by Dawn Sister
I want everything to be perfect tonight, so I have this shopping trip planned out meticulously. I really do like this man and want to make a positive impression after all the disastrous meetings over the last week and a half. He’s already made a lasting impression on me. I know I will find it hard if he decides going out with me is too much of an effort.
I’m not hard work, just hard to fathom out. Stephan seems to have fathomed me out quite well so far. I just need tonight to go well and maybe there’ll be some more kissing, perhaps something more than that, although that would indeed take a bit more planning and some understanding on his part.
Perhaps we’ll talk about that some other time—if tonight goes okay, that is.
I live on the high street, right next to most of the shops I need to visit, but when any trip outside is fraught with the unpredictable, it’s a good idea to have contingency plans in place for everything that could, or might happen. I packed the ones I need today in my backpack, just in case.
At the crossing, I wait patiently for the lights to change. Beside me is a woman with a baby in a pram. Beside her is a man smoking a cigarette. The smoke is blowing in the baby’s face and the woman looks annoyed. It is rather rude of him, to say the least, and he doesn’t seem aware that he is doing anything wrong. I find it very difficult not to point out these things when I come across them. Sometimes I wish I could just keep my mouth shut, but I really cannot help myself this time.
“You know, you shouldn’t be doing that,” I say, leaning a little over the pram so the smoking man knows I’m talking to him.
“Doing what, mate?” he asks, his voice gruff and gravelly enough to match his rough, tattooed arms.
“Smoking,” I reply concisely.
“It’s not illegal outside.” He curls his lip and flicks the ash from his cigarette carelessly onto the ground. “Unless they changed the law when I wasn’t lookin’.”
“You’re right, it’s not illegal,” I agree with him on that count, but still cannot let it go. “It’s just that you’re blowing your smoke in the baby’s face and that’s what I don’t think you should be doing.”
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” the man growls at me.
“Oh, that’s a bit rude,” I say, taking a step back. I don’t think he’ll do anything, because there’s a pram in the way. Most people are a bit more accepting of my quirkiness, but this guy seems angry, which means he is actually very angry if even I can pick this up from his expression.
“He’s telling the truth,” the woman with the baby adds on my behalf, distracting the guy for a moment. “I really don’t want your smoke in my baby’s face.”
The man gives her a long look, his lip curled in a sneer before looking back at me and stepping out onto the road. “Why don’t you both just fuck off, eh?”
“Oh.” I reach out to him as he steps out. “Wait, you shouldn’t cross yet. It’s not safe. The lights haven’t changed.”
“I can cross when I like, fucking weirdo,” he growls back at me.
He takes a few more steps just as a car comes hurtling around the corner, horn honking as a warning. The guy jumps in shock and then makes a run for it, narrowly missing getting run over.
“Oh god,” I gasp as I watch him turn and shake his fist at me and make obscene gestures at the driver of the car that just missed him. “He shouldn’t have done that. He didn’t follow the rules. Why don’t people follow the rules?”
I’m not really asking anybody, but the woman beside me is laughing.
“He got his just desserts. That was rather funny, you have to admit.”
“No, it was awful. He could have been killed.” I feel a bit weak at the knees just thinking about it, and the fact that, because I know first aid, I might have had to do something about it if he had been hit, and after he was so horrible as well.
The lights change, but I freeze, because, although there are shops on both sides of the high street, the shops I want to go to are all on the other side and I don’t much feel like crossing the road right now. Not when that horrible man is standing on the other side glaring at me like his mishap was all my fault.
I don’t know what to do, because tonight can’t happen if I don’t get everything I need this afternoon.
“Are you all right?” the woman with the baby asks me. “Do you want me to call someone?”
Because of course she would come to that conclusion. I am rocking back and forth from my heels to my toes and flicking my fingers, muttering to myself like some sort of head case.
“No, no one thanks, I’m fine. I just need to…” I look around me for inspiration, a visual clue as to what I might have put in my contingency plan for getting out of situations like this.
