Эвелина Телякова Garbage
Part 1
– My place or yours?
– Let’s go to… yours, of course! My parents are both at home, and my father is a stern man.
– He must look amazing to have such a dizzyingly pretty daughter.
– It’s all his fault! My daddy was so handsome – a spitting image of a movie star.
– Was?
– Umm… Well, yeah. He was. Before… you know, getting old and grouchy.
I swirl my glass, watching the last traces of mediocre red wine coat the inside. I try to do it as elegantly as possible. “If I’m going to pull this off, I need to make the right impression. I have to!”
I wait for my new partner to finish laughing, then let one strap of my dress slide down slowly – as if by accident. All that’s left is to watch him gulp. I’ve almost won. The trap is set. Call it what you want. But I’m starving.
Finally, we leave the party. I coyly ask him to carry my things.
– Why are you lugging around this heavy bag?
– I was at the gym. Isn’t the main point of life to stay healthy?
“And get what you want!”
The place is crowded, so no one will notice we’re leaving. Or if they do – who cares? As I descend the stairs, the hem of my shimmering evening gown flirts with every step, like a whisper full of promises. My new lover catches my hand, but I pull away, smiling. The fish is already hooked.
The drive to his house feels like a dream. I need to stay calm, but I can’t lose control. While my gallant chauffeur tries to keep his eyes on the road, I play the part of impatient desire.
“You’re all mine”.
The moment we park, he eagerly leans in to kiss me. Luckily, I know how to keep things in check. It’s not time – not yet.
– You’re so hot, baby!
– It’s all your fault, honey. Only yours.
When we finally arrive at his place, I’m floored. I expected a fancy apartment, but this? It’s beyond my wildest imagination. A two-story penthouse. Bingo. My instincts never fail me.
“I won’t miss this chance!”
– I’ve dreamed about you!
– Take it easy. Not so fast. Let me feel at home first.
I play the innocent card, crossing my arms over my chest, lowering my eyes, and nervously touching my hair. He falls for it, of course, and I’m given a show worthy of Shakespeare – a man trying to play both Romeo and savior. I know how to look vulnerable and proud at the same time, the perfect mix no one can resist.
– Oh, you’re absolutely right. I’m losing my mind when you’re this close. You said this was your first spontaneous escape from your protective daddy?
– It is. But first… where can I take a shower? My voice is pure and blameless.
– Upstairs, second door on the left. Meanwhile, I’ll prepare some snacks for us.
– That would be amazing. You’re so sweet! A couple of glasses of wine always make me hungry.
– Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got more than enough to satisfy you. What do you like?
– Surprise me!
– Of course, sweetheart.
I barely restrain my victorious grin. No doubt about it – I’m the queen of fortune tonight.
After a forgettable rendezvous in bed (let’s call it the “second-rate part”), I slip out of the room as soon as my cowboy falls asleep. I run a hot bath, raid the fridge for all the snacks I can find, and spend half the night soaking in the tub.
It’s the best Christmas I’ve ever had. My stomach is full of delicious food, my body feels renewed, and the place is warm and safe.
That’s what truly makes me happy.
***
Have I ever had such a future? This is my home, my bathroom. I feel the warmth in my toes. Soon, I’ll get out of the hot water and go to sleep in my bed, next to my husband. My dreams will be so quiet, so fresh…
Wait – what’s this? Is it a nightmare? Who am I? I am not…
I fell asleep right here, in the bath! I’ve relaxed too much. Was I dreaming about a carefree, easygoing life? I could have died.
I’ve never had a family or a home. I’ve almost forgotten what trust feels like. People are brutes. They pretend to be human. All of them play convenient roles. They act kind, sweet, noble – only when someone’s watching, only while the eyes of the law are open.
And me? I’m not a good housewife, not a decent citizen, not an innocent lamb. I’m a cruel, wild beast, like a filthy rat. I have to stay on alert.
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
Water is spilling over the edge of the tub. The floor is flooded. I didn’t turn off the tap. I was lost in my stupid dreams. How pathetic!
What time is it? Morning is almost here. I’m definitely in for trouble.
How long was I asleep? I need to get out of here – fast!
My skin is red from the hot water. Crawling out of the bath is a struggle. My legs feel unusually heavy, my fingers refuse to cooperate. My head feels both enormous and fragile, like a bright Christmas bauble. Fortuna is playing with me like a big, ugly cat, and I’m about to shatter.
Where are my clothes? Not the evening dress – my real clothes. Of course, they’re still in my sports bag, locked in my lover’s car trunk.
I sneak through the bedroom leaving behind wet footprints, find the key next to my gaudy gold shoes, head downstairs to the garage, and pull on my usual castoffs.
I am homeless.
