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!
Monday, January 21, 2008
...under the influence
Mia lay slumped in the corner of the shower. The hot water was more than just a metaphor as it sprayed her naked body. She had made the mother of all mistakes; not that she was adverse to making huge mistakes, her life had been littered with many ever since her arrival in England from her natural home of Stockholm with her husband, Tomas. He, however, was hundreds of miles away. She was alone in her flat, wet, mortally hung-over and exposed. Not just was she exposed in the physical sense, but the realisation was lost on Mia at that moment.
Her head pounded as the affects of a few too many liberal shots of Vodka kicked in. Her memories of the previous evening with her colleague from work started to filter. Mia and Jo shared a 'girlie night in' which they had done on many occasions, almost always ending with one of them passing out or both. This night was to be much different.
Mia left the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and searched for Jo. Her flat stank of cigarettes and stale pizza. The smell made Mia feel nauseous as more memories came to light, her senses filling and adding more information to the events of the previous hours. She doubted herself; surely she didn't tell Jo everything? She wouldn't be that stupid? Would she? Of course she would. Alcohol was always her downfall. The lowering of her mental barriers or her physical underwear being more to the point. She was prone to being laid bare, this time being no exception.
Jo was nowhere to be seen. This added further confirmation in her mind; she had told Jo more than she needed to know. Mia internally swore to herself as she could picture herself and Jo chatting and laughing, the alcohol loosening lips and tongues. Jo told of her exploits with some nubile young buck from Sales, whilst Mia traded with the biggest truths of all. That Kasper may not be Tomas' son, that Randall could be the father. Tomas was far too trusting and would do anything to help further Mia's career to doubt. He would never question his wife for what she had given him, he was too proud of his little boy to doubt.
Mia, small in stature, cyan eyed, sun yellow hair — she was as Swedish as IKEA. Tomas was darker, but quietly spoken, tall, wiry, with chiselled features, ever polite and diligent. They were childhood sweethearts that were the very essence of a proper family. Kasper, was dark haired and fiery, he was destructive even for a toddler; nothing like his calm parents.
Mia panicked and outwardly groaned at her stupidity. Not just for her recent act, but the culmination of lies, deceit and guilt. For once, her thoughts were for Tomas and Kasper. She felt fraud, none of it was real, a game where the rules had been shredded. Throwing on whatever clothes she could find, she realised she needed to go home, find Tomas and her son, leave as soon as they could. Randall was sure to want his son if he knew the truth. Anything Randall could get, he usually would. Winning was all that mattered, whether it was business or pleasure, or at the expense of someone else, regardless of whoever that be.
Mia yawned and looked into a mirror. She looked nothing like the Scandinavian beauty that Randall desired, that Tomas adored and Kasper barely saw. She could look only at her sunny blonde hair and lips, she couldn't look herself in the eyes for seeing the shame mirrored. Tying her hair back into a wet pony tail, she bundled her bag and car keys into her arms and she slammed the door to the Brighton flat, never to return. It was still dark, as the gloomy fog rolled in from the sea, she could only have her drowsiness, dulled senses and the weather conditions to consider.
In her seat Mia hitched up her skirt, put her phone in the hands-free cradle, switched on the lights and started the engine. As she left the city she became alerted to the recall of the previous nights passing, drenched in the mists of alcohol. The vodka was far from distilling her thoughts. It merely made the situation linear in clarity. One conversation grew its own life, each sentence started to be filled in, like a drowsy artist mixing for the right colours. As the alcoholic haze abated the exchanges came back to her.
"Oh my God! Do you think he....knows?" Jo paused before delivering the all important question.
"Who? Tomas or Randall?" Mia replied, merely hinting at her torment, sipping Vodka. "Both I suppose, but Tomas mostly." Mia weight up the answer carefully.
"But if Randall knows, how long will it be before Tomas does too?" Jo asked.
"Tomas can't know, if he finds out we are history, I'll just have to go home." Mia slumped as she took another mouthful. She stared into the bottom of the glass for answers.
"What about Randall? Kasper could be his..." Jo stated the patently obvious to Mia who really didn't need telling.
"He can just fuck off. He will have nothing to do with Kasper. If anyone should be his father it should be Tomas." Mia's cage had been clearly rattled.
"But Tomas will know that Kasper isn't his...he's not going shrug his shoulders then take Kasper to play with the duckies, Mia!" her able assistant showed no compassion, with that comment Mia rose, clutching her car keys from the table.
"Then I'll have to go before Randall does find out. I have to go and go now, Jo." Mia sensed her options were limiting by the second.
"Mi it's 2am, you've been drinking since nine, you're mullered! You'll only get pulled over, babe!" Jo cunningly pleaded, clearly knowing that mentally and physically could not drive. Her plans to intoxicate Mia were going according to plan. Shortly after, Mia passed out after exhausting herself via alcohol and tears. Jo placed Mia's head on a cushion and tip-toed out of the flat...smiling.
Feeling drained with a splitting headache Mia hoped to the heavens that she was not stopped; she just could not be stopped. Driving under the influence and over the speed limit was not a viable combination. The fog had cleared and the Sunday drivers appeared on the motorway. "Two more hours and I'm home." she urged herself on, but she needed fuel.
After visiting the rest room, Mia refuelled in all aspects. Water, snacks and diesel and prepared to set off once more. The sun had risen more and Mia thought of home; Stockholm-home. Where Tomas and she met and fell in love, before all....this shame. At that moment her phone beeped. "1 Missed Call". Her heart skipped a beat and thudded through her chest. "No!" she exclaimed, "No! No! No!" Mia stared at the display, too frightened to move. Human curiosity dictated that she had to find out, good news or bad. Her mind raced ahead; was it Tomas crying his heart out at the deceit of his wife? Was it Jo basking in her own deceptive glory? Who else could it be? Human curiosity got the better of her; she removed the phone from its cradle and pressed the button.
The monotone female voice of the answering service spoke "You have...one new message..."
Mia's hands shook uncontrollably; she bit her lip to suppress the forming tears. She endured the longest of seconds before the voice spoke. At first she could not make out the voice, though undeniably male, he was clearly emotional and in shock. Eventually, the words became audible.
"Mi...Mia, it's Ran...dall. I have some terrible news." Randall sniffed, clearly wiping away his tears. "Jo is...dead. The fog...Her car ran off the road and into a tree, she had no chance...I have to go, I'm terribly sorry, so terribly sorry..." with that, the message ended and Mia dropped the phone which bounced onto the floor. She clasped her hands to her face and sobbed. Randall was none the wiser, clearly. Tears of joy and utter relief fell down her cheeks. Her whole being instantly felt brighter, a monumental weight lifted from her.
Mia located the phone, collected herself and dialled home.
"Honey? Did I wake you? I'm sorry....just to let you know that I'll be home soon, I'm coming home. Bye!" She didn't notice but she had barely let Tomas have a single word. Mia sipped some water and looked in the mirror. For once she looked into her eyes, blue and vibrant, her shame absolved. "Come on girl, time to grow up. No more drink!"
Mia started the engine one last time and headed home.
This post has 3 comments
Brilliant.
I take it that this was the final entry.....
It's good.
Neill says: Oh no, there's plenty more to come!