∞ 6 ∞
OUT OF THE FRYING PAN...
Valentina rubbed her eyes numbly. She kneaded the small metal piece that was strung on a frayed ribbon around her neck like a charm, as she watched fat raindrops shower and glide across the windshield. It felt safe in the car. A cocoon. She put on the sweater she had left in there and snuggling up in it, closed her eyes for a few seconds. She was tired. And Scared.
"Rex" said a soft voice inside her head (her own voice).
"Uggh! Not you again. Go away," she groaned to herself aloud, covering and rubbing her eyes in weary frustration.
The name came into her head like that every-so-often, when she wasn't expecting it. It was always strangely as clear is if someone had spoken it aloud. It was true she had missed the person whom she thought was the love of her life terribly and for a long time after he had suddenly walked away, ending the seemingly happy, supposedly soul-mated relationship without much explanation, or apparent regret. And it was also true that it had taken an unusually long time to get over him as well as the pain and the emotional scars to go (to "Just move on!" as he cold-heartedly put it that last time he had ever spoken to her) but eventually she did it. She had had no other choice. She could now say with the certainty one can only be sure of in their own mind that if she never saw the man again, it wouldn't have been a bother (preferable in fact, after what he had put her through). After a sea of tears, Rex was now just a person she once knew. So it was frustrating and curious, why then she couldn't stop her mind conjuring his name... almost... calling to him. She was lost in the middle of an ocean on a little raft and certainly she needed someone to come, BUT NOT HIM! The selfish egomaniac would have turned up, seen the terrible quandary she was in and as sharks circled, would have expected her to comfort him over some trivial thing, like his boat getting some admirer's finger smudges on it after he had just polished it – or some other rich person's problem he felt the need to complain about, when people in the world would be going to bed hungry that night. So although she didn't hold any hatred toward him, Rex was truly among the last people she wanted (or needed) to see.
Each time it came, she would try hard to force the wretched name out of her head for once and for all; she had even researched a couple of alternative therapies, but "Rex" was resilient. It was as if it were hardwired into her brain. It came most often when she was sleepy and most especially when she was also stressed, but otherwise there was no rhyme or reason to its arrival. It wouldn't have been so annoying to her if something had reminded her of him at that moment, or if she truly had a secret desire to see him that she was pretending not to have. She imagined how pleased Rex would be if he knew that she still called to him – and there perhaps was the purpose.
Valentina frowned. She took a long breath in, exhaled and tried to focus on her problems at hand. It had been bad enough being in misery over someone she had loved so deeply, so completely and intensely, but how had she gotten into such a terrible state with someone she had never loved?
FLOATING FURTHER AND FARTHER OUT TO SEA:
She met Jerremee who was a solicitor a couple years after Rex had left her. One of Jerremee's big clients also lived in the Caribbean and he was out there occasionally. She was still living there, but she was alone and lonely. Rex's friends had been her friends. She was still totally heartbroken and worse still, had levelled her career in following Rex out there and making his life and needs her primary concern. Money which had flowed relatively easy before she had become involved with Rex, was becoming difficult and getting worse. The Caribbean was expensive. She was sad and worried about her future. She needed a friend and Jerremee had been a kind, casual acquaintance who occasionally lent a sympathetic ear.
She had decided to move back to London, but was uncertain what she would do and how she would survive once she got there without work arranged. Then at the worst time, she got the call about the cottage. She had saved up enough money to go back to London, it wasn't in her budget or schedule to go over to France to survey the property. (And she knew a lot of things, but didn't know how to do that!) That was when Jerremee found his way in:
Having been defiantly self-sufficient for years after a sheltered upbringing, Valentina's wings were broken. She needed a champion... There was very rich (married) American politician whom she had met a few years before at a party. As he had a holiday home out there, they saw him occasionally. He had always been ever-so-eager to make his interest known and whenever Rex wasn't in earshot, he was always full of discreet hints of what he could do for her and her career if she would chuck Rex and consider HIM in 'that' way. Of course that had been when she hadn't been in the slightest bit interested – when she was unavailable and hadn't needed, or asked for help from anyone. Once she agreed to take him up on his offers (once she NEEDED him) the man was suddenly acting as if she had been the one chasing him! Well she wasn't putting up with that! No way!
Jerremee was there however: gentle and kind, offering a helping hand of untainted 'true friendship'. Unlike the rich men she knew, he wasn't some slick talking, over-privileged (aged) egotist, who thought he deserved the world – without offering a little of what he easily could afford in return. He said she would be doing him a favour: he hadn't had a holiday in months and he claimed he knew a thing or two about the real estate market in France as her intention in going there had been just to put the cottage up for sale. Being a solicitor, he could easily get a French colleague in properties to deal with the legal paperwork for her, as a small favour to him. 'It would be fun. It was his pleasure to do it.'
Valentina hadn't been remotely reluctant in accepting. Jerremee had made her feel that safe, that sure that they were "true friends" and that he was just one of those mild-mannered, gallant gentleman of outstanding character –one who was bored, with time on his hands and a certain amount of money, but wasn't as fortunate as men like the politician who had their pick of gratifying life experiences and fill of attention from others, due to their more fortunate station in life– that she had had no reason to doubt him. 'He just wanted to help what little he could.'
