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Great Writing - Home > Extended > Three accounts of events - part 11
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Extended Work
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| Three accounts of events - part 11 | |
| By teddy | ||||||||||||
| 25 March 2007 | ||||||||||||
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'Here, honey, have this,’ George hands me a cup of hot tea. ‘Careful, it’s hot.’ I’m in bed, fidgeting underneath the duvet. The room is coated in a faint light thrown by the lamp sited on my bedside cabinet. It’s quite warm in here, George has put the heating on, but I feel cold. I take the cup of his hands and take a long sip. The hot liquid bursts into my mouth, perturbing my taste buds. I grimace before gulping it down. ‘I’ve warned you,’ George says. He’s not smiling. I know he’s pissed off with me, only that not quite for the right reasons. He’s trying not to show it, but I can still read annoyance on his face. I didn’t come straight home after I left Tina’s this afternoon. I was driving along the heavily trafficked roads and the closer I got to home the more I knew I couldn’t bear facing him. I stopped the car near the entrance of the park we’re lucky to have in the area. I got out and decided to take a walk, to clear my thoughts. The park, usually packed with mums and dads, kids and prams, and dogs and noise on a Saturday afternoon, was now deserted. There were only few people hurrying a short-cut towards their homes or shops, probably wondering who’s the lunatic wandering purposelessly along the grimly watered alleyways. I sat on a bench for a while; a cold brisk wind was quivering over and through the greens, scattering heavy droplets of rain across the already highly moisturised ground, piercing through my coat and biting ruthlessly into my skin. The sky above was still gray and drizzling. By the time I got back to the car I was soaked. I dug my hand inside my bag and searched for the car keys. I found them, but when I tried to put them in the door lock, my hand, icily wet and shaky, kept drifting away from the target. I was in no state of driving. So I walked home. ‘Oh my God,’ George stared at me when I entered the flat, ‘what happened to you?’ ‘I…the car’s broken down,’ I dashed a lie. What else was I supposed to say? ‘So why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come and picked you up,’ he snapped. ‘There was no need for you to walk in this bloody weather.’ I shrugged. ‘I thought you were still busy with the plumbers.’ I headed for the bedroom in desperate need to get rid of the soggy feeling my drenched clothes were wrapping my body in. George followed me up the stairs. ‘They left two hours ago. And even if they’d been still here, I don’t think they would’ve minded if I’d left them on their own for ten minutes.’ He stopped in the bedroom doorway and watched me change my clothes. He then walked to the bathroom and came back with a clean towel. ‘Come here.’ He unfolded it and placed it on my head. ‘You can be so childish sometimes, you know that?’ he kept nagging while rubbing the towel over my hair. ‘A cold is all you need now, isn’t it?’ I was just standing there docilely silent, letting him dry my hair. Go on, rip my head off George, you have all the reasons in the world to do that ‘Get into bed,’ he lifted one side of the duvet holding it for me to slide underneath. ‘You need to warm up.’ ‘George?’ I called him as he was pulling the curtains. ‘Yes?’ he turned to me. ‘Stay with me for a while.’ I needed to feel close to him. ‘Ok. Let me go and put the heating on first. I’ll be back in a minute.’ When he came back, he slipped under the covers beside me and grasped me into his arms. I curled up and squeezed my eyes shut. I lay like that for a while, my mind was unwilling to rest, listening to George’s steady breath muffled in my hair. ‘George?’ I called him quietly. Tears were pilling up at the back of my eyes, stirring an urge to confess everything. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please help me. ‘Umm?’ He must’ve dozed off, his voice was sleepy. ‘Nothing.’ I cringed tighter against him. ‘Try to sleep, honey,’ he mumbled giving me a quick squeeze. The warmth of his body tricked me into drifting off in the end. We woke up when my phone started ringing. It was Paul, he was dropping off Vicky at Tina’s in half an hour. ‘I’d better be going now. You think you’ll be ok on your own?’ George asks leaning over and kissing my forehead. I wanted to go and pick up Vicky myself – what if Tina lets slip that Paul and I were on our own in the house for almost an hour this morning? George will put two and two together and he’ll figure out why my mood’s suiting the weather outside, nothing to do with the cold or the allegedly broken vehicle - but he wouldn’t have it. ‘Oh yeah, so you’re fit to drive then? And speaking of driving, your car’s not even here, you left it by the park, remember?’ he argued and I had to surrender. ‘I’ll be ok,’ I mutter, pulling the duvet up to my nose. ‘Ok. I won’t be too long, but ring me if you need to. I’ll go and sort out your car when I come back.’ After he leaves, I pick up the latest edition of London Art magazine which is lying on the floor next to my side of the bed. I open it and scan through its pages, but my eyes are unable to fix on any of its contents. I can feel my heart twitchily pounding, hastily pumping blood through my veins. What have I done? What’s gonna happen now? Tina knows. Tina knows, is all my brain seems able to process at the moment. I narrow my eyes and glance at the clock, it’s just gone seven. The rain outside is rattling on the windows’ glass, rhyming with the throbs in my temples: I’ve got a splitting headache. I lie here in silence; I’ve given up on the magazine which is now back on the floor. The phone starts ringing and its blaring sound startles me. I have to change that tune, I absolutely hate it. It’s Paul again. What now? ‘I expected you to come and pick up Vicky, not him,’ he says somehow reproving when I answer the call. ‘I couldn’t, my car’s broken down,’ I justify myself with the same lie I had served to George. ‘I need to see you,’ he pleads. ‘I’m in the Waitrose car park, just around the corner from your place.’ Yeah well, I don’t want to see you. Don’t I? ‘I can’t, George and Vicky are gonna be back soon.’ ‘No, they won’t. Tina was making George a cup of tea when I left. They’re getting on quite well with each other, aren’t they?’ I can sense a tad of bitter sarcasm in his voice and I make up my mind. ‘Ok. I’ll be there in few minutes.’ I wonder what he wants. I jump off the bed and rush downstairs. I put on a pair of trainers and a hooded coat, just in case it’s still raining, grab my keys and dash though the door. Fortunately it looks like the rain has suddenly stopped. I hasten along the quite roads. People are either out, enjoying themselves in restaurants or pubs or nightclubs, or indoors, indulging in a cosy Saturday evening spent at home with their families. Why can’t I do the same? After a minute or two of wandering around the car park, I spot Paul’s car. He gets out when he sees me approaching, and leans against the driver’s door. ‘Why did you want to see me?’ I get straight to the point when I stop in front of him. I nervously shift my weight from one foot to the other and throw a wary look over my shoulder, in search for any acquaintances of mine or George, or both, likely to do a late Saturday night shopping, ‘For this,’ Paul says smiling, grabbing me by the front of my coat and pulling me towards him. I stagger forward and my legs get trapped between his. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispers in my ear; his hands are strolling on my back. Oh yeah, and what do you want me to say, Paul? That I’ve missed you too? Ok, I confess, I have, I do, every single minute of the bloody day …and night I wonder where you are, who you are with. Trying to guess if you’re thinking about me. I lie in bed next to George at night and my mind is overwhelmed by you, and I’m trying to push you away and I can’t. Is this what you want to hear? Before I manage to say anything, his mouth sinks into mine. His lips are wet and full, and soft, and they inflict a shiver from my throat right down to my crotch. His arms wrap around my waist, his hands are nonchalantly moving on my behind, pressing me against him. I instinctively cling onto his neck, and I only move away when my phone starts ringing. It’s George. ‘I’m sorry, I have to answer this,’ I apologize fishing the phone out of my pocket, ready to touch the answering key. ‘No, you don’t,’ Paul takes the phone off my hands, glancing at its screen. ‘He can wait.’ His thumb blocks the call. ‘Paul!’ I make a reproachful face, ‘Please, don’t make things harder than they already are. ‘ I fetch back my phone and ring George. They’re on their way home. ‘Are you ok, honey?’ he asks. I wince. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.’ ‘I need to go,’ I turn to Paul. He’s staring at me irritated, squinting his eyes. Please understand, I have no choice, my eyes are imploring. ‘Meet me tomorrow,’ he demands before letting me go. ‘Well, how can I? George will be at home.’ ‘You’re allowed time on your own, aren’t you? Just tell him you’re going shopping or something.’ I look at him and shrug. ‘I’ll try. I can’t promise anything though.’ He kisses me again before I leave. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He seems very confident and I’m not quite sure if I like that. I’m covered in sweat by the time I open the entrance door, I can feel my t-shirt underneath the coat clammy against my back, and I don’t know if it’s down to the swift walk home, the cold that’s poking at my immune system, or the excitement roused by my sly illicit escapade.
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