But why? If not for me, my name above the door than maybe...? Maybe you brought her here to... impress? Well I would have expected something a bit more sophisticated from you. Bringing her to your work place? What did ya run out of restaurants or what? The fuck is so special about her anyways?” Steff edged his view around Mathew’s shoulders trying to get that buttery look. He eyed Susan up poking his judgements into the tears of her clothes. The face that Steff made as he looked at Susan perfectly reflected a private thought. Mathew smelt the filth sliding from Steff’s drooped eyelids. Imagining what he was thinking about made him sick to the abused core.

  “You better stop looking Steff.”

  “Well what? You want me to gouge me eyes out or what like? I need to live and walk around and shit. So excuse me if my eyes just happen to look at things that make you feel uncomfortable. Besides, undressing people in yar head is fun. Of all people you should know that.”

  “Not her. She is not here for you. And not a single amount of stares will change that.” He said as he closed in on Steff tickling his finely cut stubble hairs with carefully selected words.

  “Do what you want Mathew... just remember the name of the agency and.... where you work.”

  “Are you seriously, genuinely threatening me? It’s been a decade Steff. I have worked with you for more than ten years of my life. Don’t assume that you are still a mystery to me.” Mathew said with a genuinely confused face. Steff snaps a quick burst of laughter.

  “Actually no... I wasn’t threatening you. Ya sure it might have sounded like it, but all I ever wanted was you to remember what building you work in. Because that’s the great relationship between us that keeps this business going. My excellent taste with your defiant stares, it’s the only thing that gets me up in the morning ya know. Whether you give her a chance to work at this place or not, I don’t actually care. You think I care about some hippie girl that you’re interested in? There is enough shit on my plate thank you very much.” Once Steff spat out his spiel he started to slowly dance once more as if a song had just turned on inside his head. Smoke billowed up his face until it crawled beneath his eyelids, knocking his hips back a decade of jazz. His shoes screamed with euphoric joy for their beloved idol that shook the ground above them.

  “Then why did you bring me over here? What is this then?” Steff read the impatient murmurs coming from Mathew’s crossed arms as he asked the question.

  “I was bored Mathew and I wanted to see how much you liked the girl. Don’t dirty the place too much this evening....” dragging his vibrating hips with him he shuffled backwards through the arches towards the exit. He walked as if on ice, and his shoes praised him for it.

  “You were a dirty bag Mathew. At some point we all get fed up of smelling like shit.” Mathew was glad to see Steff dance his way out of the atrium. An imaginary sense of fresh air filled the place reminding Mathew of why he was there in the first place.

  Having filled his lungs with the absence of Steff, Mathew walked back to Susan. She was huddled behind the soft nature of her cardigan too uncomfortable to join in the conversation. Frustration began to build up. Her unsettled stance shifted every 30 seconds trying to find a different angle of her spine to relax on. There are only so many different ways someone can stand without repeating a few of the same postures.

  Mathew tapped her on the shoulder and whispered to come his way. She simultaneously cursed him for creating the situation and thanked him for saving her from it. The models said their reserved goodbyes and shipped their judgements of Susan away for another time.