Chapter 8

John woke up feeling that his heart was racing so fast it was about to jump out of his chest. He was breathing raggedly, gasping the air in a desperate attempt to calm down. For a few seconds his mind had trouble recognizing where exactly he was; in the cage somewhere up on a wooden platform, or in his own bedroom. When he felt his breath was coming back to its normal pace, he got back under the quilt, closed his eyes, and turned right to embrace Cindy. Once he reached his hand and put it on the pillow instead of his girlfriend’s face, he opened his eyes and realized she wasn’t in bed. She wasn’t in the bedroom at all.

John turned back, looked at his watch lying on the night table and spotted it was already 9 a.m. Traditionally, he felt very thirsty, so he got up, went to the bathroom and poured himself a glass of tap water. As he was taking one greedy gulp after another, he looked ahead and saw his reflection in the mirror. What he spotted made him put the glass away.

John looked horribly tired, as if the fatigue was eating him alive. He had dark shadows under his half-opened eyes, the area also looked quite baggy. His hair was a total mess. John combed it a bit with his left hand and could feel it slickened back with sweat. His face was pale, and his cheeks were overrun with a five o’clock shadow that were also a bit sunken in. John looked at his own reflection for a few minutes, touching his hair and face as if not believing it was actually him. He looked miserable. He had anxiety written all over his countenance.

John took a deep breath and washed his face with cold water. A not-exactly pleasant chill went down his body, but he splashed the water again, and again. Finally, he turned the water off, took his boxers off and walked into the shower. He turned the cold water on, and just stood there for God knew how long. He needed to be completely awake, to make sure that there was no trace of the horrible dream he had at night anywhere on him; not on his face, not in his hair, not on a single cell of his body. John wanted it gone.

When he was later drying his body with a towel, he felt a stinging strike of pain when he touched the right side of his belly. He flinched as the feeling immediately recalled the weapon hitting him, which made him flinch, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Since John took a cold shower, there was no steam on it, and yet he had to look carefully, closely, and blink a few times before he was able to believe what he saw. Under his rib, there were three big, bloody-purple spots, one next to another. Every time John touched them, he felt the familiar pain. He started breathing heavily once more, trying to come up with any logical explanation of what he was seeing. Finally, John took a deep breath and calmed down. Many people usually moved restlessly while having nightmares, trying to wake up. His dreams were so bad, so awful, that it was possible he hit his night stand or the bed’s frame while sleeping.

That was it.

Too bad Cindy didn’t bother to wake him up, he thought irritated. It would have saved him lots of trauma and, as it turned out, physical pain.

When he finished and walked back to the bedroom again, he was shaking from cold, but felt better than ever. He walked to the wardrobe, picked up his clothes, got dressed, and walked down to the kitchen, where he had already heard Cindy preparing breakfast.

“Good morning,” he said as he hugged her from behind. She was standing by the stove making pancakes. She smiled and turned her cheek to him so he could kiss her.

“Mornin’, honey, how did you sleep?”

“Great,” he lied. He looked at her, fresh, cheerful, in a really good mood, and felt he had to go out, just for a minute, just to focus on something else; her positivity was very irritating.

“I’m gonna have some fresh air, all right?”

“Sure.”

John shrugged his shoulders, walked to the terrace door, opened it and stepped outside. It was so peaceful that the silence was practically squeaking in his ears. It was almost ten o’clock in the morning on a Sunday, and there was basically nobody around. Some single people were out walking their dogs, and their voices were bouncing off the apartment blocks, Rudy, don’t eat that, Mia, come here little girl, that’s it, that’s right, good dog, Mylo, are you coming, or not? A tranquil morning. John closed his eyes and stood there on the terrace for a minute or two until he heard Cindy calling him inside to eat.

“So, you obviously didn’t sleep great,” she said as she was pouring maple syrup on her pancakes. John looked up from his plate and put a piece of his portion into his mouth.

“What are you talking about, I slept like a baby,” he replied while chewing.

“Honey, I’m only worried about you, okay? You haven’t been sleeping well for some time now, you often disappear from home…”

“Are you investigating me or something?” he asked; a bit annoyed and had a sip of strong, black coffee.

