“Shouldn’t you be having wild reunion sex with Claire right now?” One sentence and I knew Lucy was hammered.
“Obviously not.” I rummaged through Eleanor’s cabinet in search of suitable glasses for the brandy. “Do you want some of this or is your blood saturated enough?”
“I can’t have you drinking alone on a Saturday night, Lee. It wouldn’t be right.” I unscrewed the bottle and the brandy hit my nose hard and nostalgic.
“The real question, boss, is what the hell are you doing at Eleanor’s again on a Saturday night?” Lucy sniffed the liquor in her glass and wiggled her nose.
“You know, you should really stop calling me boss.” She swirled the brandy around in her glass. I would probably have to dare her to drink it. “I find that in certain situations it can be a real turn-on.” Here we go, I thought.
“And I think bosses should never speak to their employees in the way you just spoke to me.”
“Well, I simply believe that sleeping with the boss is quite the turn-on for you, Lee.” Apparently, psychology camp wasn’t over yet.
“Believe what you will. Boss.” Her eyes found mine. She dipped a finger in her glass and slowly brought it to her mouth, rubbing a couple of drops on her lips.
“This is strong stuff. What happened to you out there?”
“This and that. It was a wonderful learning experience though. I am very grateful to you, of course.” Lucy was to drunk to catch the irony in my voice.
“Exactly how grateful?” Her finger went down in the glass again. The intoxication sank her eyes back into her head. A candle on the table made the freckles on her nose dance with its shadows. I leaned back in the couch, the softness of the pillows erasing my resolve. Was I really going to do this? I closed my eyes and saw Sarah. What had Vivian called it? Projecting? Transference? Lucy wouldn’t have to come on very strong tonight. I could never make a clean break with Claire. Whatever stood to happen between us would be dirty and depraved. Lucy would be the catalyst. I didn’t reply to her question. I wanted to give myself a few more moments to tumble deeper into the darkness of my own mind. And then, lights out. Lucy kicked off her shoes and stood up. She kneeled next to my chair and lifted the glass out of my hand. I hadn’t touched it. I didn’t need to be drunk for this. I would take full accountability. “Stand up,” she said. Too many women, I thought. And none of them suitable. Claire was too much, Lucy wasn’t enough and Sarah was too far away. The simple truths are the hardest to accept. I pushed myself up out of the couch and towered over Lucy.
“Just so you know,” I said. She quickly rose to her feet and met my eyes. “I’m not doing this for you.” Then I kissed her. What I really wanted was to go up to my room and drink the entire bottle. Dilute my blood with alcohol until the bed spun violently underneath me and the stars outside did their special little dance, just for me. Instead, I peeled off Lucy’s clothes and followed her up the stairs for the blandest fuck of my life. I hadn’t just disconnected from Claire, or Lucy. I had disconnected from myself. And I didn’t have a clue what it meant. As I let the second woman fall asleep next to me that night, I wondered what Manchester would be like this time of year.

To be continued…

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“What did you want to talk about?” Claire asked. I was naked beneath the sheets. My skin was damp and dirty. I wanted to disappear. I closed my eyes and smelled her perfume on me, DKNY − the one targeted at women in their early twenties.
“I’m not moving in with you. It’s too soon.”
“OK, fair enough. But, let’s face it, you’ll probably spend most of your time there anyway.” She ran her fingers over my collar bone, her red nails bringing out the paleness of my skin.
“What have you been up to this week?” She pressed her hand down above my breasts and pushed herself up. It hurt.
“Is that what this is about? You think I’ve been doing God-knows-what?” I stared at the broken-white ceiling. I was so sick of this hotel.
“I met someone.” I pulled the sheets up to my chin. “In Cambridge.” She folded her legs under her body and faced me. Her eyes scanned my skin for signs of something, but it was protected by the sheet.
“OK. Tell me.”
“We kissed.” I felt so inadequate. Why had I not just fucked her?
“That’s it?” Claire’s question seemed to mock me. I was not the one who was supposed to feel so bad about this. I turned my head towards her. I ignored the tears.
“Yes,” I said. “But−” She leaned in and kissed my cheek. Her tongue caught my tears and willed them away.
“It’s OK, baby.” Her lips were so close to my eyes I couldn’t see them. They still reminded me of Sarah’s. “It’s OK.” A heavy sadness settled in my bones. I was the one with the problem. Claire’s tongue travelled down. She trailed a path of sticky wetness on my skin, but it didn’t register. The disconnect was complete.

