Innocent Monsters

by Doherty, Barbara

  His father wasn’t part of this memory because he never attended the ceremony. Maybe —hopefully— somewhere, in a hidden place inside himself Richard Blaise had been able to admit that crying on the grave of the daughter he had himself pushed to suicide would have been too much: depravity and perversion were somehow incomprehensible enough without hypocrisy.

  Helena couldn’t live because Richard Blaise existed, because he knew too many people willing to pay for his own daughter, too many people who came back for more She could not live because sometimes Richard went to see her himself. Helena hated that more than anything else. She hated him more than any other man who paid to have sex with her.

  William could see her face inside his eyelids, he could see her the way she had looked that last night they spent together. He could see the TV at the end of the dinner table, mashed potatoes, peas, chicken, cold tap water inside an old bottle of soda, green plates, yellow plates, blue rimmed plates, all different, none matching another. He could see Richard asking Helena to pass him some mashed potatoes, his fingers touching her wrist as she handed him the bowl, the perverse smirk on his face, the disgust on hers.

  That last night, Helena had sneaked in William’s bed the way she always did when she needed him to hold her, to listen to her, but the only words he remembered her speaking before falling asleep were, I’m tired Billy, I have to go. Go where? he’d asked with the voice of his mind, too tired to speak the words out loud. He’d found her back in her bed the next morning, her eyes closed, her fingers gripping an empty plastic jar of their mother’s sleeping tablets. How peaceful she looked, how still. Perfect and placid, serene and peaceful. At last.

  The voice of a soprano vibrated in his ears, beautiful, sublime...

  ...And though I have the gift of prophecy

  And understand all mysteries

  And all knowledge...

  And though I could remove mountains,

  If I have not love...

  I am nothing.

  His sadness, his love, his madness, this notes had become all of this and he had never shared them with anyone else before.

  ...This is the sound of my soul...

  Was she listening?

  Could she see him?

  JESSICA ARRIVED at the Garden Court a few minutes after five. She knew he would be waiting and probably watching from somewhere, so she walked slowly across the oak floor of the dining room looking for him, the hem of her long green skirt brushing against her ankles as she moved. Above her, deep red and orange clouds melted with the dark evening sky beyond the glass roof. Three women in black played in a corner in front of a silent audience of round tables and chairs, couples, friends, men in suits lost in their laptops. Violin, flute, bass.

  William was sitting at one of the center tables with a cigarette between his fingers, the sleeves of his dark brown shirt unbuttoned, pulled up to his elbows, his chin lifted towards the roof, his long hair falling perfectly around his face. She sat down across him, folding her coat over the chair.

  “Is this going to be a really early dinner?”

  He smiled, extinguished his cigarette. “I wanted to watch the sunset from down here. Isn’t it spectacular?”

  She nodded and he watched her looking up at the glass roof. She was beautiful, her outfit tightly hugging her curves, the diamond pendant he had given her for Christmas sitting perfectly in the little indentation between her collarbones. Her hair was tied high on top of her head leaving her neck naked. It made him want to sink his teeth into it like a vampire, it made him wish he could suck blood out of her veins, suck happiness, bliss, anything she could give him.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said.

  “Thank you for asking me to come.” She leaned forward to kiss his lips, caressed his cheek with her fingertips. “How are you?”

  “Better. Just tired, I guess. I don’t think I’ve done anything else but work for the past two weeks. What about you? What have you been up to?”

  Flattened my ass on the chair in front of the computer, stared at my own reflection on the screen, waited for inspiration, felt sorry for myself, you know... “Not much really. I’ve been trying to work on my new novel, but...” She shrugged. Coward. Fucking Coward. Can’t you even say it? I can’t write anymore? She shrugged again, shrugged the thought off her mind. “...I’m still nowhere.”

  He smiled again. “You’re here with me.”

  He lifted her hand from the table and kissed it. He looked weary and handsome, a sad light in his eyes, far beyond the happy expression on his face. How she had missed him, how she had missed looking at that sadness in him.

  “Thank you.” She whispered.

  “What for?”

  “For everything. For sharing yourself with me... I listened to the CD.”

  “Did you?”

  Yes. She had listened to it right after putting the lilies in a vase on the kitchen table. She had filled the bathtub, lit a candle, watched its flame trembling in the mirror. She’d laid in the water, closed her eyes and let the music pervade her.

  Zbigniew Preisner... It was so sensual and yet so dramatic, so moving she had found herself crying, sobbing without a real reason. It was just sadness, his sadness. It had filled her. She had spent more than an hour in the bath completely motionless, her cheeks wet with tears, until the music had stopped and longer, until the water was merely lukewarm and her fingers had turned wrinkly and soft, until she could no longer hear the music playing over and over in her head.

  “I did, yes. It’s beautiful. I never heard of Preisner before.”

