Blind Justice

by Nathan Burrows

  I remember sitting there listening to Jennifer tell me a story about her work. I can’t for the life of me remember what the story was about, but I remember thinking how beautiful she was. She was wearing a long brown jacket over a simple white t-shirt. Her blonde hair was in a loose ponytail, and she had a yellow daffodil in the lapel of her jacket. Black, skin-tight jeans, brown shoes that matched her jacket. Simple enough in terms of fashion, but she looked stunning. She continued her story as she shrugged herself out of her jacket, and as Jennifer turned to drape the jacket on the back of her chair, the t-shirt tightened against her chest for a few seconds. I tried not to stare but failed miserably

  “You are so rumbled,” she said as she turned back to face me, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. I mumbled an apology as she took a sip from her glass of wine before putting it down on the table and staring at me, a faint smile playing across her face. We sat in what was for me an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before I tried to move the conversation away from my embarrassment.

  “So, is the daffodil just for decoration, or does it mean something?”

  Jennifer’s smile disappeared in an instant, and her entire expression changed. I had no idea what I’d done, but I’d certainly managed to change the subject. She took a deep breath, blowing it out through her cheeks as she glanced back at the flower in her jacket.

  “It’s for Marie Curie,” she said. I was none the wiser, and it must have shown. “The cancer charity. A kind of appeal thing they run every year.” She reached out and ran her fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass, but there was nothing seductive about the way she did it. “My mum died of cancer. It was a while ago now, but it still hurts. You know?” The truth was I didn’t know. My mother had died so long ago that she was a distant memory, existing only in the photographs I looked at once in a blue moon.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.” Jennifer reached out her hand and took mine, rubbing her thumb across the back of my hand.

  “You don’t have to be sorry, Gareth,” she said, the smile returning to her face. “But I love the fact you are.”

  We spent the next hour in quiet conversation. Jennifer told me a little about her mother’s death, and the way it had affected her father, but soon steered the conversation away from the subject and on to something lighter — her brother. She’d mentioned him on one of earlier evenings out — I wasn’t sure whether they were dates or not — but I hadn’t realised that they were twins. She was the baby of the family by just under two minutes, and her brother Jacob never let her forget it. We spent a few minutes talking about him. As I was an only child, the whole concept of a sibling was an alien one to me, and the idea of a twin sibling was even stranger. No, they weren’t identical, and no, they didn’t finish each other’s sentences. One thing Jennifer told me was how protective Jacob was of her, and I wondered how much he knew about her ex-boyfriend Robert.

  Jennifer finished her wine and declined a refill, saying she had to be up early for work.

  “Do you want to walk back, or grab a taxi?” I asked. She looked at her watch, frowning.

  “A taxi, I think. I hadn’t realised it was so late.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time and call a cab. It was only ten o’clock in the evening. Not late by my standards, but then I didn’t have to get up early. The taxi turned up within minutes, surprising both of us, and in no time at all, we were pulling up outside her flat. Jennifer leaned across and kissed me on the cheek before she got out of the cab.

  “I’ll call you,” she said.

  As the cab pulled away, I sat back in the seat and sighed. Home alone again then. I caught the cab driver looking at me with one eyebrow raised in the rearview mirror, and I gave him a stare to let him know I didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Where to, mate?” he said, shifting his gaze back to the road.

  “The Heartsease please,” I replied.

  Three pints later, and I was outside in the beer garden of The Heartsease, smoking a cigarette. I’d missed Tommy and David by about thirty minutes, and Big Joe wasn’t in a conversational mood. I’d just finished my pint and was about to head home when my phone rang. It was Jennifer.

  “Hey,” I said. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” she replied. I waited for her to say something else. She’d called me, but all I could hear was the line hissing. The beer swilling round in my stomach wasn’t helping, and I fought the urge to belch.

  “Let me ask you something,” Jennifer said. “And I want an honest answer, okay?”

  “Sure, scout’s honour,” I replied, lighting a fresh cigarette and waiting for her to continue. She laughed, and the sound brought a smile to my face.

