Ronnie and I are cleaning tables when I share last night's events. I share every detail, very shyly and shamefully, about my thoughts of another man as I made love to my boyfriend. She isn't surprised that he doesn't make me feel anything sexually because she had clearly stated the same thing the day before on an emotional level. She encourages me by sharing many memories that were out of my mind about some of the numerous times he left me miserable. She tells me about the job's Christmas dinner with all of the employees last year, and he got drunk with another waitress's husband and got into a fight because he thought he was checking me out, which he wasn't. His drunken behaviour is also an issue she brings out. She also reminds me that he is going out and letting loose when I am the one that spares all my expenses because we don't have that much money. She is making up my mind about leaving him, but I can't help but defend him a bit as she has been against him since the first time they met. She is telling me it was about time I realised it. She is right. I just didn't want to face it. But I can't deny it now. It's too evident.
"So the hottie texted you, right?" She smirks at me, correctly pushing the chair under the table and changing the subject.
"He did. He is making me feel all giddy and excited. This kind of attention is so new to me."
"He's clearly making you excited if you thought of him while having sex with Steeve." She teases me, which makes me give her a big reaction.
"Hey! Don't say that too loud. Don't even talk about it again, OK? I feel bad. It's really mean."
"No, it isn't. What is mean is your man not making you come! That's frustrating. I would have dumped him right away."
"You don't date, Ronnie. You have one night stands. So you dump them anyway."
"That isn't true. Remember the sexy customer we had last weekend that gave me a huge tip? Well, it turns out it isn't only his wallet that contains big if you know what I mean. He took me out Saturday, and we plan to see each other again Friday."
"What? We have been talking only about me for two days when you could have told me this and all the details."
"There's not much to say. He is sexy as hell. We drank champagne. He brought me to his hotel. It was so luxurious. He is here on business because he lives in Knightsbridge, London. This only means that his house is huge, his cock too, by the way. I had the best sex of my life, so I made sure he would want to see me again. Now here I am, craving for him every night until Friday comes. End of the story."
"I love how you always say exactly what you think."
"Some people hate it. Well, most English people are stuck ups. You are the only one that is actually amused by my personality."
Customers are starting to get in, and we must get back to our duties. As soon as the rush calms down at around 10 PM, she comes back to me, behind my counter, as I'm taking orders.
"So? I've been thinking about it a lot, and I want to put a face to the names."
"Names?" I frown at her as I quickly look back at the client, smiling brightly, and give them his receipts.
"Yes! The hottie and the jerk. I want to see who we hate and who we love."
"We don't hate or love anyone."
"Come on, Grace! Give me their names." She says, taking her cell phone out, ready to stalk them on the Internet. I can't help but get a bit excited too.
"I don't know his full name, but the drummer, Ashley, has a band called 'The SOS'. Maybe you can google that."
"I'm on it. Your order is ready. Join me in the freezer when you are done."
I got a paper bag and put the sandwiches and the chicken in the bag, but the chips were not ready yet. I need to wait a moment to complete the order and give it to the gentlemen waiting at my counter, but once they are gone, I quickly join Veronica where she is waiting for me.
I open the heavy metal door and hear music. I see her watching a video of the band.
"Oh wow, Grace! He is hot. The blond guitarist, upfront, is more my style, but the drummer looks like a delicious piece of crème brûlée. He looks tasty. Wow, OK, I need to stop. What was the other guy's name?"
"Marcel Wright," I respond as she immediately starts typing his name on Google.
"Marcel? That's a weird name, but, oh wow! He is hotter and completely forgiven." Her comment makes me very uneasy, so I look around and start organising the vegetables randomly.
"What do you mean by hotter and forgiven? He isn't that good looking..."
"Are you blind?" She blurs out excessively, turning her phone to show me the picture on her screen.
"I'm not, but his behaviour doesn't make it worth the attention of his looks."
"I would make him throw his glasses out, and I make him wear contacts. Also, his hair... I just want to get my hand in there and shake that quiff to make it go wild. Then, he would be extremely fuckable."
"Fuckable?"
"Oh yeah! I'm sure his mouth is good for doing so many other things than saying mean things. Look at those dark pink lips..."
"OK, I've heard enough. This is completely crazy."
"Stop being such a prude."
"You are starting to be mean, Ronnie."