  “Not many people have. He’s a polish composer. Used to be my mother’s favourite.”

  “Was she Polish? Or... Is she?” She realised she had no idea whether his parents were alive or dead.

  “No, she wasn’t. She just liked watching foreign movies. I suppose that’s how she discovered him.” He sighed still holding her hand close to his lips. “She liked foreign cultures. I always thought she would have done something great with her life if she never met my father. She had a natural elegance that made her stand out. She looked as if she had a purpose... Once.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t had any contact with her for a very long time.”

  The three women in black still played in the corner of the room when a waiter with dark bushy eyebrows approached their table.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” He asked them.

  “Can he get us anything to drink, madam?”

  “I’d love a drink, a martini?” Jessica offered.

  “Two, two martini. Thank you.”

  The waiter left and came back again with two glasses and a bowl of olives just as William was lighting another cigarette.

  “Jessica, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Right. What is it?”

  “How did the music make you feel?”

  She didn’t need to think about it. “Sad. Just sad. I thought you must feel the same when you listen to it.”

  “I do, I feel sad whenever I listen to it and yet... I can’t stop listening to it. I don’t know if I can explain this but... I told myself I would try to.” William looked down at the table, took his time. “It’s as if I’ve created this place inside myself over the years, this place I keep going back to and going back to and going back to, and it doesn’t really matter anymore how sad it is, how miserable it makes me feel because it’s become the only place I feel comfortable in. And the way I feel when I go to that place it’s the only way I seem able to feel. I know it doesn’t make any sense...” He took a long drag on his cigarette. Jessica watched the smoke came out of his lips, watched his mouth moving again, still trying to understand. “I gave you the CD because I want you to understand. I want you to understand me. I want you to see m
e.”

  “I can see you.”

  But could she? Or was the fact that she couldn’t see him very clearly the reason why she was so attracted to him? Wasn’t his madness, his fragility the only reason why she wanted to be near him?

  “I have created that place listening to that music. I’m sad and miserable and I am lonely and I’m tired of being alone. I want to let you in.”

  She moved her hand on his across the table. “Then stop hiding yourself from me.”

  “Maybe I’m afraid you won’t like what I’m hiding from you.”

  “You’ll never know until you show me, William. Try me.” He smiled at her but didn’t say a word. Just looked at her, just let her look. And she kept looking for him.

  The three women in black were still playing in the corner while the sky above them changed colour, and William lost track of time. He didn’t know how long they kept staring at each other like that, watching the expression on their faces, he couldn’t hear the music or any of the voices of the people sitting around them, but none of it was relevant. The only thing that mattered was how he felt about Jessica, how much he wanted to take her in his arms, take care of her, watch over her, let her look after him. He knew now he would have felt the same if she looked different, if she didn’t remotely resemble his sister. It wasn’t his sister he wanted, not anymore. He wanted this, the possibility of a relationship, the promise of a slice of normality.

  They finished their drinks then had a second one without a meal. After their third martini William paid the bill and took her outside.

  They stopped in the middle of the pavement; he slipped his arms inside her opened coat and held his hands around her waist.

  “I took you out for dinner and I only got you something to drink.”

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She could see the lights of the street around them moving even if they were both standing still.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I’m happy.”

  His hands moved to her hips, then down to her buttocks; he squeezed her, kissed her neck, her shoulder, his face buried in the collar of her coat. Jessica kept her eyes shut. She couldn’t see people walking past them, but she knew they were there, passing by, turning their heads, watching his thigh between hers, pressing against her, his lips on her skin. He was so close to her she could feel his erection and she wanted him.

  “Let’s go somewhere this weekend, Jessy.” She nodded. Yes, yes. Yes. “Let’s go out to the Bay. We can go riding or hiking or sailing or do nothing all day. We’ll do anything you want.”

  Yes. Yes. Yes.

  A breeze was blowing through the light material of her skirt making her feel completely naked, and the thought of being naked with him, in the middle of the street, hidden only by her opened coat, made her want him even more. He kissed her earlobe and every inch of her skin was covered in goose bumps.

  “Do you love me, Jessica?” He caressed her back, held one hand on the nape of her head. “Do you love me?” He kissed her neck again, held her, held his arms around her shoulders. “Because I do. I love you. Do you love me?”

  “I love you. I love you. Take everything I have.”

  22 January 2001

  “YOU’RE different,” Lisa complained.

  “What do you mean, different?”

  “I don’t know, different, like, you don’t care anymore, y’know... You don’t want me to be here.”

  True. Jessica didn’t really care and she didn’t want to have to listen to this woman’s problems, it was too late. She didn’t want to look at the depressing expression on her face. Lisa was alien here, out of place. She didn’t fit in her life anymore.

  Jessica groaned. What she wanted was to close her eyes and open them up again in a world where nobody else existed, nobody else but William. Nothing else but him. Just the two of them. Was it too much to ask?