  “If you were here now,” she said. “As in, here with me.” A pause, but not an uncomfortable one. I imagined that scenario and wondered if she was doing the same. “What song would you play for me from your iPod?” I wasn’t expecting that. I scrolled through my music in my head and it was my turn to pause. This was going to one of those throw it out there moments.

  “You sure you want me to answer that question, Jennifer?” I said, wondering what her response might be. There was a silence on the other end of the line.

  “Yes, but I want an honest answer. Not something by Frank Zappa.” How did she know Frank Zappa when she didn’t know Gloria Gaynor? “And if it’s anything by Dire Straits, I’m hanging up.” I closed my eyes, trying to picture her in my head. I took a deep breath and decided that if I was in for a penny, I might as well be in for a pound.

  “It would have to be “Fix You”, by Cold Play,” I said and waited for a reply.

  All I could hear down the line was silence, and I thought for a moment that Jennifer had hung up. Not everyone likes Cold Play. Then I heard the opening bars of the song come through the phone. I sat in silence, listening to the song through Jennifer’s phone. As the final segment of the song faded away, I heard Jennifer say something but missed what it was.

  “Sorry Jennifer, I missed that?”

  “I said, where are you?” she replied.

  “I’m at The Heartsease.” There was another silence. Each one was more electric than the last.

  “Do they sell wine?” Jennifer asked. I didn’t have a clue.

  “It’s a pub, so I think they must,” I replied. “It’s probably piss water though.” I was expecting her to laugh, but she didn’t. I heard her take a deep breath, start to say something. Another deep breath.

  “Can you do me a favour?” she asked, her voice a notch higher than it had been.

  “Sure, of course I can,” I replied. I waited for her to reply. It was her silence to break but as the seconds passed, I wondered if she was still there.

  “Can you bring a bottle with you on your way over?”

  I’d bought two bottles of overpriced wine from Big Joe — the only options he had available were red or white, so I got one of each. The walk to her flat didn’t sober me up anywhere near the amount I’d hoped it would. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I rang her doorbell, but I remember thinking things like this didn’t happen to people like me while I waited. When she opened the door, Jennifer was still wearing her clothes from earlier, minus the jacket and shoes.

  “Hey, hello again,” she said with a smile that lit up her entire face. She’d removed what little makeup she’d been wearing, and let her hair down, but other than that she was just the same. “Come on in.” Jennifer walked back into the flat, and I followed her through the narrow hallway into the lounge. Her flat was tiny. The white hallway was maybe ten feet long, extending to a lounge at the end of it, and I counted three other doors. Bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen, I assumed.

  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted red or white,” I said as I walked behind her. “So I got one of each. I don’t really drink wine.” Jennifer looked over her shoulder at me and grinned.

  “Perfect,” she said. “I’m easy either way, and I haven’t got any beer, so you’ll have to help me d
rink it.”

  Jennifer’s lounge was in proportion both to the rest of the flat and to her — small. It had a sofa, a television, and not much else. The only thing different from my lounge was that Jennifer’s didn’t have empty beer cans and Chinese takeaway containers littering the floor.

  “Have a seat, make yourself at home.” Jennifer waved at the sofa. It wasn’t as if there was anywhere else to sit, so I plonked myself on the end away from the cushions. I figured from the way they were crinkled that was where she sat. “I’ll grab some glasses. Are they screw tops?” She nodded at the bottles I was still clutching.

  “Yep, think so,” I replied. She disappeared back into the hall. I heard a door open, and a few seconds later, some glasses rattling. I looked around the lounge while I waited for her to come back. There was a music channel turned down low playing on the television, and a small bookcase against one wall. A photo on top of the bookcase showed Jennifer and an older man hugging on a beach. A few of the books on the shelves were about astrology, with some romance novels dotted about. At the far end of the shelf was a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey with a very creased spine. Interesting.

  Jennifer came back into the room holding two large wine glasses and put them on the small coffee table. I opened the bottle of white wine and poured us both a glass while she sat down at the opposite end of the sofa. The main reason I didn’t often have wine was because it usually hit me like a sledgehammer, but I couldn’t sit there and watch her drink it on her own.