And what was he offering really, but go with her to France for a free, mini holiday and in exchange, drive her around a bit and get a friend to make him a favour?
Valentina was the perfect dupe. She had a much greater propensity of connecting with others on an intimate, yet purely platonic level than the average person (as well as being raised with the ideology that helping people in need, without expecting anything in return, was natural and correct; it was part of the circle of life). Most of the men she had been exposed to throughout her early life were older, admirable, past the need of pressuring and creeping in anything – or at least too proud to put themselves in such positions. Equally, although she herself was not one, most of the people Valentina had met in recent years did not need to work (or did not make a great habit of it) and so, if not led by the noble concerns of altruism, they were the sorts that were very bored and often keen to find some project to keep themselves amused. Unfortunately for these and various other circumstances particular to Valentina, Jerremee –a person in truth she did not know well– offering to go with her alone to France and help her, seemed completely normal and good.
And everything had been good... until the last night when he sprung on her:
The few times they had spoken over the several months prior, he had always been keen to speak about topics like universal love and charitable work (topics he brought up). He himself was supposedly broken-hearted and still in love with someone else. Most of his friends were women. Supposedly, he wasn't even that active sexually!
The problem started with him suddenly leaning in for a kiss. Apparently he didn't take the hint when Valentina turned her head. Even the worst crétin took that hint! Not Jerremee Pratt. She shouldn't have kissed him back. He just seemed so gentle – naïve. With his heart broken and apparently unaware of how these things worked, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. And they had had an unexpectedly marvellous time. He was a good man, perhaps something would develop in time. But then almost immediately he was advancing between her legs and was trying to get her shorts off! And he wasn't taking "no" for an answer! It was incredibly weird how his temperament had changed suddenly – as if he were in a sort of trance. Not so innocent and laid-back after all.
"Just relax. Just relax," he kept saying calmly, again and again.
"No Jerremee. Look, I don't want to do this," she kept saying.
It would have been obvious to any ordinary person that she was uncomfortable and upset. But he didn't hear her (or he didn't care). It was like he was a different person. She tried another tactic of explaining to him nicely that she had enjoyed her time with him very much and that what was happening would ruin things between them. That also did not register in Jerremee's brain – he just continued in his calm, determined trance-like pursuit. After steadily protesting, she thought she had put an end to the matter and he finally stopped. Relieved, she went to bed, but in the end he 'couldn't stop himself.' and came into her room.
Even crétins could stop themselves! People liked to go on about paedophiles in the Church. For her part she had never met any, but she imagined they would be like he had been on that night. For months so pious and sensitive, then suddenly when he was alone with a person beholden to him and no one was there to witness it, or stop him, he had turned into a faceless predator with no interest for his prey's own desires, or distress. It hadn't been in an outwardly violent way (and he would undoubtedly rely on that as his excuse). But it remained – he had forced himself on her in the creepy, paedo-priest way.
Her heart was pounding in her chest. There was no explanation for his behaviour except that he was sick in the head and she imagined if she didn't give in, he soon WOULD flip out on her and hurt her. They were in the middle of nowhere. She was terrified. She didn't have a way to escape and couldn't get rid of him. She thought fleetingly about making a run for a neighbour, but assuming she got there safely and they even opened the door, she wasn't sure if they would help her (and the problem was that he WASN'T hitting her, or even raising his voice; no one would believe her.) She put her mind elsewhere and went along with it. How had she gotten herself into that situation as a grown woman?! She felt sick thinking back to it now.
The following morning he was back to normal. She kept cool, said polite goodbyes at the airport and felt relieved when she entered the departure lounge that she was safe and would never have to see the paedo-preist creep again. By the time she arrived home however, there were urgent texts saying that he thought he had made a terrible mistake and imploring her to take his call.
Valentina took the call and he had what sounded like such a very plausible excuses to her (at the time): 'He was so, so, so-o-o nervous and overwhelmed and in-love. He had fallen for her HARD, from the first moment he saw her and couldn't believe his luck that she had even paid him the compliment of allowing him to go with her. Truth be known, he had so little experience with dating and social situations in general that he hadn't known what to do. He was just a boring intellectual used to the quiet married life along with his books and papers. Now that he was divorced he was a wreck. He didn't understand the whole dating scene and it terrified him! The ordinary women he had dated since the regrettable breakdown of his marriage were all "up for it". None of them had her refined sensibilities and ironically he had been shunned already (more than once) for his gentlemanly reserve. In fact if he were completely honest, past women had shamed him and (well, he was embarrassed to say, because she would probably laugh at him as the others had) they had put the idea into his head that he was sexually inadequate. Now when it really mattered, now when he had found the woman he had dreamed about and hoped for his entire life, he was desperate not to make the same mistakes. He thought he was being "manly and assertive." He didn't want to blame her, as the fault was his, but he thought from the signals she was giving him, she expected sex; he had just been a bit (or perhaps very) confused by all her signals.'
