OUT OF TIME

 

“You know who I am, right, professor?”
“Yes. You’re that guy on the news. Tom Simms. The killer,” answered James T. Jordan of
TimeCo Technologies.
“That’s right. The killer. Remember that and you won’t get hurt.”
Sirens howled in the far distance. The 2 men faced off. Simms, a 37 year-old loner with long
brown, unkempt hair was dressed in jeans and white T-shirt. His 75 kg 5’11” frame was dwarfedby the balding 6ft 2” scientist. The gun in Simms’s hand gave him the distinct advantage.
“The police are on the way,” said Jordan. “There’s no way out. They’ll be here in a few
minutes.”
“I’ll be long gone by then, provided you do as you’re told,” said Simms. “And I won’t be back.”
“What is it you want, anyway?”
Simms pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket with his free hand, his other hand still
holding the gun to Jordan’s head. He shook the paper to unfold it and held it out to the professor.
Jordan hesitated, and then took the paper and read the words that Simms had scrawled.
“July 18th, 2012,” said Jordan. “What’s this?”
“That’s where I’m going, that’s what. I need to get there now. Tonight.”
“But the machine hasn’t been tested properly. It’s still in the early stages of evaluation. We
haven’t tried transporting living matter.”
“Well,” said Simms. “What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll be dead in 10 minutes anyway. I’m not giving myself up to the cops.”
“We don’t know the worst that could happen. We don’t know how the process would affect a living biological organism. We don’t know if it would be in the same form when it gets to the destination. We’ve only sent inanimate objects back to a maximum of a month, and the study of those objects is still in the early stages.”
“Well it’s a chance I’ll have to take. Now hurry up.”
“It’s not an exact science, you know,” said Jordan. “It’s not like in the movies where you just dial up the destination date and ‘off you go’. Going back to an exact date 18 years ago would entail intricate and complex calculations. And even then…”
“I don’t have time for that shit. How close can you get me?”
“Possibly a week, either side. But that’s only a guess.”
“Well, then send me back to the 10th July. I can’t be late. I can’t fuck this up.”
“But I…”
“Get started! And hurry the fuck up!”
The sirens grew closer as Jordan’s nervous fingers tapped the keyboard. He stopped several
times to operate another computer, check hand written notes, and to wipe the nervous sweat from his brow.
Simms heard car doors slam as the sirens wound down. Floodlights shone through the slits
between the window blinds.
"We sent various materials back at increasing intervals.” said Jordan as he typed. “First, a day, then a week, then a month, and returned them to the present. But we found they had changed slightly at the molecular level. Corrupted, somehow. The further back we sent them, the greater the change. The extent of the corruption varied according to the type of material. Industrial diamonds and hard metals suffered the least. Sending a biological organ back 18 years is extremely unpredic...."
"Look! I don’t want a fucking lesson in quantum physics! Just hurry up!”
A voice came over a loudhailer. “The building is surrounded Simms! We know you have a
weapon, drop it now. Come out with your hands up! The building is surrounded!”
Simms pushed the muzzle of the gun into the temple of Jordan.
“Come on! Come on! I have to go. Now!”
His hands shaking, a flustered Jordan hurriedly punched a few more keys.
“Ok, it’s the best I can do under this pressure. But there’s no guarantees.”
“Well, I aint got time to fill in no warranty card, anyway,” said Simms.
The voice continued over the loudhailer. Simms heard more sirens in the distance.
“Now!” said Simms. “It has to be now!”
Jordan rushed to the cube, which was completely and haphazardly wrapped in sheets of lead. The prototype measured 1 metre by 1 metre by 1 metre deep. Heavy cables ran from a 60cm diameter titanium coil on top of the cube to three other larger apparatuses standing side by side behind the cube. He opened the small door and stood to the side.
“You’ll have to squeeze in. The machine wasn’t built for something of your size.”
Simms ran to the cube. He looked at Jordan for an extended moment. He held out his hand to Jordan. “Thank you,” said Simms. “I pray this works. And I’m sorry, but this was the only way.”
Jordan hesitated at the sudden change in Simms’s demeanour, and then with a bewildered look, shook Simms’s hand.
Simms squeezed through the tight opening, and sat inside the cube, his knees to his chest and his head resting on his knees.
Jordan closed the door and turned the latch to secure it. With Simms secured inside the cube, Jordan contemplated running from the room to the waiting arms of the police, allowing Simms to be arrested, but there was something in Simms’s final words. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt he needed to let Simms go.
Glass shattered as a projectile flew through a window and landed on the floor, and then another through an adjacent window. Smoke billowed from the projectiles. Jordan pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth as he ran back to the computer and fed the final commands into the keyboard.
The small light above the cube door illuminated green, and one of the apparatuses emitted a low whirring sound, which gradually increased in pitch and volume, like a jet engine. Jordan ran toward the door, coughing, his shirt still covering his nose and mouth. As he stumbled down the hallway toward the front entrance, he heard the agonising scream of Simms. It stopped abruptly, and Jordan knew Simms was either dead, or was somewhere else in time.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Screaming, Simms’s entire body felt as though it had been hit with millions of high voltage
electric shocks. He fell 3 metres, still with his knees to his chest, and landed in a sitting position on a pile of loose soil. After regaining his composure he rose to his feet and looked at his surroundings. He was on a large vacant lot in the old industrial part of the city. Stacks of steel mesh and pallets of concrete blocks littered the area. Silent digging machines and cranes lay in wait for their early morning masters to fire them up and continue where they left off the day before.
Simms shook his head violently, banging the palm of his right hand against his temple to try
and clear his head. He looked down and retrieved his gun from the loose dirt, and slipped it into the waistband at the back of his jeans. He walked out to the sidewalk. A large sign on the front boundary advised that it was the site of the ‘Future headquarters of TimeCo Technologies’. He looked left and right, and then headed right - toward the city centre, about ½ mile away.
A lot had changed in 18 years, he noted. There was no sign of the ‘Skyneedle’ that had been so prominent in the city skyline. He had walked past it only 30 minutes prior; or 18 years in the future, he mused. He remembered the big fanfare at the Skyneedle’s official opening. Every politician in the county tried to get their picture taken, claiming the project was directly attributed to their hard work and vision for the city. Big things were predicted for the city in the way of tourism, and theme parks were also in the planning stages.
Simms picked up the pace. He needed to find a newspaper stand. He needed to know the date, and he prayed he had gotten there in time.
The chiming of the town hall clock informed him that it was 8.00 PM. Empire Street – the
main street of the city- at 8.00PM is a bustling area, full of cinemas, restaurants and cafes. Up ahead he heard the chanting of a newspaper vendor over the beeping of car horns. His pace increased to a jog. He picked up a newspaper from the stack and checked the date. July 17th 2012.
“Thank God”, he said aloud. “You did good, Professor.”
“Hey! You gunna buy that or what?” asked the vendor.
Without a word, Simms replaced it on the stack and walked off, heading for the river, and the quiet and safety that it provides.
He found a vacant bench and sat facing the river, the muffled sounds of the city now distant.
Simms gazed across the calm water at the lights of the office buildings on the far side, his face frozen in a blank stare. He looked through an imaginary tunnel into the past, except he had just travelled through some kind of tunnel and he was really looking into the future.
He cast his mind back to the very first time.
It was as clear in his mind as it was 18 years ago. Simms was 19 at the time. An assembly
worker at a nearby car manufacturer, Simms lived alone in a one-room apartment in one of the lowest socio-economic areas of the city. Slim, blonde haired Sally Morgan was 17 years old with her life ahead of her. Simms saw her working at a milk bar and recognised her from his old school. She was 2 years behind him. He sat inconspicuously in a corner booth, and she came over to take his order. He easily struck up a conversation, and she agreed to take a stroll through Central Park at the end of her shift. It was a warm, summer night. The sky was clear, revealing the canopy of twinkling stars. As they walked, Simms pointed to the sky and told her the names of the constellations, making up the names of the ones that he didn’t know. He pointed to the satellites as they wandered across the sky. Sally was impressed and starry eyed, not only from the view above but by the charms of the handsome young man who seemed to know all the right words to say.
They came to a darkened area where there was no one in sight. Simms pulled her in and kissed her lips. Sally tried to push him away but Simms was too strong. He slapped her, put his hand over her mouth and dragged her into the bushes. He pulled out his gun from his waistband and put it to her forehead.
“One fucking word and I’ll kill you. Nod your head if you understand.”
Sally’s wide, terrified eyes looked over the top of Simms’s hand and she nodded.
The next 2 hrs were just a blur of adrenaline, morbid curiosity, and depravity. The tools of his trade included cable ties, duct tape and a box cutter. He never figured out what those symbols on her body and forehead represented. And finally there was his finishing up tool, his Glock 17, the same gun he kept for all of these 18 years. Sally was the 1st of many. There were 21 victims in all, the last being a pregnant mother of 2. But it was Sally who caused him more pain and remorse than the rest of his victims put together.
Time.. How it flies. He had controlled it. He decided how much time he would give them.
Time...so much time he spent between kills, suffering in his own personal hell, haunted by the images of their pleading eyes in that instant when they realised their time had run out.
Time...those long intervals before the demon inside him emerged to again command his mind and his will. Time now presented him with an opportunity for redemption.
Simms stood and strolled along the path; the same path he had taken with Sally Morgan. He
came to the spot, the small dark section adjacent to a thick hedge, and he slipped through the same small gap where he had forced Sally to her ultimate demise. He looked down at the ground and her image flashed through his mind. The zip ties. The duct tape over her mouth. The crazy crimson drawings of pentagrams, inverted crosses, numbers and abstract shapes. Simms dropped to his knees and wept. He fell forward, lying on the same spot where Sally Morgan took her last laboured breath. He cried until fatigue overtook him.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Something prodded Simms’s arm. He opened his eyes and looked up at the 2 policemen
standing over him.
“Shit!” he said and looked at his watch. It was 9.20 AM. The sun was blazing down. He tried to jump to his feet but a boot descended on his shoulder, pinning him.
“You got any ID?”
Simms panicked. This isn’t what he anticipated.
“Yeah, sure officer. Sorry, I must have had a few too many last night. Know what I mean?” He smiled but the officers didn’t respond.
“Name’s Peter Doherty. My licence is in my back pocket.”
Simms slowly reached behind his back, and then, with lightning-fast action, he snatched the gun from his waistband, and turned it to the 2 cops, who stepped back and put their hands in the air in a sign of submission.
“Take off your radios and mics, and throw them over there,” said Simms, pointing to their left.
The cops complied. “This place will be swarming within 60 seconds,” said one. “You’ll go down for this.”
“Not if I can help it,” he replied. “Take out your handcuffs.”
They took the cuffs from their belts.
“Now cuff your ankles together. And throw the keys over here.”
“I’ll be visiting you in your cell soon,” said the second cop, glaring at Simms. “Real soon.”
Simms grabbed the radios from the ground, and turned to the cops.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have to do this.”
He hurried along the path, throwing the radios into the river, and then ran. About a mile along the bank he came to a bridge; home to about 20 homeless men, most of them still asleep on their makeshift beds. Empty wine bottles and shopping trolleys littered the area. He looked for a man around his own size.
“Hey buddy,” said Simms, shaking the hobo’s arm.
The man grunted, and squinted his eyes. “The fuck you want?” he mumbled.
“Here’s 50 bucks,” said Simms. “Give me your clothes; you can have mine.”
The man looked Simms up and down. “What? This some kind of joke?”
“No fucking joke. Do you want it or not?”
The man snatched the $50 note from Simms’s hand.
“Damn right I do,” he said with a chuckle. “Deal!”
The old hobo showed off his new outfit to his companions, strutting back and forth like a
catwalk model, and receiving laughs and applause from the 3 or 4 who cared.
The stale urine stench of Simms’s newly acquired attire made him want to vomit and he
scratched beneath the ragged, flannelette shirt at something moving on his skin, but he considered it a small price to pay for the lives of 21 young women. He was confident that he could now move about the city unnoticed.
The distant sound of police sirens filled the air. He pulled his greasy black cap low over his
eyes. Simms felt unusually tired, despite having just slept for most of the night. He sat against the cold, hard concrete wall, in the shadows, amongst the drunks and the homeless, and closed his eyes. He figured it would take a few hours before the police search died down. Somewhere in the gaggle of society’s rejects, he heard a drunk ranting incoherently. The sounds of snoring, and the dull clanging and rumbling of the cars and trucks on the bridge structure lulled him to sleep.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………..
In Simms’s dream he strolled through Central Park with Sally Morgan by his side.
“You see that one?” he said, pointing to a spot in the night sky.
“Where?”
Simms moved behind her, and with his face next to hers, almost touching, extended his arm over her opposite shoulder. Sally looked along his arm, following the direction of his finger.
“That’s Leo,” he said.
“Why do they call it Leo?”
“Leo the lion, of course.”
“Oh yeah, I see it now,’ she giggled. “It does look like a lion, doesn’t it? How do you know these things?”
“Ahh,” he said, with the tone of a wise man. “I know a great many things. I’d like to teach you. I’d like to show you things, Sally. There are so many things I want to show you.”
“Show me then,” she said, and turned to face him.
Simms looked into the depths of Sally’s eyes. They were like the sunlit, crystal blue waters of a tropical island. She closed her eyes as her cool soft lips met his, and he felt her quiver in his arms. His fingers moved through her soft blonde hair and she pressed her body to his. The scent of her skin and hair, and the feel of her willing body brought out emotions never before felt by Simms. She gasped, and he felt her warm breath in his mouth. Their lips separated and, hand in hand, they strolled along the path to the river. They stood, looking out over the wide expanse of water. Sally rested her head on Simms’s shoulder. A small boat chugged by, its navigation lights twinkling in the night. The moonlight danced on the rippling surface of the water .They heard the ferry’s horn and watched it depart from the dock on the opposite bank.
“I wish it could be like this forever,” said Simms. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“But it can be like this forever,” she said, turning to him. “I don’t have to go. I can stay. We can be together, Tom. Forever.”
Simms looked at her and his eyes filled with tears. “No,” he cried, “Don’t you see you have to go away?” He put his face in his hands. “He wants to hurt you, Sally. He wants to hurt you, and I can’t stop him.”
Sally put her hand behind Simms’s head and drew him to her. He wept on her shoulder.
“Shhhh…” she whispered, as she gently stroked his hair. “Let me stay, Tom. Please…let me
stay.”
Simms woke with a jolt, still weeping, unable to control it. An old bearded man shuffled up
beside him. “Here,” said the man, and offered Simms a bottle. “This’ll help.”
Simms shook his head and pushed the bottle away. He stood and walked out from under the
bridge, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sunlight.
Simms checked his watch. 4.30 PM. He felt weak, even after the sleep he just had. His
muscles ached, and so did his stomach. He needed to eat. He pulled his cap low over his eyes and headed toward Empire Street. He had a thought, and turned into East 42nd Street. Up ahead he saw the 1950’s themed ‘Hard Rock Café & Milk Bar’.
As he walked toward it, he noticed he had developed a slight limp; his left-side hamstring muscle ached, and was weaker than the right. He shrugged it off. Probably the position he slept in under the bridge, he told himself.
He came to the milk bar and looked through the window. The memories came flooding back. Some of the booths were cut-down cars; old Chevs and Fords, with the roof and the front and rear sections cut off, the steering wheel removed, the front seat reversed to face the back seat, and a small table in between. On the other side of the room were round stools in front of a long bar. The colour scheme was pink, blue and white. Posters of James Dean, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Munroe and other icons of the period decorated the walls. A juke box played the old Buddy Holly song “That’ll be the day.” The waitresses and counter attendants were all female; aged somewhere between 16 and 30 years old, dressed in short, pink, pleated skirts, white blouses and a white apron.
Simms entered, and sat in the same booth as he did 18 years before. His dishevelled
appearance and bad odour drew the attention of adjacent customers, some of whom moved away to another booth. A waitress came over. She was about 19 years old with black hair, pulled back in a ponytail.
“Would you like to order, Sir?”
Simms looked at her name tag.
“Yeah, I’ll have a cheeseburger and a black coffee, thanks, Cindy. Triple shot.”
She hesitated, and looked over her shoulder toward a man behind the counter, who signalled her with a hand gesture.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but my manager said you’ll have to pay before we can give you your order.”
“Of course,” said Simms. “I understand.”
He pulled $20 from his wallet and handed it to her. “Keep the tip,” he said.
“Thank you, Sir,” she replied with a nervous smile, and turned to walk away.
“Excuse me miss.”
She turned back.
“Is Sally Morgan here?”
“Sally? She starts her shift in about 15 minutes.”
Simms nodded. “Ok. Thanks.”
The cheeseburger was on his table within 2 minutes. He hadn’t eaten for almost 24 hours and he wolfed it down. He smelt the aroma of freshly brewed coffee even before the waitress had reached the table.
“Thanks Cindy,” he said as she placed it on the table. He took a sip and closed his eyes. He
couldn’t remember a coffee ever tasting as good as that ‘triple-shotter’. Strong coffee was one of the few pleasures he still had in his life.
He noticed the manager constantly looking in his direction, and assumed that he wished Simms would leave and take the smell with him.
Then he saw her, walking through the door. Seeing Sally alive after all those years sent a
shudder through Simms. He studied the beautiful, clear complexioned face of the teenager, her slender build, her platinum blonde hair tied in the regulation ponytail, and her straight-cut fringe resting on her eyebrows. She was dressed in her short, pink and white uniform complete with apron, and with her nametag pinned above her left breast. This was the way he always tried to remember her; the innocent naïve, bubbly young woman that she was, not the unrecognisable bloodied mess that tormented him in his nightmares.
He watched her as she walked behind the counter, greeting her co-workers, and exchanging
smiles. Cindy spoke to her, and they both looked in Simms’s direction. Sally approached Simms.
“You were asking about me. Can I help you?”
“Sally, I came here to warn you. Please don’t work tonight. It’s dangerous. Can you take the night off?”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why is it dangerous? How do you even know me?”
“Please trust me, Sally. I’m trying to keep you safe, but if it turns to shit, I want you to be as far away from here tonight as possible.”
The manager approached the booth. “What’s going on? Is everything ok, Sally?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t understand any of what he’s saying.”
“Come on buddy,” said the manager, motioning towards the door. “You’ve had your meal… it’s time to leave.”
“No. Please listen to me, Sally. Stay home tonight. Please.”
“You better leave before I call the police,” said the manager.
Simms couldn’t risk getting arrested. “Ok, ok,” he said, raising his hands in compliance. He
stood, and felt dizzy, but composed himself and walked to the door. As he stepped to the
sidewalk, his left leg gave way and he collapsed to the ground. Sally ran out the door, and knelt next to him as pedestrians walked around them, keeping their distance. Ignoring the smell, she rested a comforting hand on his forehead. Three of her co-workers came to the door.
“Leave him, Sally,” said one. “He’s not your problem. Come back inside.”
Sally ignored them. “Are you alright, Sir? Oh god, I’m so sorry.” She pulled her phone from her apron pocket. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No! No ambulance!” he said, placing his hand over the phone.
She was stunned at his outburst.
“I’m ok,” said Simms, and struggled to his feet. “I’m ok,” he repeated as he limped down the
street, turning back for a final look at Sally.
Simms limped toward the subway about 80 metres down the street. It was a 35 minute trip on the train to his old apartment. ‘I need to end this now,’ he said to himself. Simms realised he was growing weaker. It seemed to him that every muscle in his body had a dull ache, and his skin appeared loose and flabby, as if he had lost muscle tone. 'Looks like you were right, professor'.
He reached the subway and, having no Metro Card, followed a commuter through the turnstile, unnoticed in the dense crowd. He headed to Platform 3and boarded the train that would take him to Westwood Station. Exhausted, he sat near the door. He saw his reflection in the window opposite him. He looked older than his 37 years. His facial muscles had wasted away somewhat, and his cheeks and eyelids drooped, making him unrecognisable as his former self. Within 5 minutes Simms was asleep. He opened his eyes when a conductor walked through the carriage calling for all passengers to exit the train.
“Where are we?” he asked the conductor.
“Wallsend. End of the line.”
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Simms exclaimed. It was 50 minutes back to Westwood Station. “Please,” he said, “I fell asleep. I need to get back to Westwood. It’s an emergency.”
“Well,” said the conductor, “you can stay on for the return trip, I guess. Don’t go to sleep this time.”
It was dark when Simms reached Westwood Station. He stumbled to the gate and slipped
under the turnstile, and exited to the street. It was only a 3 minute walk to his old apartment if he took the shortcut through an alleyway, which opened across the street from the apartment.
2 minutes into the journey, he struggled to stay on his feet; staggering and holding onto walls for support. Simms's internal organs felt like jelly, shifting and settling in the lower part of his abdomen, and it caused him to feel bloated. His heartbeat was erratic. One moment it pounded in his chest, and in the next it raced and then fluttered, before pounding again with no sense of rhythm. Simms stumbled through the alley. He saw his old apartment block across the street. His legs were now bowed, and they buckled under his weight. He fell to the ground, dropping his gun.
Every part of his body ached with a burning pain as he struggled to crawl commando style along the concrete. He stretched his hand out for his gun, and managed to rein it in with his fingertips.
The sound of a closing door drew his attention to the young man across the street, walking down the front stairs onto the sidewalk.
“Tom!” Simms called but his voice was weak and he went unanswered.
“Tom! Tom Simms!” he called again, fighting the pain in his chest and throat.
The youngerTom Simms stopped and turned his head, seeking the source. He didn’t see Simms lying in the dark alley, and after a few seconds of silence, continued on.
“Tom Simms!” he called again.
The young man turned again and squinted in the direction of the alley.
“Who’s there? What do you want?”
“I have something for you” Simms croaked, his finger on the Glock’s trigger.
Young Simms stood silently for a moment. “Do I know you?” He crept halfway across the street, his eyes searching the darkness.
Simms tried to speak, but the pain was consuming him. Young Simms, having received no response, turned and resumed his journey.
“I know what you’re up to,” called Simms, the words gurgling in his throat.
The young man stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know Jack Shit.”
He edged his way across the street, straining his eyes to see who was in the alley.
Simms lay on his back, his vision blurred, his face a hideous distortion of loose, creped skin.
Young Simms stood over him; his eyes adjusting to the low light. “What the fuck happened to your face, man?”
Simms’s lips twitched, but he couldn’t speak. He knew his time was running out. He thought
about all the hours, the months, the years, the lifetimes that he brutally stole from his victims. He wished that he somehow could have saved some of that time; to use now, to undo the crimes of his past; prevent the crimes of his future.
He summoned all his remaining strength to raise the gun, but it was like lead, and his hand
remained on the ground, his strengthless finger still on the trigger.
The younger Simms spotted the gun. He bent down and wrenched it from Simms's grasp. He turned it over, and studied it from different angles. A Glock, he noted. He raised his eyebrows and nodded in approval, and then slipped it into the waistband in the back of his jeans.

Simms shuddered at the sudden realisation that this had all happened before; that history was repeating, and that he too had snatched the gun from a decrepit hobo in the same dark alleyway 18 years before.
The faces of his young female victims flashed through Simms’s mind; Sally’s being the most
prominent.
“Please...please leave her alone,” said Simms, but his words were no more than an unspoken thought: a silent plea that echoed in his mind as the world faded from his vision. His half-closed eyelids froze, and his dull, vacant eyes stared up at his younger self.
The young man searched through Simms's pockets. He took out the wallet and pocketed the
small amount of money. With a brief, final look at Simms's lifeless body, he turned and headed toward the city.

 

 

 

 

 

