Exploits (8 page)

He looks at me, his hand still on his gun, "You don't have to go with him."

I smile, I can't disguise it. (Oopsy, that’s seriously pissed off Gary. He's looking like he's having cardiac arrest out there. I've never seen his face turn that scarlet.) Truth? I have to go.

I pat his arm as I walk past him, "Thanks. I'll be fine." (Looking at Gary's expression, I'm not so sure.)

He blocks the door, "Stefanie, don't. You don't have to."

Yes. I do!

Taking a deep breath, I tell him sincerely, "It will be fine, really. I appreciate what you're doing, but I love him. We're just having some issues. Don't worry about me so much." I smile and whisper, "I have your number and I will call you if I need you, okay?"

This seems to appease him, "Promise?"

"I promise."

He opens the door and glowers at Gary. Both of them taller than me, Mr Security, taller than Gary. I halt, standing between them. I take hold of Gary's arm and tug, "Let's go."

Gary hesitates. This stand off of glares over my head is unnerving me. I look at my hero and
fuckenhell
– no wonder he's a security guard. He obviously has what it takes.

I'm adrenalised. I don't want any blood spilled on my behalf. I order forcefully, "Gary, we're leaving!"

He looks down at me livid with hatred. Oh Fuck. Why is it always my flipping fault? He doesn't break eye contact with the man with the gun, as I drag him away from the door. As I get to his white S3, he corners me against it, "What were you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"Then why wouldn’t he open the fucking door?"

Yeah, blame me. Go on.

Boldly meeting his eyes, I drop sarcasm, "I. Don’t. Know."

"WHAT DID YOU TELL HIM?"

Deep sigh. Count to five. Actually, you know what, I'm just too tired and emotional for this. I look away and see the ‘I'm about to run out there and save you from yourself’ expression from blondie, behind the office window, watching us. Shit. Why is life so complicated? Man! I'm feeling like everything is horribly unfair and I'm hot-listed for the persecution queue.

I stare at Gary, and for the first time, do not care. "Gary, nothing I say or do makes any difference. Believe whatever the hell you want."

I stalk off toward the bus stop. I'm running out of patience for this melodramatic existence. I don't have the energy any more.

A car idles next to me, "Get in!"

Fuck off, asshole.

He pulls it to a stop in front of me and gets out, "Woman, would you please get in the car?"

I stop dead in shock. He said ‘please’. Wow. Oh wow! Who knew he actually loves me. He's upset and it's showing.

I glare – (keeping it cool) – and get in. We drive home in silence. No music blaring, just a long uncomfortable silence.

When I get home I kick into autopilot and make dinner. I do everything that I do everyday. Yes, you heard me. Everything.

I was under house arrest for three months for that day. I am now twenty-three and being treated like a naughty toddler. I may not have phone calls, or go out.

Why did I just compliantly do this? Where was my spine? Where was my head?
Ooooh yeah, right.
So far up Gary's ass I couldn't see Nirvana any longer.

He became irrational. He would go ou
t
–
(
a man has to do what a man has to do
)–
and come home over the weekends, sporadically. He would walk in, leaving the door open, and run his hand over the curtain rail, "There's dust on here! It'd better be clean when I get home!"

What do you mean when you get home? You just got home!

And he would leave as dramatically as he arrived. I cooked everyday, I cleaned everything. (I even washed the fucking walls.) The house and routine were so amazing that I would have eaten confidently off my own floors: the Queens of Clean, Aggie and Kim, would have been so proud. He made life as awkward as he could, putting pressure on me daily to "change jobs".

Reason set in. I'd had to catch the bus for months. He no longer cared if I got mugged on my way home. So, using the few brain cells I still engaged, I found employment doing exactly the same thing for a branch much closer to home. Close enough to walk.

This made Gary happier. He was reborn as Mr Charming, ‘I'm going to fuck you until you walk like a cowgirl’, Gary. Gary: the one and only master of the deranged.

In truth, I’m happier too. The crowd at this place are my age, and out together every weekend. I feel like one of
the crowd, and welcome.

Three months, and I take a stand one Sunday afternoon. Gary didn't have to answer to me. He never did. He came and went as though I was his house slave. (Which I am: let's face facts here.) But I am no longer content with it. He walked to the door primped and ready, when I demanded, "Where are you going?"

"Out."

Oh, I can see that, asshole!

"
Where
are you going?"

Hey, where did that authority in my voice come from?

He throws me a stunned expression, "To play pool."

"I'm coming with you."

I wasn't asking. I was telling. If he'd said no, I would not have been there when he got home. And I think he sensed this.

"Okay. Sure. Why not."

I grab my smokes, giving him no reason to stall, or find an excuse. The house is bloody perfect in every aspect, so that one's off the board. I stalk past through the open door and to his vehicle.

In silence we drive to the pool place down the road from UCT . He seems strangely nervous. I don't know if it's because of the stunt I just pulled, or some other reason.

(You are about to find out why blondes are considered
stupid
.)

Gary and I never hold hands, or make a display of being a couple in public, (unless another man is looking at me.) So, I trail him into the room filled with pool tables, and stop dead as this pretty, young, willowy wisp of a girl comes running across the expanse and throws her arms around his neck, "GAREEEEE."

He looks embarrassed, "Oh, hi."

I see this for what it is and calmly walk past to the gang, who are all waiting at a table already playing. (I need a fucking cigarette.
Now
. Hands, if you shake, I will
chop you off.
)

I light a smoke and watch the spectacle.