“No. Like I said, I’m worried about you,” Cindy replied, surprised. She put the fork away and reached out for a napkin from a box placed in the middle of the table.

“That’s sweet, but everything’s all right. I sleep fine, and I disappear as you call it, because I have things to do. I mean, you can’t expect me to sit at home all day while you’re at work.”

“Okay, if you say so,” she said a bit sarcastically, and continued eating.

At first, John decided to ignore the whole conversation, but the tone of her voice when she said the if you say so thing kept on bouncing left to right inside his head. What the hell did she mean by that? Why did she say it so ironically? He put away his utensils and looked at her attentively.

“What?” she asked a bit surprised.

“If I say so? I understand you have a different theory about the whole thing, about me sleeping fine?” he asked and wiped his lips with a paper napkin. He tsk-tsked as he was cleaning his teeth with his tongue, and was looking at her.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I do. I mean, if you weren’t talking in your sleep, then maybe I’d believe,” she started, but didn’t finish her sentence once she saw his face. “What is it? You look as if you saw a ghost.”

“I’m talking? In my sleep?” he asked surprised. At least he hoped he sounded surprised, because he was, in fact, horrified. “What am I saying?”

“Usually, you scream, sometimes cry, but mostly…”

“Mostly?”

“Mostly… you… you just beg. For mercy,” Cindy said and bit her lip. She felt very uncomfortable telling him all this, she knew he was going to get angry.

“I-I do what, exactly?!” he exclaimed.

“You heard me, John. I mean, it happens practically regularly, and it’s really difficult to wake you up then. I…I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help you,” she said looking at him.

John aggressively threw his utensils on the table; the fork hit the plate with an unpleasant banging sound, and the knife hollowly hit the wooden surface. He was looking at Cindy, taken aback by his own reaction and being fully aware it wasn’t proportionate, but, at the same time, he felt he was getting angrier with every second. He couldn’t help it.

“John,” Cindy said peacefully, “I think I know why you can’t sleep, I mean it all makes sense, and if I’m right, I believe it might be very easy to help you get rid of the problem.”

“Is that so?” he asked sarcastically. She had no clue about what was going on, that his dreams were haunting him not because they were unpleasant, but because he had a feeling that once in a while he was watching a show, a TV series with his trial being the main plot. It just kept on going, right from the moment it ended last time, just like one episode would begin from the moment the previous one finished. That was what was freaking him out. John simply couldn’t help, but he felt that it all had some kind of a purpose and the single thought about it, made him queasy. But Cindy had a theory. She knew. She had an idea how to help him. Well, that should be interesting.

“Yes, listen,” she said, put her plate aside and leaned on the table a bit to speak more directly toward him. “You haven’t had a job for months.”

“Cindy, Jesus,” he hissed, got up and walked two steps away from the table.

“John, John, listen to me; come on, turn around,” she asked firmly.

He sighed deeply and turned around.

“Sit down,” she asked.

“I am fine standing,” he replied and shrugged his shoulders.

“All right. There’s no need to get angry; it’s okay. You’re frustrated and you are worried about your, about our, financial situation.”

“That’s what you think it is?” John asked mechanically and decided to let her talk.

“Yes! I think you’re worried because you haven’t had any job in months, and this place is really expensive. I mean, I can’t afford it myself.”

“You don’t have to pay for anything yourself, I have savings, and I can pay for things, regardless of me having a job, or not,” he scoffed.

“For how long?” Cindy asked, and got up from the table and walked toward him.

“Excuse me?” John asked irritated.

“It’s been months now since you had any work to do, any trip to organize. I mean, have you called your boss? Have you asked what was going on?”

“I don’t have to do that,” he said and did his best to sound careless. The truth was, however, it had been bugging him for some time now, because he had never had such long breaks between jobs. “He calls me when he needs me, that’s the deal. I won’t be begging for anything,” John said. He felt irritated, and didn’t like the questions. He hadn’t slept well, obviously, and now Cindy kept on jabbering, asking those idiotic things, making him look like he was irresponsible, or inadequate, treating him like a child who couldn’t take care of itself.

“Well, since he’s obviously not calling, then maybe we should calculate what’s best for us?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re obviously anxious about things, the sleeping problems only prove it, maybe we should change our lifestyle a bit, consider—”

“Consider what?” John was listening to her with growing tension.

