Strangely enough, although she stopped feeling guilty about lying to her family and especially to Ben, she still felt guilty of Ben’s feelings towards her. Ben genuinely loved her, she knew this. He was not head over heels in love with her, how could he after so many years of marriage? He did not put her on a pedestal of adoration, however, in a sincere way his love for her was genuine and heartfelt. Deep down she knew that when Ben commented on her relationship with Sophia he was not doing this out of spite or jealousy but because he understood that this was detrimental to their relationship, to their love and to their family. How could he not see this when Julia knew that a part of her realised this too? How could she have let Sophia into her life so completely? She had replaced Ben with Sophia; Sophia was now her guiding star, her rock, her life-line. She was slowly discarding all that she had known in favour of Sophia. Her parents, her former friends and school mothers were now forgotten. She didn’t have time for them and although she had never been that close to any of them, her irregular visits had now become very rare phone calls to check up on them and keep in contact. Often these were one sided and Julia never returned their calls or felt the need to keep up this contact. She eased her conscience about her lack of filial duties by encouraging the children to visit their grandparents; this at least kept them happy and reduced the nagging she received during the random phone calls.
Her relationship with Sophia introduced her to a brand new world. It was a world of glamour. Nothing that Sophia said or did was ordinary, even her choice of cuisine was exotic, and it was not the first time that the women had shared a quick lunch during Sophia’s work break, just before Julia would rush off to collect the kids, often arriving last only to find the kids in the foulest of moods for having been kept waiting for so long. Here again she would grumble about the horrendous traffic she had got stuck in or the endless queue at the grocery store. These lies were second nature to her now. The more she lied the easier it got, and the more she lied the more she felt that she was entering into an abyss she would never emerge from.
The more Sophia opened up her world to her the more Julia felt complete. She was in awe of Sophia but that awe was not tainted with resentment or jealously. This alluring creature was someone to be admired; Julia could never even begin to attempt to be anything like Sophia. The chasm between this possibility was so deep that Julia did not disillusion herself or taunt herself by even attempting to imagine herself in Sophia’s shoes. In Sophia, Julia had not only found a true friend but her very own soul-mate; her very existence now could no longer function without this friendship.
Chapter 5
Julia would never forget the first quarrel she had with Sophia. Arguments with Ben left her feeling stressed out and angry. Often she felt frustrated in not being able to get her point across. Arguments with former friends left her feeling miserable and lonely, especially when the circle of friends would proceed with the goings on of the group’s dynamics leaving her in the perimeter of events. Disagreements with the kids left her feeling drained of all energy. The effort she had to exert to convince them to carry out her requests required a huge amount of energy which would often erupt into a frenzied train of pleadings, emotional blackmail and pain. Being a parent was a constant battle of having to set down boundaries and regulations and the feat of overseeing that these boundaries and regulations were adhered too was emotionally, physically and mentally exhausting. Arguments with her parents left her feeling exasperated. They always seemed to end up in a role play of the wronged and offended parents and Julia as their prodigal daughter somehow having to atone for her sins of falling into disagreement with her parents. She hated the way they made her feel as if she was still a schoolgirl rather than a mother of three, completely capable of handling her own life and of taking the necessary decisions. Now in her thirties Julia had given up on the idea that this might one day change and that one day they would see Julia as a woman beyond the image of their dependable daughter she once was so many, many years ago.
The quarrel she had with Sophia was different. To this day she couldn’t recall what the disagreement was about. This only proved how trivial it must have been; one of those trivial arguments that tended to sometimes spiral out of control with the smallest gust of wind. She recalled the argument with Sophia not because she remembered what it was about, but because of the way it had left her feeling. There was only one word to describe that feeling she had experienced and that was the word ‘hollowness’. It was as if somehow, in some strange and inexplicable way, by arguing with Sophia, Sophia had somehow removed a part of Julia’s inner existence. It was a part of Julia that she couldn’t function without. It was an internal organ so vital that her body would shut down without it. This feeling was so acute that it caused her to feel physically nauseous. She had that horrible sensation at the bottom of her stomach. She had always hated that feeling even as a child; she disliked swinging too high for fear that she would feel that awful wave of emptiness deep in the pit of her stomach. This was the closest she could think of to describe the feeling she experienced after this argument.
