A broken Louboutin- is not a pretty sight.
A naked woman on top of your boyfriend- is not a pretty sight.
Your boyfriend wearing nipple clamps-is not a pretty sight.
But, do you want to know what’s worse?
Try the inside of a holding cell.
I was still shaking from the shock of everything that had just happened. My hand was bandaged and stinging from where the blade had sliced into me, and my head was throbbing from being smashed into the floor. To make matters worse, I was sandwiched between what appeared to be a crack addict on a bad comedown, an old leather skinned woman who was babbling about ‘the invasion’ (whatever that was) and what was clearly a ‘working girl’.
I was desperate for a moment alone, but there was no privacy. The toilet was completely open and reeked of urine and sour vomit, a chipped concrete basin, solitary dripping tap and a make-shift toilet roll holder completed the minimalist decor.
“What ya in for babe?” A raspy voice suddenly piped up.
I turned and came face to face with a barely covered boob.
“Um…”
“I’m Angel by the way,’ She extended her hand, and not wanting to offend- I wasn’t ofay with the finer points of criminal etiquette - I shook it.
“I’m not really sure actually.”
She scoffed loudly, “I know what ya mean babe. Sometimes I think they harass me for the sake of it. This is the 3rd time this month I’ve been here.”
“Me too.” Said the older woman, “And all I’m trying to do is warn people about the impending invasion.”
Angel looked at me and rolled her eyes, “Yes, yes Margie we know. The flying saucers and little green men-“
“They’re not green, they’re grey!” She cut her off angrily.
“Pink, purple, blue whatever.” The sarcasm in Angels voice was undeniable.
And then without warning, Margie jumped up, rather nibbley for a women who looked like she was on the wrong side of a hundred ““This is what I’m talking about. You mock me now, but wait until they’re here with their probes and their mind control devices and their DNA assimilation technology that clones us all and turns us into drones and -"
Margie barely had a chance to finish her sentence when, “BANG”, Angel pushed her. Alien lady wasted no time in pushing her back, and soon I was watching a live episode of Jerry Springer. Margie was screaming something about the pyramids being transporter beacons and Tom Cruise being involved, while Angel taunted her by flashing her boobs. Even the crack addict joined in, making a strange cackling sound that I assume was meant to resemble laughter- disturbing.
I’d never seen anything like it before.
I didn’t belong here.
I really, really didn’t belong here.
“Miss Anderson.” One of the guards came up to the cell and started unlocking the gate, “You’re free to go.”
“Oh thank God, “ The relief was instant and I practically threw myself out of the cell, leaving as fast as I could without daring to look back at my fellow inmates who were now on the floor wrestling each other. But the warm relief soon melted away when I saw Trev. He looked every bit the lawyer wearing that crisp, sauve black suit and clicking his expensive Monte Blanch pen impatiently. He looked up and saw me.
Rage bubbled up, forcing any iota of relief I might have felt away, “What the hell are you doing here Trev?” I spat his name out with as much contempt as possible- I didn’t have to try very hard.
But Trev said nothing; instead he arrogantly slipped the pen into his pocket, and sauntered over to me with a sickeningly condescending demeanor.
“Anne, “ He oozed silver tongued lawyer charm as he reached out and took me by the hands. “Tess and I have agreed to drop the charges. We realize that it was a bit of an awkward moment for all of us, and maybe you just lost your head a bit. But no harm done.”
“You call walking in on you having kinky sex with your work colleague a bit awkward?” I didn’t control the pitch or the volume of my voice, and several cops turned around and stared.
“Sssshhh “ He hissed looking around self consciously, “You need to tone it down a notch. Tess and I are being very generous by dropping the assault charges.”
“Tess and I? Since when did you become a “Tess and I”?”
Trev’s tone changed, try annoyingly pseudo-somber on for size, “Listen Ann. Lets be honest here,” he cocked his head to the side, “It hasn’t been working for a while now with us. Lets be adult enough to acknowledge that. Mmmm?” Another head cock.
I had to admit it though, he was right. Things had been a strained lately. There was a distance and coldness between us, but I’d just chalked it up to stress, too much work and not enough ‘us’ time. Nothing serious. Nothing we couldn’t fix.
He continued the head cocking (I hoped his neck might snap off), “It’s just that Tess and I have the same interests, the same hobbies, the same taste in things-“
“Like nipple clamps and leather straps”. I had definitely gotten peoples attention now; some of the cops even put down their paper work and turned to watch.
Trev looked panicked, “Lets take this outside why don’t we.”
“No! I don’t want to.” I stomped my foot like a toddler having a tantrum, “I want to talk about this here; surely you’re not embarrassed? Not embarrassed that you had sex with another woman in our bed and was caught out? No, I wouldn’t be embarrassed if I were you!”
A collective gasp rose up from the room and one of the female cops clicked her tongue in blatant disapproval,
“Eish. Skelm.” She said shooting some death stares in Trev’s direction, which I was ever so grateful for. Another voice pieced the air, it was Angel, “I would have cut it off.” She yelled from across the room. Suddenly I liked her.
“Anne,’ his tone was annoyingly diplomatic, “I think it’s best if you come around tomorrow and remove all your things.”
“You want me to-‘
“Move out. Yes.” Cue head cock to the left.
“But… where would I go?”