*************

LAST SUNSET

Kate answered the doorbell, and she and Steven stared at each other in
awkward silence. Their two-year separation had rendered them almost
strangers.
“Come in,” she said after an uncomfortable pause. “Would you like a
coffee?”
“Sure,” he replied. “Black with one.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t remember that?” she said.
“I was just kidding,” he replied, and they exchanged nervous smiles.
“Come into the kitchen,” she said. “I’ve got it already brewed.”
Steven followed her to the kitchen, sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, and
watched on as Kate poured the coffee. She had aged in the 2 years since he
last saw her. At only twenty-seven, she’d developed a few premature grey
hairs which contrasted with her shoulder-length straight black hair. She had
some worry lines on her forehead and around her eyes, and she was
noticeably thinner than when he last saw her. He noticed her dress was
knee-length, whereas she always wore dresses and skirts much shorter to
proudly show off her long shapely legs. Yet she was still an attractive
woman in his eyes; she had a beauty and elegance that transcended
appearance.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said as she placed the cup on the bench in
front of him.
“You always were a bad liar, Steven.”
He grinned. He too had changed quite a bit in the space of two years. He’d
lost interest in training at the gym, and his once-toned body had reverted to
its previous unremarkable shape. A slight paunch replaced his ‘six-pack.’
He’d been shaving only once a week due to laziness and a lack of interest in
his appearance, but he made sure he shaved for the meeting with Kate.
The TV was on in the living room, and the news theme caught Kate’s
attention She moved closer.
“Is there any point in watching?” asked Steven.
“Yeah, well, who knows? Maybe the situation’s changed. Maybe they were
wrong with their calculations, and it’s not going to happen after all. There
must be a reason they’re still broadcasting the news.”
“I think the reason they’re still broadcasting is that TV journalists are
victims of their own egos. They live for ratings. They’ll broadcast until the
very end, just like the band on the Titanic kept playing while the ship went
down, only for different reasons.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “There may actually be a sliver of truth in that,” she
replied, “but you never know. We can’t give up hope yet.”
Steven rose from his stool, taking his coffee with him, and stood next to
Kate, where they both could see the TV. Melody Fyfe stood in the studio,
dressed in a short, tight black skirt and white, puffy-sleeved blouse. Her
mid-length starched-blonde hair and red stilettos completed the image.
Behind her was a large screen depicting a computerised image of a huge
rock at one end, and a tiny Sun at the other. The contrast in size was grossly
exaggerated.
“Thanks for joining us for this special edition of KGYO TV News. I’m
Melody Fyfe.” She turned to the side as a different camera picked her up
from another angle.
“As the giant cosmic wrecking ball, dubbed ‘Goliath,’ bears down on our
solar system, the world’s hopes are pinned on the survival ship, ‘Noahs
Ark,’ which was launched just over five weeks ago, in what has been an
historical joint project between the world’s superpowers: Russia, USA and
China, who, until now, have been embroiled in a cold war since 2023. Six
couples, three of the women already pregnant, have been chosen from the
three countries for the continuation of the human race, amid protests from
smaller nations that none of their own citizens were considered for
selection, which they claim will be tantamount to a gross act of genocide,
citing that the original Noahs Ark took a male and female of every species
and subspecies on board. China, USA and Russia have refused to comment.
KGYO TV was the first to report exclusively on Goliath back in March this
year. Goliath was first spotted by amateur stargazer, Ronald Whitely, who
raised the alarm.”
“It still doesn’t seem real, does it?” said Kate, without looking away from
the TV.
A young man with an acne-rich complexion appeared on the screen, being
interviewed by Melody. The date stamp on the screen indicated it was
recorded 3 months earlier, on March 7. Melody asked the usual inane
questions; ‘what went through your mind…is this the biggest discovery you
have made…what did your parents think when you told them? Will this
discovery change your life?’
“Nothing new,” said Steven. “The same old shit until the very end. In a
minute they’ll have the main story- cat rescued from tree by 10 firemen.
Meanwhile the house burns down around the corner, unreported.”
“Still so cynical, Steven,” said Kate.
Melody reappeared on screen in the studio. “That was Ronald Whitely back
in April, in a KGYO TV exclusive interview. So, what do we know about
this intergalactic intruder? What is it exactly? Where did it come from? We
know it’s the largest object, other than a star, we have so far seen in the
known universe. It is approximately 35 times the size of our Sun. It is of
an unknown but solid substance, and is travelling at 171,000 miles per
second; almost the speed of light, which is the fastest speed known to man.
It’s expected that Goliath will clip the side of Venus, which had initially
raised hopes that its trajectory might be slightly altered by the collision, and could
possibly miss our Sun altogether. That theory was quickly discounted by scientists, due
to the sheer speed and immense mass of Goliath. Today, June 22nd 2032 at
5:57 PM, Goliath will collide with our Sun. And sadly we know that, this
time, there is no David to slay this Goliath. KGYO TV will be here to the
end, keeping you informed of any new developments.”
She turned back to the original camera. “In other news, crime around the
country, around the world in fact, is rampant. An ever-diminishing police
force is unable to control the looting, rioting, and murders.”
Footage of riots and demonstrations filled the screen: overturned cars, rows
of houses burning, scores of looters running from electrical and department
stores, carrying large screen TV’s and household appliances. Fly-blown
corpses lay in the streets. Thieves raided liquor stores and loaded cars with
boxes of alcohol and cigarettes. Religious zealots chanted on street corners,
holding up placards: ‘Judgment day is here,’ ‘Time’s up, sinners,’ and
‘Behold God’s wrath.’
“Armed gangs rule the streets,” continued Melody. “Brazen attacks and
sexual assaults are widespread. Commentators surmise that borderline
rapists and murderers, previously reluctant to offend, are now seizing their
opportunities without fear of consequences. Domestic violence is out of
control. Government and community leaders are pleading for calm.
Ironically, this madness will only be ended by the coming of… not the
Lord…but the violent, merciless fist of the intergalactic destroyer named…
Goliath. This is Melody Fyfe, for KGYO News. Coming up after the break,
we have…”
Kate picked up the remote and switched off the TV. They stood in silence
for an extended few moments, still looking at the blank screen.
“My God!” said Kate. “How horrible. The human race sickens me
sometimes.”
Steven stood dumfounded.
“It makes you think that maybe there really is a God", Kate continued. "Who could blame him for wanting to be rid of us. And what’s the point of sending a ship of survivors into space anyway? They have nowhere to go, do they?”
“I guess if they did nothing, that’s the end of humanity,” replied Steven. “If
they can get them out of harm’s way, there is always a chance, albeit a
miniscule one, but there is no chance they can get far enough away. It’s just
an exercise in futility. Of course, the whole Noahs Ark thing may just be a
hoax, political spin, so it looks like they’re doing something. I doubt if even
the efforts of three superpowers could build a survival ship in such a short
time.”
Kate upended her cup and finished her coffee, and then walked to the sink
and placed her cup in the sink bowl. She squirted some detergent and turned
on the tap.
“Help me wash the dishes?”
“Why bother?” he asked.
“Remember how we used to talk every night while we did the dishes?
Come and talk.”
Steven picked up the tea towel. Kate scrubbed a plate and handed it to
Steven. They worked in silence for a minute or so. Steven spoke first.
“I was surprised when I got your text,” he said. “I thought I was the last
person you’d want to see. I thought you’d be with your parents.”
“I’ve stayed with them for the last week or so,” she replied. “We’ve said our
goodbyes. I felt you and I should talk—make our peace while we still can.”
Steven nodded.
“So,” he said, “how have things been for you? Have you met anyone?”
“No, there’s been no one else. And you?”
“I haven’t been in the right headspace for another relationship,” replied
Steven.
There was a silence, eventually broken by Kate.
“There were so many times I wanted to call, you know?” she said. “So
many nights I sat, just staring at the telephone, trying to pluck up the
courage to pick it up and call you, to hear your voice, wishing the phone
would ring and it would be you.”
That revelation surprised Steven.
“Same here,” he replied. “We probably sat by the phone at exactly the same
time, both too afraid to act.”
Kate spun around from the sink, and threw the wet dishcloth into Steven’s
face. “Why didn’t you call?” she demanded, and burst into tears. “You
bastard! Why didn’t you pick up that phone and fucking call? I would have
answered it, Steven!”
Her outburst took Steven aback, and he wondered why the onus was
suddenly on him. He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“Just what, Steven? Just what?”
Steven lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I just didn’t think you wanted to hear
from me again. I guess I was just too afraid you would hang up as soon as
you realised it was me. I was afraid to know that you still hated me.”
Kate looked at Steven through tear-filled eyes. It was her turn to lower her
head. “I would have answered it,” she repeated. “I never hated you, Steven.
I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I treated you pretty badly when we
broke up, didn’t I? I know that. I was in a bad place at the time but I never
hated you.” Then after a pause, “I never stopped loving you.”
“We were both in a bad place,” he replied. “I think we were both so trapped
in our own misery; both of us unable to see or feel the other’s pain and
blaming ourselves. How messed up is that?”
Kate nodded.
“Losing Abby like that,” he continued, “it destroyed me, you know? It just
messed me up.”
Kate nodded. “Yeah, me too. Do you believe I’ve left the nursery just the
same as it was? I haven’t been able to go in there since she—” Kate was
unable to finish the sentence.
“Can I see it?”
Kate studied Steven’s face. She nodded. “Sure. Let’s do it together.”
Steven followed her up the stairs and down the hall to the room with the
sticker of Dumbo the elephant on the door. Kate hesitated and, taking a
deep breath, turned the knob and swung the door open. Her legs trembled,
and she held Steven’s shirt for support. They stood frozen to the spot and
looked into the nursery, which sat untouched for 2 1/2 years. The unused
change table was covered in dust. The crib was full of cobwebs, as was the
mobile hanging over it. The small suspended elephants and bears patiently
looked down at the spot where a newborn girl would never lay her head.
They entered the room and looked around at the pale pink walls that they
had together painted and decorated, at the new baby furniture, the stroller in
the corner, and at the numerous toys. The room was now a shrine to a life
never lived. Steven picked up a framed photograph from a shelf on the wall.
His tear fell onto the black and white image of Kate’s ultrasound—as much
for the loss of their daughter as for their resultant failed marriage. He
stroked the image with his fingertip. Kate put her arm around Steven’s waist
and hugged him before he returned the photo to the shelf. They left the
room without a word, gently closing the door as if worried they might wake
the baby.
They returned downstairs where they heard a commotion outside. A family
gathered in the neighbours’ front yard, and they were crying and hugging
one another. One member, an elderly woman, knelt on the ground, weeping
and hysterical. With her hands clasped together, she prayed to the sky.
“It’s really happening, isn’t it?” said Kate.
Steven felt no requirement to answer.
“It’s funny isn’t it?” she said.
“What is?”
“It’s funny that it took that… thing up there to bring us together today.
Before all this happened, we couldn’t even pick up the phone to say ‘Hi.’”
Steven nodded. “I’ve been miserable without you, Kate. And being here
with you now, I know that I’d rather spend just one more day with you than
my whole life without you.”
“Oh, what have we done, Steven? We’ve wasted so much time, and now
there’s so little left. What are we going to do now?”
Steven thought for a few seconds. “Whatever we want,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, let’s go out somewhere. Let’s have some fun, just you and me.”
“What are you talking about? You mean like a date? With all this happening
around us? That’s ridiculous.”
“Why? Yesterday’s in the past. Tomorrow’s not coming. Let’s just have
today, together. There won’t be another chance. Come on, Kate, let’s do it.”
She thought for a few seconds. “Alright, then,” she said, unconvinced, “but
I don’t think it’s going to be much fun. I’ll get my bag.”
It was almost 9.00AM when they stepped out the front door into a perfect
summer day. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and a gentle breeze rustled the
leaves on the maple tree in the front yard. Kate scanned the skies. Steven
opened the passenger door for her.
She hesitated as she looked at the neighbours. There were three children,
quiet and sullen, five adults hugging, and the old woman still hysterical.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” said Kate.
“Come on, Kate,” said Steven. “We can’t help them.”
Kate got in, and Steven shut her door and went around to the driver’s side.
He fired up the Nissan pickup’s engine and reversed out of the driveway.
He noticed Kate’s look of sadness as she watched her neighbours in their
grief. He screeched the tyres and pumped the throttle in and out to make the
car jerk along as though he couldn’t work the clutch properly. Kate
squealed as the car jerked down the street. “Stop it! What are you doing,
you idiot! Stop!” she shouted. Her head was thrown back and forth; her hair
falling across her face. “Stop! Stop!” she shouted, trying to punch his arm,
but Steven just laughed. Finally, after about 50 yards, he held the car
smooth and steady, and Kate fixed her hair. She stared at Steven with a
deadpan expression.
“What’s that look for?” he said, releasing the steering wheel to raise his
hands in innocent surrender. “You knew I was a bad boy before you got in
the car.” He replaced his hands on the wheel.
Kate chuckled and slapped his arm. “You idiot. You never really did grow
up, did you?”
“That’s what you love about me,” he replied, looking at the road ahead. He
didn’t see her subtle nod, as she looked across at him with a familiar
fondness.
“So, where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Somewhere special.”
Their route took them through the centre of town. Being a small coastal
town, it had escaped much of the lawlessness and violence of the larger
cities, but there were still broken shop windows, jimmied doors, and
vandalised, burning cars. As they crept down the main street, Kate saw a
car on the street in front of a house with a hose pushed onto the exhaust.
The other end entered the car through the passenger window, the gap sealed
by duct tape. Slumped against the window in the front seat were a man and
woman, aged in their forties, in a rigid embrace, and a child of nine or ten in
the back.
Steven touched her shoulder. “Don’t look, Kate,” he said, and she turned
away.
Five minutes out of town, the Ferris wheel came into view.
“You’re taking me to the amusement park?”
“That’s where we went on our first date, remember?” he replied.
“Do you think it’s open?” she asked.
“We’ll soon find out.”
They entered the large carpark and saw only four other cars. There didn’t
appear to be any activity in the park itself. Steven parked the car near the
entrance, went to Kate’s side, and opened the door for her.
“Let’s go, Babe,” he said.
“Babe? You haven’t called me that since we were teenagers.”
“Well,” he said, “today we’re teenagers. We’re on a date, remember?”
Kate’s face glowed, and she took hold of Steven’s hand. “Come on then,
let’s go,” she said.
A balding, gruff looking man in his sixties sat in the entry booth.
“I wasn’t sure the park would be open,” said Steven as he approached the
window. “I thought everyone might be spending the day with family or
friends.”
“I got no family,” he replied in a gravelly voice, “just this place. I was
hoping that I’d get a few more customers today, see a few people laughing,
but there hasn’t been many.”
“Sorry to hear that,” said Steven. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, but
the old man pointed to the sign in front of the booth.
Kate read the hand-written sign aloud. “Everything free today. Normal
prices resume tomorrow.”
She looked up at the old man. “Oh, that is so bad,” she grinned, shaking her
head.
“Hey,” he shrugged, “what can I say? I always wanted to be a comedian,
but I made a better carnival operator. So, here’s the deal. Everything is free:
food, rides, ice creams, everything. I’m the only one working today, so just
help yourselves. There’s only one rule. If I see any frowns or tears today”—
he pointed his thumb toward the carpark—“instant ejection from the park.
By the way, do your parents know you’re out?”
Kate laughed. “Funny guy. I like you.”
“You’re the second woman to say that. The first was my mother.”
Steven held out his hand. “I’m Steven, by the way, and this is Kate.”
“Benny,” he replied, and they shook hands.
“Thank you, Benny,” said Steven.
“You’re welcome. Have fun.”
Kate took Steven’s hand and dragged him on. “What first?” she asked.
Steven spotted a burger stand. “I’m starved,” he said. “You want a burger?”
“Mm, yes, please.”
Steven went behind and threw some patties onto to the preheated grill. He
prepared the buns while they cooked.
Kate leaned on the counter and watched. “You missed your calling in life,”
she said.
Steven handed her a burger on a napkin, and a Coke. “Here, take this to
Benny.” He watched her as she walked toward the booth and wished they
had reconnected sooner. A lifetime was too much to pack into one day.
The famished pair finished their meal in no time and strolled down Sideshow
Alley.
“Win me that big bear,” she said, as they approached the sledgehammer
strength tester. Steven looked up at the bell, high on the tower. “No sweat,”
he said, and flexed his bicep. “I just hope I don’t break it.” He looked at
Kate and wiggled his eyebrows. She giggled. He drew the hammer behind
his shoulders and struck with all his might. The puck didn’t reach ¾ of the
way up.
“Winner!” he shouted, raising his arms in victory, and then handed Kate the
stuffed bear. She shook her head and grinned. “Oh yeah… my hero.”
They filled the hours with shooting galleries, dodgem cars, carousels, and
ice creams. Kate skipped and laughed like a teenager, and they swung their
interlocked hands as they walked through the deserted park.
Benny called from behind. “Would you youngsters like to go up on the
wheel?”
Kate looked up at the towering wheel.
“Yeah, sure.” said Steven. “Thanks.” They walked to the Ferris wheel’s
entry gate and as Kate climbed in, Steven discussed something with Benny.
“What was that about?” asked Kate.
“Oh, nothing.” He climbed on board and sat opposite Kate. The wheel
started with a jerk, and they rose slowly into the air. The highway was
visible in the distance, choked with traffic as far as the eye could see.
“Where are they all going?” she asked.
“Nowhere,” Steven replied. “It’s just human nature to try and escape
danger. All they can think about is getting away. It doesn’t matter where.
They’re like mice, trying to scatter in all directions. Sometimes there’s just
no logic to peoples’ thinking.”
The wheel did two rotations, and then came to a stop as they reached the
top. Kate squinted at Steven. “So that’s what you were discussing. Now I
know why it happened on our first date, too. You told me it must have
broken down.”
“At least this time I didn’t have to bribe the operator,” Steven grinned.
Kate twisted her body to look at the view, and her dress rode up her thighs.
Steven’s eyes darted down to her legs. She pulled her dress down in a
frantic effort to cover up, but Steven had already seen the scars. His mind
went back to the earlier conversation in Kate’s kitchen.
“This is why you were angry with me for not calling,” he said.
Kate looked away.
“I couldn’t cope.” she said. “I felt dead inside. I just wanted to feel
something…anything. Oh god, Steven, I’m so ashamed. I’m so ugly.”
She covered her face and wept. Steven prised her hands away and kissed
her tears. Their eyes met. He tugged at the hem of her dress. “Please don’t
look at them, Steven,” she begged. Against her feeble protests, he
uncovered her legs and looked down at the countless scars. There was so
many that there were scars cut across other scars in a haphazard, horizontal,
criss-cross pattern on her thighs. He leaned down and kissed them.
Kate squirmed and let out an uncomfortable grunt. She felt violated and
exposed, yet she wanted him to continue, to once again feel his love, to
experience what she had lost. He patiently kissed every scar and blemish,
and then brushed his lips upwards to the apex of her slender legs. Kate
panted and lifted her legs onto Steven’s shoulders, laid her head back to
gaze at the cloudless azure sky, and gave herself over to him completely.
Steven brought out the woman in her again and again.
Kate adjusted her clothing and Steven sat beside her. She put her hand on
Steven’s thigh, and rested her head on his shoulder. “This has been the best
day of my life,” she said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I wish today didn’t have to end,” she said. She realised her faux pas, and
blushed. “That didn’t come out right, did it?”
Steven smiled. “Well, you know what they say,” he said, “tomorrow never
comes.”
“Oh, stop it,” Kate giggled, and slapped his arm. They exchanged looks and
both giggled, and then laughed, unable to stop.
Kate’s laughter subsided, and her eyes moistened. She looked at Steven,
and her lower lip trembled.
Steven rubbed her shoulder. “It’s ok,” he said, and she suppressed her tears.
There was a long silence as they absorbed the sun’s warmth.
“Steven?”
“What?”
“Where do you think we’ll go, you know…tonight?”
He thought for a few seconds. “I don’t know.”
“I used to believe,” she continued, “that there was a Heaven, that there was
a place where everyone goes: our Grandparents, our old pets, our friends,
that we would see them all again. Then I thought…wouldn’t we all be
naked? Why would our clothes go to Heaven? I don’t want to see my
Grandparents naked.”
Steven laughed.
Kate elbowed his ribs, her expression sombre. “Cut it out. You know what I
mean. I’m just saying: it doesn’t really make sense, does it? What about
Abby? She wasn’t even born, but she was a real person. She was our
daughter. If she was in Heaven, would she stay a baby for all of eternity?”
Steven put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Wherever we’re going
tonight, we’re going there together.”
Around 4 o’clock, they exited the park. Steven spotted a gaunt, greyishfaced
Benny, slumped in the entry booth, now his tomb; the rifle barrel still in his mouth. Steven diverted Kate’s attention before she could see him.

“Do you want to go down to the beach?” asked Steven as they settled in the
car.
“A beautiful way to end a beautiful day,” she replied with a smile.
The beach was only a 15 minute drive and close to the tourist-town’s centre.
A few people dotted the white strip between the dunes and the incoming
tide. Steven and Kate sat on the sand and looked out to sea.
“It’s so beautiful,” said Kate. “I wish it could be like this forever.”
Steven leaned in and kissed her lips. She responded by running her hand
though his hair. She invited his tongue into her mouth, and panted as he
squeezed her breast. Steven stood, unbuttoned and removed his shirt, and
threw it onto the sand. He did the same with his jeans and underwear and
stood there naked, looking down at his wife. She cast her eyes over his
body. It was no longer toned and muscular as she remembered, but it was
Steven: her man. He offered his hand. She took it and stood to face him.
She didn’t resist nor care about any onlookers as Steven slipped her dress
over her head and laid it on the sand like a blanket. She removed her
underwear, and they lay down face to face. For the next hour and a half,
they explored one another’s bodies, made love, searched their partner’s eyes
and saw their souls. They realised the fragility of life and accepted the
reality of death.
The sudden clanging of church bells all over town filled the air. Steven
discreetly glanced at his wristwatch. It was 5:55. They stood and, still
naked, walked to the water’s edge and let the cool salt water swirl the sand
around their feet. They stood side by side and surveyed the horizon just as
Adam and Eve might have, but Steven and Kate were at the point of
extinction, not creation. The Sun’s rays created a path of light on the water
from horizon to shore, to the spot where they stood, and the ocean glitter
twinkled on the calm sea. The atmosphere was as the calm just before a
storm. Kate put her arm around Steven’s waist, and he instinctively put his
arm around her shoulder and drew her to his side.
In a last show of defiance from a doomed species, car horns joined in with
the church bells, and fireworks exploded in the late afternoon sky. On the
beach, a circle of strangers joined hands and sang ‘Auld Lang Syne’.
“Hold me, Steven,” said Kate, and they turned to each other. Kate rested her
head on Steven’s shoulder, her back to the setting sun.
“Hold me tighter. Don’t let me go,” she said.
Steven wrapped both arms around her and squeezed her body against his,
feeling her soft breasts press against his bare skin.
“Remember when we were first married, Steven? You used to sing an old
Alice Cooper song to me.”
“I remember,” he replied.
“Sing it to me.”
He stared into the shimmering orange surface of the Sun, which was almost
resting on the horizon. The blood vessels in his vision resembled road
maps. Without warning, Goliath’s gravitational pull caused the sea to undulate, heralding the
silent assassin’s unseen approach. The tide suddenly retreated from the
shore, the seas churned, and the waves rose higher and higher into the air,
higher than Steven had ever thought possible. He rested his cheek on the
side of Kate’s head, and she closed her eyes. Kate held him as tightly as she
could, and they swayed together in a slow dance. Steven sang, almost in a
whisper.

“Sometimes when you’re asleep
And I’m just staring at the ceiling,
I want to reach out and touch you,
But you just go on dreaming.
If I could take you to heaven,
That would make my day complete.
You and me ain’t no super stars.
What we are is what we are.
We share a bed,
Some popcorn,
And TV.
And that’s enough for a working man.
What I am is what I am..
And I tell you, babe,
You’re enough for me.”

 

Steven's entire life suddenly flashed through his mind - not as a movie sequence or a series of images - but as a powerful, nostalgic, almost spiritual sensation that seemed to overwhelm and consume him. He felt as one with - not only Kate, who was clinging to him grimly in her own final moments of existence - but with the world around him - the orange sun and the roaring ocean, the haunting chorus of Auld Lang Syne that signified the belated forgiveness of man's trespasses against his fellow man. The explosions of fireworks intensified overhead. Above it all, the church bells tolled across the land, summoning all God's children to the safety of Heaven's gates. The end was imminent: the last sunset - the final curtain fall after which there could be no encore. Resigned to his fate, he felt in awe and - in a strange way - privileged to be witnessing such a significant event in the history of the universe:  not only an extinction level event, but the destruction of the Sun itself.

Goliath appeared from the right; the massive irregularly shaped object streaking across the sky at a phenomenal speed toward the Sun. The celestial giant's gravitational pull drew a small tail of flame from the Sun, causing the latter to resemble a comet in appearance. At the moment of impact, the  explosion’s intense flash burned Steven’s retinas, instantly blinding him. The following blast of heat fused Steven’s and Kate’s naked bodies together in a final moment of unity, and a moment later, the  fragments of Earth drifted through space like dust in the wind as a remorseless Goliath continued on in search of a worthy opponent.

 

 

 

 

 

************

LUCID DREAMS

 

“It’s been going on for months now, Doctor, and it’s getting worse,” said Peter Jenkins.

Doctor James Goodes, the eminent child Psychologist, looked at the trio in front of him, the Jenkins family: Peter and Jill, a young middle class married couple in their early thirties, and Stephen, who just turned eleven the week before. The young man sat nervously between his parents.

Stephen seemed like an average eleven-year-old boy. Slim, quiet and shy as many eleven-year-old children are, but as Doctor Goodes knew, appearances mean nothing in the minefield of psychology. The professional’s legs were crossed as he sat in his oversize leather chair and made some notes in his notebook.

“So, tell me, Stephen,” he said, looking across the wide desk at the young boy in front of him. “What happens in these dreams? Can you describe them for me?”

Stephen fidgeted with his hands, too timid to look up at the doctor, afraid to confide in a stranger about his worst fears.

“It’s ok, Stephen,” said Goodes. “I’m here to help. I’ve helped a lot of boys with these things, boys just like you. Relax and take your time.”

“Tell the doctor, Stephen. Tell him what you told us. We’re here,” said Jill comfortingly as she put her arm around her son’s shoulder.

“Well,” he began, still unable to look at the doctor, “it’s always the same. I dream my parents are dead.”

Goodes sat patiently, expectantly. Stephen continued fidgeting.

“Go on, Stephen.”

“There’s something living in my room, something real bad. It lives in my wardrobe.”

“What does this thing look like?” asked Goodes, making more notes, his eyes not leaving Stephen. It was a skill he had acquired over the years. He could maintain eye contact with his patient and at the same time use his peripheral vision to scribble words that only he was able to decipher afterwards.

“I never see its face. It’s kind of blurry, but I see its eyes, and its grin. It’s really scary.”

“Tell me what happens, Stephen.” Stephen was visibly upset as he relived his nightmare.

“I hear the wardrobe door open. The thing comes out and walks to my bed. It bends down and its face comes close to mine and I see its eyes. They stare at me. I can’t look away. Its face is blurry, and then it smiles. I know it’s smiling because I can see its teeth. I want to scream, but I can’t; I’m too scared. Then it speaks to me.”

“Stephe--” Jill interjected, but Goodes raised his palm in her direction to cut her off, still maintaining eye contact with Stephen.

“What does it say, Stephen?”

“It says….”

Stephen fidgeted and a tear trickled down his cheek. He sniffled.

“It’s ok, Stephen,” said Goodes calmly. “Just take your time.”

“It says...” Stephen’s eyes were wide and staring into space as he relived his nightmare in his mind.

“It says, ‘say goodbye to your parents, Stephen.’”

“Go on,” said Goodes, unperturbed.

“I try to scream for help, but I can’t. I shut my eyes and I hear it walk out of my room and down the hallway. I hear Mum and Dad’s bedroom door opening. Then Mum screams. I know they’re dead. I know it killed them.”

Goodes looked at Stephen thoughtfully for a few seconds. He pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Veronica, can you come in, please?”

The receptionist entered the room.

“Go with Veronica, Stephen. I just want to have a chat with Mum and Dad.”

Veronica and Stephen left the room, Veronica closing the door quietly behind her.

“What is it, doctor? Will Stephen be alright?” asked Jill.

“Night terrors are quite common, even at the age of eleven,” Goodes explained, his eyes alternating between the two parents. When a child feels close to their parents, particularly an only child, their worst fears can surface during their dreams, and a child’s biggest fear is losing their parents.”

“But it’s getting worse. It started about three months ago,” said a concerned Jill. “It was once every week or so, and it just got worse. Now it’s almost every night. He wakes up screaming. He’s almost inconsolable. We leave the light on, but it makes no difference.”

“Give it a couple more weeks. His young mind is still developing. There are a lot of things going on in the brain of an eleven-year-old child,” said Goodes. “These things usually sort themselves out, and they can just disappear overnight. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Call me if you have any concerns, or if it continues more than, say, three more weeks. Just be there for him. Comfort him when he needs it. Try and nurture in him a sense of self confidence and esteem. Convince him that you aren’t going anywhere. His subconscious mind will soon accept it as truth.”

“I hope you’re right, Doctor,” said Jill. “It breaks my heart to see him that way.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine Mrs. Jenkins. There’s no need to worry. It’s very common, more common than you realise.”

 

 

That night, Stephen lay in his bed with his eyes glued to the wardrobe door, as he did every night. He wished he never had to sleep ever again. He wished he could stay awake forever so that the thing, whatever it was, couldn’t invade his dreams, couldn’t smile that evil grin, but, just as every other night, he was eventually overtaken by fatigue, and he slept soundly.

Peter and Jill checked in on Stephen before they went to bed. They looked down at their only child as he slept peacefully, and Peter affectionately placed his hand on the small of Jill’s back as she lightly kissed Stephen’s forehead. They turned off the light, leaving just a small nightlight to illuminate the room. They left the room, taking one last glance at their only son, and walked quietly back to their own bedroom.

At 1:16 AM something flickered in Stephen’s dormant mind, a feeling of dread that woke him from his peaceful slumber. He heard the wardrobe door open, a barely audible squeak of the door hinge. Afraid to look, he pulled the blanket over his face. He could feel a presence close to him. Stephen’s breathing slowed until it stopped altogether as he listened for the slightest sound indicating that the thing was still there. The room was deathly quiet. He heard no sound for a minute or two, and slowly moved the blanket down off his eyes. A pair of eyes six inches away stared directly into his. There was nothing but those eyes—wide, evil, and hypnotic.

Stephen froze, unable to scream. His eyes widened and his face contorted in silent terror as a grin appeared on the creature’s obscured face. He waited for those inevitable words in that voice totally devoid of mercy and human emotion.

“Say goodbye to your parents, Stephen.”

Stephen watched as the thing turned and walked toward the door. It turned left and he listened as its footsteps moved slowly and softly on the wooden floor and down the hall towards his parents’ bedroom. He tried to scream, to shout, to warn them of the impending danger, but no sounds would come from his mouth.

“No. Please, no,” he whimpered, but the words were only in his mind.

He heard the metallic click of their doorknob turning. Five seconds later, his mother screamed once, a brief but blood-curdling scream, and then there was only silence.

Stephen switched on the light and screamed hysterically as he looked down at the bodies of his mother and father, their faces almost unrecognisable. Their faces and necks were covered with blood from dozens of stab wounds, one of which had entered his mother’s open mouth as she screamed, slicing through the length of her cheek and forming a permanent, hideous grin. The last trickle of blood pumped from her carotid artery as she gurgled on her own blood and took her last breath.

Ragged pieces of flesh hung from a three-inch gash on his father’s forehead, the bone exposed, the knife having glanced off the skull and ripped through the thin skin like the gutting of a fish. His motionless, vacant eyes stared unblinkingly at Stephen, eyes that asked a silent question that would forever remain unanswered. Stephen began sobbing.

“I told you it would happen” he cried, almost accusingly as if he blamed them for their own demise. Tears rolled down his cheeks. The bloodied knife fell from his hands onto the floor and he dropped to his knees, sobbing.

“I told you…. I told you….

 

 

 

 

************

JEANIE

  Jeanie sat facing her reflection in the mirror, looking for any tell-tale signs. Grey hairs? She searched her shoulder length brown hair and found no unwanted intruders. Wrinkles? She had known other women her age who had developed the odd wrinkle or grey hair; some even in their twenties.  She found nothing. She scrutinized her face more closely. Her eyes seemed a little puffy but that could have been from crying. Maybe it was just the fact that she had reached that age of 37. After all, he was only 23.

 Five days prior they had returned from a week away on an island resort in Fiji. Jeanie had planned it all, booked the flights, the accommodation, even paid for it all. She didn’t mind; she loved Justin. He was unemployed, and on welfare. It wasn’t his fault, Jeanie acknowledged; he wanted to work but just couldn’t find a job he liked.  He shared a small apartment with friends in order to share expenses. Jeannie never hesitated in paying for both of them when they went out to dinner or a club. She had an office job and was earning a reasonable salary. She wasn’t rich by any means, but was making enough for the both of them to enjoy doing things together. She had even helped him buy a used car so he could try and find employment. ‘Helped’ is an understatement. Jeannie actually paid for the car, registration and insurance, and often gave him money to put fuel in the tank. They had gone to a used car dealer, and Jeanie saw one that was within her budget, but Justin wanted something a little sportier. The car he chose, a red MG, cost quite a bit more than she could afford and she paid 1/3 in cash and took out a loan for the balance. Justin promised he would start paying her back as soon as he found a job. She had bought him nice clothes, some of which she herself had chosen and surprised him with. Justin was her man and she would do anything for him, for his happiness and his acceptance of her.

  Jeannie thought back to that week away, trying to remember anything unusual in his manner, in his attitude, things he had said. But it was difficult to recall much in detail. The week was a whirlwind of romance and lovemaking and laughing and fun, wining, dining and dancing. It was almost dreamlike as she spent the whole time lost in Justin’s ambience and aura. She loved the attention he gave her. She felt safe and loved, and she loved him like she had loved no other man. The look in his eyes as he peered into the depths of her own gave her the reassurance that he loved her just as much, possibly more, although Jeanie knew that was impossible.