This feeling was not long-lasting and it was soon overwhelmed by other feelings which were just as powerful. It was primarily the feeling of abject fear. What if Sophia and Julia were no longer friends? The feeling of fear grew and grew till she felt she would explode with it. It seemed to fill her lungs till they were so stretched that it caused her physical pain. Surely she was not imagining this. Looking down at her chest she imagined herself picturing her lungs now pinkish in colour, no longer reddish due to the incredible strain of being so stretched. She recalled the stretchy bracelet her mother had once given her as a child. She must have been around five or six and the bracelet was made up of around ten loops of stretchy plastic, each loop with a different bright colour. She could wear the bracelet on the upper part of her arm due to its stretchy material. She often did this as it made her think of the African tribal woman she had seen in a history book. She recalled the picture vividly, primarily because of their nakedness but also because of the predominance of jewellery. She had even attempted to wear the bracelet round her neck and had successfully succeeded in doing so, however her mother had immediately told her to remove it and explained that although the bracelet could stretch there was a limit and that once that elasticity was stretched too far it would never retain its original properties, but would be damaged forever. This is what had in fact happened to the necklace, but Julia never admitted this to her mother but had simply hidden the bracelet in one of her many toy boxes, soon to be forgotten. This was the feeling that Julia now experienced, a feeling that this argument could taint her, could damage her could leave her broken and unrepairable.
The feeling of fear expanded to such a point that Julia could not bear it any longer, and just when she thought she would shatter under the weight of it all, it began to change: the fear subsided and was replaced by a sheer feeling of panic. It was a terrible panic at the realisation of the repercussions of losing Sophia. The loss that this would entail was immeasurable. It was a feeling of hopelessness and despair. It was a feeling of pure loneliness. It was a threat too terrible to fathom. At the end Julia had chosen to apologise to Sophia, even though she was fully aware that Sophia was at fault, she swallowed this realisation and humbled herself through her apology. She had decided long ago that she would do everything to keep Sophia, even if it meant letting her win in arguments. Ben would never have imagined her capable of doing anything like this. He always chided her hard headedness and stubbornness when she set her mind on something and it was very often Ben who let things pass, so as not to have to argue with Julia. Julia was fully aware that she would not drop an argument until she had made Ben aware of her point of view. She was very good at this. It was something that on the surface Ben pretended to criticise and put down. Who would want a wife who gloated at winning every argument? A wife who would go to bed rattling on and on about supporting evidence to her point of view. Yet deep down, it was really one
of the many things that he loved about his wife. She had a mind of her own and could be very persuasive when she brought out all her weaponry. He liked the fact that she was not argumentative by nature, but when confronted with an argument she would never let bygones be bygones and knead into the argument until it was ironed out as flat as an omelette.
Julia knew that no relationship could ever function without arguments or disagreements. But how could there be disagreements? Disagreements by nature were negative, so how could there be disagreements in a relationship that was so perfect and pure. Sophia was the sister she had always yearned for. She had grown up with an elder sister but they were very diverse in character and although they did not clash or fight as so many siblings do, nor had they shared so many things that sister’s share. There were never any heart to heart discussions on boyfriends, stories of their sexual exploits or dreams to be shared. They were simply two individuals who loved each other because they were sisters and that was that. With Sophia things were a world apart. She felt guilty at admitting this but Sophia was the sister she had always wished for, the husband she had always dreamed about, the parent she had always craved for all rolled into one perfect being. Her tie to Sophia verged on the spiritual.
At times the feelings she experienced towards Sophia were so deep that they frightened her. She used to try and play little games in her mind in trying to make Sophia more normalised. The exotic cuisine she favoured surely made her suffer from halitosis and cellulite; she was of course only adept at covering them up. She did have curves to die for, but after all wasn’t it the trend to be rake thin and preferably a size zero, and of course the biggest argument she would conjure up in her mind was the winning one, why would Sophia be wasting her time with Julia if she was as popular as Julia perceived her to be? Surely she would be flooded with requests from other women begging to be her friend. Her mother had always preached to her that birds of a feather flock together. She had used this to scare Julia into staying away from certain children at school and later on to stay away from certain boys. Her mother’s belief was very strong in that people should stick to people who are similar to them. Different meant danger. Her mother was certainly a non-believer in the beauty of diversity but surely this reasoning was flawed; how could she otherwise possibly explain her bond to Sophia? They were two birds so diverse in nature that they could surely never co-exist. How could a sparrow live with a bird-of-paradise? One was so brown and common and the other so bright and exotic? Sophia was the oyster and she was just the rough shell surrounding the rare beauty. Sophia loved life, more particularly she loved her life, she was surfing the highest crescent of a never-ending wave of love, beauty, wealth and esteem. She clearly had it all going for her. Men fell like puppies before her feet, women were captivated by her. She was the personification of popularity.
Julia could control certain events. She set out to ensure that their relationship blossomed; she would eliminate any obstacles that threatened to break up their relationship: be it a man or her very own flaws. She would cover all up. She would strive to give Sophia what she wanted from her. She was going to be her faithful servant: willing to aid Sophia in her reign. This was enough for Julia; it was already so much that she dared not ask for more.
