As the clock ticks into midnight the bartender puts a mocktail in front of me.
“From that gentleman over there,” The bartender nods towards a man on the other side of the bar and turns around.
I can’t look away. The music fades as I take in his features. He’s got a sharp jawline, so sharp it cuts my breath to a short stop. His hair is an organized mess, he spent time making it look effortless, and it’s prettiest brown I have ever seen and- and he looks straight at me. And the first thing I think is; his face is that of a god. A smug smile spreads on his lips, almost like he knows what I’m thinking and I feel color rush to my cheeks. When I snap my head away I can still feel his gaze piercing my neck.
I search for my friends. They’re not hard to find, their voices louder than the music, which has reached a diabolical volume trying to make itself heard over them. Two of them are having a shot drinking competition, and the other three are just cheering them on. I’m not sure if I regret volunteering to be the designated driver or if I’m thankful for it. Probably a little bit of both. Despite that I squeeze my way through the crowds over to the five, partly because I have to stop thinking about that stupid, handsome, gorgeous- that man. Partly because I want to witness who can drink the most shots in a minute.
The loud music pulses through the room, making my chest vibrate. My steps are careful as I weave my way through the massive crowd, following the voices I can put faces to. Even with the music I can hear someone whistle and for a brief moment a hand is placed on my behind. I can’t help but feel uncomfortable, but I keep pushing through the crowd, without stepping on any toes. An immediate sense of relief fills me as I reach the table my friends are at.
“Who’s winning?” I shout, but it probably sounds like a horrible screech to everyone that hears it, my voice cracking in the middle.
“Matilda! But Cam is catching up, I think?” Lovisa yells over the too loud music.
Matilda, our all time champion in shot drinking, slams an empty shot glass on the table, having swallowed the liquid like water. Cam follows suit. She’s been wanting Matilda’s title since her birthday last week and the other is always up for a competition
“Come on Cam! You got this!” I yell joining my friends’ cheers. There’s fifteen seconds left on the timer. I take a sip of my mocktail, it’s my favorite.
The timer blares as Matilda takes her last shot, which also proves to be the winning one.
“I knew it!” Freya yells and holds out her hand to Maya, who reluctantly hands her a ten dollar bill. Of course they bet on this too. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“WOO!!” Matilda yells out drunkenly and belatedly celebrating her win, like it took her a few seconds to comprehend the series of events that just happened.
“You almost had it, Cam!” I pat my friend on the back. I can hear the grumpy reply before she so much as opens her mouth.
“Shut up!” Cam mumbles, barely intelligible, but it proves that she’s more drunk than I thought. Maybe it’s time to go home.
“Lovisa? What time is it?” I call out hoping that she hears me over the music, as I hold on to Cam who’s standing on unsteady legs. “Lovisa!”
“WHAT!”
“What time?!”
I watch as she fishes her phone up from the back pocket of her jeans.
“TEN PAST MIDNIGHT!!”
“We should start heading home! Go get Maya before she wastes all her money!” I shout, and for a split second Lovisa looks like a lost puppy. She follows my gaze and sees Maya at the bar. Then she glares at me. Maya is not someone who does as told.
At least both Freya and Matilda were easily convinced to go outside, but refused to go in the car.
“Both of you! Just get in the car, please,” I plead, my voice already rough from all the yelling.
“NOoo! I just saw a really hot guy I have to follow hi-”
“FREYA!”
“I’ll get in the car,” And she does, sitting in the row furthest back, furthest in, in my minivan. I look at Matilda, seeing the refusal on her face.
“I wanna sit next to Cam.”
“Cam’s going to throw up. She needs to be in the front.” I say sternly, and give her a pointed look, telling that this isn’t up for discussion. She opens her mouth to refute, stubborn as ever.
“But-”
“Matildaaaa,” Maya calls out coming out of the club with Lovisa behind her. And it’s enough to make Matilda budge. She gets in the car without another complaint. I don’t know what I’d do without Maya.
Freya and Matilda sit the furthest back, Maya and Lovisa spread out in the middle row and I somehow manage to get a passed out Cam into the passenger seat. I start the car, ready to drive all of them home and then myself.