“That maybe, just for now, we should, well, move out—” she continued, but even though she had everything well thought-through and was willing to enumerate him various reasons why her idea was best for them, seeing his face, how angry he was becoming with every word she said, it made her doubt whether the whole conversation was a good idea after all. Cindy was being rational, sensible, she knew about it, but she also knew how big his material expectations were, and that he wouldn’t take kindly to her saying all that. Maybe she had chosen the wrong time, after all he seemed shaken and disturbed after another tough night, but it was weekend, and they were both finally home, able to talk things through. It was worth a try.

“Are you kidding me right now?” John shouted.

“N-No, of course not,” she replied and, instinctively took a step back.

“I am not moving out, especially not going back to your previous apartment! Absolutely not!”

“I could never understand what your problem with it was anyway,” Cindy said resigned.

“Really?” John asked sarcastically.

“But, I wasn’t thinking of going back there. I’ve been thinking about renting something cheaper, maybe in a cheaper part of the city, or perhaps something around here, but smaller, like a two-bedroom thing, not two-floors.”

“No.”

“No? Just like that? You’re sure you don’t want to think about it?” Cindy asked, surprised he made up his mind so swiftly.

“I said no. We can afford this apartment. We’re staying here,” he said categorically and poked the table with his index finger to underscore how serious and firm he was.

“Well, okay, but how long can we afford it? Have you checked your bank account? Tell me, how much savings do we, do you have? Because I am telling you, I won’t be able to afford this with my salary, and—”

“Cindy, I said we’re not going anywhere, can’t you understand it?” John said angrily.

She sat back by the table and was looking at him disappointed and irritated.

“John, you’re not being rational, you can see you’re getting more and more stressed, please let me help you,” she finally said calmly.

“I don’t need your help, damn it; we’re just fine!” He kicked the table, which moved about half a yard away. Cindy screamed and covered her mouth with her palm. She had never seen him losing control over himself.

“What are you doing, John?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, but I just think we ended this conversation. I am not degrading my life standards, because you’re scared; irrationally scared! Listen to yourself! I’m telling you we’re fine, and you keep on talking that gibberish about my sleeping and financial problems! Give me a fucking break, will you?” He stormed out of the living room and went upstairs to turn the computer on and, log on to the bank and show her their financial situation was far from difficult. Once he was in the bedroom, he spotted his leather belt lying on the bed.

Again!

It happened more or less regularly during the past days, practically every morning there was his belt on the bed.

John felt blood coming to his head, the fury growing inside of him. The bitch must have had great fun with him during the past few weeks. He violently took the belt and loudly walked down the stairs.

“What the fuck is this, huh?” he hissed as he came downstairs to Cindy. “Can you explain it to me, huh?”

“It’s, it’s your belt,” she replied, confused and a bit scared.

“I can see it’s not exactly anything else, but I am asking what the fuck was it doing on the bed?” John was furious. His face was swollen, a tiny blood vessel in his left eye broke and his iris was now surrounded by a slowly growing red stain around it. He was breathing fast and was waving his hand swinging the belt right in front of her nose.

“I don’t know; you must have put it there!” she exclaimed; seriously worried he was considering hitting her.

“I didn’t okay. Here’s the thing, I didn’t! I never do, and yet it’s not the first time I had a belt on my bed when I woke up!” he yelled.

“John, calm, down; John, your eye!” Cindy cried.

A bit surprised by her words, John put his hand down and went to the downstairs bathroom to see himself in the mirror. Once he put the light on, he realized he almost had no visible iris in his left eye. The eyeball was all covered in red, it looked very creepy. John blinked a few times, but, obviously, it didn’t help at all. He sighed, and felt he was slowly calming down, but then he spotted the belt loosely hanging from his half-clenched fist and realized his anger was far from disappearing.

He stormed out of the bathroom and walked toward Cindy with such pace and determination, she took a few steps back. Then her leg bumped on the sofa’s edge, she lost her balance a bit, and sat heavily on the piece of furniture.

“Do you really think it’s funny?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” she cried. For the first time, Cindy was scared of him, she had never seen him acting like this.