"OK, OK, I'll back off. I'm sorry. You just need to stop being in denial all the time and start living life."
"I talked to the boss before he left, and he agreed to give my weekend again."
"Good. So you are going back to London this weekend?"
"I am. I just need to tell Marcel and Steeve. I texted Ash last night. I asked him if he was free this weekend."
"What?! You go, girl. Then come back and tell me if he is better than your imagination." She winked at me and pushed the door to get out as I was starting to freeze in here.
She gets me all excited to go back to London as the giddy feeling I get when I think about Ash is slowly spreading inside. I can't wait to finish my shift and look at my phone to see if he answered.
-
The second I get back home, I lock the door and take my phone inside my bag. I'm glad to see the flat empty, meaning Steeve is at the pub with his friends and not in bed and snoring. It gives me a clear conscience to look at my messages.
I throw myself on the couch and unlock my phone. Six messages.
Ash: I have a gig on Friday and Saturday night. It would be nice to see you there.
Me: Count me in.
I smile ridiculously at the screen. I feel like dancing and jumping around. How can a man I met only once make me feel this way? I really like having that kind of attention on me. I never got to because Steeve would have killed them, I am sure. He gets so jealous. It's irrational.
I have five other messages, and they are all from Marcel. I get this weird feeling in my stomach. I am both dreading and curious to have his input on my corrections.
Mr Not Wright: I read your corrections.
Mr Not Wright: You didn't change the meeting. I somehow knew you wouldn't.
Mr Not Wright: Another thing you should know, write in Arial. I hate Times New Roman.
Mr Not Wright: Overall, your corrections are suitable, but you can dig deeper.
Mr Not Wright: I think we might be approaching this all wrong.
I frown at my phone. His comments aren't mean. I like it. They get me rolling my eyes, but they don't make me want to pull his out of their sockets.
Me: No, I didn't change the meeting. I do not agree at all with the way you see things. I think it's a matter that needs to be discussed.
Me: Also, I love Times New Roman. I'm sticking with it. Thank you. :)
Me: Thank you for your feedback. I think we should really work together for me to know what you expect from me. I'm really trying my best, but I don't know how to 'approach' this.
I feel happy about our exchange. I quickly quit my messages to check my emails to see if he sent my first chapter back, but he didn't. I think what I'm going to do this week is read all of his Post-Its and write down my questions and objections. I know there will be lots. When I see him, I will be prepared, and we can face the most critical matters together.
Mr Not Wright: I agree.
Mr Not Wright: Except for the typing police. I think it will be something to debate.
Me: Hey! You are awake. Hello :)
Mr Not Wright: Hi
Me: Did I wake you?
Mr Not Wright: No. I was working on my thesis.
Me: I won't disturb you then... But know that you can focus on that. My book can wait until you are done.
Mr Not Wright: No. I needed a break.
I smile at my phone. It might be the most civilised conversation we ever shared. It makes me glad that we can have a good and professional relationship. I would have hated that working on my book meant to be a burden because of him.
Mr Not Wright: How are you? Did you recover from your hangover?
Me: I did, and I feel good. You?
Mr Not Wright: Sick of my thesis. I have a headache.
Me: Mind telling me what your thesis is about?
Mr Not Wright: Another thing you should know is I hate small talk.
Me: I'm not small talking to you. I'm inquisitive.
Mr Not Wright: Sure you are.
Mr Not Wright: :P
I can't help the smile growing on my lips. He is really making an effort. What's happening with him?! I like this new side of him!
Me: Stop teasing me and tell me what it's about.
Mr Not Wright: Love.
Me: Are you serious? Is this really what your thesis is about? Am I really texting with Marcel Wright? lol
Mr Not Wright: I'm serious. Nobody says lol anymore.
Me: I do. Get used to it. But you don't seem like a massive believer in love. Why write your thesis on that?
Mr Not Wright: It's precisely on love in literature and its impact on civilisations, their code of conduct. It's about how it defined and imposed our views on love. To that, I join my studies on gender and its evolution. I study the correlation between both sexes and how they come across through time in their own periods and literature. I started my analysis with literature as old as The Iliad to The Bible to where we are at today. I studied the influence of literature on gender equality and why it took so much time for women to have legal equality with men in our modern world.
Mr Not Wright: And other things.
Me: So you are a feminist.
