Anne. It's probably melodramatic, but when I get inside I do that thing that's only supposed to happen in films and shut the door, lean against the back of it and shut my eyes in exhaustion. I then check that it still locks, unlock it and relock it about five times, then resign myself to the fact that even if I had three more industrial locks against this door Christie would probably still be able to get in.
I'm hoping that's it for tonight though, he didn't sound like he'd be coming back. Then again, he didn't sound like anything. I doubt it's possible to accurately predict when this particular psychopath intends to break into your flat and drag you into a criminal organisation...what exactly was my part in all that? What was all that in general? All I did was find out the true extent of the eccentricities of a guy I accidentally slept with once. That's not really a normal thing to happen. He mentioned he wanted people to help him. Why would he choose me? Because no one he knows would ever possibly be that stupid. How did he know I'd go with him? He kept making digs at my general apathy...as if he knows. As if he knows how I feel every other day of the year! Yet somehow he seemed to. Somehow he seemed to do everything in reaction to this, he had the air of...oh god I don't know, I'm ususally so good at this. He had the air of wanting to help me. Patronising. Disguising it as needing my help when he clearly didn't, I did nothing this evening except run and be the target of his twisted jokes. If anything I was a hindrance, chasing after him up those stairs, not doing everything he said, standing up more for Anton and Cassie than helping him. This is indeed a very strange thing to be thinking over.
I reach again into my pocket for my keys and phone- I brought a phone, just in case- mad, because if ever there was a need to use a phone I'm pretty sure it was when he pulled me into a probably unlicensed taxi and stopped outside a dark forest, although it could also have been when he broke into my house. I don't know, either way, I'm obviously not a very sensible person. So, my hands in my pockets and I feel something unfamiliar- a little piece of card. I pull it out.
'You're welcome - C. Stone'
What. What? It's typed. Christ on a bicycle, it's typed. A small business card in embossed italic font, black ink on expensively textured magnolia card. Christie Stone is evidently not satisfied with purely acting like the most conceited person I have ever experienced, he feels the need to express it on professional business cards. Who does he hand these out to? And more importantly, who on earth does he think he is?
I'm slightly outraged, almost angry, but mainly amused, confused, bemused, at a complete loss. In the back of my mind I have a mental image of him that I allow to grow a little stronger as I let the maddest conclusions wash over me; it's him, sat down in his obsessively tidy house, looking out over the city with a fulfilled and pedantic smile on his face, thinking about how indebted the world is to whichever particular virtue he's attributed to himself that particular moment.
That's the only possible explanation: he has an ego so inflated that he's gone mad as a result. Although considering further, it's probably a chicken and the egg situation. Was the ego before the insanity?
I decide that it is best to dwell on this no further. I think that sometimes things are just so odd that it's completely unreasonable to even begin trying to figure them out. This is definitely one of those things. The time is now nearing half past three, and for the first time, I'm very much looking forward to a deep and dreamless sleep.
Christopher. I have to accept it; the motorbike incident has shaken me. I highly doubt anyone knows the reality of my situation. Here I sit, staring out at this city and although I have done mad things tonight, enough to raise my heart rate just a little, it's still unbearable to be here knowing that somewhere where I am inescapably not, Gabriel Vincent is with someone else, someone who, according to my sources, has been allowed unnecessarily close. I don't care very much for the boy, I'll admit, this is purely a matter of principle. To think that he has discovered ways to exist without me- to think that I never gave him permission in the first place! All of this, though, is irrelevant. Soon, his new pet will know my name better than his own. Soon, Gabriel will understand that he does not simply 'move on' from me.
Yves. We left the studio after a long time of sitting there in silence. Comfortable silence, me wishing I knew what he was thinking and him undoubtedly sure of what I was thinking. We rode into the centre of town and he left his bike outside the club we'd come to on the first night- I look at the sign- 'Le Chat Blanc'. A white neon cat has a tail that moves with each flash above our heads. I'm given time to be more focussed about these things tonight because with the hand that is not in my coat pocket, Gabriel is looking at his phone and tapping furiously. I think his eyebrow looks kind of furrowed but before I have time to enquire he puts the phone away and smiles at me so convincingly I'm sure it must have been a trick of the light.
When we enter, the first thing that happens is the small glittering figure of Cassie, today dressed all in gold. She looks for a second at my arm, I'd gotten so used to Gabriel being on the other end of it that it never occurred to me that some people here might be surprised. She smiles anyway, and hugs us both.