 The weather that week was beautiful, just what you would expect from a tropical island resort in early summer. How incredibly romantic it was to walk hand in hand along the deserted beach at dusk with the sound of the waves crashing and the orange sun dipping below the horizon. Jeanie couldn’t resist stopping occasionally to draw Justin to her and kiss him passionately, the smell of the salt air and the wet sand between her toes adding to the atmosphere. The absence of any other human beings, the screeching of seagulls and the sounds of the ocean created an illusion of being the only two people left on earth. Those moments stood out the most in Jeanie’s memory. Those along with the incredible lovemaking every night and every morning, running her hands over Justin’s rippled athletic body, lying in ecstasy as Justin explored her body, sending her to heaven and back multiple times and causing her to moan involuntarily and call out his name.

 The days were warm and they had swum in the crystal clear waters, frolicked and splashed as lovers do. She had screamed like a schoolgirl when Justin picked her up and carried her to the water to throw her in against her will. In reality she loved it, loved the attention. She imagined she was in a romantic movie and they had the lead roles. She recalled how his gaze moved to her nipples which had become erect from the cold water and were clearly visible through her wet, not-quite-see-through white bikini top. She loved to feel his gaze on her body. It made her feel beautiful, desired, special. She wanted him to sense her vulnerability, appreciate her femininity. She wanted him to appreciate her as a woman. Most of all she wanted him to want her. Whatever Justin asked of her, be it physical, emotional or financial, Jeanie happily and eagerly gave it to him.

 The flight home from Fiji was unremarkable. There seemed nothing to suggest any problem within their relationship. Justin slept a lot on the plane, but Jeanie saw nothing strange about that. He stayed at her place that night. They were too tired for lovemaking but they went to sleep in each other’s arms. When Jeanie woke the next morning he was gone. She expected him to call during the day but he didn’t. She tried calling him but went straight to voicemail. He didn’t return any of her calls. Worried out of her mind, she went to his apartment. She knocked on the door and Justin answered it.

“Justin! What’s wrong? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Justin shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

“Justin? What’s wrong?”

Justin averted his eyes. He looked everywhere except at Jeanie. He finally spoke. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Jeanie’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But…” she began.

“I’m sorry” he said, shaking his head and closing the door, leaving Jeanie standing alone in the hallway, shattered. Jeanie’s lips trembled, she felt dizzy as if she was about to pass out. She raised her hand to knock on the door again but turned instead and walked away. And just like that, it was over. She thought the week on the island would cement their relationship, but now she felt it had driven a wedge through the middle of it. But why? She had no clue, and Justin didn’t seem about to tell her.

 Jeanie thought about those days on the beach. Was that it? Was it her body? Was it changing with her age? Jeanie undressed and scrutinized her body in the mirror from head to toe. Her breasts seemed to droop a little and point downward- at least that’s what it seemed to her. Thinking back to her early twenties she recalls being quite perky. She wasn’t blind to the fact that age tends to creep up on a woman and before she realises it, she is becoming unattractive to the opposite sex, to young men like Justin who are reaching their peak physical condition. He looked after himself. He went to the gym regularly and Jeanie had paid for his membership and protein supplements. She considered it well worth the cost, knowing the enjoyment he received from training, and she herself reaping the benefits of feeling his hard muscular body against hers. But Jeanie had never had an interest in fitness training. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps her body was now showing the signs of neglect. Had Justin become ashamed of being seen with her? Was he ashamed to be seen in public with a short 37 year old frumpy woman who obviously doesn’t share his interest in fitness and body sculpting? She studied her body more closely in the mirror. Imperfections were now becoming clearer to her. Obvious imperfections, or so it seemed to her. There appeared to be a small bulge developing around her mid-section. The ratio of her waist to her hips had changed and there didn’t seem to be as much difference now in circumference. Her eyes moved down over her slight paunch, downwards to where the tops of her legs met. But now it seemed to her to look different than she remembered. Would it really be alluring to a young man? She had never taken much notice before, and Justin had never given any indication that he found it anything but sexy, but doubts were now forming in her mind. The top of her legs seemed to be thickening a little and her thigh-gap had all but disappeared. They were things she had never noticed until now; now that it was too late. There seemed to be some kind of blemish appearing on her left cheek. She drew back her lips and studied her teeth for any yellowing. They seemed ok. She had always taken good care of her teeth.

 Jeanie thought for a few moments. She went to the drawer and found the bikini she was wearing on that holiday, and she put it on. She frowned when she turned to check her bum  in the mirror. That’s not the bum she remembered having just a couple of years before. And  her bikini top did nothing to support her now drooping breasts. She had felt so beautiful on the beach with Justin. His hungry eyes sparkled and seemed to devour her beauty, but now that it was over she was looking at the reflection of a woman in her late-thirties; 5ft 2 inches with average looks and untoned shapeless body.

 But surely Justin isn’t that shallow. Surely he loved her for her mind and her personality, for the way she cared for him. She worshipped him, worshipped his body and his mind, gave him pleasure in any and every way he wanted, she gave herself to him completely as any woman in love would give themselves to her man.

 Jeanie had always considered herself to be reasonably intelligent. She had studied business principles at university, but had not really advanced much career-wise. She was an office worker with a large insurance company, and wasn’t sure if she had the inclination or drive to further herself. Justin had no career and no job, no income except government welfare, but they seemed to be on the same level, socially and intellectually. Why had he left? What reason did she give him to suddenly walk away from their relationship, and not look back? Jeanie tried to recall conversations they had had. Perhaps they weren’t really on the same wavelength after all. Can a woman of 37 and a man of 23 actually be on the same wave length? Can they really have the same interests? Was she becoming boring and uninteresting to him? Had she been fooling herself, falsely believing he would find her thoughts and opinions interesting and worldly?

 

 Recurring visions and sensations kept returning to Jeanie’s mind. The lovemaking. Feeling Justin's mouth on hers, the tingling sensation down her back as his warm breath caressed her neck. The memories of nibbling his ear, whispering her declaration of  love for him.

 Something niggled in her mind. Can she remember Justin ever returning that declaration of  love? Jeanie tried to think back through their seven month relationship. Had he ever told her that he loved her? She can’t remember ever hearing the words. Surely she would remember something like that, something so important for a woman to hear. Was she so absorbed in her love for him that she had never noticed? Had she been so engrossed in her own feelings that she had never even noticed his lack of emotional commitment?

 Jeanie swapped her bikini for her pyjama pants and shirt and lay on the bed, a stray tear trickling down her cheek onto the pillow. How beautiful and full her life, her world had seemed before. How cold and empty it was now. Where there was once romance and love all around, even in the simplest things; birds singing, rainy days, even the sound of city traffic; there was now nothing but a cold emptiness that chilled her to the bone. She felt rejected by an indifferent world, a world that didn’t care. A world that would continue revolving even though her own private world had been knocked from its axis and was now hurtling uncontrollably through the cold, dark vacuum of nothingness.

 Jeanie tried to go to sleep. She was exhausted. She hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since Justin had left. She lay there, tossing and turning until finally, in frustration, she climbed out of bed and put the kettle on to make coffee. She searched through her wardrobe and chose the pink skirt and button-up white top that Justin told her she looked so beautiful in. She sipped on her coffee as she tried to pull herself together emotionally, applying makeup to conceal her puffy eyes and the faintly emerging blemish on her cheek. She left her apartment and walked out onto the street.

 It was 8.30 PM on Friday night. The streets of London were bustling with people of all types. There were couples walking hand in hand. People headed home after working late at the office. Streams of people spilled onto the street from the Underground train station as she walked by. Jeanie walked slowly along the street toward Grosvenor Park, where she occasionally took Justin for a picnic she had packed. It was a beautiful evening. The night sky was clear, and in the softly-lit park away from the city lights she could see the stars. As she looked to the heavens a shooting star appeared in her peripheral vision, but burnt out just as her eyes turned to it. Jeanie thought how the moon and stars are always associated with love. The thought occurred to her that the love between her and Justin was like that shooting star. A bright flash in the night sky that is suddenly extinguished without warning and disintegrates into oblivion as though it had never existed.

She walked down the wide central path and sat on an empty seat where she could watch the passers-by. She watched dreamily and longingly at the young couples strolling through the park, laughing and sharing those little intimate moments that only lovers appreciate, just as she and Justin used to. How well she knew the power of hand touching hand. The connection of two souls from one lover to another through joined hands and interlocking fingers. Jeanie could still feel her hand in Justin’s, the exchange of love passing from heart to heart like subtle electric pulses through a conductor.

She watched the couples as they were lost in their pointless and meaningless conversations that bind together the hearts and souls of a man and woman; small, seemingly insignificant moments in time that they will still recall vividly in 20 or 30 years if they cast their minds back; spontaneous flashes of intimacy that last a lifetime and beyond.

Jeanie sat for 20 minutes or so, then rose and strolled toward the river. She walked along the boardwalk watching the boats rocking, and listening to the lapping of the water against the boardwalk’s pylons. She had often taken walks along the river with Justin but the experience was different now. In her newfound loneliness the sounds of the water seemed to agitate her, as though the river was teasing her, reminding her of what she had lost. She headed back onto the main street and continued on, planning on returning to her apartment via a 3 kilometre circuit that would take her past familiar haunts that she had often visited with Justin. Pizza places with customers milling around outside waiting for their order. Restaurants, fish and chip shops, couples and groups waiting at bus stops.

Something suddenly caught her eye. Up ahead, almost obscured between two other parked cars was Justin’s red sports car, opposite the nightclub where she and Justin first met. She walked on to the club and looked through the front entrance. The club was busy that night and she couldn’t see Justin anywhere. She walked inside and weaved her way through the crowd looking left and right for Justin. She spotted him at a table in the corner. He was sitting alongside a woman aged in her early twenties. Blonde and attractive, she wore a low-cut dress that showed off her ample assets and elegant neck and shoulders. Jeanie remembered the table as the same one they sat at the first time they met. She looked around the room. There were no empty tables so she stood by the wall where she could watch Justin and his female companion; obviously Jeanie’s replacement in Justin’s life and bed.

Justin and the woman seemed lost in their own world as if no one else in the room existed. Jeanie watched as Justin related some amazingly interesting story and the young blonde looked at him adoringly, her eyes wandering over his face and studying his lips as he spoke. She wondered if they were the same stories he had told her the night they met. Jeanie knew that feeling of being swept up in Justin’s world, hanging off his every word, falling in love. She herself had sat at that very table seven months before. Jeanie had been waiting at the bar for her work colleague Amy, when a young man sat down beside her.

“Drinking alone?” he had asked.

“No ..I’m…waiting for…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.  Jeanie looked into the eyes of the young man and that was the end of life as she knew it. He bought drinks and they moved to the table in the corner; the same table that Justin was now sharing with another woman. Justin’s and Jeanie’s table.

Amy had never met up with her that night. She told Jeanie the next day that she did arrive but when she saw Jeanie at the table with the young man she thought she should leave them alone and so she went home.

 

As Jeanie stood against the wall she had to constantly move her head to the left and right, to see through the crowd of people that kept walking through her line of vision. When the young woman gently put her hand on Justin’s and he leaned in to give her a short kiss on the cheek, her anger and jealousy began to rise. Justin whispered something in her ear, which made the woman giggle. Jeanie’s normally placid nature gave way to seething jealousy and an overwhelming feeling of anger. It was a feeling totally foreign to her.

What had begun as an evening stroll to relax her and clear her head had now become something much more, something sinister. Jealousy and rage had taken over her thought process. She felt she was going somewhere she didn’t want to go, that she had lost all control and there was no way back. Jeanie was a spectator to her own actions, seemingly unable to prevent or control what was about to transpire. She felt disoriented and disassociated from her surroundings and her irrational actions.

It was a surreal feeling as Jeanie picked up an empty wine glass from a table and she walked toward them. She stood directly in front of Justin and his new woman, her sudden appearance interrupting their intimate conversation. The young woman’s eyes darted from Jeanie to Justin, silently asking if he knew this strange woman who was clearly nervous, but at the same time agitated and aggressive. The normally meek and quietly spoken Jeanie smashed the glass on the edge of the table as Justin could only sit and stare in stunned silence and shock. To Jeanie it was as if someone else was in her place, someone other than herself had smashed the glass.

“What the Hell?!” shouted the woman and leaned back into her chair, out of Jeanie’s reach.

 Jeanie glared at the woman. “You’ll never love him like I do," she seethed. "You never could.” She began sobbing.

Her pleading eyes turned to Justin. “What did I do, Justin? Please tell me what I did.”

Justin’s lips twitched but he said nothing. No words would come to him.

The club bouncer had spotted the incident from the front entrance and began running toward them, pushing through the crowd. He came up behind Jeanie and put his huge forearm around her throat to subdue her while his other hand grabbed her wrist to prevent her from attacking with the broken glass.

“Drop it!” he shouted. Jeanie complied and the glass fell safely to the carpeted floor.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to the bouncer, suddenly realising what she had done. “I didn't...I wasn't... Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

A hush fell over the room as the patrons turned to watch the excitement unfolding. To some it was their night’s entertainment. Some heckled and whistled at the distraught and embarrassed woman who had become the centre of attention to the club full of patrons.

“Let’s go,” he said and forcefully turned her around, marching her to the front door with her arm twisted behind her back, forcing her to walk on her tiptoes.

"Please," she winced, "you're hurting me."

“Crazy bitch,” said Justin’s female companion. “Who is she anyway?”

“Some woman I used to date.”

“You used to date her? Isn’t she a bit old for you?”

Their voices faded into the rising murmur that was spreading around the room, the bar returning to normal after the little fracas the patrons had just witnessed.

‘Some woman?’ thought Jeanie. Was that all she was to him? She loved him more than life itself, but to Justin she was just ‘some woman.’

 The world was spinning as the bouncer unceremoniously threw her out onto the footpath and she fell to the concrete, grazing her knee.

“Come back here again and I’ll call the cops,” he said. He then resumed his position at the entrance, folding his arms and keeping a close eye on Jeanie.

Pedestrians made a wide berth around her as she pushed herself to a kneeling position. She sat back on her heels and began crying. “What did I do, Justin?” she sobbed quietly to herself.

‘Disgusting,” said a woman around Jeanie’s age to her male companion as they walked past. “Does she have no dignity?” but Jeanie was oblivious to the people around her.

She rose to her feet and brushed the dirt from her clothes. She took the shortest route home, which was back the way she came. Vaguely aware of her surroundings, she took no notice of people she passed, young men and women laughing and talking exuberantly on their way to some venue somewhere. She no longer looked longingly at couples, young and old as they walked hand in hand, arm in arm. She walked in a dull confusion, arriving home with no memory of the journey and only a vague recollection of the events at the club, like dissipating remnants of a dream after waking. She entered her small apartment and went to the kitchen drawer. She rummaged through the drawer until she found what she was looking for; the carving knife with the sharpest blade.

 Jeanie sat on the edge of her bed, surrounded by the prison of not just her silent, lonely apartment, but by the inescapable walls of her despair. She played with the knife, feeling the sharpness of the point and lightly running her thumb over the slightly serrated but razor-like edge of the blade, wincing when a drop of blood appeared. Her heart broken, her mind confused by lack of sleep, she leaned back against the bedhead. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She asked herself how, in seven short months, she had arrived at this point where there seemed only one way to escape; only one way to finally find peace.  A way to sleep once again; a sleep that she knew would ultimately be eternal.

Jeanie put the blade to her lower arm, lengthways along the artery. She had heard that it was the most successful method. She pressed the blade to her skin and blood appeared, accompanied by the stinging sensation of the slight nick in her skin. She couldn’t continue. Jeanie was a coward when it came to pain. What made it worse in her mind was the fact that she had known all along that she would fail to carry out her plan. She hung her head in defeat and embarrassment at the feeble symbolic gesture, the pathetic cry for help, the reaching out to no-one. She felt frustrated by the whole pointlessness of the exercise. If only she had the courage to do it. If only she wasn’t so weak. There seemed no escape from her torment. Her arm fell to her side and the knife dropped from her hand to the floor. She lay there, her body limp, her spirit broken, her world irreparable, and she curled up into the foetal position. Jeanie's lower lip trembled and she suddenly burst into tears, overwhelmed by the evening events, and she wept uncontrollably.

"Why Justin? Why?" she sobbed. "Please tell me..."

After several minutes she managed to gain some composure. She sat up, wiped her eyes and rose from her bed. She sat on her chair facing the mirror and again studied her now haggard reflection, gazing into the depths of her eyes as if that was where the answer lies. She began once again to search her mind for answers that would never come.

 

 

 

 

***********

THE CURSE

 

“Curse? What are you talking about, Emma?”

It was the eve of Jacinta’s 16th birthday. She was so excited about reaching that milestone. She knew that, amongst other freedoms, she would actually be able to go out with boys, just as Emma did at 16, rather than just having them come to her house under the watchful eye of her parents.

“It’s a curse, Jace. Believe me. That’s the only way I can describe it. I didn’t believe it either, until I turned 16. But it’s real. I was warned, and I think it made it a bit easier.”

“But why haven’t you ever mentioned this before?”

“Because I know you, Jace. You’re a worrier. If you had too much time to think about it, you’d be a mess by the time your birthday came around.”

Jacinta laughed nervously. “This is a joke isn’t it? A curse. I’ve never heard such rubbish.”

“It’s no joke,” replied Emma.

“Yeah, ok then, what’s it do to me?” she laughed.

“I’m taking a huge risk in telling you,” replied Emma,”but I want you to prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

“I can’t say. It would put me in danger.”

Jacinta looked puzzled.

“Look,” said Emma, putting her hand on Jacinta’s arm, “all I can say is that the curse has been around for a long time. It will come for you. It will take something from you, and then you will be free from it.”

The serious tone in Emma’s voice made Jacinta think there may be something in her words. But a curse? That’s only the stuff of movies.

“Jace, the curse apparently affects only the girls of the Darby family. Our cousins; our aunts. Although I sometimes wonder if it’s affected the boys as well. They’re not as likely to talk about it as us girls are.”

 “What if I’m not at home on my 16th birthday?” asked Jacinta. “What if I have a sleep-over at a friend’s house?”

“Makes no difference,” replied Emma. “You have to come home sometime. If it doesn’t come on your 16th birthday, it will wait. There is no escaping it. There’s a rumour that some of our cousins stayed away for days and weeks. It made no difference. We can’t escape our fate. All the Darby’s homes are cursed, and not even moving house will help.”

Jacinta cast her mind back to the day after Emma’s 16th birthday. She recalled how quiet Emma was at breakfast; how she seemed so distant for the rest of the day. But when she had asked Emma what was wrong, she didn’t want to talk about it. At the time, Jacinta had put it down to ‘boy trouble’.”

“Is that what was wrong the day after your birthday?”

Emma nodded. Jacinta began crying. Emma put her arm around her sister.

“It’s only one night, Jace” said Emma, and her own tears began welling up in her eyes. “One night, that’s all.”

“What does it do to us, Emma? What will happen to me? What does it want?”

“I can’t tell you.”

 “There must be something we can do,” pleaded Jacinta, looking into her sister’s eyes. “Can’t we tell Mum and Dad? They can stop it, can’t they?”

Emma shook her head, lowering her eyes. “It’s too powerful, Jace. It’s too powerful for all of us. When you feel its force and power you will understand.”

 Emma’s own tears appeared and tracked down her cheeks, and dripped from her chin to the floor. She hugged Jacinta tighter, and both girls sobbed into each other’s shoulder.

 

 Part 2 

Jacinta lay in her bed, gazing at the ceiling, creating in her imagination the images of monsters and evil spirits. The trees outside her window swayed and rustled insidiously in the wind; the moonlight behind them created shadows and dark, ever-changing silhouettes.

Is this how it will come for me?  Jacinta thought. Alone and helpless in my bed? What will it do to me? What does it look like? Jacinta’s family wasn’t religious, but she put her hands together, interlocking her fingers and closing her eyes. Please help me, God, she prayed. I’ll never ask for another thing, just please don’t let it get me. She curled her body into the foetal position and gazed at the window. The branches and leaves morphed into long groping arms and clutching fingers. Jacinta shut her eyes tightly. She imagined the wind calling her name; calling her to the window. ‘Leave me alone’, she said in a soft frightened voice, as if only to herself. But it continued to taunt and mock her.

Jacinta passed unknowingly and seamlessly from awakeness to sleep, and into a dream.

Squealing with delight, 5 year old Jacinta, dressed in her favourite white, frilly dress, felt the wind in her long, blonde ringlets, as she soared through the air like a bird. “Higher Daddy, higher!”

 Her father alternated between Jacinta’s swing and Emma’s, as they flew higher and higher, side by side. On her upward, forward swing she could see the wide expanse of blue sky and puffy white clouds. As she swung downwards and back, she saw the playground; filled with other children running, see-sawing, laughing. Her Mum sat on a picnic blanket close by, reading a book. She looked up now and then, smiling.

“Be careful, girls,” she called. “Hold on tight.”

Jacinta’s adrenaline was running too high for her to hear. She could do nothing but laugh and squeal. She reached the top of an arc, and as she descended she saw her mum and dad walking away. Emma walked with them, holding their hands. The sky grew darker as a black fog began closing in from all around and Emma and her parents began to enter the fog. The playground was silent and deserted, except for Jacinta and her rapidly-vanishing family.

“Mummy! Daddy! Emma! Don’t go! Wait for me! I’m coming!”

Emma turned her head to face Jacinta. Tears of blood trickled from Emma’s eyes and, without a word, she turned away and continued walking.

“Daddy! Please wait! Don’t leave me! Come back!” She was still swinging too high to drop to the ground and run after them. The sky was now black, and the fog consumed her family, just as Jacinta leapt from the swing and ran to try and catch up to them.

“No!” she sobbed, “Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me!” It was too late; they had vanished, and she was alone. The fog enveloped Jacinta, devouring her the way a creeping tide claims a shell in the sand, and she found herself in complete, silent darkness, bar for the sound of her own breathing.

 She sensed that she was standing on a soft cold floor. There was no light, only a cold, damp blackness. She stood rigid and terrified, staring into the nothingness of night. “Help!” she called. “Mummy! Daddy! Where are you? Please help me". Her words echoed back to her in the darkness…’please help me…help me….help me’. She wanted to run but there was nowhere to run to. She didn’t even know where she was. She only knew that it was a bad place that she didn’t want to be. She felt she wasn’t alone, that there was someone or something with her, close to her, watching her. Though she couldn’t feel it, she imagined something pulling her in toward itself, dragging her to something or somewhere she did not want to go. Some kind of unseen entity was drawing her slowly forward toward unimaginable horrors; toward the tortures of hell. She felt as if she was floating on air, propelled along by something, she knew not what. She fought against it, but it was no use. She could sense it coming closer. She felt an unseen face close to hers, studying her features. She imagined ghostly fingers in the pitch blackness stroking her cheeks and hair. She heard soft breathing, almost inaudible, but it was there. She knew it was there. She felt naked and vulnerable, and easy prey to whatever it was that had brought her there against her will.

Jacinta turned and blindly ran. She had no clue as to where she was, or of where she was going. She only knew that she had to escape. She ran and ran as fast as she could, but she couldn’t get away from the unseen “thing”, whatever that “thing” was. It was as if a magnet had captured her in its force-field, and was drawing her in like a doomed fish on a hook. Its power and energy were just too strong and she was tiring and stumbling. Suddenly the ground gave way from under her, and she was falling, falling. There seemed to be no end, just a black bottomless void; devoid of light; devoid of God; of reality. Down, down she hurtled; through nothingness; through the vacuum of space, through the absence of time. Her vanished world was no more than a vague memory; a lost concept. Jacinta’s long, agonising scream fractured the blackness of night, almost bursting her own eardrums, and she landed with a painful thud. Jacinta opened her eyes. She looked up from where she lay on the floor next to her bed. She burst into tears as she realised she was back in her bedroom. Safe in her bedroom. She had never been so glad to be there. The morning summer sun streaming through the thin curtains was warm, and Jacinta wiped the tears from her eyes and let the bright sunshine dissolve the shadows and monsters in her mind. She was overcome with emotion and her tears began flowing again as she looked through the window, but they were tears of joy as if this was the first dawn she had ever seen. Jacinta thanked her God.

 

 

Part 3

 

“……happy birthday to you…. Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!”

Sixteen candles on the cake. Jacinta wished there were only fifteen. Or even better.. seventeen. Then this day would have been long behind her; a distant memory. She looked around at the party guests. Friends from school, laughing and joking. Uncles and aunts who had travelled from far and wide to celebrate her coming of age. Her Mum and Dad looking proudly at her, their hearts overflowing with love for their beautiful, youngest daughter, now becoming a woman. She looked over at her cousins, four of them standing at the back of the group, singing “happy birthday” with the others. But there was no joy in their song. They looked at Jacinta as if this day was her last. They knew. It had come for them on their sixteenth birthdays and had taken something precious from them. They knew. This would be the last time they would see their cousin as a complete human being, and she will be changed forever.

 

9PM came and went. The party was over long ago, and everyone had gone home, except for a few relatives who had travelled far and were staying the night. Jacinta sat on the lounge with Emma and her parents.

“It’s late Jacinta. Aren’t you going to bed?” said her Mum.

“Just a bit longer,” Jacinta replied. “I’m not tired. Can I stay up for a while longer? Please?”

“Ok,” her Dad answered, “but no later than ten.”

“Thanks Dad.”

Her parents rose from the lounge, and started up the stairs toward their bedroom.

“Goodnight girls,” said her Mum.

“Goodnight,” they replied in unison.

“We should go to bed, Jace,” said Emma. “You can’t stay down here forever.”

“I can’t Emma. I’m so scared.”

“It’s something that we’ve all had to face sometime or other,” Emma replied.

“Will you stay with me tonight? Please Emma? Please?”

“It won’t do any good Jace. If it doesn’t come tonight, it will come tomorrow night or the next. Or next week, next month.”

“Pleeeease?” begged Jacinta.

Emma knew she couldn’t leave her sister by herself in this state.

“Come on then. I’ll sleep on your floor tonight. But you’ll have to face it sooner or later. It’s your fate.”

“I want you to stay in my bed with me,” Jacinta said.

“There’s no room,” said Emma. “I’ll be right next to your bed. Ok? I won’t leave you.”

“Ok.”

Jacinta reluctantly walked up the stairs followed by her sister. 

“Can we leave the light on?” asked Jacinta, as Emma tried to make herself comfortable on the floor, using the large cushions from Jacinta’s bed to construct a makeshift mattress.

“Yeah, sure,” said Emma, punching her pillow into submission. The girls settled down and tried to relax, and waited for sleep to come.

The seconds ticked by. Minutes. Hours. Jacinta lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, watching a moth circling the light, trying its hardest to enter it unaware that death waits patiently inside that light. She listened to the soft snoring of her sister. She tossed and turned. Her pillow was damp with tears as she contemplated her fate, whatever her fate may be. She determined to be strong, and consoled herself with the knowledge that whatever was going to transpire will soon be over, and she can go on with her life. After all, she thought, I’m not the first in my extended family to be subjected to the curse. They had all survived, hadn’t they?

Jacinta looked at the clock on her bedside table. Midnight had moved into the past. It was 12.35; a new day. It was no longer her birthday, and she felt a sudden glimmer of hope. Perhaps it isn’t coming for her after all. Perhaps the curse had run its course. She felt a cautious relief.

Somewhere in those early hours Jacinta was finally overtaken by fatigue and slept peacefully, but her sleep was short-lived. Jacinta’s eyes snapped open. The bedroom light had been turned off and the room was pitch black. She couldn’t breathe. There was something covering her mouth and nose so tightly and forcefully that she was suffocating. She tried to call to Emma but nothing could come out from her mouth. She felt the life draining from her body. She was rapidly becoming light-headed and dizzy. She thought she was about to pass out when the pressure on her mouth eased, and she sucked in a deep breath. Jacinta’s terrified eyes widened. Above her was a huge dark figure with a hand over her mouth. In the darkness she could not see its face, but she knew it was the devil. It MUST be the devil. She struggled but the figure was immovable, powerful. She struggled until she could struggle no more, and lay there, terrified by what was happening, and even more so at what might be about to happen to her. She wet herself from fear, and felt the warm moisture beneath her lower back. The Demon’s hand roamed her body and the other hand covered her mouth and nose, preventing her from making a sound as it pulled her against its fat, grotesque body.

 She closed her eyes and tried to run blindly through the darkness, as she did the previous night, to that alternate universe. She wanted to fall once again, weightlessly, into that black, vast abyss, where nothing existed but her mind; where there was no such thing as time and space; where nothing could touch her; where she could wake up beside her bed and let the familiar, warm sunshine dissolve her nightmare, and make her whole again.

 The demon was so huge compared to her own diminutive build that her face was squashed against its hairy upper chest. She could smell the disgusting stench of body odour and even though its face was far from hers, she smelt its rancid breath. After a few minutes the ultimate indignity was forced upon her. Jacinta lay there, terrified, as the monster sat upright and straddled her. The cold blade of a knife brushed across her cheek, and then moved to her throat. The blunt back edge made a gentle slicing motion from her right ear, across her throat to her left ear. Its face came close to hers. “Shh. Our little secret. Ok?”