"What!! What signals?! You mean the signals I was terrified and wanted you to stop?! The signals that I only wanted to be friends in the first place? I thought with all your talk about universal and unconditional love you understood!"
Yes, yes of course. No, NO-O-O he had worded it wrongly. He didn't mean to make it seem as though he was blaming her. It was all HIS fault. Of course he had misunderstood her response; it was because he was so nervous and in love and afraid himself. His research had been unreliable: Cosmopolitan magazine said women wanted a lion in the bedroom and he believed them. He realised he of course was not a lion (in fact it greatly embarrassed him to admit that he had categorically had very few sexual encounters) but he just wanted to impress her. He didn't want to leave her thinking he was a wimp. He realised now that he had made a terrible, TERRR-IBLE mistake, but judging from all the big shots in her past, he honestly, truly had believed that she expected the man to take charge in that way. He would have done anything, ANNN-YTHING to win her over. He thought he was flattering her. He thought being forceful was what a woman wanted these days – especially with her being a Catholic girl; he imagined that she didn't want to seem too "easy". Clearly with his lack of dating experience and social ineptitude, he had sorely misjudged the situation. He realised that now. He knew that she would think he was a geek now that she realised how very inexperienced he was, but he just wanted to tell the truth and be absolutely 100% completely honest with her. Her respect meant the world to him.
She listened quietly and responded:
"Alright, well... thank you for apologising. I can say: I think that you probably need to wait for the other person to take the lead the next time and LISTEN, so you don't end up in court (not as the solicitor I mean, but well... in trouble with sexual charges against you). Goodbye Jerremee."
"WAIT! PLEASE. Please!" He needed to explain further.
He was a geek in dating matters and he knew it. He hadn't wanted to disclose it, but to be completely honest, it was his business partner Jacob (who was quite a manipulative letch when it came to women, if he were being totally honest) who had given him the worst advice. Jacob was so much more experienced with women with all the affairs he had. He had only been following Jacob's debauched advice of being more forceful and sexually casual in a way that he never, NEVVV-ER normally would have done if he hadn't been led astray. True love was truly what he wanted, but sadly women these days didn't seem to want that. Jacob had convinced him (and Jacob was the most manipulative person he had ever met) that she would think he was a sissy and scare her away if he talked about love to her so soon. Jacob and the experiences with those ordinary women he had briefly met, made him believe that what he needed (and what SHE would expect) was "a good old-fashioned fuck." The women he knew didn't go away with a man without having sex – and Jacob had confirmed it. He was terrified, TERRR-IFIED he would lose her if he let her get on that plane in the morning, without having sealed a connection with her. He was so, SO-O-O sorry if he had hurt her in any way. He realised they might sound like excuses, but it was all absolutely true and he only hoped she would see how sincere he was. HE WAS A MAN IN LOVE. He was disgusted with himself that he had frightened her, but it was so ironic because really, SHE had all the power over him – he was the one who was weak and terrified. If she could just bring herself to give him a second chance and be his girlfriend, she would give him strength and he would be the happiest, richest man alive.
She wasn't sure. She needed time to think about it. She had liked him a lot (BEFORE the incident), but wasn't even attracted to him in that way and wasn't sure if she could develop feelings for him naturally as she probably would have – if he had given her a chance to.
He had pleaded with her – begged her: "I'm begging you to give us a chance."... He didn't have a lot, but it was enough for them. She would certainly be very comfortable and well looked after. That was the way he treated his women and she deserved it because she was outstanding – the woman of his dreams. All she had to do was make a home for him.
Was it wrong to want that – to expect it after it was offered and accepted?
He said that he was the sort of man who needed constancy to be happy and able to focus on his business, which he was having such a hard time doing without a stable home life and a woman. 'He needed her. She would be helping him. He had unexpectedly fallen in love so deeply and there was nothing he could do to help himself. He had tried his best not to, but he had failed. He would be a wrecked man if she didn't accept him. In fact, he was willing to be just friends if that's all she was able to give. They could be life partners. Knowing her made him a better person. He would do anything, ANNN-YTHING, if she would just start a new life with him. He accepted she didn't feel as strongly as he did for her. He could be patient, because that was really the sort of man he was and he truly loved her. She could paint – or do whatever she desired. The thing that gave him gratitude in life was creating situations for people where they could meet their full potential and flourish; as he wasn't creative himself, just knowing that he helped foster creativity and shape peoples' lives, was a huge satisfaction and sort of hobby for him. She would be "a woman of leisure." He loved the idea! A woman like her deserved to be treated like a princess. And truly, honestly it was his deepest wish and a need inside of him to be able to provide that for someone... If she would just promise to be this woman for him, the princess he could come home to, he promised he would facilitate that life of stability for her... but if she preferred to throw their chance away on some obscenely rich, old fart, whom she could never love (and probably wouldn't care one little bit about her anyway) he wouldn't stand in her way.'
