by LK Walker
Chapter 3
Since the venue is my choice, we find ourselves at a little Japanese restaurant that has the best gyoza I’ve ever tasted. It’s so good, every time I eat it Jack tells me I make sex noises.
The restaurant is dimly lit, with wooden furniture tightly packed into the small area. The laminated menus have no doubt seen their fair share of spilt soy sauce, later to be wiped clean and reused. We sit side by side at the table, not across from one another. This way we can be that little bit closer.
Looks like we were lucky to get a seat tonight as the place is humming. There must be at least fifty people crammed into the small space. Our spot is right in the corner, lightly condensated windows on either side. It’s not my favorite seat in the restaurant. But it’s better than nothing. The seats might be bad but the service here is superb. My stomach rumbles and I clutch it like I’ve been shot.
“Patience my little drama queen.” Jack kisses me on the end of my nose.
I keep my whining to a minimum. Luckily, it’s not long before the gyoza I’ve been wishing for, arrives at the table. Jack managed to sneak a good size chunk of wasabi on my dumpling without me noticing before I cramped the whole thing in my gob and started to chow down. My nose burns like a fury and my eyes water. Needless to say, Jack is laughing his arse off at my reaction.
“How could you,” I finally spit out after the pain subsides enough to form words.
“You needed to be snapped out of your mood.”
Damn it, he’s right. I was starting to brood again. “Sorry,” I say, “kiss to make it better?” I grab a chunk of the wasabi and prop it on my lip. It burns where it sits.
“You look like you have something there,” he tries to poke it into my mouth but I pull away too quickly and it goes flying onto the floor landing next to a pair of stationary high heeled shoes.
It is the first I am aware that someone is waiting to be noticed, right behind Jack.
“Hello,” I say, turning in my seat to look up to the face that waits patiently. It’s not our waiter. Staring down at me is an old friend or perhaps I should say an ex-friend. And she looks like she’s had a few drinks. Her eyes have that distinct red, glazed look that comes with one too many.
“Hi Cassy.” I try to sound friendly, but our last meeting was anything but. I’d told her boyfriend, Dave, that she’d cheated on him. He was also my friend and I couldn’t stand to watch her trash him like that. She was pretty pissed at me, even though I had been right about what she’d done.
Cassy’s eyes narrow. The fact I was telling the truth means nothing to her. She stumbles, steadying herself on the table corner with an outstretched arm, bright blue nails pinning her hand to it.
“Hey Cassy,” Jack joins in.
“Hi, Jack. Do you mind if I ‘ave a word with your girlfriend? Or perhaps I should jus’ speak to you behind her back. I mean that’s what we do, isn’t it Cara?”
“Please don’t, Cassy,” Jack’s hands are trying to steady her.
“No.” She yanks her arms from his. The effort unbalances her further. Her fall to the ground is halted by the table behind her. She doesn’t apologize to the people sitting there. She pushes herself back up to a stand and holds herself upright, swaying like a metronome on a slow beat.
“It’s okay, Jack,” I guide him back to his seat. He places his hand on my leg as a sign of camaraderie. He knows how long I struggled with the decision of whether or not I should tell Dave, knowing that I would lose at least one friend, maybe both. Once I made up my mind, I stuck with it.
“I loved him, you know.” As she says it, spit flies from her mouth, dissolving into the last remaining gyoza.
All I can think is crap, I was looking forward to one without wasabi.
“I loved him and you made him hate me.”
“You made him hate you. I only filled him in on the bits he’d missed. You know—honesty. It’s what real friends are about.” I am in no mood for this. She is drunk and obnoxious and still holding a grudge.
“You ruined everything,” she yells.
“How can you still blame me?”
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to sleep with that guy. I was really drunk. I deserved a break.”
Who is she trying to lie to now?
“I hate to tell you this, but you slept with him more than once.”
That shuts her up. I hadn’t mentioned that before and I had promised secrecy as to my source. Her roommate had spilt the truth one night when I bumped into her in a pub. She had a thing for Dave, so she wasn’t going to let Cassy get away with cheating on him.
“I don’t care. It was none of your business.”
“Dave is a friend. Your screwing around on him was definitely my business.”
I turn my back on her only to realize all eyes are on us. The restaurant has quietened to listen to the exchange. I feel a little mortified, to say the least.
“Screw you Cara. And the high horse you rode in on.”
I don’t respond, just stay looking at Jack, his hand hasn’t moved from my leg. Now he slowly rubs it, back and forth, trying to soothe me. Cassy stumbles from the restaurant, using all the tables as crutches to walk. The smell of alcohol dissipates as she disappears.
“You can eat the last one.” Jack points to the gyoza.
“I never thought I would say this here, but I think I’ll pass.” I push the plate as far away as I can without pushing it onto the floor.
I grab his hand and give it a squeeze.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. It’s just a fuck-me-over Friday.” My smile looks to alleviate some of his worries.
Dinner arrives at the table in time to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. I try to forget the rude interruption, but it infuriates me that she had the gall to try to start something. To make matters worse, great comebacks keep popping into my head now she’s gone.