“That you keep on putting the belt on my bed! Why the belt? Every goddamn morning?”

“John, I have no idea what you’re talking about! What do you mean, every morning?!”

“Don’t lie! Don’t pretend!” he yelled and hit the sofa’s back with the fist he held the belt with, right next to her head. Cindy screamed and covered her face. John sighed heavily and felt his blood pressure coming back to normal, his face was no longer as red. He took a deep breath and sat down next to her, then leaned on the back of the sofa.

“John, what’s wrong with you,” Cindy said almost indistinctly. She was crying, had her eyes filled with tears, and she was swallowing fast, trying to speak. The whole thing, everything that had just happened was quite petrifying.

“Cindy,” he said in a calmer way, but the tone of his voice was still far from gentle. “Every day there’s a belt lying on my bed when I wake up. I never leave it there. I mean, what kind of sick, mean joke is this supposed to be?”

“But it’s not me, John!”

“It’s not? You just told me how much you hated this whole place, how you thought it was making me nuts, how you believed we ought to look for a different apartment.”

“I didn’t say anything like this!” she exclaimed, but John only put his hand up in a silencing gesture.

“Yes you did, what is wrong with you, Cindy?” he asked, showing her the belt. “First this, and now you’re denying your own words you just said to me?”

“John,” she wept.

“I have those nightmares, and what, and you’re joking about it? You’re checking my limits?” John asked. His red eye was looking at Cindy is such an unnerving way, she felt she had to lower her sight; she couldn’t stand it.

“John, it’s not me,” she whispered.

“You think I do it? You think I walk in my sleep? Open the wardrobe and take out this particular belt every goddamn day?”

“I-I don’t know,” Cindy sniffed.

“You don’t know,” he snorted.

“John, I think something wrong is happening to you. I think you’re stressed out, and I think you, maybe, need help.”

“Maybe I just need you, huh? You’re never around these days. I wake up and you’re already gone, you stay at work longer, you sometimes go to work on Saturdays. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“John,” she sighed.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you maybe have someone else?” he said emotionlessly.

“How can you say that?” Cindy exclaimed

“I don’t know, Cindy, okay? You’re telling me, you’re insinuating I am going mad, you’re mocking me for not having a job, and I don’t know, perhaps you’re getting ready to leave!” John got up and was now talking above her head.

“I work more, because I need more money, because you haven’t paid the rent for the last two months, okay?!”

“What?!” he exclaimed, surprised.

“Yes, the landlord called. He called me as he couldn’t reach you!”

“How the hell does he even have your phone number? ”

“He called home, not my cell,” she replied. Her tone was now steady; she dried her eyes with her hands, and got up. “He said he never got the last month’s payment, so I had to pay it myself. And since now I am responsible for the rent, the bills and groceries, my budget has become quite unexpectedly stretched. I concluded you’re running out of money, and I won’t be able to pay for everything every month, so I wanted to talk about it,” Cindy said and walked towards the sink. She turned the water on and washed her face.

“I’m fine, Cindy. I just forgot.”

“You never forget about things like that. Plus, why did you get so upset over the owner talking with me, huh? I also live here, remember? I have every right to know what’s going on.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere; so if you want, you might as well either change your job to earn more, or—”

“Or what?” she asked, drying her cheeks and hands with a paper towel.

“Or leave,” he said and shrugged his shoulders.

Cindy looked at him for a few seconds, waiting for any kind of reaction, preferably a burst of laughter, but John was just standing there, looking at her, staring at her with this goddamned red eye, and was completely emotionless.

He was actually surprised he said that out loud, but, to be frank, he’d been thinking about it for some time now. He thought of Molly. Molly had such class and was such a better fit for him, that he had been considering breaking up with Cindy for some time now, as he was more and more convinced that the flight attendant was a much better choice. Financially independent, beautiful, sexy, and the fact she was at work about two weeks a month was an extra bonus. The more John thought about it, the more he was surprised why he’d spent so much time with Cindy in the first place.

“What the hell, John? Are you—are you breaking up with me?”

