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Great Writing - Home > Extended > Three accounts of events - part 15(b)
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Extended Work
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| Three accounts of events - part 15(b) | |
| By teddy | ||||||||||
| 10 June 2007 | ||||||||||
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Just finishing part 15. I wouldn't blame you if you found it quite dull. I've been lacking inspiration recently. Thanks for taking a look anyway. I don’t know how long I’ve been wandering around Central Park. The sun has been already swallowed up by the looming towers invading the neighbourhood and the shadows have all fused into one giant towing its murk over the masses of thriving greens, and croaky rocks and concrete. I didn’t know what to do with myself after I left the hotel. Going back to the room upstairs wasn’t an option; another argument with Paul would’ve tipped me over the edge of sanity. So I shoved my feet along 57th Street and up 5th Avenue until my sulking eyes got drenched in green. I rambled along the alleyways and took shortcuts across the meadow, hands in my pockets, head ducked down and eyes marching along with the footsteps, thoughts soaked in sorrow. Why is Paul treating me like this? What have I done to make him so angry? And why does he always take his anger out on Vicky? She’s only a tiny baby, his baby, she needs lots of love and attention, he should know better. I ventured around the Reservoir and sat down on a bench for a while gaping at mums pushing prams, kids clung onto their dads’ hands toddling along, and dogs leaping their enthusiasm around their owners’ legs. The park swarming with noise and motion until not long ago has been soothing down though, and I know it’s time to make a move back to the hotel. I take a turn to the left when I get on 59th Street and move along until it merges onto Madison Avenue. The musty stench, dished out by the hot weather, that has littered the air until now is chased away by the crispy evening. I’m wearing only a light top, not much of a shield against the chill, and my skin is all a goose pimple. I’m hastening my pace, shrugging my shoulders and clasping my arms together. Appetising smells of freshly cooked food are hurled out by humming vents serving the restaurants lined up along the street, and they remind me I rushed my lunch today. I turn right when I get to 58th Street in search for a place where I can find something to eat. I finally spot a deli shop. Inside I quickly scan the shelves. I dig my hand in my pocket and fish out a ten dollar note and few coins; that will be enough to buy me dinner. I pick up a baguette filled with juicy pieces of chargrilled chicken and salad, nearly five dollars that would cost me. I wonder what to with the rest of the money. My eyes slip to the bottom right corner where two shelves are stacked up with colourful labelled bottles of wine. I’m gonna have a little party tonight, all on my own, but hey, it could still be fun. Once inside the hotel’s reception I head for the bar. I don’t expect to find Steve still in there but I’m hoping to get his room number from the guy who served us this afternoon. I need to see Steve, apologise to him for Paul’s behaviour, the least I can do. ‘I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t help you,’ the barman smiles embarrassed when he hears my request. He doesn’t seem in the slightest pleased to see me again. ‘I don’t know what room he’s staying in.’ ‘Of course you do,’ I’m not giving up, ‘you must’ve charged his bill against it earlier.’ The guy looks at me annoyed, the bar is crowded with people and he definitely has better things to do. He tells me he’s not allowed to give out that sort of information about his customers. But I’m persistent. ‘Yeah, but you see, I’m a customer as well. And Steve is a friend. Plus, you saw what happened here earlier. I need to apologise, surely he would appreciate that.’ I’m being a bit of a crafty cow and try to blackmail him a little. ‘Especially after this afternoon’s embarrassing incident, you know…’ By the grin on my face he knows I’m not referring to Paul’s outburst. ‘One moment. miss.’ It looks like my trick has worked. He’s definitely new in the job. On the 35th floor I knock on Steve’s door. Timidly at first, louder the second time. There is no answer and I’m just about to leave when I hear noises coming from inside. Two seconds later I’m staring at Steve’s half naked body, he’s got only a towel wrapped around his waist, which he tightens embarrassed when he sees me. ‘Adi!’ he looks very surprised to see me there. ‘Hi.’ ‘I…I’m sorry,’ my eyes struggle not to lower further down than his face. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb…. I…errmm….just wanted to say sorry for Paul’s behaviour this afternoon.’ My face must be painted in red ‘cos he’s smirking at me amused. ‘Would you like to come in?’ he asks opening the door wider, not before throwing a circumspect glance along the corridor. One encounter with Paul is enough for one day even for someone like him. ‘No, no, thanks,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m sorry, I hope you’re not feeling too bad about what happened today.’ ‘Don’t worry, Adi.’ He smiles comfortingly. ‘You’re very attractive, I can’t blame your boyfriend for being jealous.’ No, no, Steve, you don’t understand. Paul was just mad at me, we had an argument before I went downstairs, that’s all, I’m trying to explain. ‘Adi, I’m a man, I recognise the symptoms.’ No, he must be mistaken. Paul’s not the jealous type, he’s never been. I don’t think I could change his mind though so I leave it like that. ‘Did you buy yourself something nice?’ Steve asks when he spots the bag in my hand. ‘Yeah, my dinner.’ He starts laughing. ‘You’re still on strike then? My invitation’s still open, you know.’ ‘Thanks.’ I shrug a smile. ‘But I don’t think that would be a good idea. I better go now.’ ‘Ok. It was nice to meet you, Adi.’ He leans over and I tilt my head expecting a peck on the cheek, but his lips land on top of mine. Only for few seconds though before I pull away. ‘Bye, Steve. Take care. And …good luck.’ ‘You too, Adi.’ Ten floors above, I sigh relieved when I discover Paul’s not in the room. I take my modest banquet out of the bag. The main priority is to open the bottle of wine. There is a core screw lying somewhere on top of the minibar. When it’s all done, I curl up on one of the sofas in the sitting area and switch on the standing lamp behind it. There you go, I’m all ready to entertain myself now. Not long though and my teeth freeze on my fifth bite of sandwich when I hear the card sliding in the door lock and the door opening immediately after. I feel a chill rushing inside my chest. I grab the bottle and try to kill the feeling with a long sip of wine. My limbs feel already feeble, but the spirit needs some sort of encouragement and I’m sure the wine will do the job. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Paul explodes when he notices my presence in the room. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ I ignore him, I’m busy chewing the bit of chicken I’ve just shoved in my mouth. ‘Go and get ready for dinner,’ he says, calmer this time, throwing his card on the desk by the window. He is, however, taken aback when he stops in front of me. ‘What are you doing?’ he stares at the sandwich in my hands and the half empty bottle of wine resting on the floor next to the sofa. ‘I’m having my dinner here,’ I mumble sinking my teeth into the crusty bread. ‘Oh God.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘No, you’re not, you’re coming downstairs with me.’ The wine spicing my blood makes me feel brave. ‘No,’ I reply, confronting his eyes. ‘Why do you like being so bloody awkward all the time?’ His voice’s rising with anger again. ‘Can you for once do I ask you to do?’ Before I manage to say anything he grabs the sandwich of my hands, and my eyes are sorrowfully watching it disappearing inside the rubbish bin. I paid for that, you know. Never mind, I won’t starve until tomorrow, at least I still have the wine. I pick up the bottle and I don’t let it go until a consistent amount of alcohol is gulped down my throat. I know I must be giving away a disgusting sight, I could’ve at least used a glass, but at this particular moment in time I couldn’t care less. ‘Give me that,’ Paul demands trying to reach for the bottle, but I hold it tight close to my chest. No, it’s mine, bugger off. He finally manages to snatch it off my arms. ‘Now get up and go and get ready.’ He glares at me. ‘And don’t make me ask again.’ All the bravery I have accumulated until now is slowly leaving me, giving way to a heavy load of desperate loneliness that gets trapped in my chest. I turn my back to Paul and cringe on the sofa, trying to muffle the sobs escaping my mouth into the cushion my head is buried onto. Not with much luck though, because they come out really loud. There is a tad of silence behind me before I can hear Paul’s voice oozing off like butter on hot crispy toast. ‘Adi! His hand is on my head now, gently stroking my hair. ‘Sweetheart!’ I tighten my arms around the cushion. ‘I’m going home tomorrow. I don’t want to stay another minute here with you,’ I weep. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You don’t really mean that, do you?’ He’s sitting next to me now. ‘Yes, I do. For days I’ve been asking you to let me speak to Vicky and you’ve ignored me completely. Because you don’t care about her. You don’t even like her.’ I’m appalled at the words that come out of my mouth, but I can’t stop them.’ ‘Don’t say that, Adi. Of course I care. I love her.’ He sounds distraught. ‘No, you don’t. That’s why you left her at home.’ ‘That’s not true, sweetheart. I just wanted to spend some time with you. It’s not harm in that, is it? And she’s with my parents, you know she’s well looked after.’ ‘I don’t care. I’m her mum. She needs me.’ The thought of Vicky waking up at night and me not being there for her when she asks for me make me yell even louder. ‘You don’t know how much I miss her.’ He squeezes on the sofa beside me. He puts his arms around me and twists me around. ‘Adi! I love you, and I love Vicky. And I’m sorry for making you feel so miserable, you have to believe me I didn’t mean it.’ His thumb is wiping away the tears freely rolling down on my face. He rolls on his back and shifts me on top of him gently pressing my head against his chest. He kisses my hair and his hand is rubbing my back up and down with soothing moves. ‘Shhh, sweetheart. Please stop crying.’ I gasp heavily, but the sobs are calming down. I tried to rest my eyes, but when I close them, the whole world starts spinning inside my head. I sit up in an instant. ‘I’m feeling sick.’ It’s all the bloody wine I’ve been drinking. ‘Oh dear,’ Paul sighs standing up. He picks me up and rushes me towards the bathroom. He puts me down next to the toilet and I crawl around it. Paul kneels down next to me and holds my hair together at the back of my head. ‘I know this sounds disgusting, sweetheart, but you have to stick your finger inside your throat and try to get it all out.’ ‘I can’t,’ I snivel. ‘You have to, sweetheart. Please, listen to me just this once.’ I feel dreadfully embarrassed, but I have no other choice than to do what he says. When I’m all done and there’s nothing left in my stomach to make it revolt Paul lifts me up. He picks up my toothbrush from the glass by the sink and squeezes some toothpaste on it. ‘Now brush your teeth. Then wash your face with plenty of cold water. That would make you feel better.’ He stands behind me the whole time holding me up. He picks me up when I finish and takes me back into the room laying me on the bed. He takes my clothes off and helps me put on my pyjamas. He walks to the minibar and brings back a glass of water. ‘Drink this, sweetheart,’ he raises it up to my lips holding my head up. I lie back on the pillows when I finish. I feel exhausted. ‘I’ll be back in a second,’ Paul whispers bending over and kissing my forehead when I’m all tucked up underneath the cover. Few moments later I hear the toilet flushing and the tap running, and it’s not long before he slips in bed beside me. ‘Come here,’ he takes me into his arms. ‘Now try to get some sleep, sweetheart.’ He presses his face against mine. ‘I’ll take you home tomorrow, I promise.’
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