I don't know if my comment was more a question or an affirmation, but I am very intrigued by a man I know too little about to have judged him the way I did. I love the topic of his thesis. It makes me want to read it. It was an unexpected subject, but I'm glad he told me. It makes me see him differently, with a new set of eyes.
Mr Not Wright: I am. I am, first and foremost, a man of justice. Every race, culture, religion, sexual orientation and sex are all equal to me, as they should be.
Me: More people should be like you.
Mr Not Wright: I'm sure it's not something you thought the first time we met.
His comment makes me smirk so wide. He sure seems to have figured me out. I feel genuinely happy, and it makes me hope that we can establish a great professional relationship.
Who knows!? We could even become friends.
Me: That's for sure. :P
Me: I will head to bed now, but take your time on my book. I will take the week to review all your comments to discuss them thoroughly together.
Mr Not Wright: Good night then.
Me: Thank you. You too. :)
I get up and go to bed, rethinking my ideas around the man that is Marcel Wright. I can't condone his attitude problem, but I do think now that he isn't fundamentally a bad person.
-
Again, I find myself not paying attention in class for the second time in my life. I got so caught up in reading Marcel's reviews while working in the library that I had to go on during the course.
The amount of emotions rushing through my body is knackering. I can't believe how opinionated he is about everything. The colours of the walls, the smell of the house, the dialogues and, primarily, the protagonists' relationship. He questions everything!
I love that he challenges me that way, but I can't describe the feeling of walking into a house for the first time and its settings the way he wants. It would take three pages, double interlined, justified and written in Arial size twelve. Nobody wants to read that.
I am a big fan of Victor Hugo and his work, but reading all his descriptions in Notre-Dame de Paris was painful. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, Marcel wants me to write a thousand words for a picture.
From what I've read so far, and I'm not nearly done, our disagreements are mainly based on motives. We seem to be viewing my characters quite differently. That's a matter I can't wait to discuss with him. It certainly won't be easy, but there's nothing more exciting than to debate about something you are passionate about.
I'm glad I don't have to work today. I get to work more on the reviews before I start making dinner, but the vibration of my phone distracts me.
Mr Not Wright: I'm done reviewing my corrections. I just sent them to you.
Me: Thank you. I really think we should meet again this weekend. Would that be alright?
Mr Not Wright: Yes, I think I can make it work.
Mr Not Wright: When will you be in London?
Me: I don't know. It depends if Steeve's cousin doesn't mind me staying over.
Me: Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, would that be OK with you?
Mr Not Wright: Yes. I see your journey to London involves many things.
Me: I can't afford hotel rooms each weekend... :P
Mr Not Wright: Don't text me until then. I won't be reachable.
Major 'what the fuck's are going through my head. Everything was fine. Why would he be such a jerk all of a sudden? Did I say something? He got me furious as I can't even think of one reason he would say it that way...
Me: OK.
The period at the end of my 'OK' was significant. It makes a statement. I terminated this conversation. He got me pretty late to start dinner anyway.
His last text is all I can think about while I cut my vegetables in the kitchen. Was it meant to shut me off? Was he just letting me know so I don't get mad at him if he doesn't respond?
I'm so clueless when it comes to him. When we take a step forward, we take two steps back. He is very confusing. Deep inside of me, I think Marcel is a wonderful human being. He seems very intelligent and hardworking. He is very civilised and incredibly gentlemanly, but I think he is just misunderstood. He is not making it easy to make us care about what hides behind that meanness of his. It's unfortunate.
The door unlocks, and Steeve gets in loudly. I was so focused on my thoughts that he scared me to death. I take a second to calm down and watch him throw his gym bag in the entrance as he takes off his shoes.
"Hi, babe." He greets me and walks straight past me to take himself a cold bottle of beer in the fridge.
"How was your day?" I ask him, a polite smile on my lips, making small talk.
"OK, I guess. What's for dinner?" He asks me, kissing my shoulder quickly and walking to the living room to throw himself on the couch lazily.
"Homemade soup," I answer, and he turns on the telly.
Now that I look at my life from another perspective, I see how it hasn't been working for a while. I'm getting anxious thinking about it all. I'm sad that I will have to leave the life I have always known with a man I thought I would love forever. Things have changed. Things need to change. I don't love Steeve anymore. I think I'd fallen out of love a while ago... If I ever truly loved him. I have to do something about it. I can't keep living a lie with him. Certainly not if I think I might pursue something with someone else, somewhere else, even though it might not be serious. I just want to feel something for once, something other than Steeve. He is all I have ever known.
