Exploits

by Poppet

(And I am not into sisters! Do I look like Katy Perry to you? Yeah, one look and you can tell I'm babe bait. Hello?)

  He points at the CD shuttle and almost impales my nose with his finger; it almost slips into my eye. Flippinheck dude.

  He laughs like a giggly teenager and explains for the blonde half-wit, "Sisters! They rock! Sisters of Mercy."

  Ping Ping Ping.

  Riiight! Okay, I am not making a good impression. I guess it's true. Someone can fuck your brains out.

  Why do army men all smell the same? Is it the water? Or the soap they use? He is much too close for comfort. I've only just met him and he's gazing at me as though I have a fairy on my left shoulder, the wicked devil on the other and the bluebird of happiness circling my head chirping twit- twit-twit!

  Gary intrudes between Nev's fixated stare and me, by hovering a cracked open can of Castle in front of his nose.

  I sigh, with relief, as he grabs it, stands up and the two of them smash the cans they're each holding together, "To freedom"

  "Wicked!"

  I need to find the way out of this worm hole.

  "We have to do something. We'll go camping! Rad! How about this weekend? Hey Nev?"

  I watch Gary. He's smiling as much as Neville is. I'm dumbfounded. What the hell is going on? Who is this man?

  "Right on. Yeah."

  This is so strange; I'm feeling like I've stepped into a hippie camp with a nerd and a stud. (Sounds like one bad joke coming up.)

  "Hey, Woman?"

  I look at Gary. I'm feeling edgy and mildly unnerved. Whatever, right?

  "Sure."

  Neville beams, but now he has this confused expression he's aiming at me. He looks at Gary and asks with obvious shock, "Woman?"

  Gary realises he's slipped up again.

  "Yes! My woman! My sweet adorable lady - my little woman!"

  (Me man, she woman ... you stand in man's cave ... rwaaaaaarrrrhh!)

  I'm watching this with amusement. Gary is scrambling faster than eggs, and Neville obviously doesn't approve. One point awarded to Neville, whose eyes I cannot see because the light from the window reflects off his spectacles. And it's altogether creepy. (I wonder where he's looking?)

  When he gets up to leave, he hooks his ankles together again, and naturally falls like a felled log straight at me. )I've heard of someone falling for another, but this is getting ridiculous.) He grabs my shoulders and I stagger slightly under the force of his fall and weight.

  He gathers himself, stands straight and beams, "You're FABULOUS."

  Erm ... "Thanks."

  He stands there, just staring down at me, smiling.

  Dude, you are freaking me out!

  Gary nudges him, "See you Friday. Legend."

  He's in pause mode. Someone forgot to replace his batteries. He's not registering at all. (Control, alt, delete.) Okay, now I'm alarmed.

  What's he thinking behind those spectacles? What did he do in the army anyway? Torture people by plucking out their eyelashes? Maybe he's one of those mind-reader types. He's doing the soul searching stare, so deeply, I can feel his gaze at the top of my thigh already.

  (Thinks: Nananananana.) God help me, I never want to be alone with this man. He's scaring me spineless.

  After a full minute of awkward 'pause' mode, he turns and trips towards the front door, slapping Gary's shoulder as he staggers past him, "Excellent! See you then."

  There's a vacuum after he leaves. It's too quiet all of a sudden, too still. I stare at Gary, feeling unnerved.

  He grins at me and says quietly, "Shot. He likes you."

  I don’t care! Who is he? You’ve never mentioned him to be, Gary. Ever.

  "Who was that?"

  He gives me the ‘How thick are you?’ look.

  "N-E-V-I-L-L-E."

  Exhale slowly. Do not do anything you'll regret. "I know that. How do you know him? You've never mentioned him."

  He gives me a shocked stare, "Haven't I?"

  "No!"

  He flops down into a recliner with a goofy grin, which now reminds me of Neville, "We went to school together. This is soooo raaaaad!"

  * * * * *

  Friday night comes and I've moved back in. I pump up Gary's performance daily. High octane stuff. We are both zinging with erotic chills. We're both back in the saddle and we missed the ride. I'm open to doing things I normally would not consider. So, I have to take chocolate cake with me to go camping. I know I'm nuts.