A life of stability was Valentina's deepest wish. She had not found that with the lofty Prince Charmings she had been in love with, who had in the end left her only with heartbreak and insecurity. (And Jerremee had sensed rightly that she wasn't eager to settle for the politician – even if she did not think he was an "old fart".) Still she wasn't certain about Jerremee or his offer.
When she got back to the Caribbean however, a series of unfortunate events helped make Valentina's decision for her: Firstly she came home to find she had lost her job. She had taken an ordinary job at a hotel casino out of necessity (and she had only gotten it because an Anglican priest with a taste for white rum and blackjack, who knew her and felt sorry for her, had gotten it for her). It was a relation of his who was in charge of hiring that offered her the non-existent opening. Having no prior experience in such a position, Valentina proved to be captivating to many guests (in a bad way) because they then spent less than they would have at the casino, as they invariably wanted to stay and hear her stories about her uncommon life – not to mention that she was useless at making drinks and remembering to charge people, among other shortcomings. While she was away, a meeting of the board of directors decided that the company needed to downsize. With half the relatives of the man who hired her holding jobs there, Valentina was one of the first to get the chop. At the time it seemed just as well; even though she had cut spending dramatically, with tropical wages what they were, she had hardly made enough at the casino to cover her bills anyway.
It was lucky that she was receiving rent on her flat back in London, or else she wouldn't have been able to survive... As if on cue, her tenant vacated four months early and left a great mess according to the agents. They wanted £2,300 to clear and redecorate before they would agree to re-let it. She didn't have the money and there didn't seem to be any point since she planned on returning to the city. However she was suddenly left without any income at all.
On top of all this, the politician who wasn't a bad man really (he was just a bit of a «crétin») was wavering about their impending, unconsummated affair. After all his hints of what he could do for her and disparaging comments about Rex whom he very much disapproved of, now he was looking for a 'discount!' Typical man. (Typical RICH man.)
To be fair, the politician's sudden change in behaviour may have had something to do with Valentina's mildly intimidating formal notice via phone before she left, of what she expected from him (and added warning that she wasn't going to take any nonsense) that suddenly cooled off the previously eager suitor. He was just looking for a bubbly, uncomplicated, trophy girl to listen to him and look up to him. The feeling was apparent when he discussed the situation with his friends:
"Jesus christ, this is getting TOO COMPLICATED! I'm not looking for anything serious! I'm not looking for any strings attached! I have that at home! Hell, I was just looking for some fun and adoration from a young, gorgeous, chick like all the other fellas in my position have!"
...Weren't they all. She didn't bother to call so he could clarify his feelings.
In actuality, although not becoming the politician's mistress meant she had no safety net at all, not going ahead was a big relief to Valentina. As obstinate as she had been about her plans of seeing a man only for what he could do for her, Valentina felt ashamed of the situation with him. She didn't want to be a married man's mistress (even if his wife was one of the sourest women she had ever met and was widely known to be having an affair of her own). She didn't want him and he wasn't her type, so she didn't see that she ever would. For a start, although he was exceedingly wealthy, he wasn't the most elegant of men; besides he was too old (even if she did tend to like older men) and finally, as rich as he was, he was exceedingly miserly, a trait which Valentina found unpardonable in his position.
It was probably a misjudgement on both their parts: the politician was actually a kind man with a good heart under his own silly bravado and Valentina did in truth have a soft spot for him; it might have worked out to be a satisfactory relationship in the end, as things sometimes have a peculiar way of unexpectedly working themselves out like that. For all her arrogance –and that was only because she knew her worth and equally didn't want to be taken advantage of ever again– Valentina was what his mother would have termed as: "a good girl."
Instead the poor «crétin» would end up with a different sort of working girl, who would seem very happy to take whatever crumbs she was given, in exchange for clearing her schedule, maintaining a lavish wardrobe and making her nice apartment available to him – for a little while... In the end however, apart from publicly embarrassing him with her gross lack of intelligence and sophistication, she would prove to be an uncomplicated, yet decidedly hateful and astoundingly opportunistic, young woman. The politician would be particularly aggrieved because he thought he had been shrewd in his choice: 'He thought she would be grateful that he was lifting her up! She hadn't even been that pretty!'
The future girlfriend who wouldn't seem that intelligent to begin with, would also eventually contact his wife (still having her own affair) and they would together make a pact that would part the silly politician with far, far, far more money than the relatively modest maintenance he would ever have had to promise Valentina upfront and very easily could have afforded, in return for her wasting her time and soul in being a married man's mistress, had he simply had a little more pluck and generosity in sticking on the path he had set with the good –albeit slightly haughty– girl.
And so, having been in a worrying position, Valentina suddenly found herself in a desperate one. She had attained the minor amount of celebrity she had as a painter back in London relatively easily and quickly. Although she was talented, there were many just as talented as she; she had been very lucky. Her agent was angry with her for leaving London as she had and wouldn't speak to her. Without him, or a gallery to show her work to the right people, she soon realised that finding clients who were willing to pay for paintings at £5,000 a piece (or even at £50 a piece... and even when they were capable of paying whatever the fee) was incredibly difficult for the majority of the World's artists – those among the masses. Having lost her place on a pedestal by her own carelessness, she too was now just one of the masses.