I don't know what I need to do... I don't know what I have to do... If I leave this flat, my home, where will I go? I can't be struggling through all of this in the last weeks of my term. I need to wait until it's over to manage it. I need to. But first and foremost, I need to tell him I will be going to London this weekend.
It's at dinner that I announce it to him, and he welcomes it warmly. I can't deny how encouraging he has been of my dream, and it makes me very happy that he cares deeply about it.
"I can call my cousin tomorrow to see if she would be OK with you staying there some weekends."
"That could be very great. Tell me what she is like." I ask him, very curious about the family I haven't met yet.
"She is very independent. She has a strong personality. She is quite an outgoing and wild person. She is really nice. Not your type at all, but I am sure you will get along." He says as he finishes his plate and looks up at me.
I smile back at him, hiding my minor anxiety by toying with the necklace he had offered me for my birthday last year.
"I hope this can work." I smile at him and gather the dishes on the table to clean them in the kitchen.
I eye him a bit as he looks for something, but I don't say anything. I frown and quickly see him taking back his keys and gym bag.
"I'm heading back to the gym. I might go to the pub with the lads after. Don't wait up for me." He doesn't even look at me. He simply gathers his stuff and heads to the entrance to put on his shoes.
"Have a nice time." I smile at him and look at him get out of the flat.
That was weird!
On the bright side, I'm all alone, and I have more reviews to read. That's precisely what I do for three hours. I don't see the time pass until I get sleepy and get to bed.
-
Steeve just picked me up from University, and we are now on our way to London. He surprised me Thursday night when he came home from work, announcing he would be joining me on my journey to London and that he would drive us there to save some time. I wasn't receptive to the idea, but I don't think he noticed. I wasn't really in a good mood to start with.
I came home mad and wet last night. I had to walk straight to the bathroom to shower since all of my clothes were soaking wet. I can't believe how all of these bad lucks keep happening to me. It made me really glad that I came home to an empty flat. I got to cool off before Steeve came home from work.
Right after class, I talked to my professor to ask him a question, or five, to be honest, about my final essay. It got me running through the campus to catch my bus on the corner of the street, but I missed it at the last second.
I had to wait for the next one, thirty minutes later, in the pouring rain. It got my clothes and my bag soaking wet. I didn't realise right away, but the second I got out of the shower and got dressed, I wondered if the rain got through the fabric of my bag to my books. I rushed to it to make sure it didn't damage anything, but it did. My notebooks and lectures were alright as it seems my manuscript took all the water.
"Oh no, no, no!" I let out, panicked, getting my story out.
I put the pile of paper on the floor and started hyperventilating lightly. I quickly separated the dry sheets from the wet ones. The first half was completely soaked. I divided the chapters and laid them all on the living room floor. I got up and ran to the bathroom to take my hairdryer and come back to plug it.
Nervously and without even thinking, I turned it on, and the first chapters got flying through the room. It must have taken half an hour to pick up all the pages. I got very desperate and mad.
I got to let out my fury while I was cooking dinner. That's when Steeve returned and told me he talked to his cousin about my stay over. He even announced that he would be joining me to introduce us so that it doesn't get awkward.
So, here I am, sitting in his car, three hours away from my destination. Every scenario goes through my mind. What will I do about Ash's gigs if I have Steeve stuck to me? What will I tell Ash if I don't show up? I want to see him more than anything. What will I do?
My questions make me nervous, and I can't seem to settle for an answer to calm me. I decide to question my boyfriend to have some answers that way.
"What made you decide to join me?"
"Soph invited me to come as well, and I figured it would be awkward for you to meet my cousin you hadn't met before if I wasn't there."
"Right... So? Soph..." I murmur as it is the first time I hear her name. "It's so nice of her. I'm delighted she agreed to help me."
"Considering she doesn't even know you, yes, she is." He only responds and focuses back his attention on the road.
"So? What are you planning to do while I work?" I ask him to pass the time, looking at the road and holding tight the handle on the door as he shifts most cars on the highway.
I can't help but feel scared of both his reckless driving and his answer. I still can't believe he is joining me... But it won't matter anyway if we die before we get there.