  “Here you go,” I handed her a glass. “Chin Chin.” We clinked our glasses together and Jennifer took a large sip from hers before sitting back on the sofa, crossing her legs as she did so. “So, let me guess,” I said, pulling my face into an expression I hoped looked as if I was thinking hard. “You’re a Capricorn, right?”

  “Oh my God,” she laughed. “I didn’t know you were into astrology?” I wasn’t, but I’ve always had a great line of bullshit.

  I remember us talking for ages about nothing in particular. It hadn’t taken Jennifer long to realise that I knew bugger all about astrology. I ended up confessing that I couldn’t understand how a bunch of rocks floating about in space knew more about my day than I did, which she claimed was because I was a Pisces.

  The white wine didn’t last long, and the bottle of red turned out not to be a screw top. While Jennifer hunted in the kitchen for a corkscrew, I used her bathroom. As I peed, I looked around the small room. There was only a shower, a sink, and a toilet. Her bathroom was spotless and smelt pleasant, which was a distinct contrast to mine. The towels were neatly folded on a rail, not tossed on the floor, and the bottom of the shower was clean as a whistle whereas mine had a yellow ring effect around the plughole. I resisted the urge to peep in her bathroom cabinet and washed my hands after checking the toilet bowl for any sign of a poor aiming technique. At the last minute, I remembered to put the seat and lid back down.

  When I got back into the lounge, Jennifer was sitting on the sofa, holding a large glass of red wine. Another glass, just as full, was on the coffee table. I picked it up and took a large mouthful. It was rancid. I didn’t like wine at the best of times, but even a philistine like me knew this was bad. But over the course of the next half an hour or so, we managed to work our way through most of the bottle. By the time Jennifer filled up my glass with the dregs from the bottom of the bottle, I was feeling woozy. So, instead of drinking it, I lay back on the sofa and listened to her talking. So I could concentrate on the sound of her voice, I let my eyelids close just for a couple of seconds.

  “Hey, sleepy head.” I opened my eyes. Jennifer was kneeling in front of me holding a mug in her hand. I was stretched out on her sofa, with a blanket over me. No shoes but clothing otherwise intact. I groaned. I must have passed out last night, knowing me not long after we had started to drink the bottle of red. Anything stronger than lager just killed me. “I brought you a cup of tea,” Jennifer said. She put the mug down by the side of the sofa and stood up. “I need to head off to work soon,” she said. “In about twenty minutes.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t rude, was I?” Jennifer laughed, and I grinned up at her despite a bastard of a headache behind my eyes. I must look like shit, unlike Jennifer who looked like she’d had a great night’s sleep. I sat up on the sofa, running my hand across the back of my neck as the pain in my head shifted to a tight band across the back of my neck.

  “Not at all,” Jennifer said, still laughing. “I was in the middle of telling what I thought was a hilarious story about my brother when I looked over to see you’d passed out. Not quite snoring, but not far off.” She laughed again, much more of a morning person than I was. I looked at my watch. Almost seven o’clock in the morning. I rarely got up much before ten, so being awake at this time of day was an unusual experience.

  By the time Jennifer had finished in the shower, I had drunk the tea. She walked back into the lounge, still wearing her dressing gown and with wet hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked beautiful and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was wearing anything underneath the dressing gown even though I’d just woken up and was hungover as hell.

  “I’d better be going,” I said. “I’ll get out of your way, but thanks for the tea. It was perfect.”

  “No problem at all,” Jennifer said. “And thanks for your company last night, it was just what I needed.” Truth be told, I couldn’t remember a great deal about last night beyond the red wine being opened. I remembered nothing about a funny story involving her brother, and I didn’t remember her putting a blanket over me or removing my shoes. I hoped my feet weren’t too offensive.

  “Where do you want me to put this?” I asked, waving the empty mug at Jennifer.

  “Oh, just leave it there. I’ll wash it out later,” she said. I walked to the front door of Jennifer’s flat and opened it. The bright sunlight outside hurt my eyes, but the fresh air was just what I needed.