By the end of dinner, I’m much more relaxed. I’ve eaten too much and the fresh air that streams across my face when I open the restaurant doors is refreshing and welcome.
A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s after 2030 hours. Jack laughs at me when I spout out military time but that’s what I’m used to hearing at work.
“It’s only eight thirty,” I translate the time for him, giving him a nudge. There are a couple of bars across the street which are already rowdy. The Friday night work crowd has been going at it for a few hours now.
“Come on Jack, let’s get a drink.” Grabbing his hand, I lead the way.
“A woman of my own mind.”
Our bar of choice is emblazoned with fairy lights, giving it a feel of the holiday season all year round. We haven’t made it to the door when there is a shout from off to my left. I don’t catch a word of it but look over to see where it’s coming from. A swarm of smokers are sitting at the outdoor seating. Through the expelled smoke, out comes Cassy.
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
Well, that’s what I interpret it as. I didn’t think Cassy could get any drunker. Her long, bleach blonde hair is awry. One thin cluster of strands has attached itself to her eyelashes but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Just go back and sit down Cassy,” Jack’s arm slides around my waist to protect me as his words make the same attempt.
Cassy scoffs at Jack. “Cara doesn’t deserve you.” She does all she can to fix her stare on me, but she’s so heavily intoxicated it’s as if her eyes are moving independently of one another. Jack presses me towards the big black front doors to the pub, away from her. Clearly, Cassy has a different idea and starts into an unsteady run. She comes clattering towards me in those impractically high heels. Faster than I would have guessed she could move without toppling. Before I can comprehend what’s happening, she smacks me on the side of the head. Judging by the impact, it’s the flat of her fist that’s made contact with my skull. Her balance is out and her body weight is the driving force. She almost falls onto me before catching her bala
nce again. For all my anger, I have no idea how to defend myself. And there is anger in there. I can feel it boiling up inside. The movement of her arm catches my attention and I hold my hands up to protect my face as she takes another swing. It grazes along my cheek bone before finding purchase on my lip. I can feel the skin tear. A tiny dribble of blood runs down my chin. My mind is on overdrive and there is at least one voice in there screaming at me to start swinging and hope to hit something. It feels like the floodgates are about to open. My fists clench in fury.
“Please don’t,” Jack is pleading with me.
I try to push Cassy away, but Jack’s reactions are faster than mine. He has her by the waist and her wildly flailing limbs begin to settle down. Jack puts himself between us. I step from one side to the other. If I get a clear shot I’m sure as hell going to take it. Cassy’s friends finally show up. They take her from Jack and entice her back to her seat, away from me.
Jack has a tight hold on me as he leads me back to the car. With Cassey out sight I start to calm down.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispers.
I nod and lean on him. As soon as the car starts up, I turn up the stereo so I won’t have to discuss what happened. For the whole ride home, he doesn’t touch the volume knob. I’m thankful he doesn’t push me into talking.
Once we’re back home Jack asks if I want to sit up and watch a movie.
“I’m ready for this day to be over,” I respond. Instead, I slip into the shower, a pathetic attempt at washing the day away. At least it relieves some of the tension, and my bed might be the best place in the world tonight. I feel a twinge of guilt as I think how certain I was about Dave’s right to know that Cassy was cheating on him. Am I cheating on Jack by rushing to get to sleep in the hope of seeing Zander again? I shake my head in denial. It’s totally different. Zander is in my head, not a real person. I love Jack and I’m faithful to him. Always will be.
But fantasies are fair game.
“You want me to come in for a cuddle?” Jack asks as I poke my head into the lounge to say good night. His look stops me in my tracks.
Somehow, I need to get that look of concern out of his eyes. He wears it these days like an old sweater, throwing it on whenever he feels the chill. I curl up next to him on the couch and kiss him on the cheek, giving him half a smile. A half only because the other side has swollen from the cut Cassy inflicted.
“I love you, Jack.” His sad look dissolves at these three words and is replaced by a smile wide enough for the two of us.
“Love you too, beautiful. I’ll finish watching this.” He points at the television which he’d paused when I came in. Some variety of evil alien takes up most of the screen. “And then I’ll come to bed.”
“No hurry. I intend on being asleep soon after my head hits the pillow.”
Remote in hand, he kisses my brow before I get up and leave him.
“Sweet dreams,” he calls after me. The explosions and gunfire from an epic battle resonate from the television as he starts it up again.
I lay my head down, my cream floral bedspread tucked up around my neck. It’s too pretty for Jack, but we had compromised and I let him choose the drawers that offset the femininity of bed clothes.
I need my happy place tonight.
I close my eyes and think only of Zander and the world I have created for him. Even as I doze, I try my best to stop my mind from doing its normal trawl off in other directions. It’s more difficult tonight as the anger of the one-sided fight with Cassy keeps popping into my head.
Attack. It was an attack. That’s what I should be calling it. Fight would suggest I hadn’t taken it like a five-foot-five-inch stuffed toy.
My inability to defend myself forms shards of shame that prickle my heart. I won’t admit it to Jack but a tear or two streak my cheeks when I think about it. It’s hard not to—when life keeps beating the crap out of me and I keep letting it. Who knows what I am actually thinking when I finally drift off to sleep.
