Thursday, 28 February 2008
I made conversation with a few of Aimee's friends. Most of them seemed very superficial. The conversation was limited to fashion, weight and celebrities. I got bored fairly quickly.
I noticed Aimee had slipped out on the balcony alone. I curiously followed her a few minutes later. She was sat on the floor with her back against the rails concentrating intently on lining up white powder on a dvd case.
"Mind if I join you?"
She looked up at me surprised. She shifted over and I sank down behind her.
"No thanks I don't touch the stuff."
She shrugged and carried on. I pulled out a cigarette from my tiny bag and lit up. I silently smoked while she snorted a line. She leaned her head against the rails and breathed heavily.
"I say God damn!" She jokingly quoted the line from Pulp Fiction.
There was an awkward silence again.
"Don't tell (Solicitor)."
I was slightly pissed off by what she said. It shouldn't matter to him what she does anymore. They're not together.
"He never saw the bright side of life. So boring!"
I suppose through the eyes of a druggie a well-established, composed lawyer could seem a little boring compared to the smack heads that roam the streets at night begging for spare change. I was really starting to get pissed off with her. I regretted coming outside to talk to her.
"Why do you do it?"
She looked at me as if I had asked a stupid question.
"Seriously Aimee, the last time I saw you, you were in such a state. Why would you do something like that to yourself?"
It may have been due to the cocaine but Aimee just started talking. She didn't stop. She told me about her modelling career. She told me about what should have been a brief relationship with Solicitor. Her horror at an unwanted pregnancy.
"Can you believe he asked me to marry him? Why couldn't he have just encouraged be to abort it like any other normal guy!"
She told me about their son. How she loved him but she just wasn't ready to be a mother. She told me how she hated being a wife. Having to think about other people and the consequences of your actions.
"They say you love your children unconditionally. That’s the problem. I loved him so much but I just wished that he wasn't there. You should always be careful what you wish for."
I got a little emotional when she told me how much she hated herself when he died. It must have been such an awful feeling. To lose someone you love so much and to blame yourself for it.
"You know I felt relieved. How sick does that make me sound? I just wanted to move on. Leave the whole wife and mother thing behind."
Aimee and I are very different people. We have different aspirations in life. Different priorities. I liked listening to her. It gave me an insight into her life and into her mind. We sat outside for a long time. I occasionally smoked a cigarette while she snorted another line.
We spoke about Solicitor. She told me that she never made him happy. She didn't know how and most of the time she didn't really care. She'd regret the way she felt every so often, especially when he rescued her from bad situations, or when he stayed up all night making sure she didn't stop breathing after a long night out.
I told her that I couldn’t imagine not wanting to make him happy. He's such a wonderful man I'd never want to mess things up with him. If I had what she had I would have held it with both hands and never let it go.
"Yes but there's a difference Elise. He didn't love me like he loves you."
I felt my heart overflow with happiness when she said that. He does love me. He tells me in so many different ways.
Aimee leaned over to snort another line when the balcony door slid open. Solicitor looked down at the both of us, regarding the cocaine. I could tell by his expression that the best thing for us to do would be to leave. I stood up and straightened out my trousers.
"We better go." I kissed Aimee on both cheeks and thanked her for inviting us to the party.
As we walked through the door Solicitor turned back to her.
"You know something, Aimee. The next time you're crying and scared because you think you've taken an overdose don't bother calling me because I won't bother coming."
I gripped his arm in effort to steer him away but he pulled away.
"You'll never change. You'll always be a crack head and I'll be damned if I let you into our lives!"
He stalked out. I gave Aimee an apologetic look before hurrying after him.
Tuesday, 26 February 2008
Actually I decided we should definitely go to the party. Solicitor was a little unenthusiastic about going. He played along anyway. He could see how excited I was. It was at the Battersea Mansions for crying out loud! Whenever I drive past the strip overlooking Battersea Park I imagine what it would be like to go inside. The tall ceilings, the traditional decor....
I spent around three hours getting ready. Aimee is an incredibly beautiful woman. She's tall and thin with short, very light blond hair. She has pale skin and huge brown eyes. I had to look my best. All of her model friends would compare the two of us and I didn't want to come across short and fat.
I decided on all black. Black tight DKNY jeans with a black Cashmere top and black stiletto heels. I wore the diamond earrings and necklace that Solicitor had bought me. I stylishly curled my long dark hair and clipped half of it up leaving wisps framing my face.
Years of Bimbo's beauty lessons finally came in handy!
By the time we got to Aimee's place the party was in full swing. The house was swarming with drunk people. She greeted us warmly at the door. Hugs and kisses. The last time I saw Aimee she was quiet and unsure of herself. She had transformed into a chatty, confident woman. I was slightly surprised at the change.