The old me resurfaced. The girl who would break a nose because she knew she coul
d–
and
you are out of line.

It was almost funny watching his friends scatter. The men all dived for excuses to leave their game unfinished. I stood with Cindy to my left, and a very nervous Kristy on the other side of the table, gulping at me with gigantic green eyes. Everyone was waiting for my reaction. Gary drops ‘cookie’ like a hot coal, and dives for the bar. (What a man!)

Sweet little Miss Sunflower flounces around the table, and smiles her big brown eyes at me, "Hi!"

I smile, "Hi." Calmly smoking.

I watch her ogling Gary with obvious adoration. I don't blame her. This isn't her fault. I ask her über casually, "So how long have you being seeing Gary?"

She's beaming, she's so proud to be his girl, "Three months."

I see myself in her. I stood in those dancer's shoes. I know how she feels.

She suddenly assumes the cat-fight stance, sensing that I have a 'claim' on her man. My rage is giving me lucidity I haven't had in years.
Want to fight, baby girl? You are how old? Eighteen?

I face her, and put my smoke down in an ashtray right next to us. "Oh, that's interesting." I hold up my hand and shove the emerald engagement ring in her face, "I've been engaged and living with him for three years."

(She can thank me now for saving her from him. I hope you get to read this book, baby girl.)

Her face becomes instantly ashen. Her eyes are swallowing her nose and her mouth is gasping for air. She goes into shock, "I am so sorry ... I didn't know ... If I ... I would never ..."

I know she didn't know. My smile, although warning, also contains masses of sympathetic understanding. "I know."

She runs like a banshee apparition from the pool tables. Long, straight brown hair flowing out behind her. She is so upset, she doesn't say a word to Gary.

Now get this!

Gary comes bolting over with brews in his hand, a cue case in the other, and yells at me, "What the fuck did you just say to her?"

Excuse me?

My mouth sets into a rigid line, I'm trying to stop myself from
killing him
. I repeat the exchange, word for word. He drops everything onto the green felt of the table and goes running out
after her
.

I pick up my smoke and stare at the silent and guilty faces watching me. Alan, Graham, Cindy, Kristy and Charl. I think, ‘And fuck
ALL
of you’.

Cindy blabbers as she grapples with my arm, "I wanted to tell you!"

I'm still smoking and know that all human emotion has left my eyes. I'm not intimidatin
g–
(come on, I'm five-foot-two
)–
and they all look as scared as boiling lobster.

Kristy beseeches, "I wanted to, but didn't know how."

I say nothing. I put out my smoke and stuff the box back into my pocket. I stare at each one of them in turn. Then so calml
y
–
(
man, I wish someone had recorded that. I'd get such a kick out of seeing pride gel my bone marrow again, resurrecting dignity
)–
I take my engagement ring off and place it onto the green felt next to the case and condensing beer cans.

With pride that had been missing for years, I walked out of the room and out of the glass doors.

Gary was pleading with the pretty baby girl as she drove her car away from him.

I walk past, and keep walking.

"Woman.
Woman
! Where are you going?"

I don't look back as I lift my hand and raise my middle finger.

I'm in shock. I am not feeling anything at all. No tears, no pain ... nothing.

Chapter 12

Click

A huge part of me naively hoped that he would come rushing after me to beg for forgiveness and to salvage my loyalty. Yes, I'm a dreamer. No, actually scratch that.
I am delusional.

(
How could I think he loved me? He obviously didn't! How much proof did I need?
)

Anyway, so I'm walking. My hopes are dashed and I’m panicking about how much shit I'm going to be in for ruining his rendezvous. Okay, Sunday afternoon seems like the perfect time to go for a run. Run? Hahaha. I’m sprinting as if I'd just stolen the Queen's tiara. I have to get home before him. I have to get out
before he pitches up to twist my mind to his will again.

(I’m a dedicated member of the Gary cult. He could talk me into doing
anything
. I’m aware enough to recognise this, so am fleeing as if my life depends on it.)

Due to past occurrences, I don't go anywhere without my own key. I never know when he's going to pull his superiority shit on me and turn me into the peasant who has to make her own way home. Breathless, I open the front door. My heart is pounding from the exercise, making hearing difficult. I am faint with relief that he's not there. In
nanoseconds I pack work clothes, some weekend gear and other essentials.

Then I have a stand-off with the telephone mounted on the wall. Who am I going to call? My pride won't let me call Mom. So I swallow hard and phone the only ‘outside of Gary’ friend I have, a new friend from work, Selene. (I was so scared that Gary would find My Hero's number, I chucked it. He's now left that division and I can't locate him. I regret this!)

Thank the angels that she lives in the same area. And he will never know where to look for me.

Shaking, with violently trembling hands, I call her.

"Selene. Hi, it's Stefanie … No, I'm not okay. I hate to do this, but can I ask you if I can stay at your place tonight?"

(I'm scrambling. If I can't stay there indefinitely, I'll have to make another plan tomorrow. Right now I just have to get out before he gets home.)

Selene is a very special person. She never asks questions. She's just
there
. No matter what. She doesn't need to know why, or how, or what, the fact that I need to get out is reason enough for her.

"I'm on my way!"

"I'll meet you halfway. I'm leaving now."

I take my keys, slam the door and run.

(Cue:
Chariots of Fire
theme music.)