BEWITCHED

It had been inside for too long. One question I needed an answer to. Deep down, of course, I already knew the answer, only my mind was refusing to face it. Each time it came up I pushed it under layers of psychological baggage accumulated over the years. I told myself the answer didn’t matter and for a while believed it to be true. But not anymore. The devil was at my heels, urging me on. I had to feel the words on my lips, the sound in my ears, both my question and his answer. It would be the catharsis I was longing for, the death that would bring me to life again. My mind drew a blank, I blurted out, choking on the words.

And this was me. Impatient, wanting things to happen double fast. Wishing to live more than one life simultaneously. Life was here and now and I wanted to experience everything, not wait for an uncertainty. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? Willing the fruit to ripen even as it was borne. I was desperate to hear the phone ring again. To hear that voice, the one he reserved for me. To hear him say he was just pulling a fast one…….trying to see my reaction ……that he loved only me……nothing else mattered…….

None of it came. The phone mocked at me, refusing to play my game. People were staring at me. I realised tears were rolling freely down my face and I was talking to myself. I had also screamed. Reason enough to stare if someone was losing it right in front of your yes. I walked off, walked and walked until I found a place where I could lick my wounds in peace and isolation.

The woods were deep, dark and inviting. I sat down on a fat tree trunk that had fallen off rotted roots. The white grubs shone in the moonlight as they gorged on the roots. I made them my friends. For I needed friends at this hour, those who would listen as they ate. I didn’t need advice. Already run them a million times in my mind. I needed mute spectators, at best capable of giving me glances, some shocked, some beseeching, maybe even disdainful or contemptuous, revolted or disgusted or vile. Any of that, but not advice.

The very first phone call had been a fling. A dark velvet voice asking me out, for a coffee.

I resisted him for a whole month, that’s more than any woman could honestly confess to when aurally assaulted by Dark Velvet alias Wet Dream. And things changed. Each time the phone rang I turned to mush, my insides melting like ice cream on a hot sultry afternoon. It didn’t have to be him; the sound of the phone was enough to send my senses on a spin. My innards were in an unworkable knot, my hands trembled and my heart did overtime. Anticipating the bonus made it all worth the while.

By the time he told me he was married, I was too far-gone. The invitations to coffee had stopped. He was content just talking on the phone. I wasn’t. I was running a high fever and needed some bloodletting. Next time he mentioned coffee I jumped at it. He laughed his deep, full-throated laugh that seemed to pierce my skin and wrap me in a warm blanket.

I think back to that defining moment, analysing and reanalysing my actions. It gives me little peace to know there had been no other option; I had been driven to a tight corner. Live in hell or die. I chose life. He knew I would. The fruit had ripened; it had to fall. I should be grateful he was there to catch it before it splattered onto the ground, lost in oblivion like so many of its sisters, its juice seeping into the soil, its story untold.

Grateful I was. And how! Friendship, love, desire and gratitude had inseparably intermingled to create what was inevitably leading to an explosion. Better that than an implosion. Fifteen minutes after we met, we were tearing at each other, trying to quench an insatiable fire. We failed, only succeeding in adding fuel to it. Dark Velvet had turned out to be much more than his voice had promised. Our bodies welded into each other, two halves of one that had taken a long time in coming together.

He was the one to call a halt to events spinning out of control. I was disappointed, left high and dripping. But I understood. This was too soon.

The months that followed were pure hell but I had chosen it. When we were apart apprehension and anxiety ate at me. When together my joy knew no bounds. One look was enough to set me aflame; he had no need to touch. Then the inevitable happened. That was where all this had been leading to, hadn’t it? We came together, the moonlight playing on our bodies through the dark woods. It was so good I thought I had died and gone to heaven. There was no guilt, no recrimination. There could be nothing negative about this wonderful feeling.

The relationship had jumped one level. He was my man and I his woman. The wife was an unwanted third in this equation. I never asked about her, sure of her fall from grace, if ever there had been any. I studiously avoided the issue not even wishing to hear her name on his lips. They were mine. Would her name sound as sensual as mine did when spoken in that dark velvet voice? I decided not to test it.

I had got a better job offer in a different city but couldn’t think of moving. My life was here. The days when he was out of town were pure misery though we spent half the night talking on the phone. Once I called him and his wife answered the phone.

And I had refrained yet again from asking that dreaded question. But it had taken root in me. When alone I was assailed with doubts. What did his wife look like? Was she beautiful? What did she wear? Did he sleep with her? Was he really immune to her as he claimed? Did he really love me or was he just using me to heat up the embers of a marriage gone cold? And I cried myself to sleep.

When we met it didn’t take him long to make me forget my queries. He was an ardent and passionate lover and made me feel as if I was born for his lovemaking. Sometimes we talked of leaving town, sometimes living in and sometimes getting married. But they all came with compromises we were unwilling to make. So we kept it a secret. I was a single working woman and could live the life I wanted to. Soon even that was not enough. The midnight calls, the sleeplessness and the insecurity were getting to me until I just had to know. So I asked.

For the first time we met at a coffee shop. It was funny, but we had never got around to having that coffee. He decided to ignore my eyes, all red and puffy. He seemed very businesslike, ready to tackle the demons that would come his way.

Suddenly it all falls into place. He is dropping me. Everything is clear now. I should walk out with whatever is left of my dignity. But now that I have started I can’t leave it half way.

I can’t stand the creep anymore. I get up to leave. He mutters something like, “ It doesn’t have to end like this. We can work…….”.

I have made a terrible mistake. Doubtless, the ice maiden has finally melted. No two things about it.

I blindly walk back home.