DESDEMONA
The shriek, inevitable yet unexpected, split the darkness and my skull along with it.
I gritted my teeth, staring at the pictures moving on the television screen. Nothing registered except the crying. The sound swelled down through the ceiling even after I reached over to switch the baby monitor off.
'Dee?' he called from the kitchen, adjacent. I stiffened slightly. 'Dee, he's crying.'
Quietly as possible, I lay my head down on the red arm of the sofa. The rough woven cotton fabric rasped audibly against my cheek.
Footsteps sounded from the kitchen. A shadow fell behind my closed eyelids. He came closer, and I fought the urge to synchronize my deep, slow breathing with his. I hoped my eyelids weren't twitching along with the crying.
A few seconds passed with his breath washing across my face, stifling. With a quiet laugh he straightened up, pulling the throw tangled around my feet to my chin.
The gesture touched me. I considered fluttering my eyes open, pretending to wake and tending to the baby like I should have done in the first place, but the incessant crying stalled me, and he was too quick for my deliberation.
I heard him stomp out of the room. Five minutes later the crying ceased.
I opened my eyes and went back to staring at the television. I didn't bother to sit up.
I knew it would start up again soon.
* * * *
Forcing a cheerful hum, I wafted a duster over the sleek brown surface of the side table. Dust motes swirled in vague patterns around the gorgeous yellow blooms he had brought me yesterday. The thought made me smile. I wanted to glance at the clock, but I quashed the urge and carried on cleaning.
The baby gurgled from behind me, and I turned around, grateful for the distraction. He was sitting up against the sofa, clean dusting cloth in hand. I watched as he smacked it over and over against the red fabric, obviously pleased with himself.
'Are you helping me clean?' I said in my bright baby voice.
He didn't reply, but he looked up, grinning wider.
'Helping mummy clean? Get on with it, then,' I said as he stopped messing around with the duster. 'No? Oh, well. Plenty of time when you're older.'
He didn't protest, occupied with groping at the fibers of the maroon carpet. I'd just hovered, so didn't worry too much about what he might find.
The clock ticked on, and I carried on waving my duster around, shooting looks at the telephone every now and again. The phone never rings whilst you're watching it.
Eventually, there were ten minutes to go. I put the duster down. I'd put it back later.
'Baby,' I cooed. He was kicking his legs around now, one fat hand clutched against the wooden sofa foot. 'Let's go.'
Picking him up, I left the room.
* * * *
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Hands shaking, I stood up. It took a few more rings for me to gather the courage to pick it up, but when I did, my voice was steady.
'James?' I whispered into the receiver.
'It's me,' came the reply, mock-whispered, and I gripped the phone harder. 'Why are you whispering?'
A trembling laugh burst out of my chest, and I stood a little straighter. 'I don't know.'
'We're just talking,' he said, and I nodded, forgetting he couldn't see me.
'Yes, ' I said, compensating. 'I like talking to you.'
I couldn't see him either, but I could tell he smiled.
'I like talking to you too. I like seeing you even more.'
Chewing on nails, I forgot to reply.
'Dee?'
'Don't call me that,' I said automatically. 'I'm sorry, I mean...I just--'
The baby started up crying again. I bit deeper into my nail.
'It's alright. I won't call you Dee. What's that noise?' he asked.
'My child,' I mumbled, waiting for his reaction. 'He's only one. He'll stop in a minute.'
He made no comment, and I cheered a little. He didn't mind.
'When can I meet you again?' he said. The hum of an engine from outside interrupted his question.
'He's back!' I said, leaning forwards as far as possible to peer out beyond the vertical yellow blinds.
James laughed at the other end of the line. 'Put the phone down, then. I'll call you soon. Goodbye, my dear.'
'Goodbye,' I said hurriedly, and put the phone down. I had never been good with words.
Grabbing the duster I had forgotten to put back, I sprinted out to stop the crying before the door opened.
'Honey! I'm home!'
* * * *
He was trying to fix the kitchen sink. I had just changed the baby, and now was bouncing him on my knee. The sky outside matched the grey colour of the wallpaper, but I wasn't cold. In fact, I was uncomfortably warm. The bundle wriggling on my lap didn't help.
'Where's the screwdriver?' he shouted from the kitchen.
'In the toolbox!' I called back, gently pulling a chubby hand from the fine hairs at my temple. 'I don't use, so I can't have--ow! Let go!'
'I can't find it,' he said, ignoring my screeches of pain.
'I told you, I don't use it. It's in there, have another look.' Another sharp pull at my hair. 'Stop it!'
I heard him clanking about in the box, and knew he would call again. Sure enough, two minutes later:
'I can't--'
'For God's sake,' I muttered, standing up and placing the baby on the red sofa. He slumped against the arm, dribbling. 'Stay there, okay?'
I left the room to find the screwdriver. Coming back through, I froze in the doorway for a second. He had somehow moved himself, dangling so his head was over the edge. Every kick of his feet brought him closer to falling.
In a silent panic, I rushed forwards and snatched him up. I breathed in his baby scent, holding back the curses that wanted to come rushing out.
'You're okay, you're okay,' I whispered, then held him up in front of me. He gurgled, blissfully unaware of the danger he had just been in.
'Are you a good baby?' I asked, louder.
A gummy grin stretched across his face. His mouth opened in a little round O, and I held my breath, sure he was going to say something.
'What's the matter, baby?' I cooed encouragingly. I pulled him a little closer, just in time for him to vomit down my new dress.
* * * *
Ring. Ring. Ring.
