It's getting better, isn't it? I think so...so much so I can't even bear to look at the older stuff at the bottom! I worry at what shocking errors I will find...maybe it's better that way; signs of progression!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
...mourning after
The black cat bounded through the cat flap at high speed. He paused briefly at a feeding bowl to see if any tasty morsels had been left for him. Alas, the bowl was bereft, save for a few dried up pieces of meat which didn't quite appeal. His dry biscuits were scattered all over the floor, some of which had rested in a ladies black shoe. He had higher standards than to eat from a shoe and ran out of the kitchen and upstairs. On its way the cat negotiated another shoe, and a little black dress. He wandered into the bedroom and stealthily made his entrance.
"MEOW."
The cat jumped onto the bed and landed on a pair of knickers. Automatically, he sniffed at them and found nothing of interest.
"MEOW?"
His owner lay before him, bed sheets around her hips, but otherwise completely naked.
"MEOW!!!" He walked up and pawed her face. Finally, she stirred.
"Benny, no..." she croakily whispered. "It's too early. Go back to bed."
"Meow." Benny quietly disapproved.
"Later boy, Mummy is tired and still very drunk." She decided.
She opened her eyes, waited for them to adjust to the gloom and looked at the bedside clock.
4.29am.
"Oh Benny! It's nowhere near breakfast time!" She flung herself back down into the pillow and thought about what had happened in the previous hours. She ran her hands down her chest and onto her stomach.
'I'm naked. Where's my jim-jams?' she wearily mused.
Stretching out a foot she felt her knickers, which Benny had now settled on. He licked her toe which made her recoil.
"BENNY! No!"
She flicked on a lamp which burst into light far brighter than she expected.
"AAAH! Too bloody bright!" She quickly turned the light off, sighed, and rested once more.
The alcoholic daze dawned on her again as her head seemed to ebb and flow tide-like. She licked her lips and felt that they were sticky as if she had been kissing. She jolted upright, as if the light bulb in her head had been turned on.
"Oh no...Have I? No...I can't have."
She felt around the bed in the darkness. The quilt had long since gone and lay on the floor. Reaching out she found her bra which was, strangely, on a pillow. The jigsaw pieces were slowly falling into place.
"Crap." She muttered in anger. She knew she must have brought someone home from the wake. Returning her head to the pillow she shut her eyes once more and tried to recall the day of burying her father. She tried to picture a face or name to trigger the events of the day before.
'Was he Steven from Preston or Preston from Stevenage?' she couldn't be sure. She couldn't be sure of anything right now.
"Geraint Alwyn Jones. Loving husband and devoted to Margaret. Father to Rachael, he shall always be remembered." Someone who Rachael did not know raised a glass in her fathers' honour. The mourners in the room also raised their glasses whilst an Elvis Presley gospel tune could be heard in the distance.
"Funny that; I only remember him as an utterly crap dad and a worse womaniser. He caused many a storm in a port." The phrase was wrong, but it was right in a way. Rachael was handed a glass by a man who she had spotted at the funeral. He was alone and kept himself to himself. He was cute though.
"So you must be Rachael." He rather obviously stated.
He stood about the same height as her, but she was quite tall for a girl, luckily she was wearing flat shoes. Stilettos at a funeral were not de rigueur. He looked very dashing in his black blazer; his black tie was perfectly knotted.
"Yes, that's me, Rachael, daughter of the deceased. I was standing by the casket pretty much all afternoon." She chided him as she turned her head slightly and raised a glass to her dead Dad. She finished off the drink and gave her glass to the tall, dark; if slightly dim but handsome man.
"Another?" he quizzed.
"You bet your sweet ass I do!" Rachael smiled and tapped his bottom as he disappeared into the crowd that were now moving in rather an embarrassing fashion to a more upbeat Elvis track.
Rachael spotted her mother beyond the raving mourners, lapping up the attention liked some aged Hollywood starlet, offering her hand to mourners as if she were royalty. For a short moment Margaret stopped and looked directly at her daughter. They had not spoken to each other all day or year; this moment of synchronicity would not change the status quo. They disliked each other both in equal measure. Rachael felt equidistant from both her parents, but her mother especially.
Margaret had forgiven him for all his sins shortly after his cancer was diagnosed as being terminal. All the damsels and whores that had received his seed countrywide had been forgotten, for now at least.
She could understand his need to be loved, however. He just needed another kind of love every time he was alone in the four corners of the country. For him to only return 'home' when he knew he needed to be loved in another way, when he was sick, was less forgivable in her eyes. She almost hated him more for the grovelling than any family betrayal of his philandering ways.
Simultaneously, both mother and daughter each shed a tear for much different reasons.
Evening approached and 'Handsome' was nowhere to be seen. Rachael sat in an armchair and slowly drunk herself into oblivion. With each passing drink she cared and felt less.
Handsome returned with a very large full glass of wine and handed it to Rachael. She took the glass without moving her gaze from her mother.