I watch my friends in the rearview mirror. Drunk, laughing, alive. Happy. In 10 years they will think back to this night. The night before everything shattered.
— — —
I watch the bartender put the mocktail in front of her. It’s her favorite, pineapple and coconut. Cold. Exotic, just like her. She’s isn’t from here, she doesn’t fit in. I briefly wonder what makes her think she does.
The bartender points to me and I look away before she notices I was watching her. I can feel her gaze on me, admiring my features. I’ve seen her look at many men, admiring their features. How her lips part slightly, and how her breath catches before her chest rises slowly in an almost imperceptible breath intake. How she shifts her weight on the chair, and her left hand plays with the sapphire around her neck. I know that look all too well, and I’m not used to liking it. But when it’s directed towards me, I suddenly love it. I feel like god, and she is a slave meant to serve only me.
Only then do I turn back to her, giving her enough time to look at me but not enough to notice every detail. Not like I have with her. I look her straight in the eyes and let a smug smile spread on my lips. Her eyes tell me everything I need to know. An open book. She blushes and snaps her head away. Still, I let my gaze linger and despite the dim light I see the blush spread to her neck.
She pushes her way through the crowd, on the way to her friends. She’s careful, making sure to not push too hard or step on someone. But then. Then. For just a moment she stills. I’m not sure she noticed it herself. I doubt it. It’s easy to figure out why. Someone, a man, has his hand on her ass. She continues through the crowd
after mere milliseconds, but it feels longer than that to me. She acts unbothered, but the way she stilled earlier made it clear that wasn’t the case.
My chest tightens and I see red, the anger claws at my insides. Who does he think he is, acting like she’s his? Like she’s up for grabs? I watch him in the crowd, smiling like he had done no wrong. Like an uneducated boy, no manners apparent.
And I close my eyes, take a deep breath. I walk up to him, wrap an arm around his shoulders. The crowd spreads for us, like the red sea did for Moses. We leave the club and enter the dark alleyway behind it. He’s confused, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he noticed my anger.
“Would you like to explain yourself?” I ask, and look into his soul. My back is straight and I tower over him. I’m not backing down, and he knows that.
“You say that like I did something wrong, man!” He exclaims. But even a newborn could hear the nervousness filling his voice. I like it. I’m sure she would too. She would agree she needs someone stronger than this weakling.
“You touched her. She’s not yours,” I state. I see the realization hit him. And when he opens his mouth to respond, I, only for a moment, admire him for standing up for himself. As the words leave him I regret my admiration.
“Well, she’s not yours either dude,” He says, followed by a nervous laugh. And I need nothing else to snap.
My fist connects with his face in a hard punch. I hear something crack and blood flows freely from his nose when he stumbles back in surprise, eyes wide.
“What the-”
But I’m already moving again, not one thought of the consequences. I only care that he touched her– like she was his. He had it coming. He knew he did.
I hear her voice then, she’s on her way home. I watch from the shadows, she doesn’t see me. She doesn’t care about the man who had touched her earlier. For once, I don’t know what to think. She should be grateful. I protected her.
But in 10 years I will look back on today and not regret a single thing.
— — —
My alarm was set for 7. But when I check my phone it’s 8.13. I’m not surprised I slept through it. I was up late last night, there’s no denying. I sit up in my bed and the sun hits my face. I must’ve forgotten to close the blinds. I yawn, throw the cover to the side.. and pause. I have to get up. I need to be at my sister’s house in less than an hour.
I sit still for a few more minutes. It’s almost becoming a part of my morning routine, just sitting in bed and gathering the energy I need to get up.
Only when my phone buzzes with a text from my sister do I decide it’s time to start the day. She asks what I want for lunch. For a second I consider asking why she’s thinking about that this early, just to tease her. I decide against it. It’s her wedding day, so I should be nice. I tell her I want fruit salad. She takes her time to answer, maybe she was thinking about teasing me about my choice. She doesn’t, she only sends a thumbs up. Maybe she was just searching for the right emoji.