Jacinta nodded three times in quick succession, her eyes wide and terrified.

“Yes,” she whispered in reply, and the hulking creature rose from the bed. In the blackness she could barely see the outline of her attacker. Ashamed and broken, Jacinta covered her body with the bedsheet. She turned on her side and pulled her knees tightly into her chest, and looked toward the window. The door opened and Uncle Bill crept from the room, closing the door softly behind him. Jacinta gazed numbly through the window at the barely-discernible, twisted groping arms and clutching fingers of the trees outside, silhouetted by the cloud-covered moonlight. Her mind was in a state of turmoil. Satan himself had come and taken her most treasured possession, and in its place had left his seed. The room was silent except for Emma’s gentle snoring. Jacinta lay motionless on the bed, her breath shaky, her eyes wide and unblinking, and stared into the night.

 

 

 

 

*************

THE DATE

 

When he first joined Lonely Hearts about six months before, Ted had high hopes of snaring a lonely beauty. One who was looking for a man and looking for sex. He believed the hype and the advertising that there was an unlimited number of women out there desperate for a mate. Looks weren’t important to these women. Most (apparently) wanted 'older men'. A shortage of ‘available men’ meant having the pick of beautiful sexy women, ready to go. The photos of the women in the advertisements had Ted excited about his prospects.

It was difficult to find a decent photo to put up on his ‘Lonely Hearts’ profile. He had spent close to an hour taking selfies in front of the mirror from different angles with different smiles, different facial expressions. He even tried to Photoshop one but it just made it worse. He finally settled on the best one, but it was still bad. Anyway, he thought to himself maybe someone will want me for my personality. His only attractive point, in his opinion, was that he was well endowed. In his mind he hoped that if he could only get to the point of being in bed with one of these women, they would overlook his shortcomings.

As the months passed, Ted lowered the bar somewhat in his expectations. No longer was he expecting to snare a desperate, lonely, divorced ex beauty queen. He was now scanning through the less recent profiles. The less attractive. The overweight. The angry looking. Ted would send a message. Many messages. “Hi” he would write. “Love your profile.”

He would seldom get a reply. He could tell by his home page that they had viewed his profile. When he did get a reply the correspondence usually stopped when they asked him his profession and he replied that he was a taxi driver. He would never hear from them again. Ted was becoming disheartened and frustrated. He was angry at the apparent shallowness of women, even the less attractive ones looking past guys like him, in search of something better.

He knew women liked taller men than him. He knew his facial features weren’t attractive to women. Small eyes and wingnut ears. And he was just a taxi driver. Not much of a catch for any woman, he felt.

Ted decided to change his tactic. He had always been an honest man, but desperate times were calling for desperate measures. He was becoming convinced that there was not a woman out there who would want someone like him for what he is. He needed to be a ‘good catch’. He needed to be someone else. He thought for a while. What would a woman find attractive in a man? Doctor? Brain surgeon? Successful businessman? He knew that what he was contemplating was dishonest. It went against every moral principal that he held. The idea of deceiving someone was foreign to him, but what else could he do? He had been to a couple of brothels since breaking up with Jill, but they left him cold and empty. The whole thing seemed clinical and mechanical. The girls were just doing a job for pay, and it felt that way to Ted.

Ted had unknowingly just taken the first step in his downward spiral of lies and deceit.
He edited his profile. He wrote on his profile in the ‘about me’ section that he was an international airline pilot. He figured if he was going to tell a lie it may as well be a good one. He had the misguided but hopeful belief that once a woman gets to know him and the relationship develops and she falls in love with him, that she will forgive his white lie because she doesn’t want to lose him. He thought it won’t matter to the right woman that he is actually a taxi driver who lives in a rented house and drives an old car. Ted gave himself the profile name of ‘Just looking’.

He wrote that he wanted to meet the love of his life, his soulmate to share in his good fortunes, and good times, and fill those lonely nights with him under the stars. He liked candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach. A romantic at heart.
For his profile image he used a picture of a boat with a tanned shirtless man on board with his back to the camera.

The next morning Ted logged on. In his inbox there were 16 messages.
“Hi. I’m Chloe. Check out my profile. I’m 21 years old and like my guy to be a bit older. I like your profile. Please reply:))))”
Ted checked Chloe’s profile. She was a gorgeous girl with blonde hair and infectious smile. Despite his desperation for a companion and his sexual frustration, Ted was no fool. He knew girls like Chloe were going to show interest. He was about to delete her message, but decided to wait. If the other contacts came to a dead end Chloe may just be willing to hook up, lured by the carrot of wealth and money.
“Hi” said another. ”I cant believe that I’ve found someone who likes the same things as me. I just adore long beach walks and sitting under the stars. Let’s meet. I’m Jane by the way.”

Ted looked at her profile. ‘Mmmm’ he thought. ”A little older than me, but cute”.
“Looooved you’re profile” said Good Mother, a woman in her thirties, her profile picture showed her holding a baby. “And I love boats too. Lets meet ASAP.”
Seems genuine he thought, holding a baby like that.

And so it went. Women of different ages and looks and wants and interests. And they were all interested in meeting Ted, the airline pilot.
Ted replied to all of them, agreeing to meet. They all asked him for a photo. “Just so I know you when I see you,” was a common remark. He replied to them all with the best photo he had.

Apparently not even being an airline pilot was going to make him attractive. The list became shorter with only two women replying again. One was Good Mother. The other was Retro Chick, a woman in her late forties who wore a lot of makeup. Her face showed signs of aging even through the makeup, and Ted had a suspicion that she lied about her age, but that didn’t worry him. He just wanted someone. Looks didn’t matter to him.

Ted decided on Good Mother to start off with, real name Samantha. He wasn’t sure if he wanted a child in his life, but he thought he’d see where this led him. “Ok” he wrote. “Lets meet. There’s a great little Italian restaurant near me called Romeos. How about we meet up there?”

‘Romeos??” she replied. “Isn’t that the place that the health department closed for a month recently? I was thinking more of JJ’s.”

JJ’s was the swishest place in town. It would cost him plenty to take Samantha to JJ’s. But the ache in his heart made up his mind for him. And he did say he was an airline pilot. He had to live up to the persona he created.
“JJ’s it is” he messaged back. “When do you want to meet?”
“How about Saturday night?” she replied, “about 6.30? I’ll give you my number in case you need it. 4554 045 2695.”
“Saturday it is. I’ll see you at 6.30. Mine’s 5432 652 3826.”

 

Saturday was only two days away. Ted got more nervous as time passed. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman. Two years in fact. And he had never actually gone on a date, not with a stranger anyway. He and Jill had met at high school and gradually developed their relationship. He didn’t have a clue about dating protocols. He would just have to wing it, bluff his way through, and never forget that he is an airline pilot. That would be disastrous if he said the wrong thing and exposed his real identity.
By the time Saturday night had arrived, Ted was a bundle of nerves. He had hired a suit for the occasion as he didn’t own one and he knew he would have to dress to impress Samantha. He was, after all, an international airline pilot. He was also feeling somewhat guilty at his deception.

Ted arrived at J.J’s early, to make sure he had beaten Samantha. He couldn’t show up in his Nissan Cedric at a place like J.J’s, especially if Samantha had arrived even earlier than him, and was waiting outside and saw him pulling up. So Ted parked his car about a half kilometre away, down a side street, and walked to the restaurant.

After about twenty minutes a taxi pulled up and a woman stepped out. Ted recognised her straight away, although she looked a little older and heavier than her profile photo. No problem, he thought to himself. She had black hair, cut in a bob, and large round silver earrings and a silver heart shape pendant, visible between her exposed cleavages which seemed to have cavitated a little, indicating that her breasts would sag substantially without the support of her bra. She had spent some time making herself up with black lipstick to match her hair colour. Long false eyelashes completed the look of desperation. Her knee length sky blue dress was body hugging, showing the outline of her rather large panties and he assumed she didn’t realize how obvious they would show.

“Samantha?”
“Hi. Ted?”
“Yes” said Ted, “nice to meet you at last. You’re looking beautiful tonight. You’re much prettier than your profile picture.”
“Why thank you”, she replied with an insincere smile. “You’re quite the looker too!”
Samantha held her arm out for Ted to lead her inside.
“Table for two sir?” asked the girl on the door.
“I’ve made a reservation” said Ted. “Ted Irving?”
She ran her finger down the reservation list. “Ah yes. Here you are. This way please” and she lead them to a table near the window.
They sat down and a waiter appeared out of nowhere. “Would sir and madam like a drink? Wine perhaps?”
Ted looked at Samantha. He was not a wine drinker, and only occasionally drank beer.
“Yes, wine please” she said. “You pick one Ted.”

Ted didn’t know wine from horse piss. He looked to the waiter. “Your best red” he said with an air of confidence.
The waiter gave him an inquisitive look, expecting a little more information, but it wasn’t forthcoming.
“Yes, sir” he said. “excellent choice, sir” and rolled his eyes as he headed toward the cellar.
Ted was nervous. He hoped Samantha wouldn’t notice.
“I’ve never been here” said Samantha. “I’ve heard the food is to die for.”
“I come here all the time” lied Ted.
“So…” she said. “How long have you been a pilot?”
“Been driving about 12 years now” answered Ted.
“Driving??”
“What?” said Ted.
“Driving. You said driving.”
“No I didn’t.” Ted kicked himself.
“You did.”
“Sorry, I meant I’ve been flying for 12 years. I must be a little tired. I just got in this afternoon from Singapore.”
“That’s ok” she replied a little suspiciously.

The waiter returned with the wine. He poured a little into Ted’s glass and waited for Ted to sample it.
“You can fill it up” said Ted.
“Yes sir” said the waiter. “Of course sir.”
He filled the glass to the brim, then half filled Samatha’s.
Dinner went ok in Ted’s opinion. He managed to bluff his way through the evening without any further hiccups. Ted had drank his wine slowly, not actually finishing his first glass. He was not a wine drinker. Samantha on the other hand had finished off the rest of the bottle by the end of the evening.

Samantha had turned out to be a single mother of one, who left her job as a dental receptionist to have a baby. She had not found the right man and so had used a fertility clinic, and had planned on raising the child herself, but had found it to be more than she anticipated and so she decided to look for a partner to share her bed and her duties.

“What about you, Ted? How is it that you came to be looking for someone?”
“My wife passed away about three years ago.” Ted’s fibs just kept coming. “Cancer.”
“Oh I’m so sorry” replied Samantha. Do you have any children?”
“No, no children. Jill, my wife, was barren. She couldn’t conceive. But I would have loved to have started a family.”
“Have you met many women through the dating site?”
“You’re the first” replied Ted. “And I have to say I was really struck by your looks and your profile. I didn’t look any further.”
“Oh, you’re embarrassing me now” she said. “So tell me, what’s it like being a pilot?”
“It has its ups and downs” joked Ted. He surprised himself at his clever response.
Like a 'B' grade actress, Samantha looked to the ceiling and laughed loudly.
“I bet you have a lot of stories to tell” she said, still smiling and rather inebriated.
“Are you kidding? I got stories that’ll make your hair stand on end.”
“Tell me one” she said, leaning forward with sudden excited interest.
“Hmm” said Ted, trying to gain enough time to come up with an interesting tale. “Well there was this one time a couple of years ago when I took off from Kuala Lumpar. We had only been in the air for about twenty minutes when I looked at the fuel gauge and realised that the ground crew had forgotten to refuel the plane.”
“Oh my God” said Samantha. “What did you do?”
“Well, I had to turn back of course. I sent out a May Day call. By the time we approached the airport, the gauge was on empty and the fuel warning light was on. There were emergency vehicles everywhere, lights flashing.”

Samantha was lapping it up, engrossed in Ted’s story.
He continued. “One engine was out. The plane was becoming unstable. We bounced a couple of times on landing, but I managed to keep control. When I hit reverse thrust to slow down the plane it began pulling to one side due only one engine still running. And with only half the power, we came very close to running over the end of the runway. The plane came within about fifty meters of disaster. You probably saw it on the news. About three years ago?”
“No” replied Samantha. “It doesn’t ring a bell.”
“It was all over the news. Made worldwide headlines” said Ted.
Samantha gazed at Ted dreamily. “Wow. Tell me another one, Ted.”
Ted thought for a few seconds. He was full of confidence now.
“Hijackers” he said.
Samantha’s eyes opened wide. “Hijackers? You’re kidding!’
“I kid you not” replied Ted, matter-of-factly. “Abu Dhabi. April 2013. We’d reached fifty thousand feet when a Middle Eastern voice came over the intercom informing us that the plane is now being commanded by the SLM.”
“SLM?” queried Samantha.
“Syrian Liberation Movement.”
“Syrian Liberation Movement? Never heard of them.”
“An obscure group of terrorists.” said Ted.
“Oh my God! What happened?”
“He said if we didn’t open the cockpit door they would start shooting passengers.”
“What did you do?”
Ted felt that Samantha was eating out of his palm by this stage.
“What COULD I do? I unlocked the cockpit door. I wasn’t going to let any harm come to my passengers. I was the captain, after all.”
“What happened then?”
“I looked up at the rear view mirror and..”
Samantha interrupted. “Do airliners have rear view mirrors?”
Oops, thought Ted. DO planes have a rear view mirror? He worried that he may have just cast doubt over his story.
“Yes, of course they do, for just this reason. So the pilot can see who is entering the cockpit without taking his eyes off the road.”
“The road?” said Samantha. “What do you mean road?”
Oops, thought Ted again. Get a hold of yourself, Ted. Don’t fuck up. He thought quickly.
“That’s just a bit of pilot’s slang. We call the view ahead the ‘road’.”
“Fascinating,” said Samantha.
Thank god, thought Ted, that she had drank a few wines.

“Anyway” he continued, “I waited until they were just entering the cockpit. I suddenly put the 747 into a deep nosedive, sending the two terrorists sprawling into the planes dashboard. I learned a bit of boxing in my younger day and I knocked the pair of them unconscious before they knew what was happening.”
“Wow, a real life hero” said Samantha, dreamily looking into Ted’s eyes.

The more wine that Samantha consumed the more fascinated she became with Ted’s exciting life. The more fascinated that Samantha became, the wilder the stories got. Ted almost had himself convinced.
“Well, it’s been a nice evening Ted” she said, gazing at Ted with inebriated eyes, having drank almost the whole bottle of wine. Ted called for the bill. He was a little shocked at the $349 price tag for the bottle of red, but didn’t let it show. At least, he hoped that he didn’t. He walked Samantha to the taxi rank. “It was really nice to meet you Samantha. We should do it again sometime.”
“Aren’t you going to invite me to your place?” she asked. “For a coffee?”
Holy shit, thought Ted. Coffee on the first date. Ted knew what ‘coffee’ meant. Being very old fashioned, the thought of having sex on the first date had never occurred to him. He realised he had a lot to learn about modern dating. But he couldn’t take her to his dump of an apartment. He had to think fast again.
“Errr, my house is being renovated at the moment” he lied. “I’m staying with friends for a few weeks when I’m in town. How about your place?”
“Fine with me” she replied, “Let’s go.”

Ted led Samantha to a taxi from a rival company. The last thing he wanted was for his cover to be blown by a driver who knew him, and said something to expose Ted for the fraud he is.
During the trip to Samantha’s, she pulled her phone out of her bag. She put her arm around Ted and leaned her head toward his.
“Smile” she said, and took a photo of them both. She was on her social media account. Ted watched as she typed a message. He could easily read it in the darkness of the taxi.

“Taking my pilot back to my place after a night at JJ’s. wish me luck.” She clicked on ‘Tag all friends’.
For the rest of the trip Samantha’s hand rested on Ted’s thigh, occasionally moving her fingers; inadvertently stimulating him. It had been a long time since Ted had felt the soft touch of a woman. Her breast spent most of the trip brushing his bicep.

The taxi pulled up outside a small but well maintained house in a nice street. Ted paid the cabbie $23. He did a quick calculation in his head of how much the evening had cost so far. $349 for the wine, $220 for the entrée, main and dessert, and $23 for the cab. Factor in another $23 to get him back to his car and the total was roughly ‘six hundred and something’ dollars. Being an airline pilot doesn’t come cheap, thought Ted.

“My son is with my mother for the night” Samantha informed him as she fumbled with the key in the lock. She took Ted’s hand and led him straight to her bedroom. They stood next to the bed and Samantha planted her lips on Ted’s. Ted was beginning to think the price of the wine was well worth it. This woman was begging for it. Samantha sat on the bed and fumbled with Ted’s belt, then pulled down his zipper. She reached in, searching for the prize.
“Oh my goodness” she said with wide eyes. Ted let out an involuntary gasp, the result of his months of frustration.

“Quick” she said, “get your clothes off.” Ted didn’t need to be asked twice. He pulled his trousers down to his ankles, in his haste forgetting that he was still wearing shoes.
Samantha was naked by this time except for her stilettos. Ted was hopping around on one leg trying to pull his trousers over his shoes, when his car keys, wallet, and some coins fell out of his pocket. His wallet landed on the floor, open. Samantha spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She picked up Ted’s wallet and looked at the license inside.
“Taxi license? What the...?”
Ted froze, unable to speak.
“You’re a fucking taxi driver??”
“I can explain” said Ted.
Samantha kept looking from Ted back to the license, back to Ted, back to the license. “You’re kidding me…aren’t you? Please tell me this is a joke.”
Ted thought he could still salvage the situation.

“Forget about that” he said, “We were getting on so well. Let’s not let it spoil the evening.”
Samantha threw the wallet at Ted and exploded. She took off a shoe and threw it, hitting Ted in the forehead.
“GET OUT!!!” she screamed. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!”
In a panic, Ted half pulled up his trousers and picked up his wallet and keys. Samantha had already removed her other stiletto and was hitting him with it. He stumbled as he tried to pull up his trousers with one hand, his other hand holding his belongings.
“OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT!” she screamed in rhythm with every blow, as if chasing a stray dog from the house, hitting Ted on the shoulders, back and head as he fled out the front door.
“ARSEHOLE!” she yelled as Ted made his way down the path to the street. He heard the slamming door echo in the night, causing dogs to bark and porch lights to come on. Ted felt blood trickling down his forehead, and wiped it with his fingers before it ran into his eye. He walked for about ten minutes. He hailed an approaching cab and went back to his car, and drove home to make urgent love in solitude.

 

 

 

 

**************

AND THEN I SAW MIA

 

Staring through the curtains of the front window, I’m becoming more convinced by the minute that she isn’t coming. I’ve been in a constant state of nervousness since Tuesday, mixed with excitement and a tinge of doubt.

Is this just going to be another disappointment in my life? She said 6.30 and the clock shows 6.40. Maybe it’s for the best anyway. I’d probably blow the whole thing.

This past year has been a defining one for me. I’d turned sixteen a month before school started the new year and I began forming serious crushes on girls my own age.

Having grown up with few friends—none, in fact—I’d developed an interest in books. I read action books, westerns, James Bond, etc. I even liked reading Mills and Boon books, but I kept that to myself, hiding them at the back of my wardrobe. I didn’t want my mother to think I was weird or anything. I tried to memorize the language that the guys used in the stories, the special lingo and phrases that seemed to make the girls’ hearts melt. The guys seemed tough and manly, yet at the same time,  romantic. I placed myself right in the heart of the story, which, without fail, culminated in a frantic romance-charged embrace and wet mashing of lips.

I wanted to be like the heroes in the books I’d read and the movies I’d watched. The hero always gets the girl after saving her from some catastrophe or villain. Or sometimes, as in Mills and Boon, the guy was just damaged goods like myself, a quiet brooding loner with a chip on his shoulder stemming from his past, not ready to love again, but luckily for him, the girl (who he loves but doesn’t realize it yet) could see into his heart, and helps him rid himself of his demons— and of course they both fall in love in the process.

Most of the girls my age were becoming women, developing breasts, their bodies changing to a curvier shape with their hips seemingly becoming bigger than their waists. They were changing from a generic boyish shape to a softer and more womanly one. The way they walked seemed different, their hips kind of undulating in a way that fascinated me. I was no longer fantasizing about Miss Pringle, my math teacher, but more and more about girls my age.

And then I saw Mia.

Mia was a little shorter than me, with plaited blonde hair that ran halfway down her back. She was long legged, well-proportioned, and well developed. Her complexion was pale and I think she was of Swedish descent. I always tried to sit near the front of the class during English. Mia always sat at the same desk every day, one row behind me and across the aisle.

 

I would often purposely drop my pencil and peek across to try and catch a glimpse of Mia. I’d get a tingle down my spine whenever the teacher would call Mia’s name in class, and I’d hear her voice answering. Once, she was called to the front of the class and her hip brushed my arm on the way past. The feeling of that touch stayed with me for the rest of the day.

It’s impossible to accurately describe the power Mia had over me. She had an aura, a presence. She was different than all of the other girls. She had my heart locked in her prison and I had no desire or need to be set free. Mia had become the only focus in my life and I spent most of my waking hours thinking about her.

I felt that I was a lot more mature in my thoughts and attitudes than I was the year before. When I fantasized about Miss Pringle, there was no emotional aspect to it. It was purely physical, although not in a sexual way. I don’t know what it was really, maybe just a fascination with her mature body. With Mia, it was love as well as physical attraction, but it was mostly love. In my private moments I pictured her and my imagination did the rest.

Mia was always laughing and smiling. I have never seen a girl so happy, and it was contagious.

It was also what made her so hot. I used to watch Mia as much as possible. I’d follow her around at morning and afternoon recess, and at lunchtime, always at a safe distance.

Sometimes I would follow her home, trying to work up the courage to approach her, but I found courage a hard thing to come by.

I often fantasized about sitting with her at lunchtime, laughing and joking, and when that inevitable awkward silence of a four or five second interval occurred, we would gaze into each other’s eyes, our smiles would change into a thoughtful facial expression and we would lean in and kiss, just like in the movies. I wanted a girlfriend, and I wanted it to be Mia.

 

Mia was popular with the boys and there was always three or four hanging around her at lunchtime. I’d wanted to approach her so many times, but there were always other boys talking and joking with her. I used to kind of slink up as close as I could to try and hear what the other boys were saying so I could have some sort of idea of what to say to her and impress her with my smoothness and humor.

I can recall one particular day when I was hanging around close to Mia and four guys, and one of them noticed me. He nudged the guy next to him and whispered something, and they both looked at me. I moved away from them. It played on my mind for the rest of the day and I instinctively knew that something wasn’t right. There was a niggling feeling, an unspoken, veiled, but all too real threat. When the final bell rang that afternoon, I left class and headed for the bus.

 As I rounded the corner of the building, a group of four guys blocked my path. I didn’t know their names, but they were the ones who were with Mia earlier that day. I moved to go around them, but they blocked me again.

“Where do ya think you’re going, Jones?” one said, grinning.

I said nothing. The question was obviously irrelevant. I knew where the situation was heading and I needed to find an escape route, fast. The other three circled around me and I had nowhere to go. The guy behind me pushed me into the one in front and he pushed me back again.

 

“What’s up Jones?” he said, head tilted to the side and still sporting his idiot grin. “I asked you a question.” He started shaping up, shuffling his feet and holding his fists up like a prize boxer, but with a lot less talent. He was my height, probably about the same weight, but had a tough, wiry physique. His blonde hair was very short except for the fringe. He had his hair parted on the left and his fringe completely covered his right eye. He had to continuously flick the hair to one side to see. He had sunken cheeks, and there probably wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. I wondered

if maybe his parents spent their money on booze rather than food. I’m not sure which would have been the biggest waste of money.

I lowered my eyes and stared at the ground. There was no answer that would have satisfied him.

I felt a push from the guy on my right and I fell into the one on my left. He in turn punched the side of my head and I buckled to the ground.

“Come on Jones, you freak,” said ‘Fringe.’ “Got the hots for Mia have you? Mia don’t want to know you. OK? Now get up.”

From my position on my ground, I could see only one way out of this situation. I was down on one knee and both hands were on the ground in front of me. It occurred to me that I was in the sprint starting position. Without looking up I eyed the gap between him and the one next to him, and I took off with as much acceleration as I could muster, barging between them and bolting toward the front gate and the safety of crowds of people and parents who were picking up their kids. The bus stop was just outside the car park entrance and I had to run about 80 metres to reach it.

 

They gave chase and caught me from behind, grabbing my shirt collar before I could round the corner into the car park. Two of them grabbed my arms and a third walked behind, pushing me along. They dragged and pushed me to the boys’ toilet, which was all but deserted at that time of day. I braced my feet against the stall, but I knew it was useless. I felt a punch to my stomach and resisted no more.

 

They dragged me into the stall and lifted me over the toilet bowl, feet in the air, head down, and lowered me in. A toilet bowl in the boy’s toilet at the end of the school day is not a pretty sight, especially that particular one, which wasn’t flushed the last time it was used. “Piece of crap, meet your cousins,” one of them said amidst laughter and crazed giggling from the rest of them. Like The Riddler in the Batman movies. I closed my eyes and felt the cold water against my forehead. Each of them held either an arm or a leg, and I was helpless. Someone flushed the toilet and I had to hold my breath until it finished. They lowered my feet to the floor and, with my head

still in the bowl, dropped the seat down on top of me. They then fled the scene, whooping and giggling until their voices faded into the distance.

I went to the wash basin and washed my hair as best as I could under the tap, shook the water out like a wet dog, then walked through the car park and out the gate to wait for the next bus. I sat as far away as possible from the other students and tried to ignore the smell as much as I could.

 

We were about halfway to my stop when I looked out the window and spotted one of the four thugs walking up the path toward the front door of a house. I burned an image of his face in my mind, as well as the number and facade of his house.

Although I was the shy, quiet kind of guy, a lot went on in my head that only I knew; thoughts of retribution, plans and schemes to exact revenge on the tormentors and bullies who made my life miserable, ideas of practical jokes that would embarrass and ridicule them in front of the entire school, fantasies of becoming a boxer or martial artist and beating the stuffing out of my enemies— only when pushed to do so, of course, and only after I issued an obligatory warning. “Walk away

while you can,” or “Are you sure you want to do this?” Because heroes always give a warning. I would force them to apologize in front of the whole school. It would not only stop the harassment and bring me respect but at the same time would make me attractive to the opposite sex. My mind was filled with a thousand ways to humiliate, embarrass, or punish those who had wronged me.

 

But despite the brilliance and ingenuity of my ideas for vengeance, that’s what they remained— ideas, unrealistic schemes and wasted thoughts never to be acted on.

I arrived home and headed straight for the shower. I washed my hair at least four or five times and still couldn’t get the stench out. Maybe it was mostly in my mind.

The incident didn’t deter me from the object of my desire. I would lie in bed at night having conversations with Mia in my head.

Occasionally at school I would spot her coming out of the toilet or just sitting down on a bench at lunchtime and I’d tell myself to just go over and say hi before any other boys came along, but I could never bring myself to do it. I didn’t know how to approach her, or what to say.

 

A couple of times, I psyched myself up and told myself that I’m just going to do it. Just walk right up to her, full of confidence, and say “Hi Mia, I’m Stephen. Did you know we are in the same English class?” That would get a conversation started, and it would lead to who-knowswhat... maybe even a date.

 

One day, at lunchtime, I saw my chance. She was sitting alone, taking her lunch out of her bag. I walked towards her, repeating my lines in my head. (“Hi Mia, I’m Stephen. Did you know we’re in the same English class? Hi Mia, I’m Stephen. Did you know we’re in the same English class?”)

Just before I reached her, I panicked and veered off into a different direction.

A few days later, I accidentally came face to face with her as we were rounding a corner in opposite directions. She smiled and said “Oops, sorry,” and stepped to one side to continue on her way.

That was my chance.

“Mia,” I called, and she turned around to face me.

“Yes?” she asked with an inquisitive smile.

I just stood and stared at her. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say. The meeting was unexpected, and I hadn’t had a chance to rehearse my pickup lines. My bottom lip started trembling. I was so intimidated by her beautiful face, and I suddenly felt unworthy. I had started something that I realized I couldn’t finish. I felt self-conscious. I felt as if everyone around me was looking at me, waiting for me to say something, snickering amongst themselves, but, in actual fact, everyone was just hurrying by, getting to their classes.

“Are you ok?” she asked with a concerned look and a tilt of her head.

I tried to say something, but my lip was trembling too much and no words would come.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say, eventually, and almost in a whisper.

I turned and hurried away.

The days passed by, then the weeks, then the months, and I still hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to Mia. I would see her every day on the school grounds and also in class, and she would look at me in a strange, almost sympathetic, way.

Before I knew it, it was the last week before the summer holidays. I decided I’d have to confront Mia and just ask her out. If the result was favourable, we might be able to spend some time together over the holidays, and if she turned me down, at least I had the whole of the holidays to get over it. I looked for a chance at morning recess. She was busy talking to some girl students.

I followed her around for the whole lunch break and again at afternoon recess. I had several small windows of opportunity, but I hesitated each time, and she would start talking to someone else.

The afternoon bell rang and I realized the only chance I had left was to follow Mia home.