Time ticked away. Claire slept beside me as if everything was still the same. It was only one AM. The beginning of something new clouded my blood. Vivian Carsey’s last words clung to the back of my skull, like an ever-present reminder. Was this the life-altering decision, then? If I got up out of this bed and quietly let the door fall in its lock behind me, would I be free? I just wanted to go home. Maybe Eleanor had the answers. I left Claire a note saying I’d call her tomorrow and confronted the semi-darkness of the London night.

In Kensington the lights were still on. Good, I thought. Someone to share this bottle of brandy with. I had gotten a real taste for the liquor now, wine had suddenly become too soft, its sting too tame. I found Eleanor in the sitting room with two old ladies from her reading group, and Lucy. Of course.
“What’s up, ladies? Burning the midnight oil at your age, that’s a bit risky, no?” Eleanor got up to hug me and I could smell the sherry on her breath. These old birds were on their version of a Saturday night bender. Good for them. Suddenly I realised that, over the weeks, a strange thing had occurred. Eleanor’s house was my home now. I wasn’t moving anywhere.
“Hi, Lee,” Lucy said. “Are you a woman transformed?”
“Can’t you tell?” I held the bottle of brandy in front of her nose. “I turned to the hard stuff.”
“That bad?”
“I wouldn’t say bad. It was definitely interesting. And not nearly as alcohol-free as the leaflet made it out to be. Want some?” Eleanor’s friends rose and left. It was well past their bed time.
“It’s good to have you back, Lee.” Eleanor said, and excused herself for the night. It was just me and Lucy then. And a bottle of brandy. On a Saturday night.

To be continued…

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“I’m not saying pack your boxes and move your stuff immediately. I’m just saying it would make sense.”
“Claire Burns, what on earth has gotten into you?”
“You, of course. Although it’s been a while. When are you due back?”

Panic and passion collided in my blood. Claire was hardly the U-haul type. What was her deal, really? She had only turned up in London three weeks ago. Had she taken the eternal-love and forever-faithful pill? This was not the Claire I knew, it was a polished, perfected copy of her. A woman I wanted to cling to, but also, at the same time, kick hard in the stomach. Maybe what had drawn me to Claire all along was the possibility of danger, the looming sense that anything could happen any time.

I arrived at the train station at noon and she was there, waiting for me. I couldn’t help but wonder why she was going so overboard. Did she have something to hide under the layers of unexpected affection? Surely, a promiscuous person like Claire couldn’t transform into a dream of monogamy over night.
“Hey, baby. Surprise.”
“Let me feel your forehead, please? I’m worried you may have a fever.”
“I’m just happy to see you, that’s all.”
“OK. And you have nothing to, huh, report?”
“Don’t be so paranoid. Now tell me, how did it go?”

She gave me nothing to go on, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. Or maybe it was just me. All week I had wanted to be with her so badly, feel the hard skin of her face on my hands, drink in the tightness of her lips, but now that we were finally together, I missed something. Deep down in the pits of my gut, in that almost unreachable dark place, a sense of regret, of missed opportunities, started to burn its way up. Sarah. Somehow, coming back to Claire’s loved-up ways, felt contrived, out of place. Suddenly I craved something different, something more sincere, something pure.
“We need to talk,” I said. I could feel my soul go dark. My heart was about to play an ugly trick. For years I had soaked up Claire’s venom, my body couldn’t hold it any longer, I needed to sweat it out fast. Most of all, I didn’t want a version of Claire that openly longed for me. Would she propose to move to the suburbs next? The Claire I wanted was dangerous and elusive, hard-to-get and always ready to attack. Of course, I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too.
“OK, baby, but before we talk, we have some other urgent business to attend to.” The cab pulled up at her hotel. The sight of it disgusted me. I needed to rebel against my own weakness, against all Claire made it stand for − it was about time. But Claire would not be an easy victim. And she would want to fuck me first. The first ‘no’ would be the hardest. I let the word echo through my skull. I wanted it close by for when I needed it. “Come here,” she said. Her hands felt like strangers on my skin, exciting and sexy strangers.
“No,” I said. But the word drowned in her mouth. If only I had cheated on her, I thought. If only I had some hard evidence to prove that I could do it. But this walking away thing, this business of leaving Claire Burns, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I felt the flames licking at my insides though, the flames of a different desire.

To be continued…

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The farewell party wasn’t that much of a party. Sure, there was free wine and some music, but mainly there were mixed feelings of elation and, already, nostalgia. I recognised the power of Vivian Carsey, she had a certain something, a conviction and a drive that took you where she wanted you to go. I understood the fandom. She had the personality and charm to effortlessly pull off a week of isolated introspection with perfect strangers. She gave a little speech in which she called us all out by name and personally thanked us while summing up our achievements. She went about it alphabetically and I was the last one to hear my name mentioned. Admittedly, I had to swallow a little tear of something when she said, “And finally, Lee Harlem Robinson, who made a life-altering decision here, even tough she may not yet realise it herself. Good luck, Lee, I believe in you.” Finally, when it was all over and done with, I started reacting to Vivian’s vague wording and universally applicable wisdoms.