But the conversation is over, and I get up, dragging myself to the washroom. The shower is cold, but it helps quicken the pace. I only have another twenty minutes to get ready before I need to go. I use 12 minutes to shower and wash my hair. It’s probably the quickest shower I’ve ever taken. With the remaining eight minutes I put on some mismatched softwear, put my hair up in a bun and make coffee for the car ride. Usually the coffee machine struggles with the first cup, but it didn’t today. A small mercy.
I grab my car keys and the travel mug. It’s a 20 minute drive. I’m right on schedule.
Only when I start the car does it actually get to me that my baby sister is getting married. I’m not even looking for a partner, and by tomorrow she’ll be tied down to one. I’m happy for her. Charlotte and Henry. There was a rhythm to them, two pieces of a puzzle. Her smile carried him with her, and her shoulders relaxed when she talked about him. A fated pair, some might say. I would agree.
I’m proud. I’m excited. This is fantastic. Why do I have a bad feeling about today?
I park my car in their driveway, ignoring the feeling. I knock on the front door and Charlotte opens. We hug each other tightly, excitedly.
“How are you feeling, Charlie? Nervous?” I exclaim joyfully and she laughs as she invites me in.
“A little bit, maybe? Come on in, have you eaten today? We have toast if you haven’t but-” She rambles, and I know she’s more nervous for this evening than what she lets on.
“-I would love some toast. Now calm down, please. Are the other girls here?” I step inside. She takes a deep breath before she answers.
“No, I told them to come at 9:30. I’ll prepare your toast. Your dress is in the guest room, kept safe like you asked. You should eat before you change though,” I can tell that even if she kept the same calm pace, her heartbeat was going a million miles a minute. I follow her through the house to the kitchen, on the second floor.
“Yeah definitely. God, I haven’t been here in a hot minute. Did you renovate?”
“We did, yeah. We opened up the floorplan, because, well, obviously? And repainted the cupboards and Henry added this splashback-” She pauses. “You can tell what we changed can’t you? I’m sorry, I’m rambling again,”
“You gotta stop rambling, Charlie,” I say as she prepares a simple ham and cheese toast for me.
“You’re not doing a good job covering up your nerves for when you walk down the aisle either,” I tease and she gives me a look. “I’m serious! Thank you, by the way, I didn’t mean to skip breakfast,”
“Stop!” She whines, dragging out the o.
“What do you mean, stop? I mean it!”
“I don’t know! Should I really be this nervous for tonight? I love Henry, I have no doubt he’ll say yes, but like- What if I mess up? What if the, I don’t know, live painter doesn’t show up? What if everything goes wrong?”
“It won’t, I promise. You’ve planned for forever. What could possibly go wrong? It’ll pass all your expectations, I know it” I say, as I finish the toast and then put the dishes in the dishwasher. “What time is it? It’s best if I put on my dress now, isn’t it? You should too,”
“I will. Can you find your way to the guest room? It’s that corridor-” She points to a corridor on the left. “-and the door at the end of the hall,”
The doorbell rings before I can answer, and my sister disappears down the stairs. For a moment I stay unmoving, almost tearing up. It’s a big day for her today. I’m happy for her. But I can not shake the feeling that something is wrong.
Despite that I go to the guest room at the end of the hall. I see my dress, it’s a similar design to my sister’s, except her’s is more flowy, and doesn’t have a small slit at the
bottom, and it’s off shoulders, and ivory. Mine is the opposite of all those, and sky blue. Maybe they’re not so similar. Either way they’re both magnificent dresses. So I change into my dress, and go downstairs to the living room, where Charlotte and the bridesmaids are getting ready, some in other rooms putting on their dresses and some already wearing them, fixing make-up and hair for the wedding. I walk over to my sister instantly, who already has her best friend next to her.
“How are you feeling?”
She hums, a smile decorating her lips. We make eye contact in the mirror on the wall and break into soft laughter.
“You really love him,” I gently run my fingers through her hair, smoothing down a few stray strands.