Hopefully an opportunity would arise to speak to her. I got on the same bus as Mia and sat four rows behind her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her—her long plaited hair, her smooth, shapely legs exposed all the way up to the sports shorts she wore under her short school uniform. She was chatting and laughing with another girl.

When we got to her stop, I followed her off the bus and walked about twenty steps behind her.

I knew it was only a three-minute walk to her house, so I had to act fast. I just needed to work up the courage to catch up to her. At one point she turned around and looked at me. I stopped and pulled a piece of paper from my pocket and pretended I was looking for an address.

She continued walking and I followed again. Mia stopped and turned to face me.

“Are you following me?” she asked.

My eyes widened in fear and I shook my head.

“Yes, you are. You’re following me. What do you want?”

“I umm…umm…” I stammered. “I umm... just wanted to…I’m Stephen. We’re in the same English class.”

‘Pheww,’ I thought. That wasn’t so hard. That’s the icebreaker taken care of.

 

“Yes, I damn-well know you’re in my English class,” she said, her eyes piercing me. “I want to know why you’re following me.”

“Well,” I began, “I was wondering if I… if you…if we could…”

A voice called from behind me. It was Matt, one of those Johnny-football-heroes. A year ahead of me, he was the star of the school football team, admired by boys who jostled for position around him and drooled over by girls who wanted to be noticed by him. Matt was huge for his age, at least 200 pounds of what looked to me like solid muscle. He even had hair on his chest, visible through the strained buttons of his shirt that looked a size too small. His hair was cut in a short ‘flat top’ style, army-like. He seemed to have no neck. His head was joined to his shoulders by thick sinew.

 

“Is this creep bothering you, Mia?” he asked, looking at me as if he was about to rip my head off.

“It’s ok, Matt, I can handle this,” she said.

It was as if Matt didn’t hear. He moved towards me with a wild look in his eyes.

“Get lost you weirdo!” he said. “Leave Mia alone. Go crawl back under your rock.”

“But I just wanted to…”

“I said get out of here!” he said, saliva spraying from his mouth as he spoke.

“No, Matt! Leave him. I can handle it,” repeated Mia, appearing to panic at Matt’s loss of temper.

“Mia,” I began, turning to her, “I only wanted to…”

Matt charged and knocked me to the ground. He sat astride my chest and started raining down punches on my face.

“Stop it, Matt! Just stop it! Leave him alone!” Mia shouted, reefing on his collar and trying to drag him off me.

“Get off him, Matt!” she screamed and burst into tears.

Matt stood up and spat on me.

“Leave Mia alone, you creep,” he said and turned to Mia. “If he bothers you again, you just let me know.”

“Just go, Matt.” she said softly, without emotion.

Matt angrily pointed at me and said, “I’m watching you. Frickin’ weirdo!”

To drive the message home, he pointed two fingers back at his eyes, then to me.

Matt loped away like a Neanderthal. Mia kneeled down next to me and took a tissue out of her pocket. She lifted my head onto her lap and began wiping the blood from above my eye.

“Are you alright, Stephen? What is it? What do you want?” she asked softly, looking into my eyes, her hand lightly resting on my forehead, taking away the pain of Matt’s beating.

I looked into her eyes. They were filled with tears. Her face was like that of an angel. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. Here I was with the girl of my dreams, and I had my head in her lap, feeling her cool, soft hand on my skin and listening to her angelic voice saying my name. It somehow made the beating worthwhile. I was the luckiest guy in the world. If ever there was an ‘icebreaker,’ that had to be it.

Then it just came out of nowhere. That inevitable awkward silence of three or four seconds where we searched each other’s eyes, just one soul looking into another soul. Just like in the movies.

I felt a little faint and groggy, like the hero in the movie or book as he lay dying, mortally wounded in the act of saving the life of the girl he loves, who had spurned his advances throughout the whole movie, and she realizes all too late that she loves him, too, and is now watching him die in her arms.

In that instant, I knew what I had to do. It was the culmination of all my thoughts and fantasies involving not just Mia, but every girl I had ever wanted to hold, every girl I had ever fantasied about, including Miss Pringle. It was bringing into reality those romantic, passionate moments I had read in Mills and Boon books. I was being held by the arms of every girl who had invaded my dreams in the early morning hours just before waking, when my body naturally relieved the tension that builds up over time and suddenly seeks release without warning in my sleep.

I looked at the smooth white flesh of her cheeks, at the gold sleepers in her ears, her hair pulled back away from her perfect face. Time seemed to stand still. The stars were aligned in perfect symmetry.

Without hesitating, without giving any thought that we might still be under Matt’s watchful eye, and, truth be known, not even caring about the consequences, I put my hand behind her head and, closing my eyes, raised my head and pulled her to me, kissing her fully on the lips. My first kiss. My first touch of a girl. No, not just a girl, but the girl I had thought about and fantasized about for months: the hottest girl in school. I was in love, and she was in love with me.

 My fingers moved through her hair and her lips felt cool and moist on mine. I could smell the scent of her skin. I had never even thought about a girl’s skin having a scent, and it was amazing. Even the faint aroma of her perspiration was amazing. I didn’t want the kiss to end, but Mia pulled away, using her hand on my forehead for leverage.

I opened my eyes and saw Mia’s fist coming down, hitting me square on the nose, and then she pushed my head off her lap. It felt as though my nose was flattened. I could feel blood trickling from my nostrils. She stood and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a look of disgust on her face.

Mia stormed off. “It’s true what they say about you, Stephen Jones; you’re fricking weird!”

As I watched her walk away, I wondered if that was the end for us.

When I got home, I sneaked in the back door and went straight to the bathroom to check my wounds. They weren’t all that bad. There was a small split above my eye and a trickle of dried blood down my temple, and a slight red smear showing in one of my nostrils, but after washing my face in the sink, the injuries weren’t all that noticeable. I easily explained it away to my mother as bumping my head on the front door as I opened it.

I slept without dreams, because my sleep was constantly interrupted by the day’s events, and each time I woke, I lay there, re-living them in my mind, unable to shake the thoughts, creating scenarios that might have ended the encounter differently. I wondered how I was ever going to face Mia again.

 

I didn’t take the bus to school. I walked instead. I couldn’t face Mia, even though I knew I would see her in class. I knew I was only postponing the inevitable. I sat at my desk before she came into class and I averted my eyes, but I could see in my peripheral vision that she was glaring at me as she walked past. For the 1st time that year, the whole morning passed without sneaking a glance at Mia, but I could sense that she was constantly looking at me. At lunchtime, I sat on a seat away from the rest of the students, watching them talking and laughing and excitedly sharing

their stories.

Someone sat down beside me.

It was Mia.

“Hello Stephen.”

I was frozen on the spot.

“About yesterday…” she said.

“I’m sorry,” I quickly blurted out, surprising myself.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

I looked at Mia. No one had ever apologized to me for anything.

“You like me, don’t you?” she asked. I looked down and nodded.

“Stephen, I have a boyfriend. And even if I didn’t, I don’t think we’d be right for each other. I don’t feel that way about you.”

Hearing Mia say that, I knew she was right. I’d been fooling myself all year to think she’d be interested in me. Deep down, I knew our personalities were completely different, and there was no way I could mix in the same circle of friends as hers. I could hardly utter a word in mixed company, and she was so outgoing, one of the most popular girls in school.

“How would you like to go on a date?” she asked, “this Saturday night, to a drive-in movie.”

My eyes widened and darted to hers.

“NOT with me!” she said suddenly, reading my mind. “A double-date. I have a friend, Kate. She’s a lot like you. If you want, I can talk to her. She’s never been on a date, and I think you’d both get along.”

I looked at Mia. For the first time in my life, I felt comfortable talking to a girl. Maybe the previous day’s events—actually speaking to her, being in her arms and kissing her—had broken some kind of barrier in my mind. It broke the ice. Her friendliness toward me made me feel at ease.

“Would you really do that for me?”

“I’ll talk to her tonight,” she replied. “I’ll let you know tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok.”

The next morning, Mia stopped at my desk on her way to hers and leaned close to me.

“It’s all set for Saturday night,” she whispered. “Give me your address and be ready at 6.30.”

That sent a nervous shiver down my spine.

“And Stephen…”

“Yeh?”

“Don’t mess this up. I’m going out on a limb for you here.”

“I won’t,” I replied. “I promise.”

For the rest of the week, I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the coming Saturday night. I wondered if I could actually go through with it but knowing Mia would be there gave me confidence. I felt I had made a good friend in her.

 

So, here I am. It’s Saturday night and I’m waiting at the window. She’s 10 minutes late and my heart has begun to sink, although being stood-up wasn’t totally unexpected.

A car suddenly pulls up outside and the horn emits 2 quick beeps. The passenger window rolls down and Mia sees me behind the open curtain and gives an urgent beckoning wave of her hand. This is it. My heart is pounding in my chest so hard I can see roadmaps pulsing in my eyes. It’s now or never. I fight my nerves and an almost overwhelming feeling of dread and I open the door.

I know that all have to do is walk out that door and once it closes behind me, I’m committed and can’t turn back. The door lock clicks behind me and I stand there with a sensation that I’m naked to the outside world.

“Come on!” Mia shouts, “We’ll miss the start of the movie!”

I approach the car and Mia reaches behind her seat and pushes open the back door. As I get in, I see Kate looking away from me, out her window. A slightly chubby girl, she is wearing a pink and white dress which is tight at the waist, accentuating her curvy figure. The short sleeves reveal her plump arms which look soft and feminine.

“Stephen,” says Mia, “this is Kate. Kate…Stephen.”

Kate hesitantly turns to face me. She has a round face and shoulder length brown hair, parted in the middle. She has a few pimples on her cheeks, almost concealed by makeup, and she's looking at me through large round glasses.

I look into her eyes. It’s like looking into my own face in a mirror. Not the shape or the colour, but the innocence, the nervousness, the thrill of the moment and of the night ahead. Kate’s lips curl slightly, almost in a smile, and she slightly raises her hand in a kind of greeting.

“Hi” she whispers.

“Hi” I echo, mirroring her hand gesture. Her smile widens and I feel myself responding in kind.

As the car accelerates away from the kerb, I can feel a change within, like a sudden realization of…I don’t know…something indescribable, something natural, something good.

 

 

 

 

*****************

THE PACK MENTALITY

 

As an introverted loner and loser, my school days were spent bullied and ridiculed by other students. They had plenty of encouragement from my stepsister, Mandy, who had always resented my inclusion in her family after the marriage of her mother and my father.

 

Bullying and exclusion are contagious. However, on the other side of the same coin, acceptance and inclusion are also contagious.

The key to being accepted by the pack as a whole lies in the control of the pack leader. I had always found it interesting that a group of people can be so influenced by an individual who they look up to. 

A pack leader such as a pop star, movie star, football star, fashion model etc can have a huge influence on one’s choice of clothes, shoes, food, car and even friends. 

 

You only have to see the advertisements featuring sport stars wearing certain brands of clothing or shoes to know this is true. It’s what advertisers rely on. The pack’s taste in fashion can even change overnight according to the changing endorsements or tastes of the leader. 

 

And if you are lucky enough to be seen with a celebrity, it’s amazing how many friends you suddenly gain.

The morning that I saw Matt, the Neanderthal football hero, pull up outside the school in his new Mustang that his parents had bought him, I knew there was some kind of opportunity in it for me. An opportunity for something; I wasn’t yet sure what it was but I just knew something would come to mind. 

 

It was a handsome convertible, red paint, white upholstery, chrome wheels. It was a car befitting a hero like Matt. 

Matt was about 6’4” tall. He weighed at least 100kg. Probably more. He wore shirts two sizes too small so as to accentuate his muscles. He had no neck, his shoulder muscles seemed to just curve upward to join his head just below his ears. He had three or four folds of skin on the back of his head just above his shoulders. His face had a faint covering of acne scars and his hair was cut in a flat-top crew cut style. He came from a wealthy family. 

 

As a pack leader, Matt had many followers, among them cheerleaders, less talented football players, and non-football players who wished that they were football players so that they too could get the cheerleaders. Even some of the teachers regarded him in awe.

 

My stepsister, Mandy, was a pack leader in her own right, who had a following of bitchy-wanna-be’s who aspired to be just like her, and who grovelled for her acceptance and approval.

 

Mandy held Matt in high esteem, and would gaze dreamily into his eyes whenever he was regaling, to a gathered crowd of fans, his fantastically exciting tales of football matches he singlehandedly snatched from the jaws of defeat with his unrivalled strength and skill. 

During my morning classes I went through different scenarios and ideas. I wanted to try and use my knowledge of human behaviour to my advantage. A kind of experiment, you might say. Mathematics may be mumbo jumbo to me, but from the books I was reading on human behaviour and psychological manipulation, I began to understand the subtle art of suggestion. I wanted to experiment with that art with the view to developing the skill. 

 

By afternoon recess I had a plan, ready to be set in motion. Toward the end of recess I paid a visit to the boys’ toilet. I had a few discarded plastic sandwich bags that I had retrieved from the bin on the way to the toilet. I sat down and grunted and groaned and strained until I finally gave birth to a healthy baby (AKA a stinking brown log). I placed a plastic sandwich bag over my hand like a glove and reached into the toilet bowl, snatching the warm newborn out of the water like an experienced native fisherman would catch a fish with his bare hands. 

 

Using my other hand I pulled the bag back over the stinking turd so it was now inside the bag. I then placed that bag inside another bag, then another, and another until the stench was fully contained. I placed it in my trouser pocket and hurried to class. 

To some readers, this might appear to be a practical joke in the making, but this was serious stuff, it was well thought out with an end purpose in mind, and if successful, would result in a favourable outcome, for me at least. I have to admit, though, that I was giggling a little under my breath in anticipation. 

 

There was also an element of extreme danger in the operation. There was a strong possibility that I would be caught in the act and would no doubt be beaten to a pulp. That sent a shiver of both excitement and fear down my spine. 

As the time grew closer to the ringing of the afternoon bell I went over the plan in my mind, mentally rehearsing my lines, going through the motions. Timing - as well as visual effects - had to be perfect. Any hint of deception in my action or voice would be a dead giveaway. A disaster. A merciless beating. Just like in the spy movies where the hero studies the face of his enemy, looking for a tell-tale sign that he’s lying. The instant a bead of perspiration appears on the bad guy’s forehead the hero shoots him between the eyes. I needed to stay cool and calm in case Matt studied my face looking for that tell-tale sign. My mind went back to the beating Matt gave me for just talking to Mia. I shuddered to think what he would do to me if I couldn’t pull this off. But I couldn’t dwell on the dangers; it might affect my self-confidence, and the whole thing will come crashing down around me.

 

The bell rang. I was the first one out the door of the classroom. I bolted toward the student car park where I could see the Mustang waiting patiently for its master. 

 

As I advanced I pulled the bag from my pocket. I removed the inner bag containing the stinking contents and after placing another bag over my hand like a glove, reached into the inner bag and removed the turd, which felt warm from my body heat. I looked left. I looked right. I looked behind me. I had beaten everyone to the carpark. 

 

The Mustang was dead ahead. I slowed as I moved alongside of the driver’s door and put my plastic bag covered hand containing the stinking mess under the door handle. I removed my hand in a rising motion, depositing a decent sized glob of human excreta under the back of the handle. I then flicked a lump of it on the ground just under the car. 

I quickly looked around in a 360 degree circle. There was still no-one in sight. I ran to the nearest building, about 20mts away and around the side, out of sight. It was the school administration building, a two storey brick building with no windows along the side that I ran to. 

 

I put the shitty bag back into the other bags and returned them to my pocket. I picked up some fine gravel and dirt from the ground and rubbed it roughly into my cheek, hoping it will leave the skin red with gravel rash. I then picked up a rough stone and, using the sharpest side, scratched the skin under my eye hard enough that when I touched it, it left some blood on my finger. Then I ripped the top two buttons from my shirt and pulled part of the shirt out of the front of my trousers. 

I looked back around the corner. Some students had begun to filter into the car park and head toward their car, others toward the bus stop just outside the gate. I couldn’t see Matt. 

 

Come on…come on, I said under my breath. My heart was pounding in my chest. There were pulsing road maps in my vision, caused by the blood pressure pumping through the blood vessels in my eyes. I had to calm down or risk giving the game away. 

Suddenly, Matt appeared from around the corner of “E” block. He swaggered along, flanked by four girls. Judging by the attentive faces on the girls, I knew he was sharing one of his heroic tales. Three of the girls were cheerleaders, still in their skimpy costumes. I didn’t know their names. The other was Mia. I couldn’t believe my good fortune, provided I could carry this off of course. I breathed slowly and deeply trying to slow my heart rate.

 

Matt had closed the distance to within 10mts of the Mustang. This is it, I thought. Death or glory. I prayed it would be glory. 

The only thing that separated the car park from the road was a four feet high chain wire fence. The administration building stood about 2mts inside the fence. The bus stop was just outside the entrance. Students walked to the bus stop via the car park. 

I jumped the fence and ran down the footpath toward the car park entrance. Matt’s car was just inside the entrance. Matt had just reached the Mustang and was pulling the keys from his pocket, still talking about - well - most probably about himself.

 

“MATT!” I shouted. “MATT! WAIT!”

Matt stopped and looked at me in surprise. 

“Well fuck me, if it’s not the village idiot” he said. “What do YOU want?” 

I ran up to him and bent over in feigned exhaustion, and put my palms on my knees, puffing and panting as if I had just sprinted 100mts. 

“I just saw some guy” ..puff puff.. “acting suspiciously” ..puff puff..”around your car” I replied. “I think he tampered with something”.. puff puff.. “under the car.”

“WHAT??” he growled. He dropped to the ground and slid his head and shoulders under the car and scanned the underbody, quickly darting his eyes from the front wheels to the back wheels, back and forth three times. He jumped back up.

“WHO WAS IT?” 

The girls looked inquisitively at his back. They moved closer for a better look and reeled back in horror. There was a smearing of shit in the skin folds on the back of his head. 

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, now regaining my breath. “I’ve never seen him before. The guy spotted me when I came out of class and ran out of the car park and up the road. I ran after him and pulled my phone out to try and video him. He turned around and chased me. He punched me and I hit the ground. Then he kicked me in the stomach and ran off. Sorry Matt. I tried. I’m really sorry.” 

 

Matt’s eyes darted up and down, taking in my grubby face and bloodied cheek, and glancing at my torn buttons and ruffled shirt.

“Which way did he go?”

I pointed up the road.

“That way,” I said “he’s wearing a black T shirt with Led Zeppelin on the front.”

“Wait here,” he told the girls. “I’ll get the fucker.” 

Matt lunged at his car. He put his hand under the handle and pulled the door open and realised there was something under the handle. 

“What the…?” he said. His first reaction was to flick the unknown substance off his hand and wipe his hand on his trousers, all in one fast motion. He then looked at his hand, trying to comprehend what it was.

He sniffed his hand. His expression said it all.

The four girls stood there, wide eyed and terrified because they knew Matt was about to explode. 

“ARRGGGHH… I’LL FUCKING KILL HIM!!” he shouted, his face red with anger. He went to grab the door handle again, then thought the better of it and stopped. He looked at his hand. He ran out of the carpark and looked up the road. The offender was nowhere in sight. He looked to the left, then to the right again. He looked back to the left, as if he expected the offender to magically appear where he hadn’t been, just a second before. 

 

Matt came back. He stood in silence, fuming, his eyes glazed.

Mia noticed my injuries. “Oh Stephen, look at your face. You’re bleeding.”

“I’m ok,” I said. “I just wish I could have recorded the guy. I looked at Matt. “Sorry, Matt.” 

Matt was still fuming; his face red with rage.

“You go and get cleaned up, Matt,” Mia told him. “We’ll clean your car.”

“Yeh,” was all he said, and started back toward the school toilet block, grumbling and swearing under his breath as he went.

Mia took some tissues from her school bag and was about to wipe the Mustang’s door handle.

“Here, give me that,” I said. “A girl shouldn’t have to do that.”

 

I took the tissues from an astonished Mia and set to work cleaning the door handle. 

“Why are you doing this, Stephen?” Mia asked. “How can you be so nice after the way Matt has treated you? “

“Its ok, Mia,” I said simply. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Mia took another tissue from the box and began cleaning the blood and dirt from my face.

“This brings back memories” I joked. “I hope you don’t punch me in the nose again.”

“I think everyone has had you all wrong, Stephen. It was really brave of you to chase that guy. And I’m sorry I hit you that day.”

“It wasn’t brave. Anyone would have done the same thing,” I said.

The other three girls came over and each gave me a comforting pat on the back.

“Well, we think it was brave too,” said one of them as the others nodded in agreement.

 

Matt returned after cleaning himself up. He was still sniffing his hand and screwing his nose up as he did so, but he appeared to have calmed down a lot.

“I stood back and inspected the door handle. “Well that’s as clean as I can get it. I’ll go and wait for the next bus home,” I said.

Mia tilted her head and looked at Matt as if waiting for a response. Matt picked up on it.

“Hey Jones,” he said to me, “thanks for what you did, man.”

He held up his hand at shoulder height for one of those gang-type special handshakes that all the cool dudes do. I reciprocated after noting that he wasn’t using the same hand that he used to open the door. 

“Well, I gotta go” I said, and took a few steps toward the bus stop.

“Hey wait. Jump in, man” said Matt. “The least I can do is give you a ride home.” 

“No, its ok. I’m fine,” I said, with my right hand raised in mock protest. “I’ll just wait for the bus.” I took a step and then put my left forearm across my stomach and winced as if the pain from the alleged kick had just begun to take effect. 

 

I could see from the corner of my eye that the cheerleaders were smiling in adoration of me. Mia moved toward me and grabbed my right hand with both of hers. 

“You’re coming with us” she said, dragging me toward her. The other three girls joined and they led me to the car. 

Mia sat in the front with Matt. The rest of us squeezed together in the back seat, which was designed to seat three passengers, not four. One of the girls had to sit on my lap. 

 

We cruised down the road passing other students who were walking home. The low rumble of the Mustang’s V8 engine made several of them turn their heads to look. No-one would have expected to see the school weirdo, Stephen Jones, in the back seat of the school’s biggest football hero’s car, sitting between two cheerleaders, with a third on my lap and her arm around my shoulders. 

 

We stopped at a red light next to the school bus. I looked up and saw that almost all the students were looking out the window down at us. Mandy was amongst them. Her jaw dropped; her eyes wide in amazement. I waved at the students. My female companions smiled and waved as well. The light changed to green and - with a screech of the tyres - the Mustang accelerated away. 

The experiment appeared to be a success.

 

 

 

 

**************

THE MIRROR

        “Hey there’s a beer in the fridge.” said Jimmy. “Get me one while you’re there.

Danny opened the fridge door and took a piece of three-day-old pepperoni pizza from the box and held it in his mouth while he grabbed two beers.

  “Down to the last six pack” mumbled Danny as he tossed one to Jimmy. “Looks like we might have to go out tonight.”

        ‘Going out’ in Southsider language meant rolling a few drunks for their wallets, or bailing up some ‘rich folk on their way to the opera’ as the gang likes to put it.

“Yeh,” Jimmy replied “the boys should be coming around later. We’ll head out about eight tonight. We haven’t done Chelsea for a while. The cops shouldn’t be scoping that area much.”

        Danny sat on a couch and switched on the TV. It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon and, finding nothing worth watching, he switched it off and leaned back on the couch to catch some sleep.

        Two hours later he was woken by the loud voices of some other gang members, Robbo, Mick and Skunge. Nobody knew how Skunge got his nickname and he couldn’t remember who gave it to him or when. His real name was Lance. Skunge was 18 years old. His front teeth were missing and the rest were almost black. He was 6 feet 1 inches tall with a wiry physique and blonde matted hair to his shoulders.

        Mick was a bit shorter at 5 feet 11 inches, with a ‘beer gut’ and goatee beard. At 25 years old he was older than the others by at least 4 years. Intellectually he was younger than the rest. He also had a temper that could kick in at the slightest provocation.

        Skunge went to the fridge and got the remaining six pack and took it back to the others, handing them around.

“Hey Jimmy” said Mick, “did you hear about the excitement the other night?”

“What’s that?” replied Jimmy.

“Me and Skunge. Ripped off a BMW. We were cruising along the motorway when a couple of cops spotted us.”

“So how did that work out for youse?” asked Jimmy.

“We tried to lose them but they were right up our arse. We finished up taking an exit and went down a side road. They were still with us so we drove through a fence and into a stream. We jumped out and swam across to the other side. We knew them wankers wouldn’t want to get their arses wet just to catch a couple of car thieves.”

“Good one” said Jimmy with a grin.

“Too right” said Mick. “The car floated to the middle of the stream and sunk. It was a long walk home though.”

“Mustn’t have been very far,” said Jimmy. “You didn’t work off that big guts of yours.”

Everyone except Mick laughed.

“Very funny” said Mick, not finding the remark very humorous.

“Hey Jimmy. Is this all the beer we’ve got?” asked Skunge.

“Yeh,” replied Jimmy. “We’re running low on funds. We need to go out tonight for some currency. Me and Danny were thinking maybe the Chelsea area. We haven’t worked that area for a while. Everyone happy with that?”

        They all grunted or nodded in agreement.

“Ok,” he continued. “We’ll head out around 8 o’clock. We’ll split up individually, each doing a different street. There’s five of us. We each roll one victim, and then disappear before anyone even has a chance to call the constabulary.”

“Sounds good to me” said Danny. “That’s always worked in the past.”

The events of the coming night would change Danny’s life forever.

 

     At 8.15pm the gang boarded a train to South Kensington station and then walked to their preferred area in Chelsea, each armed with a knife. They had carried out this same technique countless times, each operating a different street, hitting up someone who looks like they might be carrying a bit of money, maybe someone who was carrying a Harrods shopping bag. They would follow them until they were in the right spot and then show them the knife and demand their wallet or handbag. Or perhaps they would spot someone getting out of a luxury car in a carpark. They would bail up the driver or passenger before they had even locked their door. They would then race through the back streets to the Underground station and head home. The operation was so fast that the police had no chance to get there in time to catch them, unless they were actually in the vicinity at the time of the robberies, in which case the boys had to use a bit more cunning to escape. But they had never been arrested in all the time they had carried out the routine.

        The boys separated and Danny headed to Regal Street. There were a lot of people around on this particular night, which gave them a lot of victims to choose from but also made it more difficult to isolate them for ‘processing’ as they gang liked to call it.

        Danny spotted an elderly man getting out of a late model Mercedes in a poorly lit carpark. He moved silently behind parked cars, through the shadows and came up behind his victim. When the old man turned around Danny had his knife pointed at him at chest height.

        “Give me your wallet and there won’t be any trouble,” Danny instructed.

The old man stayed calm. “You don’t need to do this, Son” he said. “If you need money I’ll give you some.”

“You’ll give me the wallet” said Danny and moved the knife closer to the man’s chest.

        The old man looked at the knife, now only an inch from his chest. He took his wallet out of his pocket and held it out for Danny, who snatched it out of his hand and turned and hurried away without another word. He had only taken a few steps when he heard the man gasping. He turned and saw him on his knees holding his chest. Danny knew he was having a heart attack and ran back to him.

       “Are you ok?” he asked, kneeling down and putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The old man shook his head, unable to speak. Danny ran to the street.

“HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!” he screamed. He frantically took his phone out of his pocket and called emergency, then ran back to the man.

          Jimmy had finished robbing a victim and was in a side street not far from Regal Street when he heard Danny calling for help. He raced to the carpark and found Danny kneeling next to the man, looking distressed and trying to comfort him.

“COME ON! WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!” he called.

Danny shook his head. “No. I can’t leave him. What if he dies?”

Jimmy ran over to him.

“There’s nothing you can do. I can hear the sirens. Help is on the way. Forget him. Let’s go!” He tried to drag Danny to his feet but Danny resisted. Jimmy was undecided what to do. The sirens were getting louder. He could hear the siren of a paramedic’s vehicle and the distinctly different siren of a police car. He turned and ran out of the carpark and disappeared.

         The old man was in pain and clutching Danny’s wrist in a vise-like grip.

“You’ll be alright Sir,” said Danny. “Help is nearly here.”

         The ambulance screeched to a halt next to them and 2 paramedics jumped out and rushed to the man with their equipment and a stretcher. After ascertaining the man’s condition and making him comfortable they placed him on a stretcher and took him to the ambulance.

“Well done, Lad” said one of them to Danny as he passed. “You probably saved his life.”

         As the paramedic climbed into the back to sit with the old man, Danny held out the wallet.

“This is his,” said Danny. “Can you give it to him?”

        He walked out of the carpark and watched the ambulance as it sped down the road, siren screaming. He saw a police car approaching, also with its siren blaring and lights flashing, rushing to the scene of one of the robberies. Danny walked out in front of the police car and waved it down.

The cop wound down his window. “What’s the trouble?” he asked.

“I want to hand myself in,” said Danny. “I just robbed someone.”

 The cops looked at each other. They pulled to the kerb and Danny walked over to them.