– Move away.
That’s a good plan. Move somewhere less—peopley.
I point ahead of me, towards a narrow alley between the shop buildings. Without looking in her direction I say, “I just need to go over there. Thank you for asking. Goodbye.”
I make a rush for the alley. I don’t look to see if she’s watching me. I don’t want to know.
Here, the sounds of the street are muffled. Today is not a particularly busy day, but even one person is one too many when I’m this close to losing my shit.
I lean back against the wall and take a moment to breathe. I can’t cross the road. This is okay. I can just look at my contingency plan to see what my alternatives are.
I take my backpack off and swing it around to open it and get out my notebook. I wish Bessie was with me, but she isn’t. I left her in the shop with Yenta for such a short, relatively simple shopping trip. It’s easier than having to explain to every shopkeeper why she should be allowed into the shop with me. Most of them know she is my support dog, but some are funny about it. Besides, today I thought I’d be okay. How wrong was I about that?
Things would have been fine if that man had just followed the rules and not been so bloody angry about it when he almost got knocked over.
“Where’s my bloody notebook?” I grumble as I rummage about in my bag.
Suddenly the bag is ripped from my hand, and I cry out as someone grabs my wrist and I’m pushed back against the wall.
“Think that was funny, did ya? What happened on the road back there?” It’s the guy from the crossing. “Have a good laugh at my expense? Ya fucking weirdo.”
I don’t think he really wants answers to his questions. I struggle to get free, croaking out an apology that is so garbled it sounds like gibberish. I try to reach for my backpack, but he kicks it away and pushes me roughly up against the wall. I watch in despair as the contents of my bag are strewn across the lane.
“That’s all my stuff.” I gasp. “P-please let me go.”
“God, you’re such a spazz.” The guy sneers. “I watched you pacing about like a loon. Leave yer carer at home, did ya? People like you shouldn’t be allowed out in public. And where do you get off telling me what to do?”
“I’ve got as much right as you to be out anywhere I want,” I croak at him, finally finding my voice because I’m angry now. He has no right to say those things to me. “I don’t need a bloody carer, and I wasn’t telling you what to do. I was reminding you of the rules.”
“Yeah? Well, next time…” He leans in close, and his breath stinks. I turn my head but I can still smell it. He has bad teeth, but I don’t think he’ll appreciate me telling him about dental hygiene right now. I think he’s already angry enough to hurt me. “Next time, keep your mouth shut and your thoughts to yourself. In fact—” his free hand grabs the front of my coat and twists the fabric until it tightens around my neck and nips the skin “—stay away from this part of the high street altogether, then you won’t be bothering anyone. Understand?”
I nod as I pull at his hand to no avail. I’ve never been very strong even though I use the gym and stay fit. I feel panic start to set in, as it begins to get harder to breathe.
“Hey!” a voice calls from the end of the l
ane, and my attacker’s grip loosens just a little bit. “Hey, what are you doing to him? Leave him alone, you bastard.”
Oh god, it’s Stephan. I don’t want him to be hurt by this guy as well.
“What’s it to you?” The guy lets me go and turns to face Stephan as he rushes into the alley. They meet chest-to-chest, their expressions dark and angry, and I’m afraid there’ll be a fight.
Despite my throat burning and my shoulder feeling bruised where the guy had squeezed, I push between them, facing Stephan and looking up into his spring-light eyes that now look like a summer storm, flashing with thunder and lightning.
“Stephan, I’m fine. You can stop now. I’m not hurt. C-can we just go? P-please?” I want to run and not stop running until I get back to Yenta’s shop, but I won’t leave without him.
He’s still glaring at the guy, his stormy eyes filled with anger and hatred.
“We’re not the ones who should move on, Kit. He is.” He leans past me and snarls at the guy. “Go on, get out of here before I do something you’ll regret.”
“You and who’s army, then, pretty boy?” the guy hisses back.