Now what? How would she live?
And that was the way Valentina ended up with Jerremee and came to fall for his passionate excuses. She felt like the stupidest woman on Earth now for having accepted him. It seemed so clear – now. Clearly, the atrocious incident should have been an obvious indication the person wasn't right in his head and that should have been the end of it.
Before, she had blamed herself even more than she blamed him. She shouldn't have accepted that he go with her alone. She should have had her own transport. It was her fault for worrying about his ego and kissing him back. She hadn't wanted to be a victim. If she accepted the committed relationship with him, then she HADN'T been a victim. That made it all okay – it was a legitimate relationship and what he had done had all been just a huge misunderstanding due to his inexperience (which wasn't his fault) just as he had said. It wasn't so bad. Even if she could ever fall in love again she hadn't ever been the sort of woman to be frivolous with the feeling. It would take time and he had said that he completely understood. Anyway, he was such a kind and good person, even if it would not be the same fervent love that he had, she was sure she would grow to love him in the end.
She wanted (needed) to paint for her wellbeing. To be blatantly honest –and she had been blatantly honest with him– she was also desperate to get out of the Caribbean. Seeing Rex flaunting his new fiancée all over the island was eating what was left of her heart out and she had been open about that too. She couldn't find decent paying work and she didn't want to be arm candy for any old, rich man, whom she knew she couldn't love (and in any case would never think of her as anything more than an acquisition).
She had been desperate. That was the crux of the matter. Desperation. She needed to believe in and forgive Jerremee. What was more, he knew it. Valentina said yes and they were happy (for a little while).
She agreed and was faithful and affectionate to him. Absolutely. She cut off everyone, destroyed her remaining contacts, changed her phone. He was so incredibly insecure that even her passing a man in the street worried him. For a girl who liked to know that a man wanted her, his excessive jealousy was tedious, and even insulting in a way, but she tried to be understanding and sympathetic (he had been cheated on by people he had loved and she knew how soul-destroying that could be). She changed her life for him in exchange for the promise of security and stability.
Valentina moved back to London and Jerremee with her. Things seemed to be going well, but he soon revealed that he was disenchanted (verging on depressed) with his business and came to her with a grand "quality of life" plan, which involved moving to the countryside and working from home part-time. He said the house in France would be perfect and of course he would pay to renovate it fully to the best specification – whatever she desired. 'It was his dream.' Unbelievably, Valentina agreed without much thought. For her part she didn't much care where she painted and if it would make him feel secure and focused on his work so that she could feel secure and focus on her work, that seemed fair.
She felt sick about not seeing Mimi for so long before she died and therefore guilty about selling the property anyway. Mimi had obviously wanted her to have it. Maybe that's what she needed: fresh air and a simple life – Mimi was telling her something. And HE had turned up when the property had. Perhaps Mimi had sent him? (At the time that's what she had told herself anyway). She could have pigs again, something she always wanted: two little pigs and a few little chickens too. That would be wonderful. Simple. Pure. Calm. She would be able to paint every day and be surrounded by beauty and nature. Start again. He would look after her financially and in return she would make a home for him, take care of him, make things nice for him, after so many people had discarded him and misused his generosity and kindness. She could do that for him – for 'them'.
However jaded she was, she wanted someone to love and look after. She was tired of looking and waiting for "The Right One." On top of this natural yearning, an irrational fear had started playing on her mind that she was getting older. Women weren't as lucky as men in that respect. If she could be young and talented and beautiful and still be chucked by the man she had adored and never had had even one harsh word with, what would happen when she got older and wasn't in such an ideal circumstance? She told herself: "The 'Right One' was the one you chose and made a life with." There had been enough excitement in her life. If no longer glamorous, things would be good and correct...
So she left her flat vacant once again and moved with Jerremee to France. In the beginning and for some time, she had faith in him; looked after him; tried to keep quiet and show understanding and support over the steadily snowballing stream of inconvenient social calamities and financial misfortunes that seemed to plague him and arose within weeks of moving. Their 'quality of life' (their security) was severely impaired by the rising chaos and naturally made Valentina who needed security above all else, feel insecure and anxious. She tried to look the other way and not to judge too harshly, as what worryingly appeared to be a stew skeletons, began to surface.
Valentina reasoned that that was Life: Life put problems there to be solved. She wasn't thrilled, but instead of bailing out as any clever person would have done, she stayed in the relationship and continued to concentrate all of her mental energy and time on playing the homemaker. The goal of making a secure base for him on the little available funds, so that he could get over his next 'temporary tough period' that he assured her 'wouldn't last much longer.' She spent her small savings too on necessities not wanting to push or shame him. She believed him – because she had to. Painting was temporarily put on hold.
She succeeded in part, but failed at completely concealing her near constant disappointment – pretending everything was fine (which Jerremee expected). As a response, instead of slowing down, the flow of problems only increased. (She would eventually learn that this was a deliberate punishment.) Flowing along with it was a stream of lies so vast, that within a handful of months, Valentina was unsure about nearly everything she heard from everyone, especially Jerremee.