London seems to be the place where I get to know myself better. I am not afraid to be who I truly am, as it's so different with Steeve. I feel like I always need to be on my guard with him. Even though he's been relatively comprehensive lately, the boy who bullied me all my life is never too far.
"I'll be on my way back tomorrow morning. The owner of the gym is coming by the store. He wants me to show him the treadmills and a bunch of equipment."
"That's nice! Do you think you'll be able to make a commission on your sales like last time?" I curiously ask him as excitement takes over my nervousness.
"That's the plan. I have been talking about this deal with the owner all week. I'm very happy we are closing it tomorrow." He smiles brightly at me like I haven't seen him do for a while.
"I'm very happy for you. I know how hard you work." I genuinely say, but the truth is, I don't even know how hard he works. He never tells me anything about his work. I only know when he makes sales.
-
"If my phone is right, we should be near." He says as he does a wide right turn at the green light.
I look outside my window and smile at my surroundings. I was here last week. I remember seeing that ASDA from the bus, which excited me. Are we in Hayes?
We drive on the overdrive, and I see the yellow logo of the hotel I was staying at. My excitement gets quickly replaced by the guilt when we drive right next to the pub I went to last week. Images of the band performing, the attraction of the gaze Ash and I shared throughout the night, and the lust of the infatuation he made me feel through the kisses we shared are all the feelings rushing through me at the same time. It's overwhelming.
I stand awkwardly straight against the seat, trying to calm down, but Steeve notices.
"You seem stressed. Is everything OK?" I don't know what to answer him, honestly. I look outside the window and decide to let it out.
"Yeah... I'm just nervous. What if she doesn't like me?" I let out and sighed. He puts his hand reassuringly on my thigh to calm me down.
It works, and I smile back at him before he takes it off and pulls us on the right road. Is he avoiding my question? I shouldn't be surprised...
"I think we are here. Google Maps says it's here. Good." He says and stops the car. The stress is back, and I need to take deep breaths to not let my body shake. "I'm texting her, letting her know that we are here."
Once it's done, I get out of the passenger side and wait for him to open the booth. He takes out my bag and closes it. I hear his phone ring, and he puts the load on his shoulder to look at the text.
"She says to come right up that she left the door unlocked for us and that her boyfriend and her friend are there, but they are cool, supposedly." He says and continues his way to the front door of the house.
Having other people there doesn't really make me relax. It's a hell of a bunch of new people to meet. It doesn't calm my nerves at all. Steeve slides his hand in mine, probably to make me walk faster since I was barely moving, but the feeling is nice. He has my back. He isn't one to show affection, so I used to love when he would do something like that. He never intertwines our fingers together, but I can live with it. At least, it's what I used to tell myself.
Now, Ash and everything made me realise I don't want to live like that anymore. I want more. I know it's selfish, and I'm throwing my life plan away, but it's for my own happiness that I will break up with Steeve.
I don't expect anything of Ashley at all. I don't expect to feel something for him or anything. We just met. I just realised there's more to this world than what I already know, something worth living. This fling might be just what I need to really find who I am, meaning that I need to find myself without Steeve. My life for four years has been characterised by his presence, his taste, his habits influencing me and my way to see things. Only last week did I finally admit to someone the type of music I really liked. Steeve only listens to rap, so that's what I know because he hates everything else. I never eat fish because he hates that too. I never get to be on top when we make love, he wants to be dominant, and I hate it. I used to cope with all these things, but, now-- call it an epiphany when I kissed that say drummer-- but it opened my eyes to what really matters. For once, it's about me.
We climb the stairs to the flat, and I hear a door open. Steeve lets go of my hand and immediately walks to his cousin to salute her and greet her as I keep climbing the stairs. He's not one to like hugs.
"It has been forever cous'... You have changed so much. You look hot. Fit, too. You didn't look like that last time we saw each other." I hear her voice almost giggle, and I immediately find her nice. It really calms me down.
"Same for you, Sophie. I saw your Mum the other day."
"I bet she had only nice things to say about me..." She says with sarcasm as I get behind Steeve.
"She didn't change." He says and turns to me, which makes me look at her... and it isn't the first time. "Sophie, this is Grace, my girlfriend."
Both of our faces fall when I realise that Sophie is the Sophie from Wright Books's office. She is the friend I met at the pub, with whom I had too much fun and ended up kissing her friend.
Fuck!