Her love towards her meant that Julia was increasingly possessive of Sophia. She was very careful to hide this from Sophia as she did not want to run the risk of stifling Sophia; however, she could not bear any criticism of Sophia. It was not the first time that Ben had hinted at Sophia’s intrusiveness in their marriage. He had grown to resent the fact that he might arrive home from a long day’s work only to find Sophia sitting demurely in their living room sipping his favourite wine. Her perfection irritated him. Her perfection only served to outline the flaws in his life. Her house was chic, modern and pristine filled with exquisite and expensive paintings and exotic ornaments purchased from all around the world. Her house screamed of class, sophistication and glamour, whereas theirs, although an upmarket house, showed that it was a family home which housed three children with all the clutter associated with a house-hold with kids. Even the brand new sleek convertible saloon she drove was a stark contrast to the family station wagon Julia drove and Ben’s car was now nearing its tenth year on the road and was already showing signs of trouble.
Julia’s life was slowly becoming happier and happier through her new friendship. Not that she could have described her former life as unhappy. No, she was definitely not unhappy before she met Sophia; however, she had never felt complete. Her marriage to Ben and the birth of their kids had not been enough to fill the void she had so often felt.
Julia was totally unaware that things were about to change in a drastic way; in a way that she would never have imagined possible. Events were about to unfold that would change her life forever. The pain that she would shortly experience would be nothing like she had ever experienced. She was a goldfish swimming around and around in a tank of bliss and happiness. The reality was that very soon that tank was going to break; the water would spill out leaving a mess of water and broken glass and a heart breaking goldfish flipping around frantically. A goldfish struggling for survival against all odds, without any possibility of surviving. The security and comfort of its home were now dangerous shards of glass. As the water began to seep into the carpet and then into the parquet beneath; the goldfish knew that it was now only a matter of seconds. Tick, tock, tick, tock, in the distance the Grim Reaper’s cloak was fluttering in the wind. It was the wind of danger, of change. The clock on the weather vane was slowly turning clockwise, pointing in a different direction. The movement was so slow that one may doubt what one was seeing at times, it seemed to be oscillating rather than rotating. The pendulum had been pushed into motion and events must unfold in a way that no one could stop.
Chapter 6
As a teenager Julia had immersed herself in books. Reading had provided her with a door to escape the worldly challenges. Teachers had often commented that she had a vivid imagination and this, combined with her love of reading, had enabled her to do well in her exams. She had excelled in her A levels and gone on to take up languages at University. Literature was her first love. It was only later on during her University years that she had come to the grim realisation that doing what you love did not equate to finding a well-paid job. It was this realisation that had made her change her field of studies for her post-graduate degree where she took up management and finance; and upon completing her studies was recruited as Finance and Administration Manager in a reputable Marketing company.
Julia remembered her fascination, when she had learnt through her reading of Thomas Hardy’s ‘The Mayor of Casterbridge’ about the doppelganger. In some perverse way Sophia was her doppelganger but not as her double, rather she was her doppelganger because Julia felt that she was only half the person she could have been. The world, her marriage, her kids had stifled her full potential, meaning that her full development and growth had been stunted and she had only become half of what she was meant to become, of what God had created her for. Sophia was her completion. Not faithful to the true meaning of the doppelganger in her likeness for Julia, as they were a world apart from lookalikes, however, Sophia was her double because it was through Sophia that Julia had become a complete person.
When she had been around seven or eight she had once seen a picture of Siamese twins who were conjoined at the hip. Julia had been fascinated by this picture and had spent many days drilling her mother with endless questions about them. How did they go to school? How could they fit through the door on the school bus? How could they fit into clothes? What happens when they fight with one another? What happens if they did not want to share their toys? And of course there were the endless curiosities about their bodily functions. How could they pee? Did they have to go to the toilet like boys, standing up next to a urinal because they couldn’t fit into the tight school cubicles? The list went on and on and even verged on the profane. What if they died and one twin was sent
to hell and one to heaven? What would happen to their body? Would God send some chainsaw murderer to split the twins? Julia had once managed to watch part of the Texas Chain Saw Massacre film without her parents’ knowledge and it had caused her to have recurrent nightmares throughout the fourth grade.
In the fifth grade Julia had shared class with a set of non-identical twins. Previous to this Julia always looked down at the idea of being a twin. Who would want to dress the same as someone else? To always have to sit next to your twin and share your lunch with your twin. At that young age this was how Julia perceived twins. A set of unfortunate siblings who were forced to dress in identical clothes to highlight their sameness. Who had to talk in unison and could not stray more than a few meters away from their sibling. It was only in the fifth grade that Julia had realised that there were also non-identical twins and this changed her perception tremendously. Now here was a great deal, a twin whom you could always have by your side, a friend to share everything with and at the same time you could keep your own identity, your own looks, your own self without anyone perceiving you as being the twin of so-and-so, rather than an individual. She had consequently often day-dreamed about having a twin. A variation of the invisible friend she had had when she was in pre-primary school.
Julia's Secret Page 3
