keep activeMature

CHAPTER 18

Keeping active

 

Nelly, her eyes are wide.

 

Nelly reminds me of shopping in House of Frazer in Dario.

 

In about 2003, he was pretty cool. Probably still is. If you ever love somebody put your hands up.

 

Nelly Furtado, someone said I looked like her once, but I don’t. I had the same color hair that was about it. Hey my father’s client was called Furtado I swear, big clients, yeah.

 

Fandango is that a dance or is a body part or what?

 

Dreams,

 

Have you ever read a dream book, no one could be that bored/ you have to check out the dream you had last night I think.

 

Bruno Mars.

 

The Bruno I remember was from FAME, kid from FAME. He once got scammed by a man in NYC who conned him into thinking he was a filmmaker.

 

Sorry I can’t waffle any longer. Can I ask you something J?

 

 

J looks like he’s bored; he’s checking his phone, one eye on the door.

 

Yeah, go on.

 

 

Well, she went on, ‘ Why me?’ Why am I here right now, why isn’t someone else boring you?” she smiles slowly aware of her legs and stretching them out to catch his eye maybe.  We are friends ok, Friends understand he says.

 

I’m going to go running or to the gym, lift weights and think a bit. What is going on, how can I reach her too. This is terrible.

 

J walks out of the room, leaving behind only beige, very soft, Indian scarf that only over emphasized his lithe handsomeness and his unavailable nature. Katia sighs and watches him leave. He is hers now.

 

 

Another comes over, to talk to him. She wants to kiss him, he feels embarrassed as he does fancy her but she is a sister, similar to the relationship he has with Whitney. He thinks about clumsy Lucy and all her attempts to tbe cool, this one is sophisticated he looks over her perfect body. But She should go, too much trouble. She falls asleep.

 

She is snoring ever so slightly, this is funny, and she is snoring like a pig !
!

 The next one safely in a taxi, another comes over. Paolo sings in the background. A blue frosty windowed taxi,a fat abuser sitting in the driver’s seat waits. Perfectly timed he muses.

 

J never really sleeps in the way that non-murderers sleep. Twitching beside me. Snoring now and then. I’m watching him. He murmurs her name. The same name as an American actress from the 50s. His nose. Is everything. It is arrogant. It is hooked, Just a bit. A cruel, handsome, killer. I love him so much, I think staring at his face, tucked under a white duvet cover on top of white sheets. Maybe he didn’t do it after all I sigh. At four in the morning, asleep he is snowy clean. Thoughts pass through my mind everyday, sometimes every week now. But he told you. He told you he knows her. So how can you pretend like he didn’t know her. Run away, he might kill her too Penelope, or you. You know he’s unfaithful, all the time. You know he loves Claire, Kinta, Lorna, Priya, and bitch his fav. You stupid cow. What is it, why wait, why wait in vain, for what.

 

 Her Diary continues ………..

The sound of his breathing at four am, his chest lifts up and down. I’m holding on to his body, a tear falls and I know he will never love me, no matter how hard I hold him, or how softly I caress his Jet black hair. When asleep, he dreams of not the girl lying beside him crying for him but another girl, a fit girl. One that doesn’t disgust him.

He is perfect. Thin. Muscles. I want to kiss him until I get good at it. He might change his mind one day. He never hits me like  the other one did.

 

If I could make him kiss me and hold me like when I first saw him. I would die happy, she thinks. He only ever looks away. He used to let me finish my sentences. He knows so many things, things that I hold dear to think about now. Things that people I know Just don’t understand. So man books, everyone makes me want to own him.

 

In a cheesy way I’m a stalker of him, she thinks or I would’ve been if Lucy hadn’t have dumped him last week, glad she is out of the way now. He was desperate so I ended up helping him feel better, he didn’t want me but in the end maybe he put up with me for a bit. I know its wrong but for two years I texted him everyday and he didn’t reply until one Friday in November. He was feeling cold, used up. I was angry naturally but I wanted to hold him so badly so we met.

 

His flat hid me away from the people who want to use me up and spit me out. My brother should have been a friend. He is the opposite. He shouts at me. He accuses me of writing anonymous letters to his girlfriend or his ex or something, can’t even remember. His girlfriend in fact sent the message but it was easier and more comforting to blame the washed up sister, who everyone pities. Whose once passable face grew fat and at he it time sunken. He sometimes, the brother threw things and threw things at me too. But no one would care about that. If this were India he’d kill me in one of his fits of angst. It winds him up so much that he has to even say hello to me. I feel so scared sometimes at home. To his friends, he is ‘sound’. To his girlfriends he’s Mr. Perfect. Maybe it takes so much effort, as an adder putting on a suit and being nice that when its time to shed your skin or you get hungry for flesh, that your pointy fucking tongue licks my neck Just to make me sick. Sorry, what I mean is I hate him too now. But his hate is so beneath mine, I can wait to get him back, won’t have to rush this one.

Maybe it’s someone else’s fault. Whets it called when a mother won’t look at a daughter. If she tells her she hates her and gets the girls brother to Join in. Hits her and locks her in rooms, until her dad finds her. Maybe that’s all he knew anyway. I have to get away she thought the morning that blessed call arrived.

 

I’m sorry I couldn’t face you; you’d embarrassed yourself so much. I think you might be a bit of a stalker he said, but he then laughed as well.

 

I …I … went quiet. My heart sunk. This what you wanted, but it isn’t as he will never love you. Not like he loved her in the blue dress, or on the first night he saw her at the uni. He thought she was a student, she was so fit. But she was actually a dinner lady of some description. He sat there misty eyed, on the first night we’d been out, reminiscing about a dinner lady that cheated on him. I am not sure whether he kept thinking of her as we kissed but I don’t care; he and I in those instances together are the way it should be. He was meant to be mine. He will be mine. No one else protects me.

 

So I loved him, so he forgave me for stalking him and I got to lie beside him in a bed. I n a room with plants bought by another girl. With paintings on the wall bought by  another girl  from a German artist. She speaks fluent French you know. She is everything I’m not. But sometimes i wish i could be free. if i didn’t know about love, the kind of .ove thatmakes me dead, then i couldn’t know the yelping death cries of being told how wonderful is after i’ve been with you, living vulnerable beside you. this is the the most minor of my troubles.

 

On reading his diary that was nothing like her diary on that night, his fantasizes of being a killer, not yet found, she wonders how they ever ended up with a saint Bernard dog and coy carp and how they ever ended up in a suburban mansion with tropical fish as well as outdoor fresh water ornamentals. And why she told him her name was one thing for years  when it wasn’t. j was something else, his charm with the ladies never ceased to surprise even him, ‘ might get you in trouble one day with a bunny boiler mate’, said Dave at work.

 

She wakes up from her dream. What murder !? What was all that about, she’d fallen asleep clothes and now had a crick in her neck. Diaries in her dream, what?

 

Where are you going, She said the next time she was there. Someone was at the door. Giggles and a girl’s voice there. Where is she?

 

Whets it to you, he said in his clipped Indian acc-ent. I might be going back to India. He said India like this  … IN, (pause) DEEE- arrr…. Like the most wonderful sound that has ever been heard by the human ear.

 

The calls stop, for a moment Lucy wakes up tot herself, Flick is never around these days, something about an Italian Stallion who sells cornettos. But seeing him bumping into him at the cinema with Olympia one night was hard. At least she had her make up on straight. But the other girl was a real beauty, long curly hair, exactly the same colouring. She hears they are engaged and that his dad is now happy. Her family are clueless as usual, sweet but so hard working they get lost in their debates and maybe they know and don’t care.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

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