“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Actually, it’s not. It’s all Dianne’s fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you at lunch. 1pm? Meet you at the café round the corner.”
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--------------------------
.
“What do you mean it’s Dianne’s fault?” I ask as soon as I sit down opposite her. She is already waiting for me, drinking a cup of tea. “Are you not eating?”
“No. I’m too worried. I don’t feel hungry. Anyway, before I tell you about Dianne, I just want to make sure we are talking about the same thing here. What did you want to tell me?”
“I’ve just been to the sex clinic this morning. I’ve got some form of STD,-sexually transmitted disease- and I think I may have got it from you.”
“Oh dear… We are talking about the same thing. Does it hurt?”
“ ‘Hurt’ is the official understatement of the year. As I said to the doctor it’s like… urinating… fire. So when did you find out you’d got it?”
“Yesterday. I noticed some discharge in my knickers, and it really hurts to go to the toilet.”
“So, where did you get it from?”
“I think I got it from Dianne…via Ben of course. I mean, I can’t be certain, but if you think about it. Ben sleeps with Dianne. Dianne is sleeping with everyone…oh, I didn’t mean anything nasty about you, I’m sorry…but you know what I mean. She’s sleeping with everyone, Ben included, and then he sleeps with me.”
“And then you sleep with me, and I sleep with Slávka. End of story. End of relationship.”
“Oh dear, …I really am sorry…”
“Please. Stop saying how sorry you are. Did you not use condoms when you slept with Ben?”
“Did you use condoms when you slept with me, or Slávka?”
“Come on, we were really drunk, and it wasn’t exactly planned, was it?”
“Oh,…I’ve just thought of something. Did you use condoms when you slept with Dianne? I mean, you could have caught it off her, then passed it to me, …and Slávka.”
“No. I always used a condom with her. I’m not a complete idiot.”
We are silent for a moment, both staring at the table, avoiding each other’s gaze.
“Have you told Slávka yet?” she asks.
“No. I just went to the clinic this morning. I have to wait until I get the rest of the results first...on Friday…before I decide what I’m going to tell her. The doctor said I have to get her to call the clinic and make an appointment. She needs to go in and get some tests done and get treated too. Have you made an appointment to see anyone yet?”
“Not yet…I didn’t know what it was or who to go and see about it.”
I pull out my wallet and give her a card from the hospital.
“Here. Call this number now and make an appointment,” and I hand her my mobile phone.
She begins to cry.
.
--------------------------
.
We are sitting upstairs on the deck of the Tatershill Castle, the old steamer ship now converted to a pub and moored opposite the London Eye. Guy is listening in disbelief as I tell him the course of events that have led to me crying over a beer and asking his advice on what I should tell Slávka.
“Aha,…so that explains a thing or two. And why you didn’t come home on Saturday night.” He points at my beer. “Do you want another?”
“No. Not just yet. What I need is your advice. What do I tell her?”
“That’s why I want to get another beer. I need alcoholic induced inspiration. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.”
“You’ve spent too much time travelling in America. I have no idea what that stupid expression means…”
“It means that you are in a jam, and I don’t know what I should tell you to do.”
“How come that everyone is always asking for my advice, but when I need some in return, then no-one can help me?”
“Pass.”
“Thanks. Come on, do I just lie to her and make something up?”
“Andrew, she’s a doctor. If you’ve passed anything on to her, she’s going to know about it very soon and the chances are that being a doctor, she’ll know exactly what it is. You can’t kid her. You can’t tell her you got it from a previous girlfriend, because if she knows all about NSUs she could just immediately turn around and tell you that your symptoms would normally always materialise in a week… and then not only would you have you been caught being unfaithful to her, but you are also a liar. And then you will have lost all credibility with her, and she won’t believe another word you say. Anyway, if you do love her, surely you would want to protect her and make sure she gets treated as soon as possible? You don’t want her getting something bad that messes around with her reproductive system. That wouldn’t be fair to her, would it?”
“I know. It’s obvious I’ve got to tell her. But how do I tell her? What do I say?”
“Pass.”
“You’re useless.”
“Cheers.”
“Okay, get me another beer then please.”
He gets up and disappears to the bar. By the time he comes back, two pints of beer in hand, I have given into the inevitable. I have to tell Slávka the truth.
“Listen, I’m sorry mate, I really am. But this is a pretty important thing you have to do here, and if I tell you to do one thing and I give you the wrong advice, then I would pretty much be responsible for fucking up the rest of your life.”
“Unfortunately, I know exactly what you are talking about. Someone once put me in the same situation, and I almost gave them the wrong advice.”
“Anyway, since we are finally sitting down together, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Is this going to be good or bad news? I don’t think I could cope with any more bad news just now.”
“Hmmm. It’s good news for me…”
“Cheers. What is it?”
“Well, there’s no really good way to say this, but…I just wanted to suggest that it may be a good time perhaps if you were to consider looking for somewhere else to stay?”