  But I can't live on alcohol the way everyone else can. And I've just perfected the art of the most exquisite chocolate fudge, chocolate cake. And I am making some to go with us, when Gary walks into the kitchen with his excessively tall friend, Alan.

  Gary holds out a plastic bag of ganja to me. "Put some of this in!"

  (Oh, what the hell. What can it hurt? Honestly?) I take it and smile.

  The two of them leave the kitchen sniggering like two boys that have just successfully pulled off a prank. I have no idea how this stuff works. Do I put in a teaspoon? Two?

  So, I'm mixing, and get to the ‘add in this stuff’ point. It's full. Packed. Like a blown up pool pillow. I put in half and mix it in. Where are they? I need to ask someone what to do.

  I can't find them. Oh, what the hell. I dump the rest in, mix, pour them into the tins and bake them. Stuff stinks! It doesn't smell like chocolate cake at all. But I stand in that hot stinky kitchen making the chocolate fudge icing, using Mars bars - (this is very apt because I leave the planet soon.)

  Three hours later Gary walks into the kitchen just as I finish icing them. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck. Hmmmmm!

  Holding me against him, he looks around, "Where's the stuff?"

  I point at the cake, "In here."

  He laughs and spins me to look down into my eyes incredulously, "You used all of it?"

  I nod, confused. Wasn't I meant to? No one gave me instructions and the stuff doesn't come with instructions.

  He chuckles and kisses my forehead, “Oh woman, I love you.”

  * * * * *

  That night, at a camp fire in Noordhoek, I am starving! All anyone has done is barbecue sausage, drink and smoke. I don't eat boerewors, South Africa's special brand of sausage, so I am ravenous.

  The tents are up and I am sitting at the fire with Kristy. She's drinking her usual red wine, I have a cider and she's enthusing about how great it is to be back to normal.

  Gary staggers over with his entourage. He's holding the sliced up cake, "Woman, this is excellent. You have to try some."

  Gosh darn, I am soooo flippin hungry the bark wrapped on the nearest tree looks appealing. I'm ignoring the fact he just called me woman as I don't feel like ruining the harmony we've rediscovered.

  So, I have some. Kristy takes some. Gary wanders off with Charl, Alan, Neville–clutching a bottle of strawberry Mampoer– and Graham. Gosh, this is yummy. It tastes just like my usual chocolate cake but with a few chewy dry bits in it. The icing is out of this world. Mars bars just make it.

  So what's the big deal with dope anyway? Nothing's changed. I need to pee.

  "I'll be right back," I tell Kristy. She's staring off into space, gazing at the entrancing flames of the campfire. (Zoned out.)

  Whatever. I move to get up and omigod. Holy crap. I am spatially retarded. Everything is zooming in and out. My head is whirling like a ballerina on crack. Bugger that. I think I'll just sit here again for another few minutes. I really should have eaten something. I'm obviously so hungry, I'm hallucinating.

  I turn my head to say as much to Kristy, when the world starts spiralling with the movement of my head. Flippinheck, but I am vertically challenged! I lean back in my chair heavily. It's one of those deck chairs that sits about an inch off the ground. I am going to FALL. Help. Stop. I want to get off.

  Okay, now I'm scared to move at all. I sit and watch the flames, wondering what Kristy finds so mesmerising. I try to focus on the sound of distant waves crashing.

  Gary comes bouncing o
ver, "Stef, come look here, babes"

  He lurches into my vision. I stare at him, "I can't move."

  He laughs as though I just tickled his g-spot.

  Waaaaahahahaha, "My woman is stoned! This is so rad!"

  No, I'm not. I just can't move. Nothing works. Oh lordy, there's bloody breathing in my ear. I can't even turn my head to see who it is. Gary is gone. There's so much brush around us, I'll never find him. They've probably gone off to smoke a joint on the beach.

  "Hello!"

  That sounds enthusiastic.

  I mumble, "Hello."

  "Would you like a drink?"

  "Yes please."

  Hang on, I can't find my hands. I can’t FEEL my hands.

  A cold Savannah is placed between my fingers. I can feel the cold slippery wetness of a bottle. Okay, my hands are still there. Thank God.

  Oh look, it's Nev. Yay. I'm still not sure why he instils never-ending enthusiasm with his mere presence in everyone. Oh god, was it his breath in my ear just now? He's doing the manic beam at me.