Stephan smiles. I don’t really think there’s any reason to smile. No one said anything funny. I don’t think it’s a friendly smile, either. He holds up a clenched fist.
“I don’t need an army,” he growls. “I’m a Cassillis, and you’d better scoot before this connects with your face. You don’t want to mess with me, mate, and you definitely don’t want to mess with my boyfriend either.”
The guy takes a step back, now looking unhappy rather than angry, and actually a little scared.
“Oh my god, a weirdo and a shirt lifter? I’m off, it might be catching.”
Stephan takes another step forward, growling a warning, and the guy is gone before either of us can take another breath.
For a moment, Stephan stands very still, his fist clenched tight, before relaxing, his shoulders slumping.
“Jesus,” he breathes as he turns to me and grabs me by the shoulders. His freckles are darker against his pale face. “Jesus, Kit, are you all right?” He takes a shaky breath. “When I saw that bloke with his hand on your throat, I saw red. What the hell was going on?”
“He was angry with me.” I duck away from his hold and drop to the ground to retrieve my backpack and contents. He drops to his knees beside me, helping me to push things back into my bag but he’s doing it in the wrong order. “Stephan, stop, let me do it myself.”
“O-okay, I’m sorry.” He moves back, but doesn’t stand until I do, reaching out to support me when my legs threaten to give way. “Steady on, I’ve got you.”
Again, I duck away from his touch. I can’t process any of it right now. I need to find some way of calming down, but Bessie isn’t here and my hands are shaking. I dig my fingernails into my palms, feeling the fog descend. I start to pace.
“I said something to him that I shouldn’t have, except it wasn’t bad. He wasn’t following the rules. Why do people not follow the rules?” I’m gasping for breath now. “And now I want to go home, but I haven’t finished my shopping, and I was shopping for stuff for tonight because I wanted it all to be perfect for you, and now it won’t be.”
“Kit, it’s okay, mate. We can do the shopping together if you want, but I think you should sit down first, you’re shaking like a leaf.”
“Like a leaf. Like a leaf,” I repeat his words like a mad parrot, jumping from one foot to the other as if I am a bird sitting on a perch. “No, no. I’m not a leaf and I can’t sit, I mean, not here. I can’t stay here. I need—I need—”
The words are stuck now as the world begins closing in around me. It feels like someone has put a sack over my head to stop me breathing. Things have got beyond the point where I can stop the panic. If I don’t go home right now, I’m going to have a full-blown meltdown right here in the street, right in front of Stephan, and he won’t want to be my boyfriend anymore and I only just found out that’s what he thinks he is. Now he’ll think the same as everyone else does: that I’m weird and I shouldn’t be allowed out in public.
God.
“Kit.” Stephan holds my shoulders again, trying to meet my gaze. His voice cuts through the fog like a beacon from a lighthouse, but it’s too much, his touch, his concern, his kindness. I can’t process it all. “Tell me what you need me to do,” he says, and I know he wants to help, but I can’t think about what I need when he’s so close.
“Stop touching me,” I yell, and his hands lift away from my shoulders as if they’ve been stung.
“I’m sorry, babe. I’m sorry. I won’t touch you, but I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what else you need.”
“I need…” I sob, trying to breathe and speak at the same time. “I need to go home. I need Bessie. I need…”
“Home. I can take you home. I can make sure you get there safely. Bessie will be there waiting for you, right?”
“She’s always there for me. It’s what she does.” I’m clenching my fists so hard now I can feel my nails cutting into the flesh of my palms.
“Kit, you need to stop doing that, sweetheart. You’re hurting yourself. Why don’t you hold my hands instead?”
“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry I shouted at you, Stephan. You shouldn’t be hurt. That man nearly hurt you, because of me. That shouldn’t happen.”
“No, that man hurt you because he’s an arse. None of that was your fault, Kit, and if he’d hurt me, that wouldn’t have been your fault either. Come on, let’s get you home. Hold on to my hands, or anything, but please, stop clenching your fists. Your nails are cutting the skin.”