'He was only in the difficulties because his current business partner Jacob was freakishly dishonest, inept and lazy. (Jacob was also a drug addict and a sex addict and had a weird bisexual crush on him. And it was important for her not to forget that Jacob was also the lecherous fiend who had supposedly instigated Jerremee's forcing himself on her that first night.) And obviously Jerremee was still suffering from the previous dishonest, inept and lazy business partners.' That seemed understandable. With his bad luck, no wonder the poor man was struggling.
Next there was no money for groceries because an ex-girlfriend had randomly used his credit card numbers. 'She was a thief and was used to him being a pushover. He had tried his best to help the woman, but he had failed because she was also "A drug addict, an alcoholic, a sex addict and from a bad family." The poor woman needed help.'
There were constant colossal telephone rows and reconciliations with Jacob that shook the house, until Valentina said that Jerremee would have to leave. He was sorry and wondered if Valentina with her cleverness could deal with his problems of miscommunication with Jacob for him... Jacob however was understandably very angry when he inadvertently found out a few details of the depraved person he had been painted as. He had been a good and supportive friend to Jerremee and was angrier still when he discovered that he had also become the most recent scapegoat for a myriad of Jerremee's own vices, ranging from minor lies that there seemed to be no reason at all for bothering to tell, all the way up to highly immoral and illegal deviances. The volatile situation was all augmented by the fact that Jerremee had made up several more lies about Jacob's work habits to substantiate his reason for not paying Jacob money he owed him.
Infuriated, Jacob then told Valentina some dirty little truths about Jerremee. For example: while Jerremee was trying everything he could to get Valentina to marry him and they were already packed for France, the story he was telling to Jacob was that SHE was obsessed with him and begging him to stay (He wished! «Salaud!») and that he had no serious intentions toward her whatsoever! He went as far as telling Jacob that, he was "in fact" planning on marrying an ex-girlfriend soon and invited him to be the best man at the wedding. Jacob was actually telling Valentina the truth, but by this time her head was already starting to spin. Jerremee convinced her that Jacob was just jealous of his love for her, racist against her because she was a foreigner and also a latent paedophile... Uncertain of what to believe, from that moment onward, Jerremee's lies about his business partner put enough doubt in Valentina's mind that she kept her distance from Jacob who wasn't a saint (but also wasn't a paedophile, alcoholic, sex addict, drug addict, or racist... and equally not in some sort of imaginary, bisexual love triangle with Jerremee in his mind).
Valentina accepted it all. He was socially inept and innocent. He didn't understand the ways of the world and people had misused his goodness. He needed her to help him in those areas he found so very difficult to understand (and that was saying something, because it wasn't as if she was an expert in understanding the cruel and complicated world herself). She had to remember that the period of hardship 'was only temporary. And none of it was his fault.' She stood by him. Wasn't that what one did in a relationship?
Next, his ex-wife, an Irish woman whom he had a slew of kids with, was supposedly: 'Still in love with him and "lazy and unfaithful and pathologically jealous" of his new found happiness. It wasn't the Irish woman's fault; she was only acting out because she wanted him back. She had refused him entry at their luxury home that was practically a resort and was there with her male model, toy boy lover, living a life of leisure. That's why they didn't have any money! She had vindictively dropped him into yet a another precarious situation with his finances by putting in an enormous swimming pool for the toy boy's exercise and of course HE had to pay for it. Her and the toy boy's unbridled spending –all charged to him– was a monthly battle in fact. (But surely he had to tolerate the abuse for the peace of his many children.) He was so mild-mannered and bad at dealing with those things, he wondered if perhaps Valentina could confront the woman for him... Anyway it was to be expected. The Irish were all "crooks and breeders."'
This statement stunned Valentina. So far Jerremee had always sounded wounded and pathetic. His ridiculously poor sense of judgement that had gotten him into so many messes was becoming exasperating, but he had always been charitable. Now he was sounding like a bigot and a bastard!
That was all only in the first four months. After the hectic, confusingly-frustratingly-unexpectedly rough beginning, Jerremee turned up with the idea that they should start some sort of business there in France.
'Through no fault of his own, his law practice wasn't doing nearly as well as it used to (mostly Jacob's fault) and really, he desperately wanted to get out of London altogether and finish with the law practice anyway. He needed something else, something more meaningful out of life. He needed her understanding and support.'
Valentina wasn't happy about yet another major change in such a short period of time, but she went along with it. She remembered what it was like to want to get away from the Caribbean so badly.
That was fair, wasn't it?
'There was absolutely nothing to worry about. He could very easily get a few high-profile, private cases per year if the little business didn't make money (and she could help him out with a little bits and pieces here and there).'
That was also fair wasn't it? He wasn't asking a lot, was he? She had agreed to make a life with him after all and in a relationship you helped one another.
'It would be a lifestyle business, just a hobby to give him something to do and a little extra spare pocket money to support his leisure interests (and surely it would be good for her too – of course). Shared risk shared reward.'