        They got out with their notebooks and began taking details. Danny told them about the old man and how he caused him to have a heart attack. He asked them if they could find out if the old man was ok.

“We’d better go to the station,” said the cop. “We need to get a formal statement from you. We’ll go from there.”

        Danny nodded and they took him to the station where they charged him with robbery with a deadly weapon, going armed in public so as to cause fear, and grievous bodily harm. He was sentenced to 3 months jail, with a minimum of 2 months with time off for good behaviour. The magistrate told him it would have been much longer but for the fact that Danny was remorseful and had stayed at the crime scene and given assistance to the victim.

He also noted that Danny refused to provide the names of his accomplices. If he had co-operated more with the police and divulged those names, he would have gotten off with community service and probation.

“You have 3 months to decide what you’re going to do with the rest of your life, Mr Jackson,” said the magistrate. “I suggest you put that time to good use, because if you ever come before me again, I assure you that I won’t be so lenient.”

Danny hung his head. “Yes, Sir. Thank you. You won’t see me again.”

 

 

                                        Chapter 2

           Mary Oswald had never had a boyfriend. Deeply introverted and shy, with poor social skills, she lived in a world of her own, rarely leaving her apartment except to go to work. Work was something she couldn’t avoid because she had to earn a living. She avoided parties and social gatherings. She avoided people in general. She was not generally seen as attractive to the opposite sex. At five foot eight inches tall, she was a little overweight, her waist not much smaller than her hips. Her legs were chubby and her round face was framed by her mid-length mousey hair which was dry and straw-like, wiry and parted in the middle because that was how her hair naturally fell, and she found it pointless to try and train it to do otherwise. She wore large round glasses. Her looks were unremarkable but she had a clear complexion.

Mary had an air of innocence and honesty about her. Her big brown eyes shone and sparkled with youth and imaginative wonder.

          She lived alone in a cheap apartment in London and worked in the mail sorting room at the local postal distribution centre. Mary’s only friend was a work colleague, Adele, who managed to encourage her to chat a little in the lunchroom some days. The world didn’t see Mary; she was overlooked in favour of the more sociable and outgoing ones, and it was the world that missed out. But Mary quietly watched the world as most introverts do, and she saw the beauty in everything. She saw much more and knew much more than the world realised.

         Now 22 years old, Mary’s hormones had long ago matured her body, and her mind and body craved personal interaction with a guy, socially and physically. She craved love, and everything that goes with it. Daytime fantasies, crying over romantic novels, self-relief and role playing had become her world, a world of her own, a world she had created. In the confines of her mind resided her boyfriends and lovers.

         On the night of October 16, 2016, as Mary lay on her bed during one of her private, intimate moments, something caught her attention. Her eyes darted to the mirror and she screamed in horror, jumped from the bed onto the floor, and frantically ripped the sheet from the bed to cover herself.

          In the full-length mirror she saw a young man, around her age or a bit younger. The image was blurry but she could see clearly enough to realise it was a man in a bed somewhere. The longer she watched, the clearer the image became, like a demister clearing a car windshield. The room looked identical to hers but with different furniture.

          Mary’s mind was in turmoil. She was in disbelief. How is that even possible? The mirror is fixed to the wall. There is nothing behind it but the wall. And anyway the mirror was mounted to an external wall of her apartment. There was nothing on the other side of the wall but open air.  But… there he was, in his own private moments.

          Was she asleep? Dreaming? Mary didn’t know. But if she was dreaming it was the most vivid dream she had ever had. But it MUST be a dream. It’s the only explanation.

The image was so clear now that it was if they were in the same room. This was intimate. This was like being in a room with a guy, although Mary believed she was experiencing a vivid dream.

           Suddenly the boy looked at the mirror and his eyes widened, and Mary felt as if he was looking straight through it and directly at her. Dreaming or not, Mary was terrified. He was at the mirror now, trying to look through. Mary’s eyes were wide with fear and she quickly turned her lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. She sat dead-still in the dark and watched the boy for 2 or 3 minutes as he pressed his face against the other side of the glass, his hands shielding his eyes from the reflection of his lamp, trying to peer into her room. Eventually he gave up and switched his light off, leaving Mary in the darkness of her room, still staring wide eyed and unblinking into the blackness, in the direction of the now darkened mirror.

         What was it? she asked herself. If I was dreaming, why have I not woken? Why am I still sitting on the floor and not lying on the bed, awoken from a dream? Maybe I’m still asleep…still dreaming. She climbed into bed and tried to go to sleep, but the images in her mind kept her awake in the darkness until the early hours of the morning.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

As Mary ate her breakfast, she gazed from the kitchen through her bedroom at the mirror. Was it real, or just a crazy dream? A dream had never seemed so real to her. But if she wasn’t dreaming, she must be going mad. She finished her breakfast and went back to her bedroom to dress for work. She took off her pyjama top and suddenly felt uncomfortable, so she found an old bedsheet and some thumbtacks and hung it over the mirror, then finished dressing. This is so silly, it was just a dream. Get it out of your mind, she told herself.

           But Mary couldn’t get it out of her mind. Throughout the day the image of the young man haunted her. It was the embarrassment of possibly being seen in her most private moments. It was the image of his face as he suddenly caught her eye in the mirror, his realisation of her presence. It was the sudden shock. The embarrassment was so real that she had still felt it when she woke. The expression on his face had burned into her mind, and she couldn’t ‘unsee’ it. It was all too real.

          “What’s up Mary?” asked Adele, as she sat next to Mary at the work cafeteria. “You look lost. Preoccupied with something?”

“Oh,” Mary replied, “just some crazy dream I had last night.”

“Must have been a good one,” said Adele. “That’s usually the face of a girl who got lucky the night before,” and she gave Mary a friendly nudge. “Well come on, spill it. What was the dream about?”

Mary’s face turned red.

“It’s nothing. It was just weird, that’s all.” she said.

“Well, tell me about it then. I’m into weird, you know that. The weirder, the better.”

Mary could only drop her head, embarrassed.

            Adele looked at her strangely for an extended moment, and then dismissed it from her mind. She knew from experience that Mary had shut up shop as far as the subject was concerned, and that she wouldn’t talk about it further.

“The girls and I are going out tonight,” said Adele. “Why don’t you come along? It’s just a few drinks down at the pub. You never get out, Mary.”

“I just like staying at home,” she replied. “I don’t like crowds, and I don’t drink.”

“You don’t really do much of anything, Mary. Anyway look, the invitation’s there. We’d all like you to come. Let me know if you change your mind. Ok?”

            Adele looked at Mary, waiting for a response, but Mary didn’t look up.

“Ok?” she repeated, touching Mary’s upper arm.

“Yeh ok,” replied Mary, looking up at Adele and nodding, but they both knew she wouldn’t be changing her mind.

            The day crawled by and Mary was glad to hear the buzzer indicating the end of her shift. She said goodbye to Adele and headed home.

 

             Time went by and Mary had all but dismissed the mirror incident as a dream, but she still felt compelled to hang the bedsheet over the mirror. Around a week and a half later she was lying in bed in the darkness, trying to go to sleep, but his image was in her head. She relived the night in her imagination recalling his body, his shock as he appeared to see her in the mirror. She could see it in her mind’s eye as clear as day.

             Mary got out of bed, switched on her lamp on and went to the mirror. She gently pulled the sheet away just enough to see, and shrieked as she jumped backwards a step. There he was, lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. Mary watched him for about 10 minutes. She watched his every little move, fascinated. Staring at him, he appeared to be deep in thought. She wondered what he was thinking about. He began to stir, as if an uneasy feeling had come over him. He looked over at the mirror, straight at Mary, and she knew he could see her too.

              He rose from the bed without taking his eyes from hers, and walked toward the mirror. Mary took three steps back. He said something but there was no sound. They stood in silence - a Mexican standoff. Mary went to her bedside drawer and found a pen and paper. She pulled the sheet from the mirror. The view was so clear now that it was like being in two rooms separated by a glass window.

“Who are you?” she wrote and shakenly held it up for him to see.

He found some paper and replied.

“I’m Danny.”

“Yes but who ARE you? WHERE are you? Why are you in my mirror?”

 They stared for a minute or so studying each other’s faces.

Danny shrugged, mystified. “You’re in mine” he wrote.

Mary somehow no longer felt afraid.  She seemed to instinctively know there was nothing to fear from Danny. There was a kindness to his face, and there was also a sadness and loneliness that she saw in herself. Despite being unable to communicate with boys for most of her life, she felt naturally at ease with this strange boy.

“I’m Mary,” she wrote. “Your room looks like mine. Same timber panels on the walls. I can see the same view into your kitchen. Do you live in the same apartment block?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. I live in London. Stirling Road.”

“So do I,” wrote Mary.

“Number 2048.”

“Yeh. Me too” she wrote.

They studied each other, then he wrote “Third floor, room 27.”

Mary eyes widened. “That’s my room. How can that be?” she wrote.

He shrugged again, shaking his head in confusion. They were both searching for answers, but there were so many questions. They both wondered if they were dreaming, but they believed they were wide awake.

“Do you work around here?” he wrote, not knowing what else to say.

“Yes. At the postal distribution centre about three kilometers from here.”

“The new one at Islington?”

“It’s at Islington,” she replied. “But it’s been there for ages. I can remember it being there when I was just a kid.”

             Puzzled, Danny wrote something and held it up. “What’s your phone number? Let me call you.”

Mary shook her head. She wasn’t willing to do divulge that information.

He wrote something else. It was a phone number. He picked up his mobile phone from his bedside table and held it up, indicating for Mary to phone him. Mary looked at his phone. It was an old larger model Nokia with an aerial.

“That phone looks ancient,” she wrote.

“I just bought it last week. It’s the latest model,” he replied.

Mary got hers and held it to the mirror. A Galaxy S7. Danny looked closely in wonder. He saw the date on the home screen. May 28 2016. He switched his phone on and held it up for Mary. May 28 1997. They stared at each other in disbelief.

“I have to go,” wrote Mary. “This is just too weird.” She bent down to pick up the bed sheet to hang over the mirror, and when she looked up Danny was holding his paper to the glass.

“Will I see you again?” it said.

Without replying, Mary hung the sheet.

 

              Sleep did not come easy for Mary that night. Who was this guy? How is it even possible? Is he a figment of her imagination, a result of craving love and companionship? Her mind playing tricks? Mary tried to make sense of it all, to look at it logically, if there is actually any logic to it. He first appeared in her mirror when she was fantasising of being with a guy, at the same time he seemed to be doing the same. Did they open some kind of door to the past and future; their minds concentrating on a lover at the exact same moment? Or is she just going mad, insane?

 Hoping to wake up to a life of normality, she eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

             When Mary woke the next morning, the image of Danny was the first thing to enter her mind. Did that really happen? She believed that it did. During her sleep her subconscious mind had accepted the phenomenon of the appearance of Danny, as strange and unbelievable as it was, as Mary had always been open to paranormal activities. She also thought it was romantic, like something out of a movie. Perhaps those movie themes came from actual occurrences. Who knows? The fact was that she didn’t see Danny as a danger - she saw him as someone sent to her. A Godsend. An answer to her need for a companion, emotionally and possibly even physically. It excited her…frightened her a little… but excited her, and she wanted to explore all the possibilities. She wanted to know him, everything about him, where he’s from, where he’s been, what he does. And she wanted to know if he felt anything for her. She recalled the last message he held to the mirror. “Will I see you again?” She didn’t answer. Oh, why didn’t I answer? She hoped she hadn’t messed things up. Maybe Danny thinks she’s not interested and won’t appear again. She could only hope now, but she had a good feeling about it.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

          “What are you grinning about?” asked Adele in the work cafeteria the following day at lunch.

Mary didn’t realise it was so obvious. She had the appearance of a child trying to keep a secret, but can’t. After a good night’s sleep, things seemed to have settled somewhat in her mind. Her initial shock and disbelief had changed to hope and excitement. Even at the young age of 22 Mary was very philosophical about life, about the universe. Unlike most girls her age who were more practical and materialistic, she was a deep thinker, and believed there were so many mysteries in the world, in the universe. She believed in love and she believed that true love will always find a way. She saw nothing to be afraid of in Danny, and she wanted to see where it takes her.

          “I’ve met a boy,” she said trying to keep her excitement under control.

Adele’s mouth hung open, her mind refusing to believe this revelation. She leaned forward across the table and asked in a low, surprised tone “You what???”

“It’s just early days, Adele, but I think I’ve found someone.”

“Well come on. Share. What’s his name? What’s he look like? When will I meet him?”

“Shhhh!” said Mary, looking around as if afraid others would hear of her secret.

“His name’s Danny,” she whispered. “I just met him yesterday. He’s not from around here and he’s kind of new in town.”

“Well come on, spill” said Adele. “What is he like?”

“Hmm. Well… he’s cute, of course. My age. Blonde hair. Nice bod. I’ve seen him with his shirt off!” she whispered excitedly, but she stopped short of divulging the full story of what she had seen.

 They both giggled and Adele’s eyes widened in amazement.

“I’ve never seen you like this Mary. This guy must be something real special.”

“Yeh,” said Mary, “I think he is. I think maybe he’s the one, Adele. But it’s only early days yet.”

“So when do you see him again?”

“I’m hoping to see him tonight.”

“Does he live around here?” asked Adele.

“He actually lives in the same apartment building.”

“What? Get outta here!” said Adele. “Fancy that.” She leaned closer and whispered “handy for those late night rendezvous, hey Mary?”

Mary blushed. She held up both hands and crossed her fingers, grinning at Adele, who laughed out loud at this rare show of humour from Mary.

“This guy is definitely good for you, Mary. It’s so good to see you so happy.”

“Thanks,” replied Mary. “We’ll see where it goes.”

Adele rose to go back to work and as she passed she gave Mary a hug from behind.

“Good luck” she said. “You deserve it.”

“And make sure you keep me up to date. Ok?” said Adele as she walked away.

Mary nodded.

 

 

 

 

           Danny Jackson lay back on his bed in apartment 27 at 2048 Stirling Rd.

The events of the previous night were swirling in his mind. Who was Mary, this girl from the future? How can it be real? Danny had always believed in paranormal occurrences, but now that he had witnessed one, it all seemed so unreal, so unbelievable. Yet he had felt Mary’s energy. He had felt much more than energy coming through the mirror. Mary was beautiful. Not in the classic sense. Not a playboy centrefold kind of beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless. There was something about her that ran much deeper than flesh, and he wanted to know more.

            Danny’s life had been far from perfect up to that point. Shunned by his drug addicted parents, he had been in the foster system since he was three years old. His parents had never tried to get him back; in fact Danny didn’t even know where they were. For all he knew they could be dead, and vice versa.

            Danny had been in and out of the juvenile system for most of his young years and had recently finished a stint in an adult prison. He had been released just 2 months before. The jail sentence had been the last straw and Danny was determined to make something of his life, to leave his life of crime in the past. His parole officer had found him a job at the local greengrocer, and Danny was trying hard to impress his boss, to repay his kindness and willingness to give him a new chance at life.

            Freshly out of jail and with no friends (he didn’t want any more contact with his old criminal acquaintances) Danny spent most of his spare time in his small apartment. He had developed a love of books while in jail, and spent much of his spare time reading. It was cheap entertainment. He couldn’t afford such luxuries as computers yet, but had bought a cheap mobile phone.

           Danny felt that he was at a crucial turning point in his life. He now had his first job.

Although he had succumbed to peer pressure and turned to crime, he had never taken drugs, he had never gone down the same path as his parents, and he knew he never would.

           Now 20 years old, he craved female companionship. Night after night Danny sat on his bed thinking about it. He wasn’t a virgin by any means. He had been with girls many times during his teenage years; girls who wanted to be part of the gang that Danny was a member of. The girls meant nothing; to him they were just a bit of fun, but Danny now wanted something more. He wanted a real relationship, someone to share their mind as well as their body, someone to love. No one had ever loved Danny. He wondered if he would even recognise the feeling if and when he found it. But the moment he laid eyes on Mary a light switched on in Danny’s mind, and looking into her eyes brought a previously unknown feeling into his heart.

            He looked into the full length mirror in front of him on the other side of the room. It was 8.30 PM. The same time Mary had appeared the previous night, and he wondered if she would again appear. He prayed that she would. He studied his reflection, at the image Mary would have seen.

           Shirtless, wearing only jeans, he rose from his bed and gazed at his image. He stood six feet tall, with blue eyes and blonde hair with a ‘prison haircut’, beginning to grow out into a normal style. He thought his face looked a little hardened. He blamed his lifestyle for that.  Still, he considered himself reasonably good looking. He was slim but toned, with a muscular chest, a wide back and large biceps, having worked out most days in the prison gym. Going to an adult prison had had its advantages, such as the job he now has, but as a young man prison life held its horrors at the hands of older inmates. On his first night in prison the guards had allowed 4 older inmates into his cell, and his life of hell had begun. After that night his cellmate claimed him as his ‘girlfriend’ and gave him protection from the others, but at a cost. Danny had done things. Things he knows he can never tell anyone about for fear of reliving them. Things he had hidden in his mind, locked away, hoping to never see them again in memory, but which kept resurfacing to torment him.

 

            Mary was a mystery. Could she really be from the future, or is his loneliness and craving for a companion causing his mind to play tricks. He recalled the first time something had appeared in the mirror, a fleeting image that he couldn’t quite make out. One moment there was a faint light in the mirror and the next there was just darkness. He wondered if Mary had seen him that night. She hadn’t mentioned seeing anything. Maybe she was just being polite, or was just too embarrassed to bring up the subject. Either way, she seemed friendly and he had seen something in her eyes that made him think she was a lot like him: lonely and in need of companionship.

            He wondered if he would see her again…if she was real in the first place. Or was it just a one-off thing, a paranormal occurrence? A glitch in time. A gate that Danny or Mary had somehow opened. Had they opened it together by thinking about the same thing at the same time? Can it be opened again or will it stay closed forever, the time/ space continuum having realigned itself. Unexplainable. And unbelievable to anyone who might hear the story from Danny.

           He recalled asking her if he will see her again, and his question went unanswered. Maybe that WAS the answer. Sometimes silence can say so much more than words.

Danny prayed for just one chance. Just a chance with Mary, but he didn’t hold out much hope. What could Mary possibly see in a parolee anyway, a guy who just started his first job…ever. Danny swore to himself right then, that if he got that one last chance, that he would be completely open and honest. He would tell her of his past and of his hopes for his future. He would tell her everything, and she could decide. He wanted to do something right in his life, something honest, regardless of the outcome.

          The image of Mary appeared in Danny’s imagination. He stared into the mirror, picturing Mary’s face, as if willing her to the mirror. His stare was so intense it could have burned a hole in the glass. The glass appeared to become hazy, frosty. His reflection was somehow distorted slightly.

          The glass seemed to clear a little and Danny thought he could see the bedsheet over the mirror, and a soft light filtering through the fabric. He stood there for what seemed like an hour, but it was actually only a few minutes.

          Danny watched as fingers appeared on the other side, pulling aside the sheet slightly, and Mary peered in. They stared at each other, wide eyed, and then Mary pulled the sheet off and let it fall to the floor and stood there, dressed in her work uniform. She went to her bedside table to get her pad and pencil, and Danny did the same.

“Hi,” wrote Mary.

“Hi,” he answered.

There was an extended few moments as they stood staring.

“Are you real?” wrote Mary.

Danny nodded. “And you’re real too, I know you are.” he wrote.

Mary nodded in reply.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he wrote, “but this must be happening for a reason.”

“But what?” she replied.

Danny shrugged. He thought for a few moments.

“I don’t know, but I want to try and find out. I hope you do too.”

Mary quickly nodded without hesitation, and then worried that she might have appeared too eager. She didn’t want to come across as desperate. She tried backpedalling a little.

“Yes, I suppose we could,” she wrote. “I think I’d like that.”

They looked thoughtfully for a few moments, both searching for something to say. It was like being on a first date with a complete stranger and trying to start a conversation.

“So….” wrote Danny.

“So…” echoed Mary, and shrugged.

“So what do you do when you’re not working Mary? Do you have any hobbies?”
“Not really,” she replied, “but I love reading.”

“Me too” he replied. “What kind of books do you like?”

“Romances,” she wrote. “And psychological books as well, and books about paranormal subjects. Things like that.”

“Me too,” he replied. “Although not so much the romance.”

Mary smiled at that. “They say that the kind of books people read is an indication of their personalities. They say book lovers are secretive people,” she wrote.

“Are you a secretive person, Mary?”
“Yes, I think I am” she replied after a few second’s thought.

“Me too. I know I am. I have so many secrets,” he wrote.

Mary studied Danny’s face. “Same here.”

They smiled at each other, trustingly.

 “Do you like Chinese food Mary?” he wrote.

“Ooh, love it,” she replied.

“Pick up your favourite tomorrow night, and I’ll do the same. Meet you here at 6.30?”

“Ooh” repeated Mary. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Are you accepting?”

“I asked first,” she wrote, smiling as she held it up.

“Ok” he replied. “Mary, would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Mary held up her pad with a coy grin. “I’d be mad not to.”

“Ok then,” wrote Danny with a smile. “See you here at 6.30 tomorrow?”

“Ok. See you then.”

           They took one last look at each other before Mary hung the bedsheet over the mirror.

         Mary lay on her bed, gazing at the ceiling. She could feel a change coming over her, a change in her personality. For the first time in her life she wanted to share herself. She wanted someone to know her, to know the real Mary, the girl no other guy knows…or even wants to know. Her heart fluttered and she felt flushed. She had just been asked to go on her first date. She bet that there was not another girl in the world who had been on a date like this, and she felt special and privileged. She knew she was already in love. She didn’t care about the technicalities or complications of their relationship. She didn’t care about the difficulties or the weirdness of it all. She just knew she was in love, and that love would find a way for them.

 

 

Chapter 5

 

          “So, how’s the new man in your life?” asked Adele at lunch. “Did you see him last night?”

“Yes. And we’re having dinner tonight.”

“Mm, nice. Where are you going?”

“We’re staying in. Chinese takeaway at his place. He’s just started a new job, and he doesn’t have a lot of money yet” Mary lied. She didn’t know what else to say. How could she explain any of this to anyone?

“Sounds cosy,” said Adele. “I can’t wait to meet this Danny guy. He’s really brought out the best in you, Mary. I’ve never seen you so happy and outgoing.”

“I’ve never been so happy, Adele. Danny is just so nice. And I know he likes me.”

“Well, just don’t get too carried away, Mary. Ok?” said Adele in a more serious tone. “Danny’s the first guy you’ve ever gone out with, isn’t he?”

Mary nodded.

Adele continued “I really, really hope it works out for you. I really do. But just be careful. You’ve only just met him and I’d hate to see you get hurt. You’re a really sensitive person, Mary.”

“I’ll be careful,” replied Mary.

“And don’t forget, you can always talk to me” said Adele. “You’re a friend. If you need any advice, or just want to talk, I’m here for you. Ok?”

“Ok.”

           The buzzer sounded for their return to work.

“Good luck for tonight” said Adele as she rose and patted Mary’s back.

“Thanks Adele. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

 

           Mary spent the rest of the day in a daydream, her imagination running wild. Her workmates prodded her 3 or 4 times to bring her back to the real world, because she kept holding up the line.

           On her way home she stopped at a department store and bought a sky blue halter neck dress, short but not so short that she considered it trashy. She called in at the Chinese takeaway near her home and picked up her favourite, beef in satay sauce with steamed rice, and some spring rolls. A can of diet Coke completed the gourmet meal. Mary was so excited. This was her first date, and the circumstances surrounding it made it extra special, and so did the guy who asked her.

           It was 6.10 when Mary entered her apartment. She quickly showered and dried her hair, brushing it and letting it fall naturally.Mary had also bought some blue lipstick at the department store to match her dress. She had never worn lipstick and soon found that applying it was an art form in itself. She had to remove it 3 times and reapply it until she was happy with the result. She had never worn makeup and so decided against attempting it on such an important occasion.

           She stood back and admired herself in the bathroom mirror. She thought she looked beautiful, and hoped that Danny would think likewise.

Finally she felt ready… ready for her first date. She went to the bedroom mirror and removed the bedsheet. The sight before her made her heart flutter and her legs almost turn to jelly. Danny had pushed his bedside table up against the mirror and he was standing behind it, waiting for her, dressed in black trousers and a denim dress shirt. On the table was a candle burning and a red rose in a vase. Mary felt overwhelmed and her eyes began to moisten causing her vision to blur, and she had to wipe them. Danny stood motionless, wide eyed and speechless, at his dinner companion for the evening. He wrote something and held it up, looking her directly in the eyes. ‘Wow. You’re beautiful.’

Mary blushed and wrote ‘so are you’, and realised too late how silly that was. He had read it. She turned red and wrote ‘I can’t believe I said that.’

Danny just laughed silently from his side of the glass.

He wrote: ‘Pull your bedside table to the mirror, Mary. Butt it up against mine.’

It was actually the same table that had been there for decades, one of the few furniture items that had remained in the apartment over the years.

            Mary dragged it to the mirror and placed it against the glass, in line with the table on his side. It now looked like one long table; their dinner table. Danny moved the candle close to the mirror so it appeared as if it was near the centre of their table. He waited until Mary brought a chair from the kitchen and they both sat down, facing each other.

Danny couldn’t take his eyes off Mary, and Mary felt a little self-conscious, and kept nervously brushing her hair over her cheeks.

 Danny held up a message. ‘Show me’ and he used his hands to simulate brushing hair away from his cheeks.

Mary looked down and blushed in embarrassment. She looked up at Danny and tentatively pushed her hair behind her ears, hoping for a sign of his approval. Danny smiled and nodded. Mary’s frizzy, almost stiff hair fell again over her cheeks. She went to the bathroom and came back wearing a white headband that tightly pulled her hair away from her forehead and cheeks, totally revealing her round face, illuminated by her big clear brown eyes behind her large round glasses.

She looked at Danny. She now wanted him to see her, she wanted to open up and reveal herself to him; her soul, her flaws, her inner self… the self that she had hidden from the world for most of her youth.

            “So. What did you get?” wrote Danny after a short interval where they sat staring at each other.

“What?” she replied.

“Your dinner. What did you get?”

“Oh Gosh! Of course,” she replied. She ran to the kitchen and came back with her bag of food. Danny looked at it and smiled. He turned his own bag around and showed Mary. Both their takeaway bags had the same logo printed on it. ‘Tongs Chinese Restaurant.’

“Wow” he wrote. “It’s still there after all those years.”

Mary took hers out of the bag.

‘Satay Beef,’ she wrote.

Danny did the same. ‘Mongolian Lamb’

“Mmmm,” she replied, licking her lips. ‘Now I wish I’d gotten that instead.’

They removed the lids and shovelled a couple of spoonfuls to their mouths, closing their eyes as they savoured the taste. They were both so hungry, having been unable to eat anything during the day because of their nervousness of their pending dinner date.

Mary washed hers down with Coke, and Danny with water.

            “So tell me about yourself Mary” he wrote, as their eating settled down to a more acceptable speed.

“There’s not much to tell,” she replied. “My life is pretty boring.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“What about at the beginning,” he wrote.

“The end might be better,” she replied. “You might go to sleep otherwise.”

Danny laughed.

The meal had slowed down to a casual nibble as they constantly had to stop to write on their pads, and hold it up for the other to read. It was a bit tedious but they didn’t mind. They were enjoying each other’s company and were getting used to the inconvenience of writing messages.

“I want to hear about you first,” she wrote.

Danny felt a little nervous. Mary picked up on it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Danny wrote something, then stopped and thought for a few seconds. He screwed up the paper and threw it on the floor.

 After a minute or so he wrote “I told myself I would be honest with you and tell you everything you wanted to know about me.”

Mary waited in anticipation.

He wrote “now I’m afraid you won’t like what you hear.”

“What I read, you mean,” she replied with a grin, but Danny didn’t return the smile.

“Just tell me, Danny. Don’t be afraid. Not of me.”

Danny looked into Mary’s eyes and saw only kindness and trust.

They sat studying one another, neither wanting to be first to break the silence.

           “Maybe it’s me who should start at the end,” he wrote. “Not because it’s more interesting, but because it’s the worst of me. After you hear it, you may not want to hear the rest and we could both save ourselves a lot of time.”

“Tell me, Danny. I’m a big girl you know. I might surprise you.”

Danny thought deeply.

“Not tonight, Mary. Next time. I’ll tell you everything next time. Let’s just have fun tonight. It’s supposed to be a date.”

Mary smiled. “Ok, I’ll tell you about myself then.”

             She felt a little excited about sharing herself with him. Mary had never found it so easy to talk to a guy. It was as though she had known him all her life.

“I’m the youngest of three sisters. We grew up in Derby. Life there is a little slower than London. I think anywhere is a little slower than London. My parents weren’t poor but weren’t exactly rich either.”

 Mary turned the paper around so that Danny could read it.

“I was the baby of the family. I’m 10 years younger than my next sister. They were both very outgoing and popular. They loved to dance, sing karaoke. I was just the opposite. Too embarrassed to dance. I just liked to watch. No one ever asked me for a dance anyway. I’m not really popular with the guys, as you can imagine.”