  He trips and falls at my feet, smiling at me. (He's like a cat, this dude. He falls head first, but when he lands, it's gracefully facing the right way as if he planned the whole thing. Bloody bizarre!)

  Speaking of which, I guess we all dream of having men fall at our feet. But I didn't picture it like this.

  SMASH.

  "Cheers!"

  Whoa, too fast, slow down dude.R-e-e-e-e-l-a.a.a.ax.x.x.. (My world has turned into slow motion and his fast-forward gestures turn him into Neo from the Matrix.) His blurring Keanu manoeuvres are making me feel nauseous.

  Mumble, "Cheers."

  "Did I tell you that you're fabulous?"

  I nod. Oh my freaq! Eeeeeeeeewww ... Lurch ... I think I'm going to be sick. Head spiralling like a Catherine Wheel. Wheeeeeee, nausea ... ugh, I feel like crap. Get your hand off my leg. Oh mommy! My head won't stay still. I feel as though I'm lying down but I don't remember lying down. (I can't focus on the hand that I can feel. Everything is blurry. Breathe slo-o-o-w-ly. Fo.o.o.c.u.s. There you are.)

  Fuck dude, you are waaaay too close. Where the hell is Gary?

  Oh look, Nev's lying next to me grinning like a happy camper. (Waaaaaahahaha, sorry I could not resist that one.)

  Why does he only smile at me? Go away. I can't move.

  "That's the best cake I've ever had. Did you make it?"

  Deeeeeeelaaaaay ....

  "What?"

  Get your hand off me.

  Want to cry. Mommy! He's rubbing my arm and I can't move away. Running is out of the question. His face is about three inches away from mine and he's still beaming at me. Is he trying to seduce me? Is he mad?

  "The cake. I want more."

  Oh, I bet you do. Uhm ... Gary would have a hissy if you told him you tasted my cake ... usually I would find that funny, but right now I'm just trying to hold onto consciousness, because if I pass out ... with you ... you fucking scare me dude.

  I feel sick.

  "Smoke."

  Oh jeez. He's just moved his head right up to my nose. I can feel his breath. I was trying to distract him, send him off to get me a smoke because I'm spatio-temporally paralysed. I am legless! Stop breathing over me.

  "Hmm?"

  (It's all flirty. Shudder.)

  "Smoke ..." Croak ... head spin ... ugh ... "Please ..."

  Phew, he just bounded off out of my vision. PHUCK ME. This is insane.

  I think I need some of Gary's starch. I've lost my bones. They've liquidated. I try lifting the drink to my lips. Why is it taking soooo long? After what seems like three and a half hours, I feel the cold glass on my bottom lip. Feeling like a toddler, I carefully tip it.

  Wow, I am thirsty. I down the whole thing. Damn, I just remembered I need to pee. That's just going to have to wait. Pity I'm not a lizard. I'd just grow some new legs so that I can walk again.

  I've turned into the blob. A dizzy blob. I keep myself as still as possible, just waiting for the vertigo to pass. I hate this. I am never doing dope again. Now I know why they call it dope. You have to be a dope to like this! Who needs the date rape drug when you can have chocolate cake? Here have some cake, then you can't run away.

  I'm in shit street and Kristy hasn't even registered that I'm being stalked. How can I be fabulous? He's known me for all of five minutes. Am I the only person to find that assessment scary?

  … Pause …

  Chapter 20

  The Ex Factor

  … Play …

  After three and a half hours I could finally use my body again. And that was the one and only time I was ever stupid enough to eat laced chocolate cake. It was so laced, it put a corset to shame.

  It was one of those enlightening weekends. I got to know Neville, vaguely. What I did like about him, is that he's intellectual and philosophical. At last I had someone I could really talk to inside the Gary entourage.

  * * * * *

  For two months I was happy. Really happy. Gary used my name more frequently, he made coffee, he even cooked dinner. So when he sat me down on a Saturday afternoon, looking like he'd just swallowed arsenic, I had no idea why he looked so serious.

  "There's no easy way to say this."

  My eyebrows rise as my stomach clenches.

  "I think getting back together was a mistake. I want you to move out."

  What. OMG this isn't happening. You fucking son of a bitch.

  "Why?"

  He seems dead serious too. This time he's not joking or messing with my mind.