'Hello?' I asked, listening to the pipes gurgle upstairs. He was having a bath.
'Hello, my dear.'
It was hard for me not to clap my hand over my mouth. 'James! What are you doing? You can't call now!'
He laughed. 'Of course I can. He's not listening, is he?'
'No, I suppose not,' I said unwillingly, my eyes flickering between the living room door and the baby on the couch.
'Then we can talk. I'd be happy to talk in person, without distractions too.'
I stared down at the speaker like it was his face. 'I don't know.'
'You know, I had the shock of my life when I saw you standing in that shop. I thought I'd never see you again.'
'You were the one that left,' I reminded him quietly.
'I didn't want to, you know that.' he said. 'You do know that, don't you?'
'Y--yes.'
'So meet me,' he said.
'I can't,' I whispered.
'Yes, you can. Do you shop in that store every week?'
'James, stop it.'
'Do you?' he asked.
'Yes.'
'So I'd see you there, if I happened to go again?'
I paused. 'Yes.'
'See you there, then.'
The line clicked dead.
* * * *
'Did you have a nice day?' he asked.
'Mhm,' I hummed, staring at the television. The volume was low--disturbing the baby was unthinkable--and someone was waving a flag around. The stripes were colourless, indistinct. What country was it?
I felt a great longing to be on holiday. Not a tent in Cornwall for the weekend--I wanted to walk through the hot, cobbled streets of somewhere foreign. The language would be as unfamiliar and exciting as the people. I wouldn't know them. They wouldn't know me.
'...anything interesting?' he said, and I realized he had been talking all along.
'Oh, you know,' I said, wrinkling my nose and hoping my lack of attention wasn't too obvious. He didn't notice, as far as I could tell. He was so charmingly oblivious, thank God.
'John's wife said she saw you out today.'
Ice water had been thrown over me, but my gaze didn't waver from the screen.
'I didn't see her.'
Of course I hadn't seen her. I had been as blissfully unaware as my dear husband.
* * * *
Ring. Ring. Ring.
'Hello?' I asked, a little lower than usual. He was in the bath again. A slight thrill ran through me with the reply.
'Hello, my dear. How have you been?'
'Fine,' I said, rubbing my toes slowly against the carpet. 'Waiting.'
He made a sound of amusement. 'Patience. There's only a week more to go.'
'I know,' I sighed. 'It's just...'
'Just what?'
'Are we doing the right thing?'
He paused briefly. I feared I had upset him. 'Desdemona.'
'Yes?'
'This is your choice. I can't force you into anything. You know what I want, but it's your choice.'
'I understand,' I whispered, my toes stilling. The deep blood colour I had painted them looked odd in the summer sun.
'I could give you everything you want,' he said, voice low and smooth. 'I can show you Italy. Wouldn't you like to go to Italy?'
'Yes,' I admitted, slowly losing focus of the splashing sounds from upstairs.
'The whole coast smells like irides. You can't even begin to imagine all the colours in the Mediterranean.'
'I--I just don't know,' I said, gripping the receiver.
'It's your choice,' he repeated. 'I'll wait for you.'
His words hung in my ears as the receiver clicked dead.
* * * *
The sea stretched out before us, a wavering blue line in all directions except one. Shadow from some invisible cloud had fallen on us, but far away on shore the sun shone. It blinded me, reflecting from rustic white houses perched on steep cliffs of green.
'It's beautiful, isn't it?'
I nodded, looking round and rubbing my arms. 'Yes. Where is it?'
'Paradise,' he smiled. 'Are you cold?'
'A little bit. I think it's just the shade.'
He stood a little too close to me. In spite of the sun we were about to reach, he was clothed in all black. His eyes, brown, caught mine.
'When will we reach shore?' I asked tensely. I hadn't known he could sail, and yet we were on his boat. Under his direction, we had cut frighteningly quickly though the waves, away from everything I had ever known. Now we rocked gently out in open seas, and he did nothing but look out towards shore. He had barely spoken to me.
It was quiet, and I found myself twitching for lack of noise. The cries of my baby would never cut through me again. I nibbled my lip.
'Do you regret it?' he asked, noticing my restlessness, and I forced back tears that had been threatening to spill for years.
'I don't know. Oh, James,' I said, hoping he would move to comfort me.
'Hush,' he said instead. 'Hold your weeping. It's done.'
He stood closer still, and the boat swayed again in the water. I failed. My tears splashed onto the floor, then dripped into the sea; nothing more than drops in the ocean.
'When will we go ashore?'
I wanted to close my eyes and sleep, away from the sickening rock of the ocean and the hard mattress, far too narrow, that I shared with James.
'We're not going there,' he told me, nodding towards the shining cliffs.
I sniffed. 'No?'
'No,' He took a step towards me, shoes clicking on the deck beneath the hem of his dark trousers. 'There's a special place made for you and I.'
*****
Hello and welcome, dear reader, to my first collection of short stories on Wattpad!
This book started with the last chapter of this tale, FOR HAITI, which was written when the Haiti earthquake happened and Wattpad ran a little writing challenge for support.
The rest of the stories came about during an extremely lonely year of my life when writing was one of my few solaces. Even though the stories aren't linked, a lot of the feelings I had during that year were channeled into the characters and so the same themes underpin the entire collection.
I'll leave you with a quote and a video that will provide you with some insight into the title -- I definitely recommend giving the video a watch!
"Are you a lucky little lady in the city of light? Or just another lost angel, city of night?"
Love you all!