Unsurprisingly Solicitor already knew a few people there. Not wanting to stick at his side all night like a leach I left him to his old friends and I took a walk around. The rooms were beautiful. Natural colours, wooden floors and furniture. I wondered if Aimee had bought it or was renting.
As I walked back into the main room I bumped into a rather large man. I stopped in my tracks. I know him! I've seen him before. He smiled.
"Hey I know you!"
I felt an icy chill as I remembered who he was.
"Supplying for the party?"
"Well its good business."
"Don't be a hypocrite"
In my first year of university I lived in student hall of residence. I'd lost my building key within the first three months of living there and I frequently knocked on a ground floor window for somebody to let me in.
I got into the routine of knocking on the window of a guy called Sanchez. He was the only person who was in his room most of the time. It became such a frequent occurrence that he started leaving his window open for me to jump through.
Six months down the line we'd formed a routine friendship. I'd jump through him window after a night out and we'd play his N64 for a few hours before I went up to my room. He was a nice guy. Sometimes when he was out he used to leave his window unlocked so I could push in open and climb through. Whenever he was away I wouldn't bother walking up the stairs and I'd fall asleep in his bed. He didn't mind at all.
One night we were lying on his bed playing Mario Cart when he asked me for a favour. He was going to South America to see his ill Grandfather and he needed me to look after his room. He also wanted me to give a guy a wad of cash in exchange for a bag of cocaine. I didn't have to touch it I just had to let the guy in, give him the cash and point to the cupboard where he could leave it.
Sanchez supplied the campus with cocaine. I knew he did and it really didn't bother me at the time. Most students were doing drugs at that point anyway. I personally never touched the stuff but it didn't bother me too much if someone did.
I agreed. Sanchez knew the guy quite well and he promised it was just a clean deal. He left me his phone so that he wouldn't have to give the guy my number. Sanchez was true to his word. Dimitrius came by a few days after Sanchez left. He left the package and took the money.
Sanchez's phone rang non-stop. I didn't answer it a first but one night I absently answered when it rang. There were a group of guys that wanted a few grams for the night. I told them Sanchez was away but if they were desperate I could sort them out.
A week later I'd sold everything. I called Dimitrius and asked him to bring down another packet for the same price. I kept the profit of the last batch and I replaced the cocaine. When Sanchez came back he was none the wiser.
I have no idea why I did it. At the time I just went with the flow. I supplied drugs for a week. I'm not proud of it. And I haven't thought about it in a long time.
Dimitrius was at Aimee's party. I never thought I'd ever see the guy again. He was there supplying drugs to the people attending. He knew Aimee well. She swished over and they hugged and kissed like old friends. God I felt sick.
I caught Solicitor’s eye from the other side of the room. He looked questioningly at Dimirtius. I shook my head slightly as if I didn’t know him.
Dimitrius was right. It was hypocritical for me to judge him. Especially since I didn’t have a problem with it before. But I couldn't stop thinking about what Solicitor told me about Aimee and her drug problem. I remember the box of pills and cocaine that I found in her bathroom. I remember the state she was in when I first saw her. The tears...
Monday, 25 February 2008
I don't think anything in particular sparked it off. I was casually driving to work listening to Magic fm. Other than the slight irritation of the penetrating sound of Celiene Dion's voice I was in good spirits. Oh yeah, I was still angry about the dvd idea. And of course there were the legal forms and statements surrounding the incident with Bradley....
Maybe there was a reason why a wave of pain flooded my head at the traffic lights. I tried to calm down as soon as it happened. I cradled my head in my hands and forced myself to think happy thoughts.
Halfway through imagining happy free chickens I had an awful thought. What if the doctor was completely wrong? What if I'm suffering from a rare incurable disease?
It didn't help. The cars began beeping behind me.
I managed to park on a nearby street. I turned the radio up and changed the station until I found a song that would put me in a good mood. Strangely, Snoop Dog and Akon seemed to do the trick. I sang along with Akon's chorus and made a mental note to buy the single. Medical reasons of course.
Gay Boss was not impressed when I arrived to work at 10:45 am. CEO had made a surprise visit! Gay Boss lied for me and told him that I had a dentist appointment. CEO didn't believe him. I guess the HMV bag full of CDs was a dead giveaway.
CEO was seated at the head of the conference table when I arrived, pissed off because he was kept waiting for so long. Well he should have told us he was coming shouldn't he! He'd bought a plan for the dvd with him and he wanted to go through it with the two of us. I think he's going senile. He's completely forgotten what it takes to run a business. I was in shock when he relayed his fabulous plans. What a nutter!
Gay Boss completely ignored me through the meeting. I don't blame him. What the hell was I thinking? I took the morning off to buy an Akon album!