"Shared risk, shared reward" was yet another mantra she would eventually realise was just another legitimising catch phrase of his for suckering people into his sticky little web of believing he was helping and saving them while, in reality, he was sucking the life out of them.
By the seventh month Valentina was worn down. Her enthusiasm, sweetness and bounding energy was fast being replaced with pessimism, budding condescension and incapacitating insecurity. For his part Jerremee was puzzled and disappointed that she wasn't being as sweet and patient with him anymore.
'None of it was his fault. He was having a "mid-life crisis". That was why he had been acting up so much. That was the real reason!'
At the time he seemed like he was at a crisis point, she needed to think of something to help. Wasn't that what you did in a relationship? In any case what were her options? After a great deal of research, she suggested the gîtes.
'Oh!!! O-h-h-h!!! She was so intuitive! She was so intelligent. She was the best woman alive! But how? H-o-o-ow did she know that that had been his life dream?! He was thrilled! That was just what he needed. She made him so extremely happy. And she could do all the decoration and the artwork and the marketing (of course), because she was so very talented in such things. And she would need to manage the gîtes too (naturally) – just in the beginning. It wouldn't be too much work. In fact the whole thing was really all for her benefit.'
Wasn't that normal and fair? She didn't know when she was going to be able to paint. She would have to wait just until the gîtes were finished...
And then the goats came because they needed some sort of agricultural touristic classification. He was so happy with her! The goats too had been his "absolute dream of dreams!" Anyway if they didn't get the classification, that would be the end of the gîtes and he had already closed up business in London. If he couldn't get those high-profile clients, where were they going to get money from? Two or three rescues would have been lovely. She wasn't really looking forward to thirty of the animals, but she couldn't think of another way.
'He loved animals! She could look after them, because she was there in the week anyway. She enjoyed doing it as well, so the goats were in fact really all for her benefit... Didn't she love animals as much as he did? Anyway he was paying for everything, so there was nothing to worry about.'
Wasn't it fair?
'She was after all getting such a good deal with being a woman of leisure and him being so nice to her and providing everything she needed (or would be just as soon as he got over a few little emergencies... and his mid-life crisis – none of which was his fault).'
Next it was revealed that 'a work colleague had previously accused him of "some absurd sexual offence," when he had only been trying to help the woman, even though she had misused him terribly in their business dealings. He casually disclosed the incident to Valentina himself. It had all been a huge misunderstanding, but really, it was honestly to be expected of a needy, ageing, nymphomaniac who had been sexually abused as a child. And she was a whistleblower. No one wanted to work with her. He had taken pity on her and was exploited in return for his kindness. It was shocking! (It wasn't his fault she "wanted him" and got the wrong idea when he had only been trying to help her.) And she was American. Americans were so prudish and arrogant; they were always suing people over minor issues. (As a solicitor he knew this.) And really who could believe HE would be involved in sexual misconduct. Who was going to believe this whistleblower-troublemaker over him? Just look at how many friends he had on SixDegrees.com! Who was recommending her?! He was a gentleman whose primary interest in life was helping people (being "a true friend"). Furthermore he was all about love and commitment... In fact, he was a virtual novice in sexual matters.'
VALENTINA would believe! She still believed Jerremee's problems were caused by his childlike, social awkwardness and that he didn't mean to get himself mixed up in all the drama that he did, but innocent or not, she was beginning to realise there WAS something wrong in his head. It was the line in the sand; the point where she first decided she didn't want to continue with Jerremee. She was miserable. It was too much... but it was too late. She had fallen into debt waiting on the financial security and quality of life to materialise; not only was she in debt and without savings, she was in France in the middle of nowhere with many animals under her care.
Valentina had changed: There was no painting. No interesting thoughts or discussion. No more sexiness, sweetness, charm and laughter. No more pretty things. (Everything was missing, or in moving boxes – mouldy and rat eaten.) No healthy, glowing skin, or fresh air and sunshine. Everything in her mind and heart and body was held prisoner, because there was no space to think or care about anything else except Jerremee's catastrophes (until the next one came along). The noise in his head leaked out and became the thunder in her head, which gave Jerremee a good deal of relief at least. She was becoming ever more charmless, paranoid, sour and obsessive. As Valentina's personality, looks and health further deteriorated, Jerremee constantly reinforced in her how much he was helping her and sacrificing for her. It would get much worse...
{Exhale... ... ...}
It was strange. They had seemed compatible – in the beginning. She had fooled herself into believing she would grow to love him. She was a loving person after all... No... actually. Wait... actually, that's right! They had seemed EXTREMELY compatible in morals and upbringing and life goals and tastes (everything). It had been a delightful surprise and her feelings were growing stronger for him – before she found out that that entire personality had been one of his complex "emergency lies." An act... That's right!! That was the reason she had agreed to their domestic arrangement... It seemed so far away that she had had those positive, affectionate, thoughts about that make-believe character Jerremee had assumed early on, that she had forgotten she had ever felt them. She had known the 'Real Jerremee' (an oxymoron if ever there was one) for so long, that she had completely forgotten that she had actually fancied him once upon a time... for a little while. It was a thought that repulsed her now.
