by Matt Shaw
Oh God.
How embarrassing.
I shot her a look before smiling at Darren. “Thank you,” I said as I took the flowers.
Before I even had a chance to admire them, mum reached over and took them from me, “I’ll go and put those in water for you. You kids have fun now!”
With that, she walked through to the lounge, leaving Darren and I stood in the hallway - both unsure of what to do next.
“Our daughter’s growing up,” mum said from the other room - obviously thinking she was out of ear shot.
Oh God.
So embarrassing.
I felt my cheeks flush as Darren simply smiled.
“So, are you ready?”
“Sure,” I said as I grabbed my coat and opened the front door.
“I think the restaurant prefers it if you wear shoes,” said Darren.
Oh God.
So embarrassing.
He laughed again as I stepped back into the house and slipped my black heels on.
I wonder what he’d say if I asked to start the date again.
* * * * *
Who ever it was - they must have heard me; even with my croaky voice.
Everything else in this house is so quiet, they’d have to be deaf not to hear me.
Maybe they are...?
No.
I doubt it, somehow.
They heard me, alright. They know I’m awake now. I’m sure they’ll be back in a minute - explain how it’s been a mistake and let me out. Let me go home.
Again - somehow I doubt it.
They’d at least tell me what they wanted.
And who they are.
I think that’s getting to me more than being cuffed to this dirty bed in nothing more than my underwear - not knowing who they are.
... And what they did to me when I was unconscious.
Another wave of panic washes through me as I think of all the things they could have done - after all, why else would I be in just my knickers?
Don’t think about it.
I’m sure if they had done anything... I’m sure I’d know.
I’m sure I’d feel something had anything ha.....
Don’t think about it.
Another wave of panic rushes through my body - what if they are waiting for me to be awake before doing anything? What if they like the idea of me screaming and squirming underneath them. I feel my eyes fill with tears.
Why is this happening to me?
What have I done to deserve this? I’ve never hurt anyone. I’ve never.... stop being the victim and stay calm...
Everything happens for a reason.
Keep calm.
Everything will be okay.
Whatever they want - just give it to them. If they want to... well, don’t struggle.
Being a handful and shouting at them or screaming for them to stop whatever they’re wanting to do - it won’t make the situation any better. If anything it will make it worse.
And besides, they might like the screaming.
Don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing you’re afraid.
But I am.
I am afraid.
The more I think about the situation. The more I think about what’s happening and wondering where I am.... and who is walking around upstairs.... the more scared I become.
I am scared.
* * * * *
I am scared.
I don’t know why - Darren’s been nothing but polite to me the whole evening. Even as we left the house and walked to his car, he quickened his pace in order to open the car door before I got to it.
He even did the same at the restaurant, when we arrived - even though I quickened my pace to see if I could beat him to the door. Just to see what he’d do. He had simply quickened his own pace, in response.
As we sat down he offered to take my coat, before he pulled the chair from under the table for me.
A proper gentleman, just how I had always imaged my dates to be.
So - why am I so scared?
“Any idea what you’re going to eat yet?” he asked, without looking up from behind his own menu.
I had no idea.
Everything was foreign.
“Still looking,” I said shyly, safely hidden behind my own overly-large and complicated menu.
“No rush.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Do you have any idea what any of this actually is?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but laugh. I had no idea. In turn, he laughed too - sounding thankful that it wasn’t just him who was slightly ill-educated for an establishment such as this.
“I only want steak and chips,” he said, “can you even see anything that sounds as though it could be steak and chips?”
I confessed that I couldn’t. Not to say ‘steak and chips’ wasn’t on the menu.
“We could ask,” I suggested.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said before waving one of the nicely dressed waiters over.
“Can I take your orders, sir?”
I hid behind my menu, a little embarrassed at the whole situation.
“To be honest, I’m not sure... we’re struggling with the menu. Is there, perhaps, an English version?”
I knew he was joking around but the expression on the waiter’s face suggested he wasn’t so sure of Darren’s motives.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but that’s the only menu we have.... the lunch time menu finished a couple of hours ago....”
“No, no... we don’t speak whatever language this is... I just want a steak.... do you do steak?”
“Bistecca,” replied the waiter.
“Bless you,” said Darren, with a playful smile on his face. I couldn’t help but offer a snort of laughter. “Now, steak.... do you sell steak?”
“The menu, sir, is Italian. The Italian word for steak is... bistecca.”
The waiter leaned over and pointed to the steak section of the menu.
“Then I’ll have steak and chips, please. Thank you,” said Darren.
“Very good, sir. And for you, madam?”
“Same.”
“And how would you like your steak cooked?”
“This is all very complicated,” Darren said to me, ignoring the fact the waiter was still standing next to us.... “Do you think he’ll understand ‘burnt, just like my mum makes it?”
Again, another little snort of laughter.
I wish I could stop snorting.
So embarrassing.
“I’ll have mine medium please,” I said to the impatient-looking waiter.
“Same for me, old bean,” Darren burst out - clearly enjoying the winding up of the waiter.
The waiter simply smiled, about turned and walked towards the kitchens. I’m sure there was an audible sigh of relief.
“If he spits on our dinner, I can but only apologise,” Darren whispered.
Another snort.
Cringe.
“Your mum looks familiar,” Darren mentioned - a statement which completely took me by surprise. “I’m sure I’ve seen her before.”
“Not sure,” I said - a little unsure of how I was supposed to answer.
“Where does she work?”
“She’s a nurse at the hospital - works on the wards, generally.”
“Ah, then I’ve probably seen her there. My brother was involved in a motorbike accident and was there for about a week...”
“Oh, I’m sorry - is he okay?”
“No. He died.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry to hear that, I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, I’m joking - he’s fine - got out last Tuesday,” replied Darren with a glint in his eye and a little ‘naughty-boy’ smile on his face.