After the meeting concluded I got up to leave and another wave of pain filled my head. Gay Boss was immediately at my side. Ten minutes later we were in my office waiting for my headache to pass.
"Elise take a few days off. Go home."
I went home. I went home and poured myself a drink. I changed into a silky nightgown and wrapped my hair up in the ridiculous matching turban that Grandmama gave me for my birthday. I checked myself out in the mirror. All I needed was a cigarette and I was the Drama Queen herself. I think I'm slowly losing my mind.
I got bored after an hour of prancing up and down the house trying out various European accents to go with my new look and I decided to do something constructive. I made a cup of tea and checked the mail.
I ripped open the envelope. People never send invitations anymore unless it’s something important. Maybe it’s a wedding!
You are invited to my Housewarming Party on Saturday 23rd February
Aimee's moved to London. Not just anywhere. Her address says "Battersea Mansions"! She didn't say anything about it before. The Bitch! She's trying to move in on Solicitor I just know it! I paced up and down the house silently cursing Solicitor's Runway Model Ex-wife.
Actually when I met Aimee she seemed genuinely friendly. She was going through a rough patch and she seemed lost and terribly unsure of herself. She and Solicitor still keep in contact. Maybe going to the party would be a good idea.
When Solicitor got home that night he found the bedroom in a complete mess of clothes. I had spent the day trying on every possible outfit for the party.
Monday, 18 February 2008
CEO wants to replace me with a DVD!
Gay Boss came up to my office early this morning with a few printed emails from CEO.
This situation breaks my heart.
This is what he sent when he heard about my meeting with Sanyo. "Breaks my heart"? What the hell is he talking about? It was one mistake. It's not as if I make a habit of screwing up!
I have personally realised a more effective way of presenting to prospective clients. We currently have a fantastic creative department that is not being used to its full advantage. Bellow you will find a schedule for the creation of an audio/ visual presentation on DVD!
He planned out the footage! Every cross fade, every shot, every cut. He wants an audio commentary from an "authoritative male voice" to run over the edit.
This way every presentation will be picture perfect. Anyone can present at any time. It’s just a case of pressing the right button!
I lost it. I actually lost it. I walked around in a rage. Effing and blinding. "Anyone can present". I've done a bloody good job for the last few years! I made one stupid mistake and he wants to replace me with a fucking DVD.
How unprofessional! Imagine walking into a room of directors and flicking on a DVD. Standing back and filling nails while they look at a screen for half an hour. Flicking the screen off and handing them a contract.
"That's it folks. Wanna sign up with us?"
CEO has gone mad!
That’s not the worst of the email. After I ranted for a while I read the rest.
I regret letting a perfectly good employee go. I feel there is a definite difference in the qualities of a male figure in this line of work.
He's talking about Old Prick. Old Prick got sacked because he wasn't performing well. He screwed up countless deals. How can CEO compare my skills with that of an idiot?! What a sexist tosser!
Gay Boss laughed at the email. He said that he had to reply to it but he's completely stuck on what to say.
Here are a few ideas that I came up with:
1) Elise does a bloody good job. She made one mistake!
2) Old Prick was a shit employee. His skills are nowhere near the minimum required.
3) A DVD is completely unprofessional.
4) The creative team are not filmmakers.
5) To hire a camera man and an actor to do a voice over is not free.
6) It will take a minimum of 16 weeks to complete.
7) By the time the footage is complete it will be Out Of Date.
8) CEO, you are a complete asshole. You need to step back into the real world. It's a wonder how you made this company a success. If you started out in today's world you'd be sitting on the side of a street collecting change to feed your fucking crack habit!
I think that’s enough information to aid Gay Boss with his response...
Friday, 15 February 2008
He loved the football tickets. I had tucked them in my thong and he pulled them free with his teeth.
I loved the diamond neckless. They match the earings he bought me from Paris.
Well you don't want details do you?
Thursday, 14 February 2008
Being single at 16 and going to school on Valentines Day was either fabulous or traumatic. I personally loved it.
We had a post box in a corridor in the main building at school. People dropped cards in during the week leading to Valentine's Day, leaving names and registration class number on the envelope. A few volunteers would sort through them the day before and on the morning of Valentine's Day we'd have cards waiting for us at registration.
It was the busiest registration of the year. The buzz of gossip lasted throughout the day. Who sent whom a card? Who received the most? And cruelly, who didn't receive any at all.
Year 11 Valentine's Day was the best I'd ever had in school. It was the final year of compulsory education. We knew that we'd loose touch with many people so we all made an extra effort with friendship cards.
As we excited sorted through our card that morning Raj burst through the door with a bucket of single red roses. He handed them out to all the single girls in the class. Each rose had a personal card with a message attached to it.