Danny read it, and then looked up at Mary with a look of disbelief.

He wrote: “Why would I imagine that?”

“Look at me,” she replied. “Shapeless body… hair like dry grass…” and she tugged on her hair to demonstrate the texture.

Danny shook his head. “There is so much more to you than that.”

“Oh yeh? Like what?”

“Like what you are inside. I can see inside you, Mary.”

“Yeh? And what do you see?” she wrote, unconvinced.

Danny studied her as if he was trying to get some kind of reading of her mind.

“I can see a young woman, who thinks she is still a little girl. Still hiding in the shadows of her sisters.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied with a wry smile. “What else do you see?”

“Hmm,” he wrote. He studied her face a bit more. “I see a flower. Still in the seed. Afraid to show itself because it thinks all the other flowers are more colourful, and remains content to just stay in the warmth and safety of the seed pod. Only needing to let the sunshine entice it out.”

              Mary blushed with embarrassment. He saw her giggle.

“Oh stop it. That’s so corny. Did you read that in a romance novel?” she wrote, but she prayed that he would keep going, and Danny knew it. He was, himself, already experiencing the mushy feelings of love and he recognised the same in his dinner date.

Mary knew he was very close to the mark. She knew those things about herself but it took Danny’s observations to bring her to realise them.

           “You ARE beautiful, you know,” he continued. “Inside and out. You made a special effort to dress up for me. You even bought a new dress for our date. That means a lot to me.”

“How do you know this dress is new?”

“When you went to the kitchen to get your food I saw the price tag on the back.”

             Mary put her hand behind her neck and felt the tag. She blushed. “Oh god, I’m so embarrassed.” She could see Danny laughing.

“Stop it” she wrote, smiling.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not” she replied, still smiling.

“You’re right. I’m not” he wrote, smiling back.

            They had been so involved in their conversation that they had forgotten about their dinner. Mary took a mouthful. “It’s cold,” she wrote.

Danny tried his and gave a ‘don’t care’ shrug of his shoulders.

            They ate the remainder in silence, gazing through the glass at each other, both of them feeling their affection growing for the other.

“You saw me that night, didn’t you?” wrote Danny when they had finished.

Mary looked puzzled. “What night? Saw what?”

“You know…that first night. I saw you only for a second, but I felt that you saw me. A lot more of me than I saw of you.” he replied. Mary blushed.

“I’m so sorry,” wrote Danny. “I’m sorry that you had to see that. And I feel really embarrassed myself.”

“Don’t be,” she replied, then added “I wasn’t embarrassed.”

They sat, looking at each other, wondering what to say next.

Mary wrote and hesitated, then held it up, averting Danny’s eyes. “It was actually kinda hot.”

Danny looked at her words for a few seconds, and then looked at her.

Mary quickly wrote. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve never said anything like that before.”

Danny shook his head and replied “no it’s fine. And you know what? It’s kinda nice to know you feel that way.”

            They were both playing a game. They were testing the waters. They both wanted to push the boundaries with the other, without pushing too far and crossing the line. Mary was tingling with excitement that she had gone so far with a guy. Up until this night she had hardly been able to say two words to the opposite sex. With Danny she felt natural and confident to just be herself.

            They studied each other’s face, each with a look of anticipation, both hoping the other will say something, just an indication that this line of conversation will keep progressing. Mary knew she was going somewhere she had never been, but had for a long time fantasised about. She felt so comfortable and confident in his presence, and she was enjoying herself more than ever before.

“I’ve never been with a guy,” she continued.

“Well,” he replied, “you’re with one now.”

 

 

Chapter 6

 

           “Deep in thought?” asked Franco, stirring Danny from his almost-trance-like state. Danny stopped stacking the oranges on the shelf and turned to Franco.

“Sorry boss. Yeh, I was just thinking about something. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Run it by me,” said Franco. “If you want to that is. Maybe I can help.”

“Well” began Danny, “I’ve met this girl.”

“Yeh I figured it would be something to do with a girl.”

“The thing is, I really like her, and I know she likes me.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“She doesn’t know about my past” replied Danny. “She wants me to tell her all about myself, and I told her I would, but I’m scared she will run for the hills. I’m not exactly a good catch, am I?”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Danny. And don’t underestimate the girl. I haven’t known you long but I know you’re a good kid. Hard working, Honest. At least I hope you’re honest.”

“I won’t let you down boss.”

“I think you’re ok, son. I wouldn’t have given you a chance otherwise. And call me Franco. Ok?”

“Ok. Franco.”

“Danny, your past is your past. The only thing you can change now is your future. Forget the past.”

“But what do I tell Mary. That’s her name. Mary.”

“Tell her the truth. If she likes you enough, it won’t bother her. Don’t try and hide who you’ve been. Just show her who you are now. If she decides to walk away, at least she will respect you for your honesty. And it’s better than trying to live a lie.”

“Yeh, you’re right Franco. I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Good luck Danny.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably need it.”

              Danny spent the rest of the day thinking of the night ahead, dreading the thought of telling Mary about his past.

After work he went home and moved the table to the mirror as he did the previous night. He was expecting Mary in around 30 minutes. He ate 2 slices of toast and honey to settle his stomach. He was too nervous to attempt a proper meal. He paced the room going through his life story in his mind. Should he try and water down the seriousness of his past history; of his crimes? Should he leave the worst bits out? No, he needed to tell her everything, and let her decide what she wants to do. He needed to be honest with her.

              He was sitting at the table when Mary pulled the bedsheet from the mirror. She was dressed in a tight lime green t shirt that accentuated her curves, and denim shorts - tight on her white chubby legs - and she again wore the headband, keeping her hair from hiding her face. She dragged her bedside table and chair to the mirror and sat down.

She quickly got her writing pad. “What’s wrong?” she wrote.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, yes it is” she wrote. She looked concerned.

Danny looked glum as he sat for a minute or so collecting his thoughts. He wrote a note.

“I need to tell you something Mary.”

“This sounds serious. What’s up?”

“I’ve been to prison, Mary. If you want to walk away now, I’ll understand.”

“Oh,” she wrote, a little taken aback. It wasn’t something she expected. “Well, we all make mistakes, Danny.”

“It wasn’t a mistake, Mary. I’ve done things. I’ve hurt people. Not physically, but I stole from them.”

“You mean like housebreaking?”

“Yes. Housebreaking. Breaking into businesses. Stealing cars.”

              Mary thought about this for a few moments. Danny had obviously lived his life on the other side of the tracks, but she was willing to hear his story. She saw something in him, and wanted to know everything before deciding one way or another. She wasn’t going to judge him until she heard the whole story.

              “Well,” she began, “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds. A lot of teenagers get into trouble with the police. It doesn’t mean they’re bad or that they’ll stay like that for life.”

“It’s not all.” He hesitated, unsure whether he should go on, and then continued writing.

“I robbed people at knifepoint. I would never have used the knife, but I threatened them. I saw the fear in their faces, Mary, and I took their wallets and handbags.”

              Mary could only stare wide eyed at Danny. Her jaw dropped and she was speechless. She didn’t know what to say to him.

“I knew it,” he wrote. “I’m sorry Mary. This has all been a waste of your time.”

Mary thought for a few moments. “I asked you to tell me about yourself, Danny. Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

              Danny nodded. He looked down for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts. He closed his eyes as if silently praying. He began writing.

“I don’t remember my parents. They were drug addicts. And I think they were drug dealers too. When I was three years old the child protection people took me… rescued me, from what I understand, and placed me with foster parents. I don’t actually remember any of it. I was too young.”

Danny turned the paper around and put it on the table near the mirror so that Mary could begin reading his life story while he continued writing.

            “My earliest memory is an incident when I was about four years old. I remember my foster father taking off his belt. He made me bend over and hold the bedhead, and he whipped me on the butt and the back of my legs. I don’t know what I had done wrong. I couldn’t walk for a day. I couldn’t sleep either, not just from the pain but the fear as well. After that, just the sound of his voice sent shivers down my spine. He would sometimes slap me around.”

He turned it around for Mary to continue reading. Mary glanced up at him now and then, concerned.

He continued. “The whippings and beatings continued, usually for something trivial like not eating my vegetables, or getting my clothes muddy. Things like that. My foster mother voiced her concerns to him, but he had control over her and threatened to beat her also if she wasn’t quiet.”

“Oh I’m so sorry, Danny” wrote Mary. “That’s awful.”

“I was just a kid. I thought it was just life. I thought all fathers did it to their sons when they misbehaved. Later when I started school, I saw fathers picking up their kids and hugging them, and I saw how happy they were, I realised that something wasn’t right. I ran away a couple of times and each time I was taken back by child protection. They asked me why I ran away and I couldn’t tell them. My foster father gave me another beating for my trouble.”

                Mary read each page, noticing that a tear had fallen on one of them. That upset her and she shed a tear of her own.

              “The third time I ran away one of the child protection people noticed strap marks at the top of my legs. They removed me and found another foster home, but the damage was already done. I couldn’t trust any adults, especially men. At the slightest hint of trouble, maybe just angry words between the foster parents, I was out of there. I didn’t hang around in case of a beating.”

Mary read page after page of his harrowing story.

“When I was thirteen I lived with a foster family who had taken in kids all their lives. They were good to me and gave me guidance.  They showed me how to trust again. I was invited to parties and made a couple of friends at school. They were good kids and I wish I had kept them. ”

“I had a wild streak in me and rebelled against authority. I was always getting suspended at school for my disruptive behaviour. I had a chip on my shoulder.”

“I don’t blame you” wrote Mary.

“I left school as soon as I was old enough. No qualifications. No nothing. I didn’t care. I wasn’t interested in working anyway. I fell in with a bad bunch of kids and we formed a gang, ‘Southsiders’. At last I felt like I was part of something. I felt I was an equal. The gang grew to about 20 members, most of them just like me, from broken homes and violent fathers. Sometimes violent mothers. Other kids were afraid of us. So were adults. We broke into houses. We stole cars just for the fun of it. Girls looked at us like we were rock stars. They acted like groupies. Do you know what I’m talking about, Mary?”

Mary read the words and nodded, embarrassed.

“I’m not proud of any of that. I feel bad about taking advantage of those girls. I wish I could go back and change things, but I can’t. I have to live with the guilt. The gang progressed from housebreaking to breaking into shops, stealing things and pawning them for money. Then we went on to robbing people, threatening them with violence.”

Oh my goodness, thought Mary, as she read that.

“Then one night I robbed an old guy. He was probably in his seventies. He had a heart attack right there in front of me. I felt so bad. That was a ‘wake-up call’. I handed myself in to the cops. I couldn’t do it anymore, Mary. The old guy survived and is ok now, but I think about it every day. Sometimes it comes to me in my dreams, just how close I came to causing someone to die.”

              Mary read his words without looking up as he continued writing.

“I went to prison. Three months but I was out in two for good behaviour. When I got out I managed to track the old guy down and I apologised to him. He said he forgives me. He told me I’m young enough to make something of my life. He told me not to waste my chance. You know what he said then?”

Mary read the page. She looked at Danny and shook her head.

“Mary, he said if I ever needed help, to just ask him and he’ll do what he can. Can you believe that?”

Mary wrote: “He obviously saw something good in you.”

“I promised him I would never do anything like that again. It was the truth. I left the gang and my parole officer got me a job. I want to be a good person Mary. I want to show you that I’m a good person.”

             Danny lowered his head and put his forehead in his hand, his elbow resting on the table. He felt extremely remorseful, and unsure if he could go on. Mary could see how upset he was. He looked up as Mary held up a message.

“I’m here, Danny. Let me take some of the pain.”

At that, Danny burst into tears. Mary let him be for a minute or so until he regained his composure.

“I’m sorry Mary, I just need to be alone for a while.”

“I understand” she wrote. “Can we talk some more tomorrow night?”

“Do you really want to? Knowing what you know now?”

Mary nodded, and gave him a slight smile.

“Ok, thank you,” he replied “but if it’s ok with you I might have a quiet night alone tomorrow. See you the night after?”

“Why don’t we have dinner again tomorrow night and talk. You can talk to me Danny. You can tell me anything.”

Danny shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mary. I just need to get my head together.”

Mary wanted to help him, to listen to his troubles, but she respected his decision.

“Ok, see you Saturday night.”

Danny nodded. They put their hands to the mirror, only ¼ inch of glass separating their palms, and after a long look into each other’s eyes, Mary watched Danny go into the bathroom, and she hung the bedsheet.

“Goodnight Danny” she whispered to herself.

             When Danny came out from the bathroom he saw that Mary had hung the bedsheet over the mirror. He went to bed, switched off his light and laid back, staring upwards in the darkness at the ceiling and knowing that he wouldn’t sleep that night. Images were beginning to re-emerge of the not-so-distant past. Danny knew from previous experience that the haunting memories of prison will flash through his mind and torment him until another piece of his soul has been taken by his demons.

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

              “So,” said Adele, “how’s the romance going, how’s Danny?”

“Oh my god, Adele. He’s just so nice. I think I’m in love.”

“Oooh, you go, girl” Adele replied, and gave Mary’s shoulder a little squeeze. “So tell me the goss. Have you done it with him yet? Come on, spill.”

“Well,” Mary replied, “we’ve fooled around a bit. Kind of. He’s so hot Adele.”

“Hmmm, he sounds like it.” said Adele. “So how big is it?”

“How big is what?” Mary replied naively.

“You know…”

“ADELE!!!” said Mary shocked.

Adele stared at her expectantly.

Mary shyly held up her hands, moving her palms apart, and grinned sheepishly. “About this.”

They both laughed, and Adele applauded. “I can’t wait to meet this Danny guy,” she said. “I don’t know what he’s done with the old Mary, but I just love this new one. Who knows, maybe I’ll even tempt you to come out for a couple of drinks.”

“Maybe…” Mary replied thoughtfully. She knew Adele and her friends had a drink every Friday night. “I’m not seeing Danny tonight,” she said. “If you’re going to the pub I might tag along, if that’s ok.”

              Mary felt a little guilty about going out for drinks when she knew Danny was at home feeling miserable, but she knew how tense she would be in her apartment, knowing Danny is behind the bedsheet feeling bad. She knew she would be too tempted to look in to his room to see if he was ok, and that isn’t what Danny wants. He wants privacy. Going out with Adele would be an adventure and a challenge, and a chance to clear her own head as well, and when she sees him again on Saturday night her cheerfulness might rub off on Danny.

Adele couldn’t believe her ears. “Damn right it’s ok, Girlfriend! I’ll pick you up at six.”

The buzzer sounded for the return to work. Adele gave Mary a huge hug. “See you at six Babe. Don’t you go changing your mind in the meantime. ok?”

“I won’t,” replied Mary. “See you at six.”

            Mary was excited about the night ahead, but nervous. She had made a commitment and couldn’t back out now. The more she thought about it, the more she realised she didn’t want to back out anyway. She felt so much more comfortable and confident within herself. She felt she had so much self-worth. Maybe Danny was right. As silly and corny as his little observations were, maybe she really was like a flower too afraid to leave the seed, too afraid to show the world her colours. She saw Adele’s reaction to her revealing parts of her personality that she had hidden for so long, and she felt that she wanted to share more of herself.

 

             At six o’clock Mary was waiting outside her apartment building for Adele. She wore her new blue dress that she had bought for Danny, and also her matching blue lipstick. Her hair was held back from her face by her white headband. Danny had given her so much confidence and self-belief that she now wanted to show the world who she was. Inside she was terrified, but she was determined to get out there with her friend and try and have a bit of fun. She would feel safe with Adele. When a cab pulled up in front of her Adele wound down the back window.

          “Jump in” said Adele. “The girls are going to meet us there.”

Mary got in and Adele gave her a quick hug.

“Wow Mary, you look amazing! That dress looks great on you.”

“Thanks.”

           As the cab headed toward the city Adele looked over at Mary, noticing that she was fidgeting nervously.

“You’ll be fine” said Adele, squeezing Mary’s arm reassuringly. “We don’t have to stay late if you don’t want to. Just let me know if you want to leave at any time.”

“Ok. thanks Adele. This is the first time I’ve been to a pub.”

           They pulled up at the bar and the other girls, Sue and Monica, were waiting outside. Mary had met them both once or twice before.

“Oh wow, Mary, you look absolutely gorgeous!” said Sue.

Mary blushed. “Thank you. It’s a new dress.”

“It’s really beautiful” said Monica. “It looks so good on you.”

“Come on. Let’s go inside” said Adele.

           The bar was crowded, but they found a table at the back and they sat down. The music was pumping and people were talking loudly trying to hear each other. A few couples were dancing. A waitress appeared next to their table.

“What are you drinking, Mary?” asked Adele.

“I don’t know. I don’t usually drink.” she answered.

“She’ll have a Vodka and orange, and I’ll have the house wine,” said Adele to the waitress. Sue and Monica ordered theirs and the waitress went towards the bar.

Mary looked around the room nervously.

“You know, Mary, it’s better that the place is full,” said Adele. “If you’re feeling self-conscious you can blend more easily into the crowd. Nobody is going to notice you here.”

“Yeh,” said Mary thoughtfully. “Yeh, you’re right. Thanks.”

            The waitress returned with the drinks on a tray. She passed the vodka and orange to Mary. The other girls got their drinks and Monica tapped her credit card to pay for them.

“So,” said Monica. “Adele tells me you have a new guy in your life.”

“Yes, I do. His name’s Danny.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Really well. He was busy with other stuff tonight. That’s why my night was free, but we normally meet up every night.”

“Well, we’ll have to meet him one day.”

“Yeh,” replied Mary. “Definitely. One day soon.”

Just then a group of four guys came over to their table.

“Hey girls” said one. “Would you like a dance?”

“I’ll be in that!” said Sue, and she skolled her wine and put the empty glass on the table.

“Me too” said Monica. They both rose and moved to the dance floor with a partner each.

A third guy looked at Adele.

“No thanks. I’m good,” said Adele.

“No problem,” he said and he and the 4th guy walked away without asking Mary.

“You could have danced, Adele. You don’t have to worry about me. I’d be fine.”

“I came here with you, Mary. I want to spend some time with you.”

Mary smiled. “Ok.”

           They talked and watched the people on the dance floor for a few songs.  Sue and Monica were sitting on the other side of the room engrossed in conversation with their newfound friends. Mary was on to her 3rd Vodka and orange and, being a non-drinker, was really feeling the effects of the alcohol. She was more than a bit tipsy. She was talking non-stop, mainly about how wonderful Danny was, and thanking Adele for bringing her that night, and for being her ‘bestest friend…ever!’

            A voice came over the speakers announcing Karaoke hour.

They listened to a few wannabe singers who were obviously Karaoke ‘regulars’. The barroom filled with applause and whistling after each performance. Then Adele got up. Mary watched in awe as Adele pumped out the Madonna song ‘Papa Don’t Preach.’ Mary thought Adele was amazing, not just singing the song in perfect tune, but doing a great impersonation of Madonna dancing.

When she finished the applause was deafening.

Adele returned to the table.

          “You were amazing!” said Mary, wide eyed with an inebriated grin. “I wish I could get up and do that.”

“Thanks Mary,” said Adele with a smile.

Mary looked at her adoringly.

“I love you Adele.”

Adele rolled her eyes. The alcohol had definitely taken effect on Mary.

“Yeh, love you too Babe.”

“No I mean it. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeh. you’re mine too.”

“Well,” said Mary, “when I say best friend, I meant after Danny of course.”

“Of course.”

“Coz Danny’s my boyfriend you know.”

“Yeh, I know.”

“But you’re my girlfriend.”

“Yep,” said Adele.

“Well, you know, not like ‘that’ kind of girlfriend” said Mary, doing the quotation sign to accentuate the word ‘that’.

“Yes, I know.”

“Just besties,” said Mary.

“Mary, I think you need to slow down on the drinks.”

“This is only my first.”

“No, it’s your third. And you’re not used to drinking.”

“I’m fine,” said Mary, waving her hand dismissively.

They watched another singer. No one else got up after that.

“Come on all you talented people. Let’s hear what you’ve got. Don’t be shy.” said the voice through the speakers. No one moved and it seemed to be the end of the show. Adele looked at Mary who looked as if she was thinking deeply. Mary suddenly looked excitedly at Adele. It was an expression that Adele had never seen on her before.

Mary rose from the table and walked up to the Karaoke machine.

Oh my god! thought Adele as the room broke out in applause and whistling. Please be careful, Mary.

             The room went quiet as a shaking but excited Mary studied the machine. She seemed puzzled, and looked questioningly at Adele. Adele ran over to her.

“What’s wrong, Mary?”

“How does this thing work?”

Adele showed Mary how to operate the machine, and after asking Mary if she will be ok, returned to her seat and crossed her fingers. Mary scanned down the list and chose a Jennifer Rush song ‘Power of Love’.

When the music started she froze and missed the first verse, but picked up halfway through the second. Mary had never sung before but from where she was standing, and with a couple of drinks under her belt, she thought she sounded fantastic. Her first few lines were shaky, but she gradually got into the swing of it and was feeling full of confidence.

The room grew silent as she performed her rendition. Most were smiling, a sign that Mary took as meaning she was singing beautifully, but in fact most thought it was a bit amusing, others felt sorry and embarrassed for her; watching this young woman obviously affected by alcohol and trying to sing but failing miserably. Some patrons looked at each other as if the sound was hurting their ears. Mary was in a world of her own as she put her heart and soul into the chorus, completely off key, somehow singing in multiple keys at the same time.

 

‘…..Coz I am your laaaadyyyyy, and you are my maaaannn
Whenever you reach for me, I'll do all that I caaaann
We're heading for something, somewhere I've never beeeeen
Sometimes I am frightened, but I'm ready to learn
About the powwwerrrr of loooovvve……’

 

              When the song finished the room was dead silent. Mary smiled, convinced that they were dazzled by her raw talent. After a few seconds Adele applauded enthusiastically, and one or two others clapped lightly.

“Thank you,” she said into the microphone. “That song has special meaning for me.”

She staggered a little as she went back to Adele at their table. Mary’s face was beaming. She was on a high.

“Well done, Babe!” said Adele, not wanting to discourage her after she had taken such a huge step by getting up there.

“Was I good?” asked Mary excitedly.

“You were bloody fantastic!” replied Adele.

Mary beamed with pride.

“Can you wait here while I go to the ladies'?” Adele asked.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No,” replied Adele. “Someone will take our table. Stay here, Mary. Don’t Move. Ok?”

“Ok.”

           Adele disappeared into the crowd and Mary took a sip of her drink. No one else had gotten up to sing Karaoke, and the dance music had started up again. Mary was nodding her head and tapping her foot to the beat as she looked around at the other patrons.  She noticed a few of them glancing her way and obviously talking about her. A couple of guys approached her.

“Hi,” said one.

“Hello,” said Mary.

“We were just wondering where you learned to sing like that.”

“Oh, I’ve never taken lessons,” replied Mary, smiling. “It’s my natural voice.”

“Well,” he said, “maybe you should. You sounded like a fucking ham sandwich.”

The 2 guys laughed to each other.

Mary was speechless and on the verge of tears.

“Hey,” said the other as he put his arm around her shoulders. “Do you want to dance?”

“No,” she said, trying to shrug his arm off.

“Well then, how about a quickie out the back?”

“No, I’m not like that,” said Mary cringing, wriggling, and trying to push his arm off her shoulder, getting more upset by the second.

“Well, someone that looks like you shouldn’t be so fussy. We’re the best offer you’re likely to get.”

Mary felt as if her heart had just been ripped from her chest. She burst into tears and ran from the bar. She jumped in the first taxi in the rank.

“Are you alright?” asked the cab driver.

“I just want to go home,” she sobbed.

She gave him the address and cried the whole trip.

           Mary entered her apartment and threw herself on the bed and cried into her pillow. What a disaster, she thought. Oh why did I go there? How could I think I’d fit in? Her phone rang for the third unanswered time, and she heard the third voicemail notification. She finally listened to the voicemail. She knew it would be Adele.

“Mary, it’s me. Where are you? Are you alright? Please call me and let me know you’re ok.”

Mary sent her a text message.

“I’m sorry Adele. I’m ok. I’m home.”

           She lay there for 5 minutes or so until she got herself together. She looked over at the bedsheet on the mirror and went to it. She needed Danny. She needed him to tell her it was ok. She pulled the sheet aside just enough to peek through and saw Danny lying on the pillow, tears streaming from his eyes.

The movement of the sheet caught his attention and his eyes darted to the mirror. He looked horrified. The mirror suddenly turned opaque and Mary could no longer see through it. She realised then that just as they could see each other when they so desperately wanted to, it could also work in reverse. Danny obviously didn’t want Mary to see him in such a distressed state.

Suddenly Mary’s problems seemed so insignificant and small. So what if she can’t sing. So what if people think she’s ugly. Danny doesn’t, and his opinion was the only one that mattered.

 She only caught a glimpse of Danny, but she saw the haunted look in his eyes, and she knew he was hurting much more than she was. About what, she didn’t know. She only knew that she wanted to help him. She wanted to hold him and take his pain away.

 

          Mary would never know the horrors and the terrors that tormented Danny’s mind…the images that returned regularly to haunt him. The vivid memories of his time in prison. Danny had promised to tell her everything but he knew he could never share those memories. He could never pass that burden on to someone else, especially a loved one.

            The drive to prison in the van was the first indication of his time ahead. Two other prisoners shared the ride. They were huge and menacing. Danny thought they looked like biker gang members, covered in tattoos, even their faces. Danny realised his gang, the ‘Southsiders’ was just like a bunch of kids compared to real criminals. They stared at him the whole way without saying a word. One blew him a kiss several times, making Danny feel uneasy.

On arrival at the prison he was processed and taken to a room where they made him strip and bend over, telling him to expose himself for inspection for contraband. The guards then turned a fire hose on him. Danny had never felt so afraid and humiliated.

They gave him his prison uniform and when he was dressed they led him through the main corridor of the cell block to his cell.

As they passed other prisoners Danny was subjected to threats of violence, cat-calls, whistling.

“We’ll be paying you a visit tonight, Sweetheart.” shouted one, and he blew Danny a kiss.

 “Looks like you’re in for a good time here Jackson,” said one of the guards.

They arrived at Danny’s cell where he met his cellmate “Jim”, who was lying on his bed reading a book.

Jim was about fifty years old, hardened looking with his muscly arms covered in tattoos. “Hi, I’m Danny.”

“Shut the fuck up. The top bunks yours. Never talk to me while I’m reading.”

“Sorry”

“I said don’t fuckin’ talk. Are you deaf?”

Danny shook his head. His life had collided with harsh reality. The 1ST day of his 2 months in hell had begun.

 

 

CHAPTER 8

            It was Saturday night. Danny was waiting at the table when Mary removed the bedsheet. They both smiled. Their tables were still at the mirror where they had left them and they sat, gazing at each other affectionately.

Whatever had caused Danny’s distress the night before had obviously gone, and Mary decided not bring it up in conversation, unless he himself raised the subject. She was just glad to see him happy again.

“I had an idea today, Mary” he wrote.

Mary looked at him, expectantly.

“This is so hard, all this writing’ he continued. “What if we try and hear each other through the mirror? We can see, maybe we can hear too.”

“But how?”

“Mary, what if we concentrated so hard, so deeply, on hearing each other speak.”

Mary shrugged. “Ok,” she wrote.

“Ok, just start talking,” he wrote. “About anything, but concentrate on speaking to me. Really concentrate.”

Mary took a deep breath and began. “Danny. Hello Danny. Can you hear me? Come in Danny.” She stopped after 20 seconds or so. Nothing.

Danny did the same, just saying random things.

Still nothing.

He wrote and held it up. “Harder, Mary. Concentrate hard, as if you’re trying to send your words directly to my mind as well as through your voice.”

Mary concentrated, and began saying the words out loud as well as in her mind, imagining sending the words directly via some kind of ESP, directly into Danny’s mind, staring intensely into his eyes, wanting more than anything to hear his voice, and for Danny to hear hers.

Danny put his ear against the mirror. He could just make out a soft murmur. He excitedly nodded to Mary. He gestured with his hand to keep going. Mary kept talking, a little louder than before. Danny was beginning to make out the words she was saying.

“Mary. Please Mary. Please hear me,” he began saying into the glass. Mary stopped talking to listen as Danny kept repeating his words.

“Yes! Yes!” she said excitedly, nodding to Danny.

They stopped and gazed at each other. Danny sat down close to the mirror and Mary did the same. Danny put his face closer and so did Mary.

“Can you hear me?” he asked in a slightly louder voice.

Mary nodded. She could faintly hear his words, but watching his mouth as he spoke made it easier to understand. They kept talking, saying random things, talking about events of their day. The more they talked the clearer their voices became until after about 10 minutes they could hear each other at their normal speaking volume.

They stopped and stared into each other’s eyes, grinning like idiots.

   “I didn’t want to tell you this on a piece of paper,” he said.

  “Tell me what?”