“You asshole! I really believed you!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was bad taste but, there was something about the way in which he delivered it which just made it that little bit funny.
“I’
m sorry, I couldn’t resist....”
“You’re a dick!”
Darren laughed again, “I feel that’s a tad harsh!” He changed the subject, “Do you think dinner will be long? I’m starving!”
I looked over my shoulder towards the kitchen.
* * * * *
I’m hungry.
They know I’m awake.
They must know I’d be hungry too.
I wonder, do they plan on feeding me? Maybe they want me to starve. Part of their sick plan? I wish I had eaten dinner last night, with mum and dad. After our chat, I was so nervous, I couldn’t eat a thing. If only I could turn back time. I would have eaten everything on the plate.
But then, would I? If they want me to die - even a slow death of starvation - I’d sooner just get it done. I don’t want to be in pain. If I had turned the clock back and eaten anything... I’d just be lying here longer whilst my body still digested it.
I wonder how long I have been here.
It’s to dark to see if there’s a clock in here and I’m not wearing my watch.
Why would they not even permit me to keep my watch on?
Was I even wearing it when they took me?
‘They.’
Still presuming it’s a ‘they’. It could just be one person - one person walking around upstairs. One person talking to themselves.
One person....
Who?
“Hello?” I called out again, even though I felt sure they wouldn’t answer.
Quiet.
Listening.
Nothing.
No answer.
No movement.
I fidget, as much as the restraints permit me, uneasily on the bed.
Whoever it is, I wish they’d made the room a little more comfortable. The springs are digging into my back and my arms are starting to tingle from where they’ve been in the same position for God knows how long.
Please come and let me out.
Please.
* * * * *
“Please?”
I couldn’t stop smiling, as I stood outside my own front door - the moonlight illuminating our romantic scene.
“No, my mum and dad might be watching...”
“Please? Come on.... I just want to give you a goodnight kiss on the cheek,” Darren repeated, his arms still around my waist from where we’d been hugging only moments earlier.
He scared me when he leaned in closer to me, during the hug. I thought he was going to try and kiss me.
I’m not ready for that yet.
I like him.
But, I’m not ready.
“Friends kiss on the cheek,” he insisted, “I promise there’s nothing else to it. It’s a polite way of ending the evening.”
I laughed again, “Okay but no funny business,” I told him.
“Promise.”
There was a pause where neither one of us moved.
“Well,” he said, “this is awkward now.”
We both laughed.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’ve built it up now. It was to be a simple kiss on the cheek but now you’ve turned it into something....”
“I have not!”
We both laughed again.
“You have, you have definitely built it up. Maybe we should just skip it completely now...”
My heart sank.
Now I’ve got it in my mind - a kiss on the cheek would be acceptable.
As he said, a kiss on the cheek is something friends do. It doesn’t matter if mum and dad see that.
“Nope, you’ve definitely built it up too much!”
“You’re building it up now!” I protested. “Instead of even starting all this you could have just - - - “
He kissed me on the lips, silencing my argument.
A slow, soft, tender kiss on my lips. His lips felt moist and good. He leant away from me - a broad smile across his face and a cheeky look in his eyes.
“You lied to me,” I said when I finally snapped back to reality.
“No, I was going to kiss you on the cheek but you did build it up. I couldn’t have possibly done a kiss on your cheek to live up to what you would have been expecting...”
“You’re so full of shit,” I laughed again.
“Yeah, okay... I’ll give you that. Can I see you again?”
Definitely.
“I’m not sure, after that dirty little trick,” I teased.
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure, in class,” I laughed as I opened the front door. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
I didn’t wait for his answer. He just stood there, a smile seemingly stuck on his face.
I closed the front door.
3.
“How did it go then?”
Breakfast time with mum and dad.
Mum, inquisitive.
Dad, reading the back of the cornflakes packet.
“It was nice,” I said - not really wanting to get into it with them.
“And the butterflies?”
I shot mum a look, to silence her but she didn’t take the hint.
“Did you kiss?”
“Mum!”
“Your mum’s just interested,” dad muttered from behind his cardboard box.
I felt my cheeks redden.
If this is what I can expect after every date, I don’t think I want another one.
Mum continued, “Was he nice at least?”
“Yes, mum.”
There was silence as we went back to eating our flakes.
Dad looked up from the cornflakes, “Apparently they do the same cornflakes but with bits of marshmallows in.... I wouldn’t mind giving those a try.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Mum didn’t.
She was too pre-occupied with thoughts of my previous night, “So, are you seeing him again?”
“Yes, mum, I expect so...”
“Well, he seemed nice.”
Silence filled the room again.
“So...”
Oh God.
Please leave it, mum. So embarrassing.
She didn’t read my mind and continued, “will we get to meet him properly soon?”
“Jesus, mum....”
“Watch your language,” said dad, with a stern voice like I haven’t heard before.
“.... well, can’t we talk about something else? Please? We went on one date!”
“But it went well?” said dad. More, I’m sure, to wind me up than out of general interest.
“I’m going to be late...” I stood up and walked my bowl over to the sink.
“I’ll give you a lift, if you want....” offered mum.
She never offered to give me a lift to college before - well, not since the first day at least - and, part of me thought she did that just to ensure I went, not because she was worried about whether I could find the place by myself.
“I’m okay, thank you.”
More likely, she wanted to quiz me a little more in the car - away from dad. Perhaps hoping I’d open up a little more without him listening in on our girly chat.
Definitely not.
My lips are sealed.
Lips.
I can still feel his lips against mine.
Soft.
Delicate.
A grin spread across my face so I turned away from mum and dad to avoid further, unnecessary questions. I rarely smile in the mornings so a smile now would definitely raise questions.