Raj was a good-looking guy. He was nicely toned. Green eyes. Cute dimpled smile. It was difficult not to feel special, even though he'd given a rose to every other girl.
My personal message said: "To Sexy Elise, everyday is an adventure with you Kitten... Please don't claw my heart out. Be my Valentine."
(When I was in year 8 I broke up with a guy called Philip the day before his birthday. In my defence I didn't know it was his birthday and we'd only dated for two weeks! He told everyone that I clawed his heart out. My nickname was Kitten for a while.)
For that one day Raj made all the girls feel special. He made the geeky girl feel popular, the fat girl feel attractive and the quiet girl feel confident. I noticed and spoke to girls that I hadn't ever spoken to before. We compared cards and exchanged hugs.
Later that day I stole a kiss with Raj behind the sports shed. No tongues. A nice warm kiss on the lips. I wonder how many kisses he received that day...
It’s nice to think back to days like that. To flick through scrapbooks, read old cards, look at old photos. This gave me an idea for Solicitor's card.
I've made Solicitor homemade scrapbook. I bought a plain notebook and filled it with photographs of the two of us. I wrote down little messages to go with them. I even included an old picture of the two of us at a bar when we were at University.
I bought a new bedroom outfit for tonight. A silky black pair of suspenders and stockings with a deep red bra and thong set. I'm going to hide the football tickets in my stocking.... Maybe a little game before he can get his hands on them!
Wednesday, 13 February 2008
We're currently working on an new potential client and I needed to research the product range. This basically means that I spent the afternoon making smiley-faced, lopsided people out of playdo, I decorated my appointment diary with pink heart stamps and glitter glue and I attempted to create a beautiful picture of a boat out of cut out felt pieces.
A couple of hours into the "research" I had a fantastic idea. I'd make Solicitor a Valentine's card from scratch! Homemade cards are so personal. I could make a cool contemporary, unique card. He'd love it.
I began humming to myself while I lined up the tools. I suddenly felt like one of those cool artists. The ones that always make personal cards for relatives. Maybe I could get into the card making business on the side. People would love them. I'd be promoted on Richard & Judy. Celebrities would have specially made cards made and would pay me thousands of pounds for the service.
Scissors - check
Black Card - check
Red Felt - check
Pink Glitter glue - check.
An hour later and I was frustrated and hot.
The black card was folded at a slight angle. I tried to straighten it out but there's a huge nasty crease running alongside the edge of the card. The red felt hearts were cut out unsymetrically with jagged edges. There was more pink glitter glue in my hair then there was on the card.
I don't understand why anyone would give a child such complicated craft materials. I felt heartbroken when I stepped back to admire my hard work. It looked awful. I can't give Solicitor this! He'd think I'm some kind of a retard.
I threw away the card and attempted a different approach.
Scissors - check
Pink Card - check
Red Card - check
Black Felt-tip Pen - check
I decided to fold the pink card in half and cut out a heart with the red card.
So far so good.
I stuck the heart on the front and wrote Solicitor's name and my name in the centre. I ran out of room. The letters at the end of my name were tiny.
I threw the card away.
I've decided to buy a card. It shows that I'm not cheap. Solicitor will definitely apprecite a proffessionally created card more than a homemade one.
I think I'm done with the research. I know the product range well. I'd never personally buy any of it though. Why would anyone?
I'm taking it easy today. I'll toddle off to Admin around 3. Bimbo's decided to try out her new make up stills on me. She wants to impress Pierce with a new look. Until then I'll just sit around, eat some smarties, drink some tea...
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
I didn't have much time to prepare for it as I spent most of last week feeling sorry for myself. It's not the first time I haven't prepared for a presentation. I usually slip into a professional mode and I somehow manage to pull it off.
Not this time.
My audience were three women. For some reason Women are much more difficult to present to. They look for mistakes. They compete with each other to ask the most complicated questions. If anything is going to go wrong in a presentation it normal happens at the end during the discussion.
I messed up right at the beginning.
"As Sony have a large range of products, catering for different consumer groups..."
Gay Boss went red in the face. What did I do wrong?
Shit! I'm presenting to Sanyo not Sony!
I felt a wave of hysteria erupt as I realised my mistake. I had to fight to keep myself from laughing out loud. The three witches stared at me in silence. One of them was writing something down on her notepad.
That's it. I've fucked it up.
I somehow got through the rest of the presentation without any further hiccups. I doubt we'll hear from them anytime soon.
Gay Boss was livid. He had a "chat" with me when they left.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? I can't believe you could be so fucking stupid. You completely fucked up!"
He tends to swear a lot when he's angry.
Logically I knew how serious this was but I still couldn't repress my laughter. I buried my face in my hands and silently shook while Gay Boss stalked up and down my office ranting and raving.
