Authors: Gamali Noelle
Sleeping Awake (6 page)
“And I’ve always wanted to be fucked by an American,” I replied.
Whether it was from the shock of my bluntness or the fact that I shoved
his fingers into my wetness, I got a very hard response.
“I-I-I live across the street.”
I could have laughed. He wasn’t the first person who I’d picked up in
this bar who’d been a resident of either 215 or 217 Front Street. If things
went my way for the rest of the summer, he probably wouldn’t be my last.
“Let’s go.”
When we got to his bedroom, I pushed him onto the bed.
“Take everything off, except the tie,” I said.
“You want me to leave my tie on?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “I want to hold on to it as I ride you.”
He needed no further explanation. I climbed on to the bed and grabbed
hold of his tie.
Putain. Puta.
Whore. Call me whatever you want, and it wouldn’t have made me feel any
less about myself. When a cock is inside of me, I am taken to another plain,
where all that exists is the delicious pleasure and the volcanic release.
“Oh!” Whatever-his-name-was groaned beneath me. Clearly, I hadn’t lost
my touch.
I was in strawberry fields as the sweetness fell from the marmalade
skies. The only thing that was missing was the final explosion. I closed my
eyes and concentrated; I
needed
this more than I needed life.
“OH!” He groaned again and grabbed hold of my thighs.
I opened my eyes, knowing very well that meant.
My heart started racing, and I pulled sharply on his tie. It was all
that I could do to stop myself from falling. The shudders and convulsions
started again. I sat there, completely helpless and unable to stop myself, as
the reality that I was not to reach my pinnacle caused yet another breakdown.
Fucking Cymbalta.
“What the hell?”
I didn’t try to steady myself as he sat up. He threw me off him, and I
curled up into a tight ball. Shivering, my agony at failing to climax consumed
me.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he reached over to touch me. His
fingers felt cold against my skin. I howled and curled even further into
myself.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Another jolt of electricity zapped at my brain. I wailed as the
seizure-like convulsions shook my body and his bed.
He was pacing back and forth, giving me panicked glances. “What the
fuck
have I gotten myself into?”
What the fuck indeed. I waited
until the tremors had subsided before sitting up. Using the side table for
support, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and waited for the dizziness
to ebb before attempting to cross the room towards my pile of belongings.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
I didn’t answer. I bent down, making sure to breathe through my mouth,
and grabbed my clothes. I pulled my dress on as I made my way through the
hallway, crying all the way to the door. My head felt as if a hammer was
banging against the side of it. It was becoming difficult to breathe. I didn’t
bother to close the door behind me.
“Hey!” a voice called from behind me. “Where are you going? You don’t
look too well!”
Through the blur, I pressed one of the buttons on the side of the elevator.
The doors opened, and I stumbled in. The gray specs before my eyes were
multiplying. All around me was silence. I saw him reach into the elevator, but
I couldn’t hear his footsteps. It was as if I was in a vacuum. His mouth opened
and closed, attempting to communicate. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. His
arms reached towards me. I shoved him away.
Everything went black.
*~*
Through the darkness, I could hear voices.
“What the hell do you mean by you don’t know what happened?”
Bryn?
“I-I-I don’t know.”
Shuffling and a yelp.
“Listen to me! If anything is wrong with her, you will bear
responsibility for it. Now tell me what happened!”
“I-I-I don’t know, man. She hit on me in the bar, we came back here, we
messed around and then she started crying and stuff.”
“What?”
I tried to open my eyes. The lights were too bright.
“She just started crying, man. I don’t know why. She wouldn’t tell me
what was wrong…”
I opened my eyes again and blinked until they adjusted to the
brightness. Bryn had… I didn’t even know his name… pinned against the wall.
“…I followed her into the elevator and then she fainted.”
“Bryn,” I called. I tried to sit up, but the room began to spin again.
I leaned my head against the sofa and closed my eyes again.
“Noira?” In an instant, Bryn had let What’s-his-face go and was beside
me on the sofa. “Are you okay?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I was awake or
dreaming.
“Tal rang me. Apparently you have me listed as your emergency contact.
Are you okay?” He pulled me towards him and began examining my features.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “I’m a bit dizzy, and my head hurts.”
Bryn’s fingers tightened around me. He turned towards Tal. “Did he hurt
you?”
“Less pressure, Bryn,” I said. “And no, he didn’t hurt me.”
The tick in Bryn’s jaw jumped. “Are you sure?”
Up against the wall, Tal gave me the most imploring look. I understood
his fear. I’d hate to be on Bryn’s bad side. The poor thing. All that he’d been
seeking was a quickie and a good night’s sleep. Instead he had my crazy circus
to entertain him for the night.
“Bryn,” I said. “He didn’t hurt me. Let’s just leave him alone,
please.”
Bryn looked at Tal, who by then was paler than I had thought possible,
and turned back to me. “Fine.”
I stood to walk, but the dizziness dictated otherwise. I stumbled back
onto the couch.
“I’ll carry you,” Bryn said.