"Look at her! Look at her schmooze through the crowd like royalty. The spoilt bitch!" she drunkenly snarled whilst wiping away her tears.
"Who?" Handsome asked.
"HER! My mother! She loves every second of this. It's all she wanted; the attention, the flashy clothes and looking down on the hoi polloi. She's from the Valleys not Hampstead!" Rachael finished her tirade and swallowed almost all of the wine in one tip of the glass.
"I think it's time we got you home, young lady. Taxi!" Handsome put his hand around her waist and ushered her away into the night.
"OOOH! If you insist!" Rachael smiled and let him whisk her away. Her legs could barely carry her in any event.
Handsome paid the Taxi driver and carried the giggling Rachel from the cab. He tossed her onto his shoulder and fished in her clutch bag for a door key with his spare hand.
"There we go..." Handsome pushed the door open with his foot.
He knelt down to let Rachael fall to her feet. He felt her body slide all the way down his, her little black dress rode up to reveal a lot more than was decent.
"Can you walk?"
"No, probably not. HA!" Rachael landed and tried to find her balance. A shoe fell and clattered into a bowl of dry cat food.
"Shit! Benny won't thank me for that!"
"Let's get you upstairs." Handsome firmly suggested.
"Great idea." Rachael responded and kissed him hard.
He responded in kind but let her do the running. She paused only to gasp for fresh air. Moving out of the kitchen and to the bottom of the stairs, he found the zip on the back of her dress. With one movement it fell from her torso and onto the steps.
"You've done this before." Rachael suggested.
"A few times." He smiled in return.
"What's your name, Handsome?" She kissed him again, this time with a bit more care and less gusto.
"Steven." He responded.
"Carry me, Steven." She asked, pointing to the bedroom door. "Up there. Uhm...First door on your left."
Handsome picked her up, holding her in both arms in a swift motion and headed towards the bedroom. Rachael nibbled away at his neck as they went. The door was ajar yet he chose to use her head to open the door further.
"Ow! Idiot!" Rachel felt her head for a bump.
"Sorry...you were busy kissing me; I didn't think you'd notice." He laughed.
"Shut up and find the bed."
A stream of moonlight shone onto the bed and he dropped her slowly upon it. Still holding onto his neck, she pulled him down to her level.
He kissed her flat stomach whilst she felt his hair with her hands. He could feel pressure on his head to push him lower again.
As he duly obliged she rose and removed her bra with consummate ease despite her inebriated state. She fell back to a prone position and raised her hips to let Handsome remove the remaining underwear.
There was literally nothing left to lose now.
Handsome continued to do as Rachael wished as her head and body swirled with drunken emotion and intensity.
Rachael woke as daylight hit her face. Instantly she felt as if her head was stuck in cotton wool, compressing her brain. Welcome to your hangover. She looked at the bedside clock again. Déjà vu took hold.
7.43am.
She spied her bra on the pillow. Benny was still sleeping on her knickers. He stretched his legs and sighed.
Rachael shifted her legs to get out of bed. Everything ached. Her thighs and hips were sore, even to the touch. Her calf muscles were tight and cramp like. She felt as if she had been abused in more ways than one.
"Man, what did he do to me?" she ran her hands through her hair which was dirty and sticky.
She let Benny sleep as she showered, cleansing herself of any trace of the handsome man that had shared her bed. Her still brain felt as if it had been bounced around but the pain had eased considerably.
Rachael dressed herself, brushed her hair and felt human once again. She found her clutch bag and hunted around for her phone. She couldn't recall giving her number to the handsome man, but then again, she couldn't remember much at all. The jigsaw pieces had not stretched so far beyond knowing she'd slept with him.
1 missed call. 1 voicemail message.
She smiled and hoped that this was Handsome leaving her a message. At least it was not a meaningless text message.
To her surprise it from someone who she never thought would ever leave a message, let alone call her. It was her mother.
"Rachael, I thought I would just let you know something about the man that you let take you away from the wake yesterday."
She spoke in a firm tone, without any real emotion, automaton like.
"I don't know if he told you, but I knew all along. I could see it in his eyes and smile. Steven is one of many, no doubt. He is the result of one of your fathers many conquests. He's your brother....Well half brother, I suppose. If he's still with you, tell him that it was nice to meet him. It was nice of him to look after you like he did. Bye Rachael-dear."
Rachael stomach dropped at the same time as her phone fell from her grasp. She felt nauseous and light headed. A mixture of hangover and reality made her disoriented and out of place as the room appeared to twist out of shape.
"Oh my God! What have I done?" Rachael felt a myriad of emotions and thoughts, her body still aching from a night of passion with her relative stranger.
"MEOW!" Benny appeared from his slumber and rubbed his head against her bare legs, demanding some attention.
"Oh Benny. Not now, not now."
Rachael raised her legs to her chest and sobbed. In a cruel twist of fate, she now felt closer to her late father than ever.