I decided to stay put in my office for the rest of the day to "reflect on my current issues".
At 5:30 on the dot I picked up my bag and locked up my office. For some odd reason I was happy. I'd completely messed up a potentially great deal but I was happy.
I got to the bottom of the stairs when I sudden rush of pain enveloped my head. I gripped the banister to keep my balance. I stayed still. The pain disappeared as quickly as it came. I took a deep breath.
Another pain rush. It felt like my brain cells were exploding.
I sank down onto the first step and cradled my head. I couldn't breath. What was happening to me?
"Oh my God! Elise!"
Bimbo came running down the stairs and sat down beside me.
Another rush of pain.
I gripped her hand.
"I think I'm dying."
I honestly did. You read about these things all the time. A perfectly healthy person dying on the spot with an intense headache.
Bimbo panicked. She burst into tears. Her panic had a huge effect on me. The pain suddenly got blindingly worse. I couldn't speak.
Bimbo called Stoner from her phone while she held me. He was there within a minute. The two of them walked me to Bimbo's car. Stoner sat in the back with me. My head seemed to get worse. Shooting pains running through my brain. I had to remind myself to breath.
"She's having a brain haemorrhage!" Bimbo sobbed from the drivers seat. "I love you Elise. I haven't told you this before but I really do."
"She's not having a brain haemorrhage!" Stoner shouted back. "She's experiencing an allergy attack. Did you use a new shampoo?"
"You've experienced an anxiety attack."
The doctor at the hospital was very definite about it. The waves of pain had slowly diluted by the time he saw me. I was left with a dull headache.
"But I'm happy!" I cried out. Honestly, the doctor didn't know what he was talking about. Doctors make mistakes all the time. Remember that surgeon that left his forceps in a patient and sewed him up? The headache was not an anxiety attack. I'm not anxious about anything.
He smiled kindly and squeezed my shoulder.
"These things happen. The next time you experience it remember to take a deep breath and relax as much as you can. It will pass. Would you like me to prescribe some medication?"
This was embarrassing. I shook my head.
I told Bimbo and Stoner that it was an allergy attack. Bimbo freaked out and asked what shampoo I had used.
"Um... it was Morrison's own brand."
Monday, 11 February 2008
Solicitor picked me up from work on Friday and he drove to the police station. He parked outside and asked me if I wanted to go in. I contemplated for half an hour before we went inside.
What should have been a chat about the incident turned into a gruelling interrogation. I filled out a statement form and answered more questions. I thought I'd just have to relay the incident but I was asked to recall whether he grabbed my left arm or my right arm first. I was asked what side of the car I was pushed against.
I felt like screaming. "I already told you this you stupid pikey bitch!"
Long hours later we got up to leave. The police officer shook our hands.
"We'll be in touch."
That's it? I don't know what I expected her to say but I thought she'd elaborate a little more.
As we drove home I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I did the right thing.
That night I couldn't sleep. I suddenly had an over whelming feeling of regret. I'd possibly ruined Bradley's life. I tossed and turned for hours unable to repress the dull pain in the pit of my stomach.
I was exhausted. It had been days since I had slept. Whenever I managed to nod off I had unbearable nightmares.
I padded to the bathroom in search of some sleeping pills. I was raiding the box of pills when I heard Solicitor. He stood in the doorway wiping the tiredness from his eyes. He slowly regarded the box and looked at me in question.
"Do we have any Nytol?"
He shook his head. He walked in and replaced the box.
"Get dressed. Put something warm on."
Ten minutes later we stepped out of the house into the cold night. Solicitor loaded the car with a thick blanket, extra coats and jumpers and two flasks of hot chocolate.
We drove for hours. He took the M4 out of London towards the west. Past Heathrow. Past Reading. Past Wokingham.
"Where are we going?"
We turned off at an exit past Swindon. The country lanes were dark and empty. There were no streetlights at all. Solicitor turned off down a dirt road barely wide enough to fit a car. There were thick bushes on either side scraping the windows as we drove through.
We suddenly stopped. Solicitor turned off the engine and the lights from the car.
"Close your eyes."
He helped me out of the car, holding me steady on the jagged road.
"Look up" He whispered.
I opened my eyes and gasped. The sky was filled with million and millions of stars. They were so bright they were like Christmas lights. I stood frozen in shock.
We sat on the blanket on the bonnet of the car smoking, drinking hot chocolate and whispering. It was as if we had discovered an amazing secret. As if we didn't want to ruin the silent beauty with any noise.
I fell asleep in the car on the way home.
I remember falling asleep in the car when I was a young child. I remember being carried into the house by my father. He used to hold me close and kiss my hair. My face buried in his neck. I trusted him completely during those moments. He kept me the safest I had ever been.