“Why? Have I done something wrong?”
“No…no. Nothing like that. But now Sal and I are getting engaged, we’re were talking about moving in together. She rents her flat, but I own mine.”
“Great. I mean, ‘great’ in that I’m really happy for you…and I am…and then ‘great’, as in ‘that’s just great!’ because I don’t want to live with anyone else! And I don’t know if I can afford to live alone…so when do you want me out by then?”
“How about two months? Is that fair?”
“Sure. It’s your flat.”
“I know, but you’re my best mate, and I’m not going to kick you out onto the street. You don’t have to worry about that. It’s just that when she moves in, it’s probably going to be best if …”
“If I was gone?”
“Yes.”
“Like I said, Cheers…”
Like a pack of cards, my fairy-tale ending is crumbling all around me. In the space of one day, it’s looking like I am going to lose my house, my girlfriend, and maybe even my job.
.
--------------------------
.
The next few days I am a bag of nerves, worrying about what the rest of the results will confirm when I get them back at the end of the week, and planning how and when I am going to tell Slávka the truth about what has happened.
On Tuesday night I agree to meet her for dinner, but try as I might, I cannot be my normal self. Half way through the meal, Slávka asks me what is wrong. She can sense that everything is not well. As I look at her across the table, I feel like bursting into tears. I have never loved a woman as much as I love Slávka, never, and it is almost as if I am watching a clock ticking slowly by, each second that passes being one of the few that I have left with her.
“You seem so sad, my Andrew. What is
wrong?” she asks.
I force a smile.
“Nothing. Nothing. There’s just a lot going on at work just now.”
“You are lucky to have work. This is my last week at hospital in current job. Now I have to start to look for new job. Hopefully I will find one now in London. Is shame. I enjoy working very much at Royal London. Very nice colleagues. Good hospital. Plenty of sick people to make better…” she laughs, deliberately trying to cheer me up.
Without success.
“I look forward to tonight very much. I cannot wait to sleep beside you, and make love again like in Tatras….”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Not tonight. I have to get up very early…”
“So do I. I am on early shift.”
“No, but if you are with me I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Why not? I know special ways to make you very tired,” and she strokes my leg under the table with her foot. I move my leg away.
“Slávka, not tonight. Honestly. I need to get my sleep. I am very tired.”
“Andrew, …is everything okay? Why not you want to sleep with me now?”
“Please, honestly, I am just so stressed out by work now. Let’s wait until the weekend. Then I’ll take you out for dinner and…”
“The weekend? I have to wait for next time being at weekend?”
“Yes….”
“Okay, okay. I will not ask you again. But, I think it is very big shame when you tell beautiful woman who want to make hours of love with you, that you would like better sleep.”
“…That I would prefer to sleep.” I reply, making a small attempt to correct her, pretending as if it is business as usual.”
Of course, until the symptoms dry up and disappear, the last thing in the world I want to do is to make love to Slávka.
I get up and excuse myself, disappearing to the toilet. As I close the cubicle door and prepare to urinate, I pray silently that when the urine starts to flow, that there will be no pain and that the antibiotics will have kicked in.
The pressure builds, the waters start to pour forth…and…
“Shiiiittttttt!”, I swear under my breath, closing my eyes and screwing them up.
Pain. Unadulterated and Pure.
NSU strikes again. I’m no better, but thankfully no worse.
After the meal, we have a few drinks in a pub, my hands holding tightly onto hers, my eyes not leaving her beautiful face for a second. We flirt, we laugh for the first time that evening, and somehow it just makes it all worse. Today is Tuesday. By Saturday night, I will have told her. Four more days to go.
“Please,” Slávka asks, holding me tightly outside the pub. “Let me come home with you now. Let us sleep together.”
“I can’t,” I say. “Honestly, …I can’t.”
We walk together down onto the platforms at Earls Court, where I hold her tightly and kiss her one more time before I watch her turn and step into a District Line train to Wimbledon Park. She is still smiling and waving at me as the train starts to pull away and disappears into the tunnel at the end of the platform.
.
--------------------------
.
The next few days do not fly past. Their progress is slow, and painful in more ways than one. On Wednesday night, probably more from desperation than anything else, I tell Hannah the whole story.
A big mistake.
She is furious with me.
How come I did not trust my feelings? How come I was so ‘bloody stupid?’ Why will I never allow myself to trust someone completely? If only I had, then I would have believed my feelings and not have automatically believed what the nurse had told me. Why did I not believe in Slávka? Why, why, why?
“I can’t believe it. You’re as bad as all men, even though you are my brother. At the first sign of trouble, you jump into bed with another woman!” She is so upset with me that she hangs up.
After counting to ten, breathing deeply and calming down, she calls me back.
“I’m sorry, Andrew. But this lack of trust thing has got to stop.”