I didn’t even get fully drunk, a light buzz was enough to get me through the night. My skin tensed at the thought of seeing Claire the day after. What would I say to her? Probably nothing as she would instantly floor me again with the way her jeans hugged her fifty-three-year-old hips and the husky tone with which she would say, “Baby, come here. I missed ya.” That would be it. I would be hers again.
“One final walk?” Sarah asked.
“Yes please, maybe next time I hear from you will be when I see your name on the cover of your book.” It took a lot to make Sarah blush, her skin was too dark to give in to such mundane redness. Instead, she bent her head slightly to the left and let her eyes fall downward.
“Please, Lee. Don’t say things like that.” I knew she didn’t mean it. We had spent so much time together and shared so much intimate details about our lives that I easily knew when she was pulling my leg.
“You’re going to be a superstar, Sarah Loqmani. Just don’t forget who your friends were.”
With a half moon as her witness, she said, “I will never forget you, Lee Harlem Robinson, there’s not a chance in hell.” Her hand found mine and slowly we strolled to the super-sized tool shed at the edge of the grounds. The stars hid silently behind the clouds and I only saw half a circle of jagged white light when I looked up to the sky. When I relaxed my neck back into its normal position I felt a finger on my chin, then on my lips. The kiss that followed wasn’t sexual, it was a little romantic and definitely intimate but its emotional power was far stronger than any physical consequence it could produce. “I hope you don’t forget me,” Sarah said.

The next day, a Saturday, we all hugged each other goodbye and went on our way. Back to our lives with all their distractions and dramas. As soon as I got on the train I called Claire.
“Hey baby,” she said. I could have cried when I heard her voice. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I found the perfect place to live.”
“Good for you.”
“No, baby, good for us. I think you should move in with me.”

To be continued…

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“Come in,” she said. Her eyes oozed kindness but also determination. I slipped past her, the skin of her left arm, which held open the door, lightly brushing against mine. “I was expecting you.”
“Of course you were.” I sank down in the brown leather couch by the window, my skin itching with frustration. Vivian handed me a wide-bellied glass of brandy, its strong smell now familiar instead of nauseating. She held off her questions, for which I was grateful. I didn’t come here to talk. The time for analysis had passed. It was crystal clear that Claire had enormous control over me. Ever since we met she was present in every action I took, even when she fled to New York for a year. The real choice did not lie between Claire and Sarah, the real verdict would fall later, when I went back home, back to Claire, and decided if I would allow one person, her, to hold such power over me. It wasn’t a moral breakthrough on my part, it was merely a truth that slapped me in the face. I was Claire Burns’s little bitch. Somewhere I would need to find the strength to walk away from her. But I was hardly one to run away from love, especially a love so all-encompassing and majestic as my love for Claire.
“I’m going to talk to my publishers about Sarah’s book. It’s such a powerful story. It needs to be put out there.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“It could be life-changing for her.” I just nodded. In the past couple of days I’d grown to care for Sarah, but just like anyone else I met since that Sunday in 2002, she was no match for Claire.
“Thanks for the brandy and the advice, Vivian. I know I was a difficult customer.”
“You don’t have to say your goodbyes just yet. We have one more day left.”
“Yeah, but tomorrow night’s the farewell party and everyone will just get hammered, me included.”

The next day we were free to do whatever we wanted, as long as it didn’t involve the internet, a phone and alcohol consumption before seven PM.
“This is the kind of introspection reserved for nuns,” I said to Sarah.
“Hardly,” she replied and almost made my heart melt with the amber of her eyes. Within the restrictions of the retreat we did have a lot of freedom, a freedom we needed to handle the roughness of the ride. And it had been one hell of a ride. No booze and no drama made Lee a dull girl, or, as Sarah pointed out, “Just a bit more serious, Lee. Life is not the picnic you think it is.” And she was right. What the hell did I know anyway? I didn’t have two children and a husband waiting for me at home. For all the mess I made of my life, it was blissfully free of responsibilities and real tragedies.
“Will you try to find her?” I asked Sarah.
“Yes, coming here gave me the strength to just do it.” Her hair flowed away from her in the wind. “What about you, Lee? What are you going to do?” I had absolutely no idea. Vivian Carsey hadn’t changed me. Surely she had made me more aware of certain problem areas in my life, but it would take more than an epiphany or two to drag me away from Claire.
“I don’t know.” I followed the waves of her hair as they floated around her face. “I love her. What can you do about that?”

To be continued…

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