Further into the room, we meet Shirley and Sally-Ann, which makes me happy. There are a lot of other familiar faces here tonight as well, I see Hanne behind the James Dean-alikes that I can't remember the names of. There are only two of them today, I'm sure last time there were three, but I may have been wrong. I approach Hanne.
-Hello, Yves. How are you?
-Better than ever, Hanne.
-I gathered that.
She gives me a genuinely warm smile, which I appreciate.
-And how are you?
-Nauseated, but satsifactory.
-Nauseated?
We seem to me migrating further into the crowd, I've lost track of Gabriel but I'm sure he'll find me again.
-Yes. Do you mind talking?
There seem to be things on her mind, her voice is full of a sigh and her eyes are tired.
-Not at all, Hanne, of course. What's wrong?
-I feel tired of this scene. I can see how it is for you and it reminds me of how it was once for me. You are so much younger, I feel I grew out of this too quickly.
I understand her perfectly.
-I think you see...I'm unsure if I want to be here still. I stay for Cassie, and I stay because it is easy.
-Yes, I see.
Her usually sharp syllables are softer when she speaks. The harshness of her accent minimised by the way she's talking.
-I think I want to leave this place, Yves. I think I want to go somewhere new now.
-Well, what keeps you here? You could start somewhere else...
-I feel like I shouldn't leave until everything is a little more concluded. I didn't mean to but I started to care about the people here. I worry about what would happen without me knowing about it, but you coming here...
-Me?
-Yes...you, with Gabriel- it seems like it might work, it might fit. I feel like I might be able to leave soon.
I don't really know how to respond to this, so I nod vaguely.
-I think you understand, Yves. So what do you think?
-I think you know what you want to do but you're worried you'd feel guilty for doing it, and I don't think you should. I think I'm very glad to have met you, and I'd like you to stay here but you should definitely go and do what you want if you aren't happy.
-Good thinking.
-Thank you. So, you will? Go and find something else to do?
-Maybe.
She smiles more, she looks like she knows so much and I can see why she'd want to leave now. For some people, I suppose, there is life outside the lights of this room. I understand that better than anyone- I knew there was life outside of council commissioned flower arrangements, small tory villages with magnolia walls and perfect gardens, and I found that life. Hanne knows that there is life outside of this city which must surely have its own equivalents that could be seen as tiresome in the right light, and she's going to find that life.
-I hope you find it.
-Find what?
-The life you haven't experienced yet, where you feel right.
-So do I. You know how I feel, Yves. Have you?
-Found that? Here, yes. I was looking for something different. So are you.
-Yes. I think we'll have very good lives, Yves.
-So do I.
-I think we'll get to fly across continents to visit each other.
-I hope so...but look, you're not leaving tonight, so...let's drink to the promise of adventure.
-Indeed...
At this, Gabriel has returned to my side, his arms in their favourite place- almost strangling me at my waist, and his eyes wide, looking out over my shoulder. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a silver panel on the wall nearest us and he looks so preposturously at home there, an extension of me. I catch his hands, and Hanne looks me in the eye as she smiles.
-I'll go and get something to drink.
She walks past the side of me that Gabriel is on, and says more to him than me,
-I am very glad that you have found Yves. I am very glad because you fit together.
-I know.
Gabriel purrs at her, his voice more accomplished than anything else, and she gives him a look that tells me she knows him incredibly well.
I turn around to see Gabriel properly, and as I do I feel like I can suddenly just relax into the scenario I have found myself in. It's quite astounding. I don't understand how my life appears to have gone from average and quite terrible to maginficent and amazing in about a week. It's madness, and I hope it doesn't end.
We drive home through the empty night, taking great pleasure in speeding down a usually-busy road at two in the morning, only a few people around. We practically fly past some people crossing the road, someone takes a step back out of surprise, and I forget to think about how potentially dangerous this is, instead focussing on how wonderful it feels.
When we get back, I persuade Gabriel to stop at my flat because I'm supposed to live there. It's a lot less warm than his, though, and we find all the things we could possibly use as blankets before huddling together as tightly as possible on my mattress, which still remains on the floor. As I close my eyes, I consider how it might be a problem for me if I were ever to face trying to go to sleep with something other than Gabriel as the last thing I see.
Best not to think about that sort of thing.
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