Solicitor carried me up the stairs when we got home. He laid me down on the bed and removed my clothes. He tucked me under the thick duvet and slid his warm body beside me. He wrapped me in his powerful arms. I felt his butterfly kisses on my neck before I fell into a blissful deep sleep.
Friday, 8 February 2008
The sun is shinning brightly today. The sky is a beautiful shade of blue. The air is fresh and cool. Why do I feel so depressed.
Solicitor didn't murder Bradley (although I'm sure he wanted to).
Solicitor is a logical person but passionate in so many ways. He expresses anger and love with intensity. After the incident Solicitor told me that he's never hated anybody as much as he hates Bradley. The very thought of him makes him shake with anger.
When he came back from Bradley's on Wednesday I feared the worst. I honestly believed that Solicitor had beaten him to a pulp. To my surprise (and relief) he hadn't. He couldn't resist one big kick in the balls when he opened the door though. I hope he's still in pain for scaring me the way he did.
Solicitor told him that if the incident went to court he doesn't have a case to defend himself. He'd be looking at jail time. Bradley nodded and told him that he'd plea guilty to all charges anyway. He wouldn't deny anything and would accept the punishment.
I believe him. Solicitor, who seriously hates the guy, believes him.
On his way out Solicitor told me that he pushed Bradley against the wall by his throat and told him that if he came within a mile of me again he wouldn't hesitate to kill him.
I asked Solicitor what he thinks I should do.
Although the relationship between Bradley and I was short lived there were certain elements that lead me to believe that the incident is a solo one. I don't think he has ever done it before and I seriously doubt he'd do it again.
Solicitor knows the details of the history and he agrees with me. After meeting Bradley he's convinced that the attack was meant for me and me alone. He still wants him to pay for it though.
Bradley is not a serial rapist or attacker. Reporting it and taking the incident to court would only serve as punishment for what he did to me. It wouldn't make a difference to other girls if he remained on the streets.
I haven't told Solicitor this because I'm sure he'll arrange some sort of counselling if I did, but I think I'm partly to blame for it. I could have avoided it if I thought things through. I feel guilty.
I don't think jail time would help Bradley. I think he needs counselling. I've decided to go to the police and tell them what happened. I don't want Bradley to go to jail I want him to get psychological help. I'm hoping that the police will help me arrange it.
I hope Solicitor understands when I tell him.
Thursday, 7 February 2008
I arrived early to work yesterday and I decided to tell Gay Boss everything. I walked into his office hoping for a friendly chat.
"Tell me your here to talk about Sanyo."
Sanyo? Shit! The presentation. I hadn't even started it. The presentation is Monday morning.
I told him about Bradley, the emails and the phone calls. I wasn't expecting him to be sympathetic but what he said really pissed me off.
"Jeez Elise. Some guy's calling you? Lets all stop the globe from spinning!"
I lost it. I called him an asshole and turned to leave.
"Don't get all hormonal on me." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pound coin. "Here's a quid. Go buy yourself some chocolate."
God I really hate him sometimes! I stalked up to my office and paced around for a few minutes. Two hours later I had finished the Sanyo presentation. For the first time in months I had been completely focused on my work.
Gay Boss came up soon after armed with a box of Roses chocolates. He emptied the contents on to my desk and he sat opposite me. For the next hour we ate chocolates and talked. He told me that he didn't mean to sound like an idiot. He was just making a point.
I've never viewed myself as a victim of anything. A few phone calls shouldn't get me down. Gay Boss told me its better to be pissed off at a friend than scared of an asshole. Odd concept but I agree.
I left work late. I called Solicitor just as I left my office and told him I'd meet him at the gym. The car park was unusually quiet. My car was the only one there. I quickly walked towards it and fished my keys out of my bag. Just as I got to it I heard a voice behind me.
I froze. I hadn't heard footsteps. He was waiting for me! Before I could move he grabbed me from behind and pulled me against him. His arm trapped both of mine in an uncomfortable iron grip against my body. I couldn't move. Even if I wasn't too scared to move, I wasn't strong enough to break away from him.
"Unlock the car."
I dropped the keys instead. If he wanted them he'd have to loosen his grip. There was no way I was going to open the door. He swore under his breath. He pushed me against the car door trapping me.
I felt his hand on my leg pulling my thighs apart. I could feel his arousal through he clothes as he pushed against me. I knew what he was thinking and I panicked. I struggled but I couldn't move.
The more I struggled the more I could feel him getting hard. His breath was heavy and hot against my cheek. I felt sick. Tears ran down my face as I tried to fight a losing battle.
His hand savagely pushed my skirt up and groped me. My tights ripped as I struggled. He suddenly pulled me away from the car and pushed me onto the cold hard floor. Before I could think about getting up he had pinned me down with his body. My arms were twisted painfully underneath my body.