Chapter 4
“Sup Cara.”
“Hi Zander,” I reply, my smile is too wide to be polite. I try to cover it by sucking my cheeks in. I am, even in my dreams, so very happy to be here. I turn to look at him and find myself gazing into his face, his full face. From the fragments I had seen, I thought I had a good idea what he looked like. I’d been wrong. My smile comes back. This time, I’m not able to disguise it so easily. The whole ‘heart-pounding’ notion never made sense to me before, but it does now. It’s thumping away in my chest. It’s not like he’s perfect looking, he has a rough edge to his features—exactly how I like men to look. I’m good. I think I might have, by design, created my dream man.
“You can see me then?” He’s smiling back at me showing a row of beautiful white teeth.
“You really are the definition of dreamy.” I laugh at my own pathetic joke but come to an abrupt stop when I realize he has a laceration on his lip. “Are you alright? You look like you're hurt,” I ask. I touch my own lip, right where Cassy clocked me one, but there’s nothing there. My lips are fine, no sign of any injury. Zander’s looks worse than mine did in the mirror. He also has a large graze underneath the split lip.
“I'm fine,” I hear him say as his face starts to flicker again. I only catch glimmers of it as it distorts in front of me. Within a few seconds, his face turns back into the blur I had first met. But I know his features now and I can picture him. Hell, I think I’ll be picturing him all the time, like whenever I’m having a bad day, in bed, in the shower.
With a coy glance away, I try to move on from my gutter-dwelling thoughts. “You'll be pleased to know that I’ve signed up for a first aid course. Although it’s through work and I’m not sure if I’ll still have a job by the end of the week, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”
If I learn it in real life I should be able to use it while I’m asleep. My mind is fully conscious in my dreams, I think. How can I be sure?
“It's a start,” Zander says. There’s no sign of humor in his voice.
I reach out to touch his face like I did last time, to stroke my hand along his cheek. I think for a second he’s going to grab my wrist and stop me. I can see his hand coming up, but he stops himself. I can’t see his features, so I close my eyes and picture them beneath my fingers.
“Have you had a bad day?” I ask.
“You could say that.” His words are laced with feeling although I can’t tell if it is angst or sorrow. Either way, he’s not happy.
How often in life do we see someone in distress and want to hug them, instead we pat them on the arm and make some apathetic noise. Society’s restrictions aren’t the same here—in my fantasy land. I slip my arm around Zander’s waist and pull him in close, holding him tight, like Jack would do for me. I feel his warmth immediately and wonder who is feeling better from this exchange, him or me. His cheek leans on the top of my head and he sighs deeply.
“What happened?” I ask, my hand stroking his broad back.
“You have enough to worry about.”
“I have nothing to worry about.” Not in this place, anyway.
“You should be concerned about training.”
“Training? What for?”
“To defend yourself,” he replies. I might be misreading the tone of his voice, but he seems exasperated by my lack of comprehension. “Oh yeah, that would have been wiped,” he mumbles.
“Well, I guess it’s perfect timing.” I follow him. We cross the field where we found the young girl bleeding. I look around for the spot where she lay, but there’s nothing distinct to suggest she was ever there.
“What do you mean by it being timely?” Zander asks.
“You have enough to worry about.” I feed him his own dismissal. Thoughts of Cassy are not going to plague me here. “What was it that hurt the girl? You said it was security or something.” I check out the sky above me. It’s slightly distorted, as if my eyes can’t focus on it properly.
Zander picks up t
he pace without responding.
I wish I could see his face, his expression might provide an answer.
“Hey Zander, what was it?” I call to the back of his head.
“Stray bullet, perhaps.”
Strange thing to say, since I distinctly remember something that looked like a small drone. He quickens his step and I have to run to catch up. He only slows when we get to our destination. The shadow of a large square building has eclipsed the sun. From the exterior, it looks as if it’s a huge hall. There’s a sign recessed into the top of the building and I take a step back for a better view.
Small, black lettering tells me this is the Hagel Fitness Centre.
The automatic doors slide open as Zander approaches, and I scurry in after him, not wanting to be left behind. I’m only two steps in when I decide this place is amazing. All the sports equipment appears to be hooked up to computers, a holographic image hovering above each. The area is so spacious, yet somehow my squeal of delight doesn’t bounce around the open space.
Nearest to me is a fitness machine, closely resembling a treadmill but without a rubber belt. I grab on to the handrail and swing myself up onto the railings, trying to get a closer look at how it works. The computer hovering above it immediately comes to life.
“Unidentified user,” it squawks. “Please check in with service engineer.”
I turn to face Zander, raising my eyebrows hoping he will explain. I hadn’t expected the machine to know who I was, but it’s pointing this out with unnecessary vigor. There is no one else in the gym to annoy with the noise, but I quickly step off to stop the barrage.
“Sorry Cara. Today you’re on the mats.” Zander is standing in an area clear of any machines, off to my right.
Just to be annoying, I touch the machine again and set off its automated reply. Zander turns towards me. I guess there is a scowl somewhere beneath his blurred face.