  "It's not working."

  What do you mean it's not working? It's never worked better.

  I am not going to cry another goddam tear over you. I am livid!

  PING.

  "Who is she?"

  "An old friend."

  So you're still fucking me around? I HATE you.

  I nod and stand up, grabbing my smokes, "Fine. I'll be out by the end of the week."

  "I'll help you move, find a place. I feel bad."

  I nod. "Great. See you later."

  "Where are you going?"

  I glare at him, "That's none of your fucking business."

  Wow, somehow he still manages to look hurt! He just booted me and he has the cheek to demand to know my business. Asshole.

  He stands up and walks after me, "Woman, wait."

  I keep walking.

  "Stefanie."

  Oh look, my name. That I respond to. Swivel and glare.

  "Yes?"

  "I'm sorry."

  Sure you are.

  You selfish, self-centred, dumb, motherfucking son of a bitch.

  I just give him the why-don't-you-go-put-your-head-in-a-furnace stare, then keep on walking. As soon as I'm out of sight, I sit down, light a smoke and phone Selene.

  My throat is tickling, my eyes are prickling.

  "Hello?"

  "He just broke up with me."

  "Where are you?"

  "Down the road."

  "I'm on my way."

  I sit and smoke, pondering.

  My solar plexus is so constricted, I feel ill. I'm so choked up with anger I can hardly breathe. What the hell did I do?

  I stare up at the perfect day. Mocking me. A happy, sunny, blue day; a perfect mountain, in a perfect seaside location. I exhale my smoke and glower. I need to exercise to work off some of this anger. So, I start a brisk walk. He's colder than cryogenics, he is.

  I am seething and ranting internally so much that I didn't even notice Selene until she yells "Hey."

  Stunned with panic, I stop and stare wildly. Phew! It's Selene.

  "Get in."

  I get in, and her sympathetic expression just nails me. Now I feel emotional.

  She says nothing, she just keeps driving. I laugh at her when we get to the pool bar.

  Amen sister. Let's hustle some boys! And I think I'd like a seriously girly drink.

  Wow. All it takes is fifteen minutes and I have a man flirting with me and buying me drinks. And
I'm kicking his ass at pool. I Am Empowered. I do not need Gary. Maybe I should make that my mantra? I do not need Gary. I do not need Gary. I do not need Gary.

  Selene giggles and gossips. When it's dark and we're starving she says, "Staying at my place tonight?"

  I could kiss you!

  "I'd love to. Right now I just want to kick him in the nuts so hard they'll look like baubles on a Christmas tree."

  She throws her head back and laughs with abandon. Selene has one of those totally infectious laughs. It reverberates and booms and soon we're crying, we're laughing so much.

  My laughter chokes. Shit. Everything I own is at his place.

  I am telling you this woman is telepathic, "We're the same height. You'll fit into my clothes."

  Smile! "I'll buy us dinner."

  We're sitting at her kitchen counter, dishing up Chinese, when her home phone rings. She saunters to it and I take over.

  "Hello? ... Hang on."

  She gives me an austere stare, "It's for you."

  "That's impossible. No one knows where I am."

  She arches one eyebrow, "I think it's him."

  Fuck.

  I take a huge inhalation and walk to the phone, suddenly feeling afraid, "Hello?"

  "Stef ..."

  "Go away!"

  "WAIT."

  Grrrrrrrrrr! I wait in silence.

  "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

  "Don't pretend you give a damn. I am no longer your problem."

  Shit. I hate tears. Why do emotions only visit you when you really don't want them to?

  "Stef, I'm not sure ..."

  "I am! It's over."

  Slam.

  "Sorry."

  (Don't slam your friend's phone, it's not polite.)

  "How did he get my number?"

  I hiss venomously, "He must have gone through my phone book."

  Riiinggg.

  I glare at the phone. Snatch.

  "Hello."

  "Are you coming home?"

  "Gary, it’s not my home. You just kicked me out. REMEMBER?"

  "Babes, I'm worried about you."

  (You're such a liar! You're just saying that to be p.c. To make yourself feel better. Shagging someone else and then pretending you give a shit.)

  "Oh, don't you worry about me. I'm going to be just fine without you. I have to go, we're going out tonight. I'll call you when I'm ready to pick up my things."