“Yes. I mean, let’s face it, Cindy, it’s not working out—”

“You son of a bitch!” She threw the wet paper towel on the kitchen counter and looked at him angrily. “I took care of you, made sure you were okay, I was tolerating all your disappearances, the fact you couldn’t make up your mind whether you’re leaving Margaret or not, how the hell do you get the nerve to break up with me and tell me it wasn’t working out?” She was shouting.

Cindy couldn’t believe in anything that was happening that morning. First the whole crazy riot concerning the money situation, then the belt thing that made John so furious he, basically, almost hit her, and now he was breaking up with her without a real reason! It wasn’t devastating, and it was ridiculous. Outrageous! Insane. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and started crying loudly.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you all this much earlier; I-I just didn’t know how,” John replied. He kept his hands in his pockets, the belt was now lying on the sofa. He was calm, but the knowledge of freedom lurking behind the corner was actually making him more and more excited. It reminded him how he felt leaving Margaret once and for all, back in March. That feeling when you could breathe deep again. Fantastic!

Cindy was looking at the floor for a few seconds, breathing deeply and trying to calm down.

“It’s not working out,” she sighed and rubbed her face. Her voice was no longer shaking, it seemed to have steadied. She looked at him and he realized her eyes looked resigned, indifferent. A few delicate, pale trails of tears were covering her cheeks, but her eyes were now dry. John was looking at her, a bit tensed, waiting to see what she would do, to hear what she would say. He felt much calmer now, too. So much calmer that for a split second, he thought that maybe he was making an impromptu decision about breaking up with her, that he was just being angry and shaky over the night before. He took a deep breath through his nostrils.

“You know,” Cindy finally said and got up. She shook some dust off her skirt and looked at him, “that’s actually something I’ve been thinking about for some time now. I guess I got so upset because you were first to actually articulate it.”

“What?” John was looking at her, not understanding what she was referring to.

“Breaking up. I wanted it, too.”

“I don’t believe you,” he snorted with laughter. “It’s absurd.”

“It’s not. What, it’s impossible for you to imagine a woman leaving you? You’ve been disappearing, you are clearly going through something stressful, something that is changing you a bit every day and yet you don’t want to tell me what is going on, you’re—”

“It’s not that.” He made a step towards her, but she only lifted her hand in a gesture forbidding him to interrupt her. John sat down on the sofa and was looking up at her.

“You’re keeping secrets from me, do not deny it. And since you left your wife for me, I kind of have a feeling you might want to leave me for someone else,” Cindy said and felt her voice becoming stuck in her throat. She swallowed, cleared it, and continued, “So, yes, I’ve been pretty unhappy around you for some time now. I was kind of hoping you would finally explain yourself, allow me to help you. But, I understand it’s none of my business. Never has been,” Cindy added, walked to the kitchen counter and got herself another piece of paper towel. She cleaned her nose and looked at him. “I want to settle down. Have a normal life, with family perspectives. And you can’t give it to me, let’s face it. I–I’m not even sure if you ever tried. Have you ever actually considering getting the damn divorce? Because you know, it isn’t going to happen by itself.”

John couldn’t be happier. He was afraid there was going to be drama, that there was going to be some kind of an embarrassing scene happening, something difficult to watch, to bear, and yet, she was actually breaking up with him. He had become the victim, and she was the one who was basically ending their relationship. And to think that about two hours ago he was sure the day was going to be awful.

However, in order not to stress and frustrate her any more than she was already, John decided to make sure he looked devastated and shocked.

“Guess – guess you were too good to me,” he finally said quietly, and cleared his voice to make sure she heard the next thing he had to say, “I don’t think I ever deserved you.” John looked at her with as much of pain in his eyes he was able to show.

“Go to hell,” she hissed, and threw the wet paper towel in the trash can under the sink and was on her way to the bedroom, when John spoke.

“What about the apartment?”

Cindy turned around and looked at him. At first she had no idea what he was referring to, then she understood.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, since we’re not together anymore, I don’t think it’s, um, necessary, for both of us to live here.”

She snorted ironically and made a few steps towards him.

“What are you suggesting?”

“No, nothing, it’s just that, you know, you never really liked living here in the first place, so,” John didn’t finish as he felt a burning mark on his left cheek. He had no idea how Cindy got to him so fast, she must have jumped through half of the living room, but she slapped him so hard, he swung a bit and heavily leaned on the sofa’s back.