I buried my head against his chest as he lifted me, too ashamed to look
at Tal as we left his apartment. Neither Bryn nor I said anything as he carried
me to his car. I knew Bryn well enough to know that he was saving the pending
rapture for the privacy of his car. As soon as he turned onto Water Street, the
yelling began.
“What the bloody hell was that about?” he demanded.
I winced. “I met him at the bar across the street, Bryn. I went to bed
with him. It’s not a crime; you go to bars to get girls all of the time.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that you get to do the same!” he slammed
his hands against the steering wheel. The horn blared into the night, startling
a group of drunks who were crossing the street.
“Spare me the double standard, Bryn,” I said. “I wanted to be
fucked. I went out searching for someone. End of story.”
“Except that your someone ended up calling me away from my mother’s
birthday party—the party that you were invited to, by the way and didn’t
have the decency to RSVP to—because you were behaving like a lunatic and
had passed out in his elevator!”
Bryn was listed as the emergency contact in my phone. I leaned against
the window and closed my eyes; my head felt as if it was about to explode.
“What the hell were you thinking, Noira? I thought that you were
supposed to have been cured. Why are you behaving so recklessly?”
“Bryn,” I pleaded, the tears welling in my eyes. “Please stop. You are
literally doing my head in.”
“Since when do you speak like that?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“I know that I’m not British, Bryn!” I snapped. “My fucking head hurts,
that’s all.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he declared.
“No!” I opened my eyes and sat up, ignoring the nausea that set in. “If
you take me there, they’ll just take me back to Golden Ridge. If I go back to
Golden Ridge, I’m going to kill myself.”
“You don’t mean that,” Bryn said. His fingers tightened around the
steering wheel.
“I do mean it,” I replied. “You don’t know what life was like in there.
I am not going back.”
“For fuck’s sake, Noira!” Bryn slammed his fists against the dashboard
this time. “Someone needs to look at you, you are clearly not well.”
“Fine,” I said. I knew that his persistence would never lessen. “But I
am not going to a hospital.”
“Well I’m taking you to mother’s apartment, and I am calling Dr. Mintz
to make a house visit.”
“That’s quite alright,” I replied. “In case I pass out again, tell her
that I’m experiencing symptoms of Cymbalta and Lamictal withdrawal.”
“And yet you wonder why you would end up at fucking Golden Ridge
again!” Bryn hissed.
*~*
In my dream, I was donned in a
white dress, like the one that I had worn to my Confirmation. I walked along a
beach of black sand. I could almost taste the salt of the ocean, which was set
against a dark, purple sky. The stars couldn't survive against the bloody moon;
they retreated behind the dark clouds.
Something was pulling me
towards the ocean.
"Noira!"
Laughter.
Camelea and Cienna were
playing. They looked like the Cienna and Camelea from the photograph in the
archway. Goofy grins, oversized sunglasses, revelling in the folly of youth.
They kept calling my name and beckoning me to join them as they danced by the
shore.
“Noira! Noira!”
I struggled against the weight
of the force that was pulling me towards the ocean. Whatever it was, it held me
firmly in its grip and pushed me forward. I could still hear them calling as
they skipped and laughed.
“Noira! Noira!”
It wouldn't let me turn
back.
"Don't worry, honey, we
all have to fall...
"
Maman
.
She looked like the
Maman
that I knew when I was much younger, not the one that was fading into
nothingness as she sat, like a guard dog, by my bedside. She had a gentle smile
on her face. Her hair blew through the air, though it was hot and still. I
wanted to stay in my dream with this
Maman, t
he one that
was happy and knew nothing of the future that awaited us on my journey to good
mental health. This Maman knew only of sweet, gentle smiles.
The force pushed me onwards.
The scent of the ocean was
more powerful now. It smelt of lavender as it shimmered against the dark.
"Do you see what you have
done?”
Philippe.
What was he doing in my dream?
The bastard.
He was dressed like a lawyer
out of a history textbook, complete with the long black robes and a white wig.
He had a piercing look on his face. His arms were crossed.
"No."
I shook my head.
"This is all your
fault!"
he
said.
No!
"Now we all have to pay
for your sins!"
No!
"Look at what you have
done!”
Philippe
shouted. His veins were as purple as the sky as they bulged at the surface.
I wanted to stop walking, to
march right over to him, and slap him in the face. How dare he try and lecture
me after what he had done? How dare he judge me? No matter how much I
struggled, I could not break free of whatever was holding me. I kept marching
onwards towards the deep, purple ocean.
I arrived at the shore. Suddenly,
everyone came round me in a circle. Camelea and Cienna no longer called my
name. They were older now; they looked like their current ages.
Maman
no longer smiled.
I couldn't move. Words
wouldn't leave my mouth. All I could feel was the heat of their glares.
The clouds separated and
Philippe's angry face towered above me.
"Your Honour, I find her
GUILTY!"
No!
Camelea and Cienna began to
laugh. It was hyena-like.
"GUILTY!
"
No!
I felt as if the pounding in
my head would never stop.
“GUILTY!”
Like quick sand, the earth
began to give away. My lungs filled with the lavender liquid.
I looked towards Maman; our
eyes met.
She
looked right through me as if she didn’t see me
begging her to save me before it was too late.
**~*~*~**~*~*~**