  Across the road from her flat was a bright red BMW with a familiar face up behind the wheel. I turned back around, to see Jennifer holding the door open and peeping round it. This would not look good for matey boy sitting over the road. Jennifer seeing me out of her flat first thing in the morning when she was fresh from the shower.

  “Why is Robert sitting outside your flat at seven o’clock in the morning?” I asked her. She groaned.

  “Oh God, he’s not, is he?” I stepped aside so that she could see him. If Robert hadn’t seen her in her dressing gown, he could now. Oh well, some you win some you lose.

  “Do you want me to have a word with him?” I asked her, looking back at the BMW. It looked brand new, but I don’t really know much about cars. Tommy would know the make, model, and how to nick it, but he wasn’t here.

  “No, don’t worry,” she said. “He’s been there twice this week and not said anything or done anything.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Honestly,” she said. “It’s fine.”

  “Okay, but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

  I descended the steps outside her flat and walked toward the end of the road. When I turned to look to see if Jennifer was still standing at the door, it was shut. I was kind of hoping that she would be standing at the door, waving at me or something like that. As I reached the end of the road, I heard a car pull up alongside me. I turned to look, and sure enough, it was Robert. The look he gave me was one of absolute fury. I didn’t want to make things more difficult for Jennifer, but I couldn’t help winking at him and giving him a knowing grin. He wasn’t to know I’d spent the night passed out on her sofa, so let him imagine away what might have happened. The BMW’s tyres screeched as he sped up hard away from me, and I noticed his personalised number plate. It spelt ‘RO3 ERT’. Robert.

  What a cock.

  I’d been going out with Jennifer for two months when she decided that it was time for me to meet her family. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d met a girlfriend’s family. It must have be
en while I was still at school. I guess that was because I wasn’t the type of bloke that girls wanted to introduce to their families, or perhaps it was because I didn’t have that many girlfriends.

  Meeting the family seemed like things were getting serious between Jennifer and me, which in fairness they were. It had taken another couple of weeks after the night I’d passed out on her sofa for me to stay over again. Even now, after everything that's happened, I can’t think about that second night in her flat without smiling. It was amazing. Jennifer was amazing. Was I amazing? I like to think so, but doesn't every man? I’d felt a massive sense of relief, emotional and physical, as I lay in her arms afterwards. We were both breathless, naked. Jennifer had used her thumb to mop a bead of sweat from my forehead.

  “Well that was rather nice,” she’d said with a sly smile that I’ll remember until the day I die. “Can we do it again?” So a bit later on, we did. That night, I didn’t have a drop to drink until we were both exhausted.

  There was still a nagging doubt in my mind she wasn’t interested in me as a person, but that I was useful to have around. I wasn’t complaining though, and I tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter if she didn’t like me in that way. I was having fun, and I thought she was having fun. So where was the harm in that? The other problem was that she had no idea about my part-time job, and the more time I spent with her, the more uncomfortable I got about my secondary income. I’d even considered, but not mentioned it to a soul, giving it all up and going straight.

  But, despite those issues that nagged inside my head, like me she did, and I have to say we made a good couple in the early days. Tommy didn’t help when I told him that Jennifer and I were seeing each other. He’d said I was punching so far above my weight I needed a ladder. Despite him, the first few months of that summer was one of the happiest times of my life. I’d been so nervous as we drove to her Dad’s house I’d almost bottled it and asked her to drop me off at the nearest pub. We drove towards Thorpe End, a village on the outskirts of Norwich where even the smallest houses had names, not numbers, and I would have stuck out like a sore thumb at any of the pubs we passed. I was wearing my only suit, which was much tighter around the neck and the waist since the last time I’d worn it. I’d bought it a few years ago when I was thinner, and even with the top button of both the shirt and the trousers undone, it was still too small. When Jennifer slowed down to turn into her Dad’s driveway, I realised that the house couldn’t be seen from the road but was hidden behind large, mature trees. The tyres rolled over the smooth weed-free gravel as we pulled into the drive, and she parked her Mini behind a brand-new Audi TT.