I screamed as he touched me. I thrashed my head around to avoid his hand coving my mouth.
"For fuck's sake! Shut up!"
He thumbled around with his jeans as I tried to wriggle free. He pushed himself between my legs. I begged and pleaded with him to stop but he wasn't listening. He was so intent on what he was doing.
A voice from across the car park startled us both.
Bradley sprung up and ran. The security guard ran after him as I sat up and tried pulled myself together. My hands and elbows were filthy from the floor. Blood slowly oozed from small scrapes on my legs and hands. I scrambled for my car keys.
I don't quite know how I managed to drive but I somehow made it to Solicitors work building. I parked on the double yellow line outside and ran in. Solicitor was on the phone when I burst into his office. He hung up immediately with a shocked look on his face.
He held me close as I cried. I couldn't speak. I could feel him shaking with anger as I cried.
I couldn't manage many words but I shakily told him that Bradley waited for me in the car park. Solicitor was livid. He wrapped me in his coat and led me to his car. He drove home in silence.
He made a few phone calls while I sat still on the sofa lost in thought. I needed to have a shower I felt dirty and humiliated. Solicitor stopped me as I moved to the bathroom
"We have to go to the hospital."
I didn't want to go. I don't know why but the whole idea of going to a hospital and waiting to be seen was too much to handle. Solicitor insisted. He said that even thought Bradley hadn’t managed to go all the way I needed to be checked out.
Solicitor has Bradley's home address. The phone company has faxed over a log of phone calls that Bradley made to my number. The emails have been saved. Solicitor called the car park security and found that incident had been recorded. There's a witness. And after a long exhausting wait at the hospital I have a full medical report.
Should I decide to file a complaint Bradley hasn't got a leg to stand on.
Late last night Solicitor paid Bradley a visit. I don’t know the details but when he came home he held me close and said that he’s taken care of it.
Tuesday, 5 February 2008
Gay Boss came to my office to speak to me before I left to go home. I wasn't listening to anything he was saying. He finally got angry with me. He accused me of not listening to a word that he was saying. Apparently I'm a selfish individual who doesn't give a shit about anyone but myself.
I fought angry tears as I hurried to my car. The car park was eerily empty. It was dark and cold. The lighting was extremely dim. Why had I never noticed that before?
I sudden movement in the shadows made me jump and drop my keys. I clumsily picked them up and got into the car. My heart was beating so fast. I was afraid. I don't know why. So I got a few phone calls from an ex boyfriend. It doesn't mean he's chasing me for Gods sake!
I don't quite remember driving home but before I knew it I was standing in the living room with every light in the house switched on. I decided to occupy myself and make a start on dinner. Solicitor normally gets home an hour or so after I do. It might break the tension between us if I cooked him a nice meal.
I slowly calmed down as I peeled potatoes. I laughed at myself for getting so stressed out. I was just checking the chicken in the oven when the landline rang. I jumped and burnt my hand on the baking tray. I couldn't help but cry as I held my hand beneath a cold tap. I felt exhausted and frustrated.
I was vaguely aware of the phone ringing in the background while I sobbed by the sink.
I'm not sure how long I stood there crying. My hand was numb from the freezing water but I didn't move. That’s how Solicitor found me. He walked into the kitchen and saw the open oven door, the half peeled potatoes and me bawling my eyes out.
He wordlessly walked out of the kitchen. He came back a minute later and led me into the living room. He held my freezing hand and carefully inspected it. I couldn't stop the tears from falling. He was so sweet and gentle.
He'd run me a bath. Nobody has ever run me a bath before.
He cleared up the kitchen while I got in. He'd poured too much bubble bath but it felt perfect. Maybe not perfect. I was slipping around and I couldn't get comfortable. I gave up after five minutes of trying to relax yet keep my head above the water. It did the trick though. I wasn't as frustrated as I had been. I felt safer.
I curled up on the sofa in the big ugly robe that my sister had bought me for Christmas. It felt amazingly warm and comfortable. Solicitor held me and kissed my hair. I love the way he does that.
"I tried to call you but your phone was switched off."
"I turned it off."
Solicitor was silent for a while.
"How many times has he called?"
"I don't know. Too many."
"You have two options. You could go to the police. They'll make you fill out a form. They'll question you for hours and eventually tell you that he hasn't done anything wrong so they can't do anything..."
"Or you can let me deal with it."
I haven't switched my phone on yet. I haven't answered my office phone either. Gay Boss is pissed off with me.
Monday, 4 February 2008
I was wrong.
Bimbo and I met up on Saturday for a shopping spree. We spent over an hour in Mother Care looking at baby clothes. Bimbo looks amazing. When people say pregnant women glow, they're not kidding. Her eyes have a peaceful sparkle. Her bump is starting show and she can't stop touching it.
