Inappropriate

Story of a Deception (2003)

I held you tentatively,
Afraid to crumble the platonic wall between us
And felt the tiny vibrations of a million stifled sobs
Against my chest.
Letting my fingers stroke your back
Encouragingly through a white cotton shirt
I stood there, silently waiting
For the right words to come.

We sprung apart suddenly as a bustling colleague rustled past.
A grin snapped onto your tearstreaked face,
As you struggled to compose yourself.
She stopped, her cheery smile melting from her lips,
Your glassy grin still desperately trying to cover the pain
“I’m fine” in answer to the expected question.
Relief flooded your eyes, you had almost passed the test.

And then “Why have you got water all over your face?”
Panic,
Then “Oh, you know me!” Your only response.
Satisfied, she bustled off, well-meaning but insipid.

I looked at you and saw nothing but despair,
written on your face and in your tears.

Later, I waited for your expected partner,
Your perfect match, your written-in-the-stars.
I waited for her in the warm coffee shop
Nursing a hot mug between my icy fingers,
Crunching dry biscuits, alone, looking out of the frosted windows.
She came,
A smile of recognition as she saw me,
Through the glass.
Pointed to her cigarette, indicating that my wait would be prolonged.
I looked away,
Gulped my café mocha,
Glanced back and saw her,
Puffing nervously on her fag, eyes startled,
Like a frightened animal, leaning towards madness.

She entered the shop,
Bringing with her a dash of bitter air
From outside, wearing a thin smile
On her chapped and pale lips.
I offered her a drink, she declined,
Saw me acknowledge silently
The fact that we both knew,
Not a thing had passed her lips all day,
Or yesterday either,
She was starving herself again.

She looked at me through bloodshot eyes,
Her face gaunt and drawn,
A mask of hurriedly applied make-up her only thin disguise.
And then she began to speak,
I prompted her a little, but it wanted to be said,
All of it,
And slid out gratefully
With very little fuss.

She fiddled with her filed finger-nails as she spoke,
Her eyes darting from her hands to my face,
They sometimes filled with tears
But she is well practised at staunching the flow,
And never once broke down.
She told me what I already knew,
Yet it was so stark and real coming from her pale lips
The horror of it haunts me still.

She once loved him more than anyone,
Trusting him completely
He had brought her through so much,
And they clung to each other in everything.

The stark harsh contrast
Of this knowledge,
And her words,
Numbed my brain painfully:

He cheated on her,
Loved her no more,
And yet through numb I could not believe it
And I tried to challenge her evidence
In every way I could.

He loved her for so long, so much,
How could it end like this?
The most perfect match seemed unbreakable,
And yet there it lay before my eyes
Shattered in a million pieces.

And yet that was not all
She told me of the letter
Her mother had written her,
The reason she has nowhere to go this Christmas.
She accidentally rolled up her sleeves as she told me,
Rolled them down again quick,
But I had already seen the cuts,
Red gashes that spoke of pain beyond reckoning,
And were echoed on her badly made-up cheeks.

I walked back through the cold,
Thoughts still buzzing in my mind,
And came upon
The man that she loved,
Confirming the worst.

You stood, silently, looking straight through the sheet of instructions
For your prescription.
What made you do it?
Did depression drive you
To throw her away,
She who was everything,
For one night in a cheap London hotel room
And an infected liar
Of an inappropriate ex?