Katherine
There are mornings when the words flow down to the fingers and make them dance over the keyboard. I’m locked in another world. Nothing is sweeter than a white page turning into a field of text. What is that noise? It does not matter, period, space and new sentence. The sentences need to be short for this part.
OK so it’s a knock at the door. Darn, just when I nailed that scene.
I make a note, sigh and pick up my coffee cup. I’ll answer the door and depending on who it is, I will be cheerful and short or grumpy and short. Either way, it’s short because once the coffee cup is refilled, I will have my fingers flying all over the keyboard again.
I open the door, look up and down, and use every muscle in my arm to throw the door back to its frame so hard it should send both the door and frame flying out into the corridor.
Of all the people on earth, the very last person I ever want to see is standing there like he owns the space and still owns me. It’s Dale. I so want the door to smash him to the opposite wall.
But the door stops dead. I look at it in disbelief for a second and then look down. The jerk has been too quick and has his foot in the door. I put my whole weight against it and shove it with all my might.
The door moves, but against me. Dale is pushing his way in.
“What part of ‘I never want to see you again’ can’t you understand?” I near yell at him.
“Hey Babe...”’ Smug smile.
Prick.
The guy just doesn’t get it. It’s over. At a pinch, he could call me Katherine in a text message maybe from the other side of the world, but I never ever want to hear another word come out of his mouth, let alone the word ‘Babe.’
“You want the good news?” he asks.
I notice he is breathing hard. He is such a slob. The little workout at the door has been enough to get him breathing harder than a steam train. Or is he expecting something that’s not there for him anymore?
“Good news?” I say in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “You joined the Peace Corps and you’re off to deepest part of Africa until further notice, or you’ve landed a job as a sea captain doing the London to Hong Kong run or, wait, you have the best news I am ever going to hear: you just drew the winning ticket for a one way mission to Mars, leaving tomorrow. Hit me with it. Now that you’re here I could do with some cheering up.”
“Oh no, way better than that. You see the good news is for me, but I’m that sort of guy who just loves to share with my very close friends.”
“Good for you,” I say, “If any of them show up I’ll give you a call. Now leave.”
“You don’t want to know about Mr. Hot Brush, you know the guy with the eeny weeny charcoal stick. Don’t want to hear about the latest?”
“Talent really gets to you doesn’t it? Rest easy Dale. You’ve got talent. You do the best lines in gossip about other people. Guess that’s because not much is happening in your part of the world. No, wait, I’m wrong. There’s lots happening in your life but no one cares.”
The truth is, the guy has got me on a string now. Away from the writing, I think of no one or nothing else other than Blake. If the company was even half decent, I could spend all morning talking about him.
“He’s got an exhibition coming up.”
“Oh, wow. Next thing you’ll be telling me he’s an artist or something.”
I hope I sound convincing and there’s not slightest hint of quiver in my voice. I have not heard of any exhibition.
“Not just any exhibit. The word is, the guy is on fire. This is going to be his best so far, and that’s not coming from me. This is coming from his very own agent who says the collection will blow your mind. And I hope that agent is right because I know what this guy does. I can’t wait to go because I know what’s going to be on show. Hey, I don’t get to see it anymore but when this comes on –I can just spend all day, running my eyes over all that territory I know so well.
“Man, I know what’s coming and you are going to really light up a lot of sick puppies’ best dreams. And it gets better because you won’t be there. If this guy is any good, you better get used to spending time indoors because every guy who sees you on the street will be able to undress you with his eyes.”
How could Blake do this to me? He promised. He knows how I feel about that picture. When I look at that picture I feel completely exposed, right down to my soul. And more than that Blake has captured my eyes so well. Even when I look at it I can see passion, hot desire and just a flat out yearning for him to take me. Any guy who has even one drop of testosterone in him will know what the picture is about and what was on my mind.
And now Dale, the worst guy ever is talking like he knows exactly what the painting looks like.
“Hey look at that Babe. You’re blushing. Does the blush still go all the way to, you know, that little spot…”
“Get out.”
“Sure. I’m as good as gone but I’ll be seeing ya.”
Once the door is firmly shut, I slide onto the floor and burst into tears.
Blake betrayed me.