As we were leaving the store I heard a familiar voice behind me.
Bradley was standing three feet away from us. He leaned over and kissed Bimbo on the cheek.
"Wow, you look amazing. Congratulations!"
Bimbo, being a naturally friendly person, giggled appreciatively and began asking him questions about his life. I stood by and tried to look as disinterested as possible. Inside I was fuming! My imagination started running wild.
Maybe he was purposely waiting around to see me. Oh my God! I'm being stalked! What does he want? Maybe he's wants the Cold Play CD back. He'd forgotten it at my place. Well he can have it back. I don't like Cold Play anyway.
"Elise-Babe?" He touched my shoulder. I flinched.
"Can I take you fine ladies out for lunch?"
Before I could say anything Bimbo stepped in.
"Yeah! That would be great. I'm so hungry. Want to go to Prezzo?"
For fuck's sake! You'd think that she'd realise that having lunch with my ex boyfriend is the last thing I wanted.
"No!" I practically shouted. People walking past gave me a strange look. Bimbo looked hurt.
"You don't like Prezzo?"
"No, I don't want to go to lunch with him!" Bradley sighed and slowly shook his head.
"Elise-Babe I thought we'd left things in the past. I've apologised what more do you want?" He turned and looked disappointedly at Bimbo. "I'm just trying to be friendly."
What an asshole! My hands began shaking. I wanted to hit him. Bimbo, finally understanding my anger, linked her arm through mine and began leading my away. She smiled goodbye at Bradley. I didn't bother looking at him.
I should have told Solicitor when I got back home. But I didn't. I didn't want to spoil our weekend with talk about my ex boyfriend. We ordered pizza and planned to chill out in front of the television all night. We were comfortably watching Pulp Fiction on dvd when my phone started ringing.
I diverted the call and continued watching the film. Five minutes later it rang again. Solicitor paused the dvd and looked at my ringing phone.
"Aren't you going to answer it?"
I answered the phone.
"Elise-Babe! Miss you already."
I hung up. Where the fuck did he get my number? It started ringing again. This time Solicitor answered it. I could hear Bradley talking.
"Hey, you must be Elise's friend. Can you tell her that it’s a shame she couldn't stay for lunch today. I'll meet her for dinner tomorrow though."
Solicitor was angry.
"She won't be there. Don't ever think about calling her again." He hung up.
I knew what was coming. I knew I should have told him.
"You saw him today?" He slammed the phone down on the table. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"
Solicitor went on a rant. He paced up and down the room swearing and shouting. Angry at me for not keeping him in the loop. Angry at Bradley for having the nerve to call me. Angry that Bradley had managed to get my phone number.
He’s still pissed off with me. I think he's slightly suspicious too. I don’t blame him. I should have told him.
Friday, 1 February 2008
You never emailed back. I'll see you at 8. You got my number call me if you're going to be late. Brad 11:00am
I'll meet you outside by the HSBC. Brad 6:12pm
I can't believe you didn't show up. Don't I mean anything to you? The least you could do was call! 9:02pm
Elise where are you? Call me 9:34pm
Look I really need to talk to you. What happened to us? You just stopped answering my calls one day. How do you think that made me feel. I need an explanation. You owe me that. 10:08pm
Needless to say I was a little freaked out. Not wanting a repeat of the fiasco the night before I showed Solicitor the emails. He was angry. Not with me, with Bradley.
"Do you have his number?"
"Its on a previous email."
Solicitor clicked on the first email Bradley sent me the night before and started dialling the number. I grabbed his arm in alarm.
"What are you doing?"
"Telling this piece of shit to go fuck himself."
I wrestled with Solicitor for the phone. He couldn't call Bradley! How embarrassing would that be? I started babbling in attempt to calm him down and stop him from making the call.
"Don't call him! I'll do it. Okay, I'll do it!"
I grabbed the phone out of Solicitor's hand and before I knew what I was doing I pressed the dial button. Bradley answered the phone on the second ring. I didn't know what to say so I stayed silent. Solicitor made a grab for the phone so I clumsily said hello.
I told Bradley that I was in a relationship and that I didn't want anything to do with him. I said it in the nicest possible way. Unfortunately Bradley has a talent for making a serious situation sound amusing.
"Elise-Babe. You sound angry! Forgotten how to take a joke?"
It pissed me off. He tried to brush everything off as a joke. I told him firmly not to contact me again and I hung up. Solicitor waited for me to say something.
"It's all sorted." I said brightly "He won't contact me again."
This morning I received another email:
Elise we had fun together didn't we? I screwed up and I'm sorry. We need to sort this out. You know you want to. Bradley
I guess it's not sorted...