“How can I not? He’s perfect!” Her shoulders relax as she speaks, tension slipping away. “He knows me really well, too. Like, look,” She leans forward and picks up a small velvet case. She opens it, revealing a rose coloured pair of earrings.
“They’re pretty, really fit the vibe,” Her best friend says.
I nod along, but there’s only one thought filling my head. When was the last time I felt that? The kind of love Charlotte has– like you’re truly seen? Like every moment, every gesture, was made with love carved specially for you? Did it only exist in their world?
— — —
In seventeen minutes her alarm will ring, and she’ll wake up. It’s a long day she has ahead of her, her sister’s wedding and all its chaos. If I help prepare breakfast for her, maybe her morning will be smoother. It’s a small gesture, but she is good at noticing small things. It’s the only thing she’s good at. At least she will appreciate it. She has to.
I exit my car, carefully closing the door. The extra key is beneath the ceramic pot under her kitchen window. I grab it, and enter the building. She lives on the first floor, thankfully, so I don’t have to run up a bunch of stairs. I unlock her door, immediately entering the kitchen. The coffee machine is big on the counter, and loud. I’m not worried, I’ve seen enough to know she’s a heavy sleeper.
I wonder what it would take to wake her up. A gentle touch? A sweet whisper? Or something louder? Rougher. I wouldn’t try unless she wanted me too, and if she did, well.. I’d know.
Despite that my gaze flickers between the coffee machine and her bedroom door. It’s louder than I remember, and it smells horrible.
When it’s done, I give it a taste test. And instantly spitting it out into the sink. Right. The first cup. I should’ve remembered that. I pour the coffee out into the sink and wash it away, then put the cup in the dishwasher.
I refuse to make another coffee and there’s a supermarket right across the street. So I run over, and go to the sandwich section. I take her favorite, a simple ham and cheese sandwich. The one she always takes.
I place the sandwich on the kitchen counter closest to the door. I check the clock, 6:59. Time to leave. So I do, and lock up behind me and then return to my car.
Her alarm goes off at 7, but she does not wake up. In fact, she only wakes up at 8.13. She doesn’t enter the kitchen until 8:36. And there she only puts her self through the torture of making coffee. She doesn’t even notice the sandwich I bought her. What a good for nothing, ungrateful bitch.
Without wasting a second I head into her apartment again. In the kitchen window stands heaps of notebooks. I rip a page out from one, grab the pencil off the kitchen table and write just that. Good for nothing, Ungrateful Bitch. I make sure to underline the last word, to make sure she understands me.
I place the note next to the sandwich and leave. I almost forget to lock her door, and I consider it briefly, but decide I don’t want any strangers roaming around in her space.
I get back in my car and start following her, slowly. I need to see her in her dress. After everything I’ve done for her, it’s what I deserve. It’s only fair.
I park my car across the street from her sister’s villa. My spot gives me a direct view into the kitchen, where I can see the two sisters talking. She bends down, places something in what I assume is the dishwasher. Had she eaten something now instead of the sandwich I got her?
I feel the rage bubbling up inside me, but it only lasts for a few seconds, because her sister leaves. She stands still, and even from this distance I can see her eyes get red. Like she’s going to cry at any moment. I can imagine the rest, her bottom lip trembling and her lashes sticking together like spider legs. I look forward to it. She’s so pretty when she cries, it’s daunting. I love it.
But the moment doesn’t come, she doesn’t burst into tears. Instead she turns around and leaves the room, and I lose sight of her.
She walks hurriedly through the kitchen after a few minutes, only crossing it to go downstairs. But she’s wearing the blue dress, and she looks gorgeous. Like she was made to wear it. In the same way she’s made for me.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over the screen a few seconds before opening the messenger app.
This is the first time I show her that I’m here. I’m present. I care. I don’t need to write too much. Something small and simple will be enough.
Blue suits you
No second-guessing. No rewriting or deleting. I hit send.
— — —
In the earlier rush I had forgotten my phone in the car. It was no problem, we had taken my car to the venue after all. But the walk there and back felt longer in heels, especially since the puddles from last night’s rain were already soaking the hem of my dress. I needed my phone though. Something about not having it made my skin itch.