{Breath in... ... ...}
She had really and truly set herself up this time. She hadn't felt "safe" or "happy," or "proud," or "at peace" for one whole day, since the day it was too late to turn back. She had completely changed her life (for something she never wanted, or agreed to) and had worked herself silly to try and accommodate a deeply troubled person's daily changing issues and requirements and chaotic past, to compromise for that new, good life that he would be so generously providing her with. ('If she would just stretch to accommodate one more thing.') She had cuddled and cooked and reassured and mended and researched and cleaned and solved and adapted and made-do, every single day, from morning till night – all for a shop girl's wage that was often late... Or she had done at least, until she was more than fed up... Now after two and a half years of the constant rollercoaster of Jerremeemadness, she was so fearful and angry and absolutely mentally and emotionally deep-fried, that simple chores –a load of laundry, going to the store, dinner– had become challenges. It had become a challenge to do much of anything but get up and feed the animals and WORRY and WORRY and WORRY, wondering what the next crisis would bring. EVERYDAY.
{Exhale... ... ... and again... ... ....}
Perhaps she expected too much. Maybe Tutu was right; maybe they had spoiled her. They had taught her to think she was special. They treated her like a little princess when she was growing up and now she thought too much of herself and expected to be treated too well. But hadn't that been their agreement? Hadn't he been looking for a 'princess?' She hadn't pretended to be someone else. Was it too much to ask to be treated like one, considering she wanted a man she would treat like a king? (Perhaps not a king. She knew she had settled for someone she trusted and felt safe with and could love and felt better with that. Someone who was real.) Wasn't that fair?... Was it too much to expect to be taken care of by a man who was noble, when he was the one who had portrayed himself to be? He had sensed what she wanted and morphed himself into that. Reasonably decent, regular guys like the politician were scared off, because they knew they couldn't be what she yearned for – they were just being honest. (Okay they were still selfish «connards», but they were being honest.) Her expectations WERE too high! The deep down truth was, she had dreamt about an amazingly singular, noble king of a man, since she was a little girl. He was there waiting in her heart, spoiling it for the others. Always.
Mimi had probably read her too many fairy tales. In the Real World, kings –ones in mind and soul– were impossibly rare beings, rarer than kings of title perhaps. And they undoubtedly had impossibly high expectations for their princesses, while she wasn't a real princess, but an orphan raised to think like one... But then, wasn't it her compromise of the quest for this King –her being pragmatic and facing reality– that had gotten her into this huge mess? And it wasn't the first time: there had been other pragmatic romances, but the marks they left paled in comparison to this.
But why was THIS happening? She had accepted it. Dull. Predictable. Unglamorous. Unfulfilled even. Any of that was to be expected (in time). And actually that would have been okay, because it would have been secure and stable, but why THIS INTENSE MANIC, UNSTABLE, CRAZINESS? Hadn't she made him feel safe and wanted (at least in the beginning... until his acting up had crushed it all.) Wasn't she a good person? Maybe she just wasn't shrewd enough?
She was being ridiculous of course – avoiding blame like Jerremee. She knew what Jerremee was like. Some people were just broken and he was one of those. She should have believed him the first time, when he showed her what he was like. There was no mystery. She had been desperate and this was the result. Jerremee was just being the vampire that he always was.
"Valentina you need to stop whining!! None of this is helping you!" Valentina finally said aloud.
"God helps those who help themselves." She thought again silently.
That's what Sister Philomena would always say. (Remember?)
And there was that other saying she had learned from some hard-nosed tycoon along the way. What was it? Something like: 'Not getting what you deserved, but what you negotiated," something like that. That kind of attitude felt kind of obnoxious and inherently wrong. It was the sort of path that probably brought about a bad destiny. But... wasn't making sure you got what you deserved just being self-preserving?... In any case, she hadn't gotten much at all of what she had 'negotiated' at the little cottage, but she HAD gotten a lot more that she had never bargained for.
It felt like when she was little and they played gallinita ciega at birthday parties: dizzy and uncertain of what direction she should go in to make everything come out well. She did know that there was no point in arguing about the nonsense day in and day out, with a person who had no soul or true sense of right and wrong. She acted like a tough guy, but in the end, what was she doing about it? NOTHING, but giving-in and then feeding the vampire, by arguing about it later – what he nourished himself on while she grew weaker. A sharper person would have pretended all was well, while finding some way to squirrel a little money away here and there and would have gotten themselves out of this unbearable mess by now – so much for her selfishness and 'obsession' with money. She needed to stop being pitiful and whimpering about it and be stronger (shrewder) as she had planned to be after Rex. No one was going to help her, but she herself. She needed to remember that! That couldn't be wrong. And she WAS a sweet girl. That's what she wanted to be – what she used to be. Wasn't she?
She felt confused...
The one thing Valentina was certain of was: she was tired of worrying about it all and she was tired of playing the BITCH. She just didn't know what to do to make things right.
chapter music selection: "I'M WITH YOU" - AVRIL LAVIGNE