  Lisa was standing in the sitting room facing the window, waiting for her friend to say something, to tell her she was wrong, she did want her to be here, we’re friends Lisa, there will always be a place for you in my home.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound cold or anything... It’s just that... I’m tired, I wasn’t expecting you to come.”

  Lisa turned to face her. She looked outraged and distressed. “Are you saying I should have called?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well sorry, I didn’t realise I need an appointment to see you these days.”

  Jessica threw her head backwards, against the back cushions of the sofa, closed her eyes, waited, opened them up again: Lisa was still there.

  “Lisa, please. Don’t do this.”

  “Do what? I come all the way here and you tell me that today is not a good day. Let’s see, should I leave and come back tomorrow? I can rent a room somewhere if it’s more convenient.”

  “Liz...”

  “I’ll just call tomorrow to check if you feel like seeing me yet.”

  Close, open, still there. She wouldn’t disappear.

  “You’re the one who got angry ‘cause I wouldn’t talk about how shit my life is. Remember? Now you don’t even want to listen.” Lisa gawked at her, waiting. “Are you going to say anything?”

  “I’m sorry. Come sit down here.”

  Lisa sighed, walked slowly to the sofa looking down at the floor like a hurt puppy. She needed a friend, Jessica knew, but try as she might she could not pretend, she couldn’t feel anything but annoyed because Lisa had decided to jump on a bus and finally run away from her husband without checking if it was ok to take shelter in her apartment. And it wasn’t ok. She was supposed to spend the weekend by the beach, taking in breathtaking views of the Bay with William, not in her apartment babysitting someone who she had not seen or heard of in months. No, it wasn’t ok at all but she couldn’t kick her out of the door, she couldn’t tell her to jump back on a goddamn bus and spend the rest of her life waiting for Bobby the way she had been doing for the past two years. She couldn’t do that to her. Kaitlyn would have been disgusted.

  Jessica placed a hand on her knee. “It’s just that, this has happened before and I think we both know how it’s going to end. He calls you, you start crying, you tell him you’re sorry before he can even apologise, he tells you to come home and you jump on the first bus back. He’s going to get away with whatever it is he did and this is all gonna be a big waste of time and money. Isn’t that what you always do? Forgive whatever shit he throws at you? It doesn’t make any sense, you coming here in the middle of the day because he’s not been home for three days. He does it all the time and you just sit and wait for him to come back. What’s the difference between this time and any other time? And sorry if I say this, but it’s partly your fault if he behaves like this, because you never tell him to go fuck himself.”

  “Not this time. I’ve had enough.” She mumbled.

  “You’ve had enough? Great!” Jessica threw her head against the cushions again. “Now, please look at me and tell me you’re never gonna see this man again. If you’ve really had enough, just tell me you’re not going to see him again, even if he crawls all the way here from Crocker Amazon on his knees.”

  Lisa looked up, her eyes filling up with tears. She stood up in silence and walked back to the window in a particularly annoying stoical manner.

  “You don’t understand,” she told her own reflection on the glass, her back straight.

  “That’s right, I don’t. I don’t understand because you won’t explain it to me. Why don’t you just help me understand what it is that you think you’re doing with your life? What kind of life are you ever going to have with that scumbag?”

  “He’s not a scumbag.”

  Jessica threw her hands in the air, rolled her eyes and jumped up off the sofa. “Honestly? You’re standing up for him now? He’s not wor
th it, Lisa. If he was such a great husband you would not be here now, you’d be home cooking dinner.”

  Couldn’t she see? Couldn’t she see what kind of a person Bobby was? Couldn’t she see it wasn’t her love he wanted? Bobby didn’t need a wife, he didn’t deserve one; all he needed was someone to stay home to wash his dishes, do his laundry, iron his underwear, someone to buy his newspaper and milk in the morning, make his coffee, someone to cook and clean. A housekeeper would have done nicely, but it would have been too expensive. A wife cost nothing. She came with a lifetime guarantee and occasional sex thrown in for good measure. It was a no-brainer.

  Couldn’t she see that?

  Lisa started sniffling in front of the window, her shoulders shifting up and down as she tried to choke the sobs. She obviously couldn’t see. She couldn’t see further than her nose.

  “I have a purpose with him. Who else is gonna take me, Jessy?” She started blubbering so noisily, Jessica found it hard to understand what she was saying. “I’m hardly Cindy Crawford and... I can’t... even ... HAVE CHILDREN!” Then she just couldn’t speak anymore.

  Jessica joined her friend’s reflection on the glass: the afternoon sun was still high up in the sky, it was a beautiful crisp day. They should have been out there, strolling happily.

  She stroked Lisa’s hair moving it away from her face. “Hey, hey, come on.” She held both hands on her shoulders. “What are you talking about?”