“I know. But we all know where it comes from…”
As usual, the mere mention of our mum is enough to kill the conversation. I can hear her thinking about something and then go silent. And then a minute later she has to go, apologising for not knowing how to advise me.
“I just hope it works out. I was really looking forward to coming down and meeting her. I’ve even bought my ticket.”
On Thursday Guy has to go to Munich for two days on business, and I promise him that I’ll pop over and check how Sal is doing, as Mandy is away on holiday for the week in Greece with a friend.
Over a glass of wine and few biscuits, I end up asking for Sal’s advice too. The irony that I am finally sitting confessing to Sal that I have actually slept with another woman, and that I am asking for her advice is lost on me until I am sitting there in silence, patiently waiting for her to reply.
Then it hits me like a brick, with perfect clarity, that God must be laughing at me.
“See what happens Andrew, when you judge someone else? Look how you have been humbled now, coming to Sal and begging her for advice for the sin that you have committed. The same sin for which you cast the first stone at Sal”.
Big rocks. Glasses. Greenhouses.
I get the picture.
“It’s obvious Andrew. This one is nothing like as complicated as the advice I asked you to give me. Even though I’ve not really told Guy the truth, the fact is that the truth will always out, and in this case it will probably ‘out’ in the form of a rash and a urine infection. So the best thing for you to do is come clean. Now. As soon as possible. Redeem yourself as much as you can before it’s too late.”
.
Friday morning comes, having successfully avoided Slávka for three days. Three days of mental hell and turmoil. However, on Friday morning a miracle happens. A miracle. A blessing. An ‘aaahhhhhhh!” and a smile, and a relief like I have never experienced before: when I climb out of bed as the alarm goes, I walk to the bathroom and urinate without pain for the first time in a week.
A long, steady, pure, stream of urine.
No pain. No discharge, no discomfort.
I am cured.
Hallelujah!
.
“And what is your identification number?” the nurse asks when, as instructed, I call up at 10.15a.m. later that morning, having stepped outside the office building and found somewhere quiet to call from.
“AJ46859-C”
There is a moment’s silence at the other end of the phone, and then the voice comes back.
“Okay, I have your results here. They’re all negative. So you haven’t got syphilis or gonorrhoea, or Chlamydia.”
“Does that mean I have or I haven’t got NSU?”
“It means that the tests the doctor took for specific STD’s are negative. Which means that it IS an NSU.”
“So I have got an NSU then?”
“Yes. You have.”
“Wonderful…” I reply, sarcastically.
“I’m glad you’re happy about it. Take the antibiotics the doctor prescribed, and if it doesn’t clear up soon, come back and see us. Have a good weekend. Goodbye.”
.
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On the day of my impending execution I wake up early. It’s Saturday morning. I am sober, hang-over free and I have only been able to sleep for a few hours. Not wanting to celebrate with the others at the Lemon Tree, and unable to face Slávka, last night I walked for hours along the banks of the Thames, trying to plan tonight, searching myself and the reflections of the city lights in the river for any last minute reprieve from having to face Slávka this evening.
None was found.
Which is how, at 3 pm I find myself knocking on Slávka’s door, several hours earlier than I had arranged to meet her, unable to put off the inevitable any longer and praying that her flatmate is not in.
“Andrew, you
look terrible? What is matter?” she says, as she sees the expression of anxiety and fear on my face.
I step inside her door, closing it gently behind me. I hug her, holding her tight to me, not wanting to let her go. I hold her for a long time, smelling her air, feeling her warmth against my cheek, sensing the rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts against my chest, listening to the sound of her breathing, trying to capture every minute detail and nuance about this moment so that I can remember it for the rest of my life.
The moment when Slávka and I hugged for the last time.
.
As we eventually slowly separate, Slávka looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. Her heart is beating fast now, and I know that she knows something is wrong.
“Andrew, what is matter?” she asks again softly.
I look at her, noticing for the first time that there is small fleck of golden brown in the iris of her left eye.
“Slávka,” I say. “Can we go into the lounge and sit down. There is something that I need to tell you…”
.
Chapter Fifty
.
.
“Please leave. Now.”
“Please let me stay. I need to explain.”
“What? Explain what?” she says, walking up to me and waving her hands in the air just in front of my face.“ What you want explain Andrew? You want explain why you sleep with other woman after I change my whole life so I can live here in London only so that I am with you? You want explain why after I give up best job in whole Slovakia to be with you, why you have unprotected sex with strange woman? You want explain why when I think I love man more than ever I love any man before, why you decide you want sleep with other woman?” She turns away from me, but turns to face me again at the entrance to the lounge, resting her back against the door, her two hands clasping each other behind her neck. “What you want explain Andrew? You want to explain why you threaten my life by making me trust you so much that I have unprotected sex with you, and you then pass me ‘Sexually Transmitted Disease?”
The Sleeping Truth : A Romantic Thriller (Omnibus Edition containing both Book One and Book Two) Page 38