I try to take some deep breaths. Through the fog, I hear Stephan’s voice, soothing and pleading, and trying to make sense of what is going on. I have two choices right now: to carry on like this, getting more and more worked up, or let him help. I opt for the second choice. I hold onto his hands and let him guide me from the alley and across the street.
I don’t look to see if people are staring. I close my eyes. Far from not wanting him to touch me, I find it is easier to tuck myself tight against his side, using him the same way I would use one of my blankets. I hope he doesn’t mind. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and becomes a barrier between me and the rest of the world.
He keeps me safe until we reach the door of the bookshop.
“Oh my goodness, Lapushka!” Yenta gasps as we enter the shop.
I let Stephan explain what just happened. He does it quicker and more concisely than I ever would.
“Some guy attacked Kit in an alley, had his hands around his throat. If I hadn’t turned up, I don’t know what would have happened, Yenta.”
“Oh no!” she cries, her hands on her cheeks. “Lapushka, are you hurt?”
Bessie is there, her head pushing up against my hands, letting me stroke her and calm myself down. As she does her thing, Stephan releases his hold on me but does not leave my side. Yenta steps to the other side and urges me to move.
“Come, let us get you upstairs. Stephan, will you take him up while I close the shop?”
Stephan guides me upstairs to my flat. This isn’t how I’d planned for him to see my flat for the first time, but I’m now too tired to protest. I stumble to the sofa, grab a blanket and pull it over myself and Bessie, creating a safe, warm cave where the sounds of the outside world are muffled and distant.
“We should call the police,” Stephan says from close by. Right now, it’s like he’s still a blanket, making the cave safer.
“No police,” I mutter. “If the police come, I’ll have to talk to them. I don’t want to talk to anyone.” I’m so drained I can’t even lift my head. I rest it against Bessie and close my eyes, feeling her soft fur, breathing in her warm, spicy scent and loving her unconditional presence.
She’s not the only unconditional presence, though, because I sense Stephan sitting close enough to touch, but keeping to himself. Waiting, always waiting.
Ho
w does he just know?
I peek from beneath the blanket. One of his hands is resting on the sofa beside me. Slowly, I reach out and place my hand alongside, my little finger tracing over his. The touch is gentle, but it doesn’t hurt, not the way soft touch usually does. Without a word or even a glance in my direction, Stephan’s little finger links with mine, and I feel a warmth travel up my hand and arm and fill my entire being.
Is this what it feels like? When you want to be with someone? It never felt like this with Harry. He never just sat beside me, waiting. Yenta is right, this feels different. But is it real? Will it last? Right now, he’s here because he’s worried, but once he knows I’m okay, will he leave?
Stephan and Yenta talk a little longer, in soft, quiet tones. I hear but I don’t listen. It is probably about me, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters right now, is that Bessie is doing her job and so is Stephan’s presence. I am feeling more and more calm as the minutes pass.
“He usually sleeps after something like this happens,” I hear Yenta say as the fog finally lifts and I can let myself listen again.
She has made tea. A peek from beneath my blanket cave tells me there’s a cup waiting for me. I usually drink it cold anyway. I look to the side and see that Stephan is drinking his with his free hand, his other still occupied with mine, our little fingers still linked.
“Does it happen often?” Stephan sounds worried. “I mean, him getting attacked?”
“There have been incidents where people have lost their patience with him, raised their voice, called him names. He has never been physically attacked. This is awful, but a meltdown, he usually has one every two or three months. This was a bad one, but then, I think most people would react badly to being attacked like that.”
“I’m sure. I sent the guy packing, but Kit should really report it to the police.”
“Good luck persuading him to do that.” Yenta’s tone is now frustration. I recognise it because she gets frustrated with me quite a lot. “You might have noticed, but he finds it difficult speaking to people he’s known for years. Think how he’ll be when the police start asking him questions, and if he ever had to give evidence in a court? The prosecution would tear him apart.”