I round the corner to the parking lot, instantly crashing into someone. I stumble back, and my heel loses grip in the slippery gravel. Before I slip and fall the man grabs my arm in an iron grip. It only lasts for a moment, but the ghost of his hand lingers.
”Sorry,” I mumble, standing up straight again, and look up at him. ”And, Thank you. For saving me from falling,” I recognize him from somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on where.
”Of course, of course. We wouldn’t want to ruin your dress,” He answers confidently, playing it off like it’s nothing.
”Yeah, no. It was quite expensive, honestly,”
”The blue really suits you. It accents your eyes,”
”Oh, really? Thank you” I say, feeling my face heat up. I’m not used to compliments.
”I’m James, by the way,”
”Nice to meet you, James. I’m-” I say, getting interrupted in the middle of my sentence.
”Jamie!” Somebody calls out. ”Hurry up!”
”Sorry, Gotta run. It was nice to meet you!” He says as he slides past me. I mumble a ’you too’ back, before realizing I too should probably get moving.
So I do, hurrying to my car and grabbing my phone from the storage compartment in the car door. I slam the door closed and leave, the car locking itself as I get further away. I get my phone halfway into my pocket before wondering what the time is.
I pick the phone up, double tapping the screen to turn it on. The numbers 3:56 shine brightly on it, and beneath a notification shows. A message from an unknown person.
Blue suits you
I look up, glancing around. No one’s nearby, yet I feel like someone is watching me. A chill runs up my spine, so faint it could be mistaken for the breeze.
— — —
I approach the reception venue with my sister. Even from the outside, I can hear the murmur of voices overlapping. Somehow, it fits perfectly with the moody weather.
I walk up to the seating board outside the tent, and I can hear Charlie talking about something. She sounds excited. That’s good. I’ve long since learned how to shut her voice out, while still pretending to listen. It’s a mastered skill by now.
I look for my name on the seating board, and before I find it my sister points to Table 17. And I find my name beneath the subheading, along with James and three others. I could tell James about the odd message. Maybe he knows something.
I mumble a thank you to my sister who’s already engaged in another conversation.
And I enter. It feels like stepping into a new world; a better world. A world where warm colors and blending voices fill up every inch, every second of it. Somewhere separated from the outside world.
I look over my shoulder, the grey of the outside world ruining the image. But that’s not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for something odd, something out of place.
Something that’s not supposed to be there. Anything. I can’t find it. The door closes behind me, shutting me in. I’m not sure I mind.
I look to the front again. Everybody else is sitting down, in what I assume is their respective places. I should too. My eyes scan the room for table 17, instead of finding the table I find James. More so his hair, it’s the prettiest brown I’ve ever seen. It sticks out among the crowd.
”Fancy seeing you again” I comment, a smile playing on my lips, and take a seat next to him.
”It is, it is. Maid of honor, huh? How are you?” He reciprocates the smile and turns to me. Like he’s been waiting for me.
”I’m.. alright. But yeah, Charlie’s my sister.”
”Charlie?” He tilts his head, studying.
”Oh, right, uhm- Charlotte. Charlie, that’s just what we call her”
”No need to explain yourself. I get it.” He smiles easily, making me feel dumb for explaining. Of course he understands.
”So, tell me about yourself” He leans in slightly, barely noticeable, like he’s excited to learn about me.
”I’m… not that interesting, honestly,” I hesitate to say it, and I’m unsure why. There’s nothing wrong with this conversation, right? It’s just my paranoia? It’s just my paranoia.
”Nobody’s boring. Tea with or without milk?” He grins, his eyes flickering across my face.
”Without.” I say instantly, wanting to feel at least a bit normal after earlier.
He laughs softly, delighted. ”I knew it — Somebody with sense”
I laugh too. At least he makes me feel safe. It’s just what I need after today. The gut feeling, that something wrong is going to happen, is gone. Perhaps momentarily, but it’s gone. I can relax.
”It’s us against the world, baby. Us against the world.” He adds softly afterwards. His voice carries something soft under the charm, something strange I can’t place. Yet it makes me feel chosen. It makes me feel wanted.