“You’re getting rid of me now?” she shouted, breathing heavily.

“Fuck you, Cindy!” John jumped up and was now in front of her. The red mark on his cheek was scorching, but it wasn’t even caused by physical pain, it was rather the humiliation that was stinging. He should have hit her when he had thought about it, he really should have. Bitch.

“I can’t move out; my apartment is already rented to someone else, remember? There’s a family living there now. I can’t just pack my bags and go back there!”

“No, I didn’t remember, okay? I didn’t!” John shouted. As if it was his problem, something he was supposed to be thinking about. Damn it.

“I have to stay here until I find myself something new, otherwise I have nowhere to go, and I can’t afford to pay money for a hotel!”

“Fine, okay, I get it! You’ll stay here, and I will move out!”

“I can’t afford to pay for everything here myself, you know that, God damn it!” Cindy shouted and pushed him a bit.

John rubbed his eyes and face and looked at her. She was so not his league. So primitive, so dumb.

“Okay, I will move out.”

“Give me a month. I will look for something else for myself. Then you can come back here.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do me a favor and don’t use the word fair, all right? It doesn’t suit you,” Cindy replied and went to the bedroom. John could hear her walking back and forth around the bed, opening the wardrobe door, closing it, and then finally she walked down with her coat on and her purse hanging from her shoulder.

“I’m leaving. I’ll be back this evening, make sure you’re gone by then,” she said emotionlessly. John nodded and Cindy walked out of the apartment.

He was free.

Again.

As the emotions were rolling off him, he considered going upstairs and taking a nap, but his heart started beating faster the moment he thought the nightmare might come back. John delicately touched his ribs, and hissed. He walked to the bathroom and pulled his shirt up a bit. The bruises were still there. They were real, and so was the pain. No, he absolutely couldn’t go back to sleep. Besides, he needed to get himself a new place to stay. He came back down, took his cell phone from his jacket, sat comfortably on the sofa, and dialed Molly’s number. The moment she picked up, he spotted the belt lying on the sofa.

“Hi, John, honey, what is it?” she said, but John didn’t reply. He was staring at the belt, and couldn’t say a word. It was absolutely illogical, stupid, but at the same time, the image of the leather belt, with a big, shiny buckle seemed kind of sinister.

“John!”

“Um, yes, yes, hi, Molly,” he finally said and cleared his throat.

“What’s going on? You’re calling me and then you’re not saying anything?”

“So sorry, I-I guess I am too overwhelmed, too excited,” John said, and did his best to sound happy.

“Yeah? Why?” Molly asked, and he was sure she was smiling.

“Because, um, because,” he sighed to sound even more dramatic and emotional, “I just left Margaret.”

“Oh my God, you did? John I am so happy! That’s fantastic news!”

“I know; I can hardly believe it myself!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.

“When did this happen?”

“This morning. Really not very long ago,” John admitted. That part of the masquerade was true.

“Oh, honey, finally; oh I am so happy!”

“Me, too, baby, me, too. So, listen, when can I come?”

“Come?” Molly’s voice became a bit serious. She seemed surprised.

“Well, yes, I need a place to live; I left Margaret, and I need a new home.”

“Um, alone or with Mickey?”

“Alone.” John didn’t like the tone of her voice, he thought she would be at least a bit more enthusiastic. That wasn’t a good sign. And where did she get the idea he would be evacuating from Margaret together with Mickey? That was absurd. Mickey belonged to the Margaret part of his life. Period.

“Okay then. Well, I suppose you can come now, but I need to know how long you are going to stay.”

“Oh, well, I-um-I kind of hoped you’d want me to move in with you.”

“Oh, baby.” She laughed warmly. “Oh honey, come on, let’s be serious here.”

“What do you mean?” John was completely taken aback.

“Okay, when will you be here?”

“I’ll just pack a few things and will be right there. I don’t know, two hours, maybe three?”

“All right. I’ll be waiting.”

“Should I get some food?”

“No, there’s no need, I am making soy burgers,” Molly replied.

Yum, thought John. “Okay, so see you soon, baby,” he said and did his best to sound as relaxed as possible.

“Bye.” Ahe hung up.

This wasn’t exactly how he had planned things.