A short story

“HUMAN KIND CANNOT BEAR VERY MUCH REALITY” (T.S. ELIOT)

By Carolyn Wyllie  

The thumping music, the warm air and the intoxicating aroma of alcohol all amalgamated having a euphoric effect on her. It was as though she was tranquillised, gladly apart from the real world. She mentally and physically shook herself. What had to be done must be done. There was to be no bottling out, no last-minute failure of nerves. Fear itself had to be conquered, for her sanity and well-being were at stake. She weakly knocked on the door and stood back, her heart beating painfully in her chest and her breathing interrupