by Celia Hayes
Concluding my story, I stretch out on the couch, exhausted. Ethan takes advantage of the break to clear the table. “What a piece of shit!” he says, as he gathers the dirty dishes.
“That’s rich coming from you—”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, you don’t seem one for monogamy.”
“But I don’t lead anyone on. And anyway, it’s not true…” he adds, annoyed by my comment.
“Don’t tell me you’re looking for your soul mate?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that, but that doesn’t give you the right to decide that I wouldn’t like a stable relationship,” he says, recovering the now empty glasses.
“Let me just remind you that I live upstairs and witness, on a daily basis, the comings and goings of oestrogen through the front door,” I say as I watch him fold the tablecloth. “Speaking of which…” I exclaim, thinking back over the past week, “what happened to Cookie? And that other one? What’s her name?”
He doesn’t seem to want to continue this conversation. He avoids my eyes and puts on an unconvincing act of tidying up, but when I say the wrong name for the third time running, he snorts and corrects me “Allie… Her name is Allie.”
“Right, Allie! What happened to her? I haven’t seen her around. Nor the other one, or the brunette with the irritating poodle.”
“Tupak! Haha… Yeah, he got on my nerves as well,” he admits, chuckling, as he takes everything into the kitchen.
“Do you want a hand?”
“No, don’t worry… I’m done.”
“Okay…”
He leaves me in the company of an old song by Guns N’ Roses. I’ve never been crazy about them but actually they’re not bad – I would say even soothing. I feel the stress of yet another shitty day slipping away and I curl up in a corner of the sofa between the back and the armrest, closing my eyes for a moment. The music embraces me, as does the silence in the street and the smell of dinner still lingering in the room. An unusual state of stillness fills my stomach and filters into my thoughts and I find myself enjoying what life has to offer me at that moment with a clear mind, like the softness of the cushion against my cheek, the scent of shower gel on my clothes and the awareness that tomorrow is Sunday so I can stay up late. Drifting, cradled by the buzz of the wine, I don’t even realize that I’m no longer alone. I only realize that Ethan is there when I feel his hand under my knees, lifting them up. He sits next to me, resting my legs on his as if it were the most natural thing in the world and looks at me placidly. When I open my eyes, I realize that he is so close that I instinctively try to move away.
“Stay there…” He puts his hand between the folds of my pyjamas without taking his eyes off me. “Did you like dinner?”
“It wasn’t bad,” I admit.
“Tired?”
“Actually no, but this is really a bad moment.”
“I can imagine,” he whispers understandingly. “How’s it going at work? George mentioned something to me.”
“Are you skirting the issue?”
“About what?”
“Changing the subject.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And what about Cookie?”
No answer.
“There’s something fishy about this… What did you do with the bodies? Confess!”
“If I told you, then I’d have to kill you,” he replies with a serious expression, running one hand along my leg and caressing it gently.
“Come on…” I say impatiently. “Look at me, you can tell me. Otherwise it’s not fair: I told you the story about Horace.”
“There’s nothing to say,” he says defensively. “We dated for a while, now it’s over. That’s all.”
“What, all of them? And you haven’t found replacements? No way, I’m not falling for that. Come on, spit it out!” I poke his leg with the tip of my toes.
He laughs, but doesn’t give in.
“No… No, don’t tell me,” I say, gasping with satisfaction. “They caught you red-handed and all dumped you at the same time?”
He remains silent.
“Am I right?”
Nothing.
“I knew it! I knew that sooner or later they’d catch you out. And how was it? Did they slap you or did they just walk off with dignity and decorum?”
“What’re you talking about? I haven’t been dumped by anyone and there was nothing to find out. I wasn’t going out with any of the three, so they’ve got no reason to get upset,” he says, his pride wounded.
“Okay, okay, I believe you.”
And after all, it’s true. I saw how they looked at him and I don’t think they would have given up their prey that easily. “But if they didn’t dump you, you must have ditched them – and what for? To find yourself eating frozen potatoes with me at eleven o’clock at night?”
“Tell me, what do you care about my private life?” he asks, stroking my knee distractedly.
“Nothing. I was just talking… I’m actually a little disappointed,” I admit. “I was starting to get fond of them. Who’ll keep me company now while I work?”
“But don’t you ever take a break?”
“I can’t. I have deadlines…”
Dejectedly, I run my fingers through my hair.
He really must be feeling sorry for me, because I find myself in his arms before I have time to notice the movement with which he envelops me.
“Ethan don’t… we shouldn’t,” I say, placing my hands on his chest. He’s not discouraged, though, and effortlessly holds me close.
“Come here…” he whispers into my ear, pressing his lips onto my hair, his voice managing to wipe away all my worries. In those strong arms I feel fragile but at the same time as safe as I have ever felt.
“Tell me,” he resumes, as soon as I relax against him. “Are things that bad at Wilbourgh? George told me that there’s a lot of money missing.”
“The situation isn’t that critical,” I tell him, “but there’s still a good gap to fill. The tension in the office gets worse by the day. Today there was a gang of hysterical locals in. If we don’t get back at least some of the liquidity, the only alternative will be to recover some of the loans. Just imagine what’ll happen when we propose the sale of real estate given as a guarantee – half the town will meet in front of my office, and everyone will want to see me dead,” I say, explaining my worries.
“You should have seen that coming. They’re all honest people, trying to pay back what they can. It’s not easy, though. Not if you have a family to feed, children, a mortgage—”
“Don’t you think I know that? The point is that I can’t do anything about it. If I don’t fix the balance they’ll close the branch.”
“And do you think you can do it?”
“I hope so. So far, everything seems to be going as it should, but it’s still early days…”
He reflects for a moment, saying nothing else, then asks me, “How much time do you have?”
“About four and a half months.”
“And then what will you do? Are you planning on going back to London?”
“Yes, without a doubt. They have no interest in keeping me here and I can guarantee you that I would never have accepted this assignment if I hadn’t been sure I could go home at the end of it.”
“Still, four months…”
“And a half. What are you thinking?” I ask him, noticing that he’s lost in thought.
“Nothing, I’m just doing some maths.”
“About what?”
He doesn’t reply straight away. He takes a little time to think about it. “Ethan?” I try to make him speak and he murmurs, “It’s that I wasted a month before getting you to have dinner with me. I wonder how long it’ll take me to steal a kiss.”
“Um… Err… I…” And his soft mouth rests between my lips. “Ethan don’t… I can’t, I…” I push him away, agitated. “I really don’t… It’s late. I have to go home. Tomorrow I have to wake
up and I … I have so much work to…” I get up, mumbling excuses and stumble against a little table as I try to get to the door. Ethan does nothing to stop me, not straight away. He looks troubled, perhaps failing to understand my sudden change of mood. He only decides to intervene when I’m at the threshold, about to sneak up the stairs in search of refuge.
“Trudy, wait… Don’t go.”
Our eyes meet and a sudden languor takes possession of me, slowing my reactions. All my eagerness to run away evaporates and I find myself hoping that he’ll take me back inside. He must be thinking the same thing – I sense it from the way he looks at me, but I don’t wait to find out if I’m right.
I mumble an embarrassed ‘goodnight’ and depart, forcing myself not to look back even when I hear him mumble my name for the last time.
Escape… Escape… Escape…
I go back upstairs, certain I did the right thing, then shut the door behind me convinced that I screwed up big time.
I shouldn’t have left.
I didn’t want to leave.
What the hell am I doing here?
I shouldn’t be here – I should be down there, on that sofa, screaming all the letters of the alphabet!
Okay, that’s not me speaking; it’s my agitated hormones.
I’m sitting on the edge of the table, concentrating on my breathing exercises and hoping to get back some common sense, when I hear a knock at the door.
“Oh, God, he’s come…” and I send Karma, reflection and meditation to hell and run to the door, ready to dive into his arms.
“Trudy…”
“Ho… Horace?”
Chapter 20
He’s a Lawyer
“Guess who’s here!”
“Mark? Paul? Luke? George? Thomas? Richard? Alfred? Sam? Frodo?”
“No – Mr Pessimism and Mr Annoyance!”
“Horace, what are you doing here?”
“Do you know how many tiles there are in my hall?”
“What?”
“Thirty-two. And do you know how long it takes to walk them?”
He’s crazy.
“Twenty-seven seconds. Do you know how many steps it takes to reach my office from the underground? Two hundred and twenty-seven. Do you know how long it takes to walk them all?”
“Horace…”
“Twelve minutes and thirty seconds. Twelve forty-two if there’s a crowd. Have you ever counted the steps that you have to climb to reach my apartment?”
“I knew there was something I meant to do before I left!”
“Eighty-three, Trudy. It takes three minutes and twenty seconds to do them at a brisk pace. Now tell me, do you know how many hours it takes to re-paint one hundred and fifty square metres? Twelve hours.”
“You’ve re-painted the house?”
“And how many hours it takes to complete eight laps of the park on Sunday morning?”
“I see you’ve been keeping busy—”
“Two hours and forty-five minutes.”
“The same amount of time it takes me to find a parking space near the gym.”
“Ask me why I know.”
“Horace—”
“Ask me why I know, Trudy!”
“Why do you know?”
“Because I walked them. Because I’ve lived that time, and it’s slipped through my fingers. Everything, even the stupidest, the most ordinary thing needs its own time to happen. Now, ask me how many hours passed before I became aware that you were the only person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”
I don’t react any more. There’s a lump in my throat and I can’t utter a single syllable. I hold back a hiccup and look elsewhere. Meanwhile, I hide my mouth behind my hand, blinking rapidly so as not to start crying.
“Please, Trudy, ask me.”
“How long… How many hours, Horace?” I manage to ask him, with a trembling voice.
He takes both my wrists and with his eyes immersed in mine, he whispers to me, “None, my love. None, because I knew you were the only one the moment I saw you. Because you smiled at me and I decided that those were the last eyes that I wanted look at every night before falling asleep, for the rest of my life.”
… And time stops flowing and my heart stops beating.
“Trudy,” I hear his voice calling me. He seems so far away yet he’s right there, next to me. So I’m the one who’s somewhere else, lost who knows where, and finally I find his voice to guide me through the shadows and bring me back to him, safe in my memories. “Trudy,” I hear him again. “Trudy, I’m just a man with all his imperfections and faults and I’m begging you to love me, despite everything, because otherwise there’ll be nothing left of me.”
Now, can you tell me how I can leave him on the doorstep?
Simple, I can’t. The only sensible thing to do is throw my arms round him.
We reach my room still kissing. His hands are searching for me, and finding me, they hold me tight. His mouth devours me slowly, taking my breath away. When we hit the bed he takes me in his arms and lays me down on the sheets, taking off my pyjamas with his large hands. I continue to hug him, burying my face in his neck. I want to cry, laugh, make love. I’ve finally come home. Now I’m not afraid. I don’t feel alone any more. I can deal with everything, including Turriff.
“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you ever again, my love.”
His voice tickles my skin, his gaze seeks mine and in that moment I feel him inside me.
The nightmare is over. We’re back together and together we’ll overcome everything, as we always have.
Our bodies remain intertwined for hours, searching for each other, and the first light of morning surprises us in a naked embrace, as though nothing had ever shaken our relationship.
He’s the first to wake up. He leaves me in bed and goes to have a shower. I stay in bed among the pillows, then join him in the kitchen. He’s made coffee and is looking for something to eat.
“Don’t you ever go shopping?”
“I don’t have much time. If I get hungry there’s a café just a couple of streets from here, otherwise, there’s a bakery beside the bank that makes really good biscuits. Do you want to go out for breakfast?”
He looks at the time. “No, I have to leave in an hour at the latest. I’ll get something at the airport,” he says, squeezing me.
“Can’t you stay a day longer?” I ask, disappointed by his imminent departure.
“Unfortunately not,” he sighs, noticing my sudden change of mood. “Monday, I have a case in court and I haven’t prepared anything.”
“I see.” I try to be understanding, but it’s not easy. Not like usual. Under normal circumstances, I would have accepted this, but today… After all we’ve been through…
“Trudy, I’m so sorry,” he begins to justify himself. “If I could I would tell them all to go to hell, but it’s an important case.”
Isn’t it always?
“Horace, don’t worry. It’s not a problem,” I say, striving to appear normal. “I would do the same in your place and you can’t go to court unprepared. Let’s do this, finish your coffee, I’m going to get dressed, what do you think about me taking you to the airport?”
“Perfect,” he agrees, stroking my cheek. “What about you, when do you think you’ll be back?”
“Ah… I think shortly,” I reply, walking towards the bedroom. “I’m waiting for the outcome of a deal. Once they reach an agreement, I’m free.”
“What kind of deal?” he asks, following me. He leans against the wall, sipping his coffee. He put on yesterday’s clothes, a grey suit, blue tie. A little crumpled, but as elegant as always. Today he’s confident, serene. He studies me calmly, reflecting on my words with professional attention. He doesn’t seem concerned about my reaction. It’s as if he’s taken for granted that we’ve solved everything and… And it irritates me. I’m sure I want him back in my life, but I didn’t expect him to overcome our crises and arrange our reconciliation
so easily. Maybe I’m just angry because he’s going away. He’s got no choice, I know, and I know I’m being childish, damn it!
I start plumping the pillows. Making the bed has never been a great passion of mine, but at this particular moment it stops me from saying anything I shouldn’t. Everything is so delicate. What would another argument settle when I already know I’m in the wrong?
“Trudy?”
“What?”
“You didn’t… You didn’t answer me,” he notes, manifesting some perplexity.
“Sorry, I was lost in thought,” I minimize. “Apparently they want to acquire our branch.”
“That’s interesting… Which group?”
“Horace, forgive me, but I really can’t tell you anything else. Not with the way things are right now,” I cut him off, choosing a red suit from the wardrobe to take to the bathroom.
“Okay,” he says with a gesture that denotes indifference. “No problem. I was just talking. You know, I was going to put myself forward for the next elections…” he tells me with a distracted tone – the same that he might use to inform me that he had bought the toothpaste. I turn to stare at him with wide eyes.
“Are you… Are you kidding? When… When did you decide that?”
“Well… recently. I received an interesting proposal from Peter. Do you remember Peter?”
“Melanie’s brother?”
“Yes, that’s him. With Selam’s case…”
And he stops, aware of his mistake.
Selam is the name of the refugee he was defending with his trousers round his ankles between the living room and the study.
“Go on,” I say, with an intimidating stare.
“It was an important case. Human rights, marginalization… You know, people like that type of thing, and with all the publicity I got from the mass media, we thought we might try and mount a political campaign.”
“Are you interested or are they putting you under pressure?”
He moves around the bed towards me. I feel his arms encircle my hips and his chin on my shoulder. “Are you kidding? Have you any idea what it would mean for my career?”
He turns me round.
He kisses me.
“What would it mean for us?”