   “I love you Mary.”

An ecstatic tingle shot through Mary’s entire body. “I love you too.”

They put a hand to the glass. They leaned across the table and kissed.

“You have the voice of an angel, you know” he said.

“So do you,” she replied, and realised her mistake. “Oh god, I’ve done it again haven’t I? I’m so stupid sometimes.”

“No you’re not…you’re beautiful. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Mary could not have been more in love than she was in that moment. “I don’t care what you’ve done, Danny. I don’t care about what you were before. I only care about the person you are now. The guy I love. Tell me again. Tell me you love me.”

“I love you Mary.”

          In Mary’s mind the stars and the planets had aligned themselves at that very moment. This was exactly where she was meant to be, with the love of her life. Fate had brought them together. Hearing Danny say he loves her released an overdose of pleasure hormones into her brain. She felt as if her heart was being gently and lovingly caressed like an angel’s harp. The feeling was almost a spiritual experience.

       “What do you see in me Danny? You could have any girl you want. Why me?”

Danny pondered her question.

“I don’t know exactly. Everything, I guess. It’s not just one thing. That first night when I saw you I just knew you were the one. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you. I see you, Mary, and you’re all I want. You’re everything to me.”

“You’re my first real boyfriend, you know.”

“That’s so hard to believe.”

“It’s true. No one ever looked twice at me. That’s probably my fault to a large extent. I’m not really very sociable.”

“That’s because you undersell yourself. Remember that corny line I fed you. About being a flower still in the pod?”

“Yeh,” said Mary with a grin. “That was definitely corny.”

“But it was the truth. I look at you now and you glow. You light up the room.”

They looked into each other’s eyes.

“I love you Danny.”

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

            Over the following months the relationship between Mary and Danny grew. Never in her life had she believed she could be so happy. She felt that she must be the luckiest girl in the world, and she was so in love. They both were.

Mary no longer put the bedsheet over the mirror. They had both pushed their beds against the glass, and it was as if they lived together in one big apartment. They ate together, watched TV together, had sex, albeit on either side of the glass, as best they could. They loved the feeling of waking in the morning next to their partner. Looking across at each other, their faces only inches apart. They would dress together, make their beds and share a morning chat over breakfast before kissing through the glass and going to work. When they came home from work they would talk about the events of their day, who they saw, who said what.

They would cook dinner at the same time and talk as they prepared it. They would make the same meal so that they could sit down and share the same things. They would clean their teeth at the same time and simultaneously jump in to bed to wish each other ‘good night’, face to face. They would lie on their pillow and gaze at each other until sleep overcame them. To all intents and purposes they were a normal couple, deeply in love.

            Danny had been becoming increasingly frustrated with the situation. He wanted Mary. He loved her. He wanted all of her, not just a simulation through a glass wall. He came up with a plan. He would break the mirror, removing the barrier between them. He wasn’t 100 percent confident that the plan would work but he didn’t know of any other way. In any case, they must have been brought together for a reason. Surely this would be a natural progression in the strange occurrence; this unbelievable phenomenon in which they had become willing participants. He tried to wrap his mind around the impending result of the mirror’s removal. Would he be with Mary in room 27 in the year 2016, or would Mary be in the room with him in 1997? He had niggling doubts and fears that it would work at all, that neither scenarios made sense, but ignored them in favour of the thought of a favourable outcome.

        “I don’t know, Danny,” said Mary, when Danny went through his idea with her. “What if it doesn’t work?”

Mary wasn’t fully content with their love affair through the mirror, but she had deep fears and reservations that they might upset the status quo and somehow destroy the magic that had brought them together. She wanted so much to be able to touch Danny in the flesh, and to feel his touch on her body, but she did not want to take the chance and risk losing what they have. She had Danny, and to her, that was the most important thing in her world. Danny WAS her world. But deep down she didn’t really believe that it could continue forever.

 “We have to try, Babe. What if this magic disappears? What if this miracle is only temporary?”

“Yeh,” she replied. “You’re right. But I’m really scared. What if it doesn’t work and I never see you again?”

“If it fails, I’ll meet you in 19 years. 19 of my years, I mean. I can wait Mary. It will be hard, but I love you, and I’d wait a lifetime if I had to, to be able to touch you just once. For you it could just be minutes from now.  But I’d be about 39 years old. How would you feel about that?”

“I wouldn’t care how old you are, Danny.”

“Mary, there must be a reason we’ve met like this. Our lives changed the moment we saw each other in the mirror. Now history itself has changed. The way I see it, we have some choices. Some different possibilities. We could stay as we are, knowing it could either stay like this and we might grow old together looking at each other through the mirror, or it could stop anytime and we could lose each other. If that was the case, I could wait nineteen years to meet you here in 2016. That is of course if you are there. Now that history has changed there are no guarantees of anything.”

Mary nodded to indicate she understood.

Danny continued “I could try to find you right now, in my time, 1997. You would be a baby, and I would stay in the background until you are grown. That seems kind of weird, Mary. It’s like I would be a paedophile or something.”

“Agreed,” replied Mary.

“Or we could put all our hopes in this” he said. “We could bet everything on this chance to be together.”

Mary lowered her head to think. This was the most important decision she had ever had to make in her short life.

“Danny, it’s possible that if it didn’t work, we may never see each other again.”

“It has to work. I can’t stand this. I need you with me, Mary. I want to be with you for real. I feel like I loved you before I even met you.”

Mary thought long and hard through the confusion, weighing the different options and risks. Her mind was swimming. She tentatively made a decision, one that she prayed she wouldn’t regret.

 “Ok,” said Mary. “Let’s try.”

             She went to the mirror and placed her hands on the glass. Danny did the same and they gazed into each other’s eyes for an extended moment. Mary put her lips to the mirror and Danny kissed her from the other side, feeling the electricity of her love through the glass barrier.

She moved away from the mirror until her back was against the opposite wall. “I’m afraid, Danny. This may be the last time we see each other. Remember that I love you. I always will.”

“I love you too Mary. This will work. I know it will.”

They stood, exchanging looks, savouring this moment, before they will be either united in reality, or possibly separated forever. Mary held up a hand in a slight wave as Danny picked up the chair and pulled it back behind his shoulders for maximum impact on the glass. Mary backed out of the bedroom door to safety from the impending flying glass. She silently prayed.

            Realisation suddenly struck Mary like a dagger to the heart. She turned pale as the blood drained from her face. She knew in that instant that their plan wouldn’t work. Her mind could accept that the laws of the universe could create a window from one era to another and allow a glimpse into another time and place, but there was no way she or Danny could just walk nonchalantly into the past or the future to be with their lover. It would break every universal law governing the time/ space continuum. It would be like the ‘Butterfly effect’, only with a sledgehammer. She understood in that moment that the mirror was not a doorway between their worlds. It was not a gate, it was only a window. She rushed back into the bedroom.

As the chair began its ill-fated arc toward the mirror, Mary screamed “NO DANNY! STOP! DON’T!” but it was too late.

Mary covered her face with her forearms to shield it from the shower of glass fragments. The mirror exploded into her room, small shards of glass hitting her forearms and legs, making small cuts that began trickling blood even before she had realised what had happened. Several small fragments stuck in her flesh.

The room fell silent. She uncovered her eyes.

She looked at the mirror, now with a huge hole blown out of the centre. There was nothing behind it but a brick wall. Mary looked around her room. Blood dripped to the floor from the small nicks in her arms and legs but she felt no pain.

“DANNY!” she called. “DANNY! WHERE ARE YOU?”

There was only silence. Mary walked to the mirror and put her hands on the wall in the mirror’s gaping hole where she had seen Danny standing seconds before. He was gone.

In the silence Mary sunk to the floor, oblivious to the shards of glass cutting into her knees, her sticky blood forming a small pool on the old wooden floorboards. She screamed.

“NO! DANNY! NO!” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

           In the weeks following the loss of Danny, Mary had descended into a depressed state, retreating into her protective shell, unable to confide in anyone, not even her closest friend Adele for fear of ridicule and disbelief of her story. She was afraid people would think she was mentally disturbed.  She knew they wouldn’t understand. All she could say was that Danny had suddenly disappeared, and that she didn’t know the reason.

           Mary had prayed that Danny would knock on her door shortly after the breaking of the mirror. When he didn’t show, she had come to accept the explanation those nineteen years were too long for him to wait even though their love for each other had seemed so strong. She realised that in Danny’s time, she had already been born and was no more than a baby. He couldn’t wait in the wings for her to become a woman. She knew Danny would have needs, emotional as well as sexual. Deep down she felt it would have been so selfish of her to expect him to wait for nineteen years for her. It still didn’t make it any easier. He had probably met another girl in that nineteen year period. He may even have a family now, maybe even teenage kids. And while Danny would have long ago gotten over the trauma of their separation, Mary’s heartbreak had just begun.

            She had gotten the glass replaced in the mirror frame, and had sat there night after night, staring into it, her mind focusing on the image of Danny’s face, praying and wishing he would come back, that he would magically appear as he did before. The only face she saw was her own; drawn and tired and shattered, just like the mirror on that fateful night, weeks before. Night after night she experienced the same disappointment, the same heartache, the same tears and the same crying herself to sleep.

          Mary came to a decision. She would try and find him, if only to seek closure. She knew that if she did find him she would have to be prepared to acknowledge that he had a wife and family, and with so many of his years having passed, she would have to accept that he may not want to have an interest in her except as a forgotten girlfriend from the distant past.

Her first place to check was the apartment manager who lived in one of the ground floor apartments, where he had an office.

Mary knocked on the door and Mr Albany, a man aged in his fifties answered. Mary had met him once when she had moved in few months before.

“Yes?” he said as he opened the door, taking in the sad appearance of the young lady before him.

“Hi” said Mary. “I’m Mary Oswald. I live on the third floor. Room 27.”

“Yes Mary, I know who you are. What can I do for you?”

             Mary stood there nervously fidgeting with her hands, not quite sure where to start. She had lost the confidence that she had when she had Danny and she had once again become somewhat withdrawn and had disassociated herself from the world around her.

“Come inside Mary. Whatever it is, let’s see if we can sort it out,” said Mr Albany, noticing her nervousness. Mary entered his apartment and he closed the door behind them. Mary noticed the apartment had probably not been redecorated for thirty years or more.

“Sit down, Mary” he said. “Can I get you something? A drink?”

Mary shook her head. “No thanks. I’m fine.”

“So tell me. What’s the problem? How can I help?”

“I’m trying to find a friend. He lived here about 19 or 20 years ago. His name is Daniel Jackson…Danny.”

“Mr Albany looked confused. “But you’re only about 20 years old yourself” he said. “You would have been a baby back then.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” replied Mary. “I meant he was a friend of the family.”

“Hmm,” said Mr Albany. “Daniel Jackson you say. I’ll check the records.”

            He disappeared into his office which was a converted bedroom and Mary could hear him shuffling through filing cabinets. He appeared with a ledger and sat on the lounge next to Mary. She looked on as he flipped through the pages.

“There doesn’t appear to be a Daniel Jackson in here, Mary. But records are only kept for ten years, so it’s possible that he did live here, but moved out more than ten years ago.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mary with a desperate tone in her voice. “Can you please check your files again? Please?

“I’m sorry, Mary, but this is all there is.”

Mary nodded in defeat. “Thank you anyway Mr Albany.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help” he said.

Mary left and went back upstairs to her apartment.

            The next place to search was the internet telephone book. There were a few Daniel Jacksons in the area, more than she would have guessed. She phoned them all but time after time she was met with disappointment.

Maybe he didn’t even live in the area anymore. He could have moved away to start a new life in a new city, in a new state, possibly even in a new country and Mary would have no chance of finding him.

           She searched Facebook. There were hundreds of Daniel Jacksons around the world. She trawled through profile after profile, confident that she would recognise him even as an older man of 38 years. She messaged the fifty or so Daniel Jacksons that didn’t have a profile picture. She heard back from about half of them, still no luck. Maybe he was one of them, and didn’t want contact. She would have no way of knowing.

           Mary’s search had come to a dead end. It was as if Danny had never existed. Maybe he didn’t, she thought. Maybe he was only in her imagination after all, in which case she was insane; broken-hearted over a fictitious person, a ghost, a figment of her imagination.

           Another week passed. Mary went through the motions of living day to day. Working eight hour shifts and then going home to her lonely apartment to once again sit at the mirror, waiting for a sign.

          It was a Thursday evening that Mary caught the elevator to the third floor, sharing the ride with Mrs Talbot, an 89 year old retired school teacher. Mrs Talbot was dressed in long red pants with matching cardigan, and her mid length hair was permed and died grey to give it a uniform colour. Mary had never noticed the old lady before in the building.

“Hello,” said Mrs Talbot after they had exchanged a few glances.

Mary forced a smile. “Hi.”

They reached the third floor and both exited into the hallway.

“Do you live on this floor?” asked Mary.

“Yes dear,” she answered in her elderly creaking voice, “down the end of the hall.”

“Have you lived here long?” asked Mary.

“About 30 years or so,” answered Mrs Talbot.

Mary’s eyes widened and she suddenly saw a glimmer of hope.

“Can I ask,” said Mary, “did you know a young man who lived on this floor about 19 years ago? A Daniel Jackson?”

“Danny? Yes I knew Danny.”

“Oh my God,” said Mary emotionally. “Please, I need to talk to you about him.”

Mrs Talbot studied the young woman in front of her. “You’d best come inside, Dear. I’ll tell you all I know.” She led an excited Mary to her apartment at the end of the long hallway, and opened the door, inviting her inside.

“Sit down Dear. I’ll make a cup of tea.”

“Thank you. I’m Mary, by the way.”

“Emily Talbot” she replied.

“Nice to meet you Mrs Talbot”

“Just call me Emily, Mary.”

            She went to the kitchen and Mary sat on the edge of the sofa, tapping one foot excitedly. She could hear teacups clinking and a kettle being filled.

She looked around the apartment. It was bright and cheerful with plenty of sunlight streaming through the window. It was typically decorated in the old fashioned style with lace curtains and a floral patterned old sofa, colourful china figurines and plastic flowers in vases. The apartment was immaculately clean and tidy.

“There you go Mary” she said, placing a tray with two teacups, a teapot and milk and sugar and a packet of biscuits on the coffee table. She sat on the sofa next to Mary.

 “Mary…I’ve always loved that name. Danny had a girl named Mary. He was obsessed with her.”

Mary’s eyes began to moisten.

“Are you alright, Dear?” asked Emily, concerned.

“Yes I’m fine” she replied, wiping her eyes. “I just can’t believe I’ve found someone who knows Danny. I’d almost given up.”

“How do you know Danny, if you don’t mind my asking?” said Emily.

“He’s an old family friend,” Mary replied.

“Oh,” said Emily, a little puzzled at Mary’s answer. She poured the teas and stirred in some milk and sugar in her own cup.

She continued “Well, Danny was such a nice boy. He helped me sometimes to carry my groceries and I invited him to dinner quite a few times. An old lady gets lonely and it’s nice to be able to cook for someone occasionally. And he seemed to like the company. We had some nice chats. He had a very troubled life I understand. He told me his parents abandoned him as a child.”

“Yes,” said Mary, “he told me.”

Emily gave Mary a strange look. “How could he have told you that?”

“Oh! Sorry,” Mary replied. “I meant my parents told me.”

“Hm. Alright,” said Emily. “Anyway, he was constantly in and out of trouble with the police in his younger days. Running away from foster homes and the like. He fell in with a gang on the Southside. It wasn’t the real Danny. He was much better than that. I think he was just so angry with the world, angry at his parents. And who could blame him. I wish I’d had a son like Danny. He only needed a bit of guidance, the poor boy. Would you like a biscuit, Dear?”

Mary shook her head. “No thank you.”

Emily took a biscuit from the packet and dunked it in her tea, and ate half of it before continuing. “He eventually went to prison. That’s when Danny decided it wasn’t the life for him. He wanted to make something of himself, have a decent life despite the difficult times he had growing up. I think he wanted to prove the world wrong, so to speak.”

Mary listened, fascinated, even though she had heard these things from Danny himself. Hearing it from Emily just seemed to validate it and make it real.

            Emily sipped her tea and continued. “His parole officer found him a job at the local greengrocer. Oh, it was just a start, just a dead end job really, for an unskilled worker. It didn’t pay much. But Danny was so proud that he had gotten his first job, his first chance to build an honest life, and he worked so hard toward that goal. Would you believe he bought me flowers with his first pay? He had such a kind heart, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” replied Mary.

Emily hesitated, feeling a little emotional, then continued.

“He met this girl, Mary was her name. I never met her but oh, she must have been lovely. And she was just what he needed at that point in his life. Whenever I saw him she was all he talked about.”

“Please, Emily, please tell me where he is. I need to find him.”

Emily looked at Mary, surprised.

“Why, he passed away, Dear. A long time ago. Didn’t you know? I thought you just wanted to ask me about his life.”

Mary’s face turned pale and tears welled in her eyes. “No. No. It can’t be true. Oh God,” she said, covering her mouth in total shock.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that you had to hear about it like that, Mary. I didn’t realise.” Emily put her hand on Mary’s to comfort her.

“What happened to him?” Mary asked, wiping her eyes.

Emily sat silently for a minute or so, collecting her thoughts, and then began.

 

         “Danny was a quiet boy. Very sensitive. Something happened between him and Mary. He was heartbroken for months, staying in his room night after night. He would sometimes take late night walks to the park or along the river… ‘just to think’… were his words to me. I think he was just so lonely in that apartment. Anyway he was walking over Southwark Bridge one night and some young men from a rival gang happened upon him and recognised him. One of them had a knife. Even though Danny had left that world of gangs and violence the young man stabbed Danny and they threw him into the river. The police never found his body. It was so sad. I’ll never forget it. It haunts me to this day.”

            Mary’s tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “I loved him Emily,” she sobbed. “I loved him so much.”

Emily put her arm around Mary and held her tight.

“But I don’t understand, Dear. How could you have even known him? You’re so young.”

“BECAUSE I’M MARY!!” she shouted, crying. “DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? I’M MARY! I’M MARY! I LOVED HIM! AND HE LOVED ME!”

Emily still didn’t get it. She was taken aback at Mary’s emotional outburst.

        “Did you ever hear the sound of glass breaking in Danny’s apartment?” asked Mary.

“Why yes,” replied Emily. “A terrible noise. It woke me from my sleep. It was about the same time something happened between him and Mary.”

“It was his mirror wasn’t it?” said Mary.

“Well…yes, but how do you know about that?”

“Because I’m Mary,” she said, exasperated. “Emily, I don’t know how or why, it’s all so crazy. I can’t explain it, but Danny and I met through that mirror. Two lonely people living in different times, but we were somehow brought together, united through the mirror. But the mirror broke and we lost each other. Forever.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” replied Emily, holding Mary tightly, “but I know a broken heart when I see one. I believe you Mary. I believe something happened. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

They sat in shared sorrow, both reliving in their minds their own moments spent with Danny.

“Sssshhhhhh” whispered Emily, gently stroking Mary’s dry, straw-like hair as Mary sobbed into Emily’s comforting shoulder.

“I loved him Emily. I loved him.”

 

 

Chapter 11

 

           Mary woke in unfamiliar surroundings. It was dark. As her eyes adjusted to the low light she realised she was still in Emily’s apartment. She had dosed off and Emily had covered her with a blanket and left her on the sofa, and had gone to her own bed.

She sat up and stretched, feeling drawn and tired. Emily’s words echoed in Mary’s mind like a recording. ‘Stabbed and thrown off Southwark Bridge – body was never found.”

          Mary rose and folded the blanket neatly, and laid it on the sofa. She left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her and went down the hall to her own apartment. She looked at the mirror for a minute or so and then pulled her bedside table across and pushed it up against it. She went to the bathroom and put on her white headband, pulling back her hair from her forehead and cheeks. She got a chair from the kitchen, sat in front of the mirror and looked at the reflection. It was almost identical to the one she had been looking into for the past couple of months, except the person now looking back at her was herself. It was the image that Danny had seen, the girl that Danny had fallen in love with. The girl that no one else wanted. And it was the image that Danny had ultimately died for.

             It didn’t escape Mary that the reason Danny was on the bridge that night was because of their relationship. It was also their greed. Some divine power had given them an amazing gift but it wasn’t enough for them. They had wanted more. They tried to take more and had paid the ultimate price. More to the point, Danny had paid the ultimate price.

            Mary would have given anything to go back to that point when she had agreed to break the mirror. She would have given her own life for just one more night with him. She had realised their mistake all too late and had watched their dreams disintegrate with the shattering of the mirror. But Mary wondered if it was fate? Maybe it was meant to happen. Fate has a funny way of working. Did that cosmic power realise its mistake in connecting two people from different times. Was Danny’s demise the universe’s way of righting things before history was irreversibly changed? They say you can’t change fate. And whatever happens in this world can’t be argued that it is not fate. Even our attempts at changing fate could be fate in itself. The wheels of confusion and questions just go round and round.

           Mary rose from the chair and left her apartment, closed the door quietly behind her, and descended down the stairwell. As she walked out of the door onto the street the cool night air made her back shiver through her thin blouse. The streets were deserted except for the occasional late night revellers or persons stumbling home after a night at the pub. Mary went to the Underground and caught a train to the city, getting off at Cannon Street Station. She strolled casually along the riverbank taking in the serenity of the water and the reflections of the city lights on the rippling surface until she arrived at Southwark Bridge.

She gazed up at the ornate old bridge and her eyes trailed down to the dark waters, imagining in her mind that terrible night, an image of Danny falling to his death, afraid and alone. Emily’s words echoed in her mind.

“Thrown off the bridge.”

“Body never found.”

            Mary walked up onto the bridge, high above the river and stood at the railing. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she wondered if she was at the same spot that Danny had met his demise all those years before. Was she the last thing he thought about as he descended to the water? She looked at the deep dark waters, knowing that he was still down there somewhere.

           She climbed onto the railing and sat, gazing at the water below. She wondered how many secrets lie in the mysterious depths. The moon and clouds created shadowy patches on the water that appeared in the corner of her eye, but by the time her eyes had turned to the shadows they disappeared and appeared somewhere else.

           How many Dannys are resting on the bed of the river, blanketed in years of silt and mud? How many loved ones had they left behind to live their lives alone in this world. How many ghosts are lying there, forever looking upwards, wanting to see the face of their soulmate just one more time so that they can move on to the next world. Was Danny looking up at her at that very moment, finally finding peace before the mud and silt consumed him for all eternity?

           Life hadn’t really worked out the way Mary had imagined. Her dream of meeting someone who would share her life, to take away the loneliness, to understand her and see her as she really was, not the inept, socially awkward outsider that the world saw, was shattered. But the dream had actually come true. Mary had found her true love, her soulmate. Her mirror image. Their love had traversed time and space. But in a terrible twist of fate, her friend and lover had been dead for 19 years, and paradoxically it was his love for her that had led to his death.

          Mary looked back at her life. She recalled her first day of school as if it was yesterday.  She was teased by a group of girls who laughed at her chubbiness and straw-like hair. They said she had hair like a scarecrow, and it had a profound effect on her. Mary’s shyness set in and she found it increasingly difficult to mix with other students, content to stand in the background and observe. That shyness only led to more ridicule and teasing from her peers. It snowballed and she gradually withdrew from the world around her.

           Her mind went back to when she was fifteen. She was befriended by Steven, a quiet boy who broke through the protective walls that Mary had built around herself. There was an affinity between them, a common view of life as quiet teenagers, although Steven was more outgoing than Mary, and had other friends besides her. They often sat together on the school bus. They shared the same tastes in movies and music, and although they weren’t dating, they had become close.

           Steven liked to talk to Mary and he did most of it, and Mary liked to listen. But she wanted there to be more to their relationship. When Steven talked her eyes would wander over his face. She watched his lips moving, imagining kissing them. She looked into his eyes, at his hair. Often she wouldn’t hear what he was saying, as if she was in a kind of trance.

           Mary had decided to pluck up the courage and ask Steven out on a date, maybe just a movie. It would take all the courage she could muster, but she wanted him. The movie would be her treat. And she wanted to buy him a gift to show her friendship. She knew of a Metallica CD that he had wanted, and she used her allowance to buy it for him. She wrapped it and took it with her to catch the bus. She couldn’t wait to see the surprise on his face when she presented it to him. She boarded the bus with her school bag in one hand and the gift in the other, looking left and right as she walked down the aisle scanning the seats for Steven. She saw him, his arm around a girl from his class, laughing and talking, sharing moments; moments that Mary had wanted to share.

           “Hey, Mary,” he said as she passed by, not realising her devastation.

“Hi, Steven,” she managed to say, without collapsing in a blubbering heap.

She moved to the back of the bus so that no one could see the tears she was about to shed.

            The following five years saw many crushes on boys, but none were acted on. Mary went unnoticed, blending into the background of teenage society. She gradually built her own life, her own bubble with almost impenetrable walls, a fantasy world where Mary could have any boy she wanted in her imagination. That was until Danny appeared.

Danny was a gift from above, from the cosmos, maybe even heaven. He had broken through the walls and looked into her soul, and wanted her, needed her. He loved her just as she was. The constraints of time and space were no barrier to their love. They had shared a complete and full relationship…almost. They had shared their thoughts and their dreams. They had willingly and openly shared their fantasies and their bodies, albeit through a glass barrier. They had given one another everything possible under the circumstances, but they had wanted more; they had wanted to feel the flesh, smell the scent, taste the body of their lover, to experience the other’s warm breath on their cheek and to feel their partner shudder in their most vulnerable moments. They took the only chance they had; they rolled the dice, but ultimately they lost everything.

              Mary looked up at the vast expanse of space and distant stars.  She didn’t hate the world or the universe despite the fact that it had taken Danny from her. But she felt that she had seen all the beauty that this world had to offer and that there was nothing more for her here. There were so many questions left unanswered, but Mary no longer sought the answers.

             She stood and peered into the deep, silent waters below. She inched forward until her toes hung over the railing’s edge. For a fleeting second, Mary thought she saw Danny just below the water’s surface smiling up at her, no longer separated by a glass barrier, and then he was gone, devoured by the cold ever-shifting waters of the Thames.

            Mary lifted her arms as if they were graceful wings about to carry her to another place, another time, another dimension. She pictured Danny in her mind, his image in the mirror, his look of complete love for her. She felt exhilaration as she closed her eyes and smiled, her wings open and ready, and she leaned forward off the railing into weightless tranquillity. Her light clothes were buffeted by the wind and the cool air caressed her face as she began her flight to her new home with Danny, and the beginning of their eternity together.

 

 

 

 

**************

 

THE IMAGE OF HELEN

 

I read through the letter three times, correcting mistakes, changing a few words. I want it to be perfect. When I am satisfied with it I go to the stove and light one of the burners. I hold the corner of the letter over the flame and it quickly ignites, and I drop it into the sink and watch until it is reduced to ashes. I return to the table and scoff the last drop of whisky in the glass.

The needle makes a scuffing sound as it steers its way across the void on the vinyl between the end of the previous song and the beginning of the final song- Hits of the Nineties, Vol Two, Side two, Track six. The final song of the record, the final song of my life. I fill my glass and pick up the photo of Helen. She is smiling, as if she knows my pain is almost over. She looks happy for me.

“Happy birthday Helen,” I say silently.

I roll the whiskey around in my mouth, savouring the taste and feeling the relaxation washing over me. It’s still one of life’s simple pleasures.

As the first verse plays, my mind goes back to that day when I first saw her, her emerald green eyes full of life and promises, full of wicked ideas, full of seduction. And oh, she seduced me so well. She seduced me completely, and I welcomed it.

The verse rolls into the chorus, then into the second verse. I recall that first night we spent together. The playful twinkling of her eyes like a myriad of stars as she looked up at me from her kneeling position.

The second verse finishes, along with the second chorus. The wailing of the harmonica pulses from the retro speakers as I look at the whiskey glass. It’s empty and there seems no point in refilling it. I fill it anyway; it adds a nice ambience with the light of the lamp passing through the whiskey, creating reflections that dance on the surface like ocean glitter from a setting sun. I pick up the revolver. It feels much heavier now. The end of the barrel bumps my top lip onto my teeth, splitting the skin. The barrel feels hard against the roof of my mouth, and I notice a metallic taste- blood from my split lip. The full glass of whiskey sits on the table before me and is vibrating as if from an earth tremor, but I know it is from my body trembling. The air in the room is heavy with the smell of fear. The final chorus rings in my ears as the final words approach, building to a crescendo, to fever pitch. The lyrics echo in my head…

‘you are my everything’

‘you are my everything’

‘you are my everything’………

 

 

 

At the point of explosion; in the split second where life meets death, John’s subconscious mind realises that the world is ending and- in the same way that a doomed world would send a rocket ship containing its last survivors into space before the planet is obliterated- his disintegrating mind frantically sends forth one final image in a vain, desperate attempt at survival using the only means it knew, which had already extended his life by 3 weeks. The last thing that flashes by John Michael Stephens’ eyes is the image of Helen.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 01.08.2022

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