He shrugged casually, “Maybe your sister could take you in. Of course Tess and I don’t expect you to get all your stuff out immediately, but maybe just the basics. Clothes, toiletries.’
“Oh, how very generous of you and Tess.”
“Goodbye Anne.” The bastard then had the audacity to kiss me on the forehead before walking out of the station. No sorry. No apology. No remorse. No nothing.
I watched him as he ambled to his car, as if he was going for a leisurely stroll on the beach, and climbed in. Tess was waiting for him in the passenger seat. My passenger seat.
When I was about six I was doing a twirl-y thing on the top bar of my bar jungle gym and lost my grip. I fell so far and so hard, that when I hit the ground, the wind was knocked out of me. I must have gasped for several seconds before finally sucking in the oxygen my burning lungs were so desperate for. It was one of the most frightening moments of my life. I thought I was dying.
That’s how I felt right now as I watched them drive away together.
After that, things just went from bad to worse. The horror of that day, the 13th of January to be specific, (And it wasn’t even a Friday) was not yet over. Not by a long shot. By now I had totally missed the photo-shoot, not to mention broken the piece de resistance.
My boss Sonja is fashion personified. What was hot and what was not, began and ended with one syllable from her pert little mouth. A severe and impossibly shiny black bob framed sharp pointy features and piercing blue eyes. She was tall and rail thin, so could wear all the gorgeous things that went wafting through our office and it was rumored she hadn’t eaten solids since 1998, living entirely on a diet of carrot juice. Her skin glowed, her lips sparkled with the latest shade of lip-gloss, and she was so effortlessly stylish, she could make a plastic bag look chic. But she was also renowned for her sharp tongue, her deadly ambition and a supreme set of balls that made her as competitive and ruthless as any male CEO. And she had also called me into her office; “So I believe you were arrested for attempted murder earlier.’ She said it with total indifference.
“No, it was a misunderstanding, they had it wrong-‘ How had they even found that out?
“Oh no, don’t get me wrong darling. You caught your boyfriend cheating; perhaps you just planned on maiming him a little… I can respect that.” She smiled at me as she slid out of her Perspex seat and sashayed over to the window, gazing out over the Johannesburg skyline. “What I can’t respect though, is that you totally fucked up my photo -shoot, not to mention the shoes that Christian himself specially shipped here. Do you know how much those shoes cost? And the photo-shoot? It’s not cheap flying Camels out from Egypt you know.”
“Camels?”
“Not to mention the Ethiopian refuges,” The fashion director- a younger carbon copy of Sonja- chipped in, “We were going for that whole “3rd world poverty chic” vibe. Can you imagine what a statement starving children wearing Louboutin’s would have made?” She was furious now. “But you just had to go and fuck up the whole thing, didn't you!”
Sonja nodded, “And that’s why you’re fired.”
Even though I knew I was probably (NO, definitely) going to lose my job over this, it was still rather shocking to hear the actual words spoken out loud. The situation was broken beyond repair- there was nothing I could do, or say to redeem myself, so I turned and walked out of the office trying not to burst into tears.
“Oh and Anne,” Evil Boss Bitch spoke again, “If you do ever work in the fashion industry again, which is highly doubtful.” She looked at me as if she’d just caught the whiff of rotting fish eggs, “Try not to wear Boyfriend jeans again, they went out two seasons ago.”
Snide punch line completed, I exited. And that was it. The end of my enviable job at the most glamorous fashion mag in South Africa. And the ugly end to my dreams of becoming a fashion director.
The next day proved to be just as tough. The violently sudden onset of my newfound singledom had left me spinning. I felt physically sick. The spinning made me dizzy, and the dizziness make me nauseous.
My sister Jenny and I went to my house armed with empty boxes and suitcases; ready to pack up my life- well, what had been my life for the last 3 years anyway. It was all so surreal though, and I wasn’t sure what I was meant to be feeling; anger, sadness, depression? Maybe I was just numb?
But when I went into the bathroom, the numbness evaporated…
Trev and I keep our toothbrushes in a cup next to the sink. Mine is lime green- my favorite color- and Trev’s is blue. But there, squashed between the green and the blue, was a pink one. I moved closer, bending down to stare it right in its bristly little face. It seemed to taunt me with its diagonal bristles for those hard to reach places. Both brushes were leaning against the blue one and the irony of the situation struck me as both laughable and simultaneously disgusting.
Here we all were, three little brushes, side by side sharing the same little cup.
No. I wasn’t above it.
No. I wasn’t the bigger woman.
And, NO, I wasn’t about turning the other cheek. So I picked up her brush and ran it over the inside of the toilet bowl before slipping it back into the cup.
I idea that Tess might come down with a deadly strain of ecoli poisoning did make me feel better. But only for a minute.
Six boxes, two full suitcases and five hours later my heavily pregnant sister and I were ready to go. I stood on the driveway looking up at the home that I’d shared with my boyfriend for two years. Even though it was officially Trev’s house, I could see signs of myself everywhere. I’d planted a bed of roses by the kitchen window- they were in full bloom. I’d painted our front door red and the little crack in the window by the lounge- that was made when I haphazardly opened a bottle of Champagne to celebrate my graduation from fashion Design College.
And now… I was just walking away?
Closing the door on a chapter of my life.
What I was going to do next?