”Us against the world” I confirm.
A few seconds of silence stretches between us.
”Your ears are unreal”
He freezes and the expression he makes shows that he did not mean to say that out loud, at all.
”..What?” I huff, laughing awkwardly, like brushing it off will make it less strange.
”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that! I don’t know why I did. It’s- I don’t know, I’m so weird today”
”No, no. Thank you, I guess? It was so sudden, I was just caught off guard”
”…You sure?”
I nod, still slightly unsettled by the comment. I brush it off though, it won’t do me any harm.
We continue talking during the entire dinner, only ever interrupted by the speeches. It’s strange, the feeling of safety I feel when I’m with him. The safety I think I feel. And I let myself drift in it. It’s what I need after the earlier mess, though I realize I’ve barely thought about it for a while.
“Do you want to leave? I doubt anyone would notice” He whispers during the best man’s speech. I glance at the door, and then around us. He’s right, no one would notice. But.. it’s my sister’s wedding. I shouldn’t.
”…I mean yes, but it’s Charlie’s wedding. I really shouldn’t”
”Oh come on,” He cuts in, sharp as a blade. ”She placed you as close to the door as possible. You really think she wants you here?” His words sting more than I thought they would. But he’s right. She probably doesn’t want me here. She didn’t even ask if I was okay earlier. But James did. He cares.
And suddenly he’s halfway to the door and I’m following before I can think it through. He cares. No one else does. If he leaves, what reason do I have not to?
He drives us to his house, oddly big for only one person to live in. The door opens directly into the living room, and he tells me to take a seat. I do.
”Do you have any water?” I ask, my voice a little raspy, though he doesn’t seem to notice. Or care.
”No.”
Just a no. A strange chill creeps in the back of my mind, and I push it away. Again. But I force a smile. I’m just overthinking.
He sits next to me, his thigh pressing against mine and a movie plays in the background. His arm sneaks around my waist, and I wouldn’t have noticed hadn’t the touch of his thigh made me hyper aware of my surroundings.
Which is also what makes me see the note on the glass table when I put my phone down. Something I wouldn’t have registered otherwise. It’s written in sloppy handwriting, some letters barely legible. But the note is still readable and my eyes linger for a bit too long. Why would anyone write that up? Suddenly I’m not sure if I made the right decision when I left the wedding.
Just when I lean back, into his touch, my phone buzzes. The screen lights up, a message from my sister showing beneath the time. I wonder what she wants, yet I don’t feel like checking. But it does make me remember the message I got earlier today. The one I never asked him about.
”James?”
He hums, low, almost intimidating.
”I got a message earlier and I was wondering if you know anything about it. We hadn’t met when It was sent, but-” I swallow, nerves evident and throat dry. I still get uncomfortable thinking about the message. “Well, do you have any thoughts about who it could be?”
”I sent it” He answers coolly, like it’s no big deal. He doesn’t hesitate to state it.
For a moment everything goes silent. Even the movie is silent, like someone has just pressed the mute button by mistake.
“..What?” My heart drops, voice in a whisper. How would he have known- the only one who had seen me in the dress when that message had been sent was my sister. No one else. Not him. Not yet.
The arm he has around my waist tightens. Not gently, not warmly. Restraining.
I want nothing more than to leave. Than to see what Charlie had sent. But I don’t move. I can’t.
And I realize–
He didn’t just know what I was wearing. He knew where I was. He knew what I was doing. He had been watching.
Everything clicks into place then. I didn’t overthink anything- everything he said and done was calculated. To gain my trust. And it must’ve worked, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.
“You looked stunning in that dress. You still do,” he murmured. I’m scared of looking at him, afraid that I might not see the same person I followed here. Yet I can’t help it, and when I turn my head, he’s already looking at me. And it’s not the same as before. There’s something new in his gaze, something wrong. It’s as if he’s looking down on me.
“I couldn’t help myself,” He cups my cheek, in what should be a comforting manner. It probably would be, had it not been for his hardening gaze. I shift away, not enough to alarm him, but enough to breathe. He follows, his body pressing harder against mine and forcing me to suffocate.
“James..” My voice is small.
He doesn’t respond, not with words. But his hand moves down, first to my neck, and then my shoulder. I try to fight back when he pushes me down, but it’s like I’m paralyzed. My body is useless beneath his. He’s too strong, his grip too tight. The anger in his eyes grows more evident.
“You want this,” He whispers. It’s not a question. It never was. “You wouldn’t have left with me if you didn’t”
I can’t move, like I’m frozen in place. in time. His hands burn, tearing my dress, caressing my skin. I want to look away, but he grabs my chin and tilts my head. Forcing me to look at him- to understand that this is happening. That I‘m not in control anymore.
When I regain control it only lasts for a few seconds. But I bite, claw, and scream. Anything that will stop him. It doesn’t work, he shuts me down instantly. Pins my hands above my head and presses my face into the couch.
The sounds fade, then. I think I can hear him breathe. It sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Maybe it is. Or maybe I’m the one underwater.
His touch doesn’t burn anymore. In fact, I can barely feel it. The only thing I feel is my tears soaking the fabric of the couch.
I don’t know how much time has passed. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. But it’s darker outside. I think. I’m not sure of anything anymore. He’s not here. At least, I don’t think he is. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me.
The couch is rough against my skin. Uncomfortable. I can’t move away from it. I can’t move at all. The sound of water running is evident in the background. It’s probably him. This is my chance to leave.
My dress is on the floor. The once small slit now reaches mid-thigh. I don’t understand how I saw beauty in it before. The blue is too dull, the shape too tight. It looks wrong.
And still, I put it on. Not because I want to wear it. But because I don’t want to wear his clothes. And I have to wear something.
My hands are shaking, my entire body is trembling. My phone is still on the table, the screen shines brightly. The numbers 9:52 show, and beneath the text from Charlie. Sent 8:34. It’s been over an hour.
The running water stops, silence fills every corner of the room. The fear pins me down, just for a second. Then I run.
Only when I’m sure he’s not following me do I slow down. I don’t stop, but I slow down. I have no idea where I am. I look around for anything- a street name, a store, anything that might tell me where I am.
I have to keep walking until I find something and when I do, it’s like my body works on autopilot. My phone unlocks, I enter a number in the telephone app. Like muscle memory. It rings once, twice, then someone answers.
“I’d like to order a cab, please,”
It takes forever for the cab to arrive, and my gaze constantly flicks between the streets and the time display on my phone. I still have to answer Charlie. The dress is thin, the cold air going through the material and giving me chills. I can’t relax, imagining what would happen if he found me now.
Not even in the cab do I relax. He’s haunting me, even when he’s not there. The chauffeur seems to understand that I don’t want to talk, so he turned the radio on. And even that is disturbing. I’d rather have the silence, but asking to turn it off sounds terrible. I just want to be home.
I try to make myself as small as possible. I wrap my arms around myself, and lean against the door. Streetlights blur past, headlights flicker.
I take out my card before he pulls up outside my apartment. I don’t even check the amount before I tap the card to pay. I think I mumble a thank you, and he nods.
The hallway is quiet. Too quiet. I close the door behind me, and lean on it. The keys are still in my hand, digging into my palm. I don’t remember unlocking the door, but it doesn’t matter. I’m home now.
My apartment looks just like I left it, dishwasher half open, the coffee machine still on. Even the half finished puzzle lies on the dining table. It shouldn’t feel like it belongs to a stranger. So why does it?
And apparently that thought is all it takes for me to collapse on the floor. At first I don’t cry, I just sit there. Staring at the wall. My dress half hangs off me. My breath is shallow, like I’m trying to hide from something that has already happened.
Then the tears and sobs. They’re soft, quiet, at first. Like apologies. Then louder, uglier. I curl into myself, fists pressing against my forehead. The keys pressing against my palm are welcome. The pain makes me feel something other than shame. Guilt.
At some point, I hear the clock tick into midnight.
Charlie’s wedding has ended. And so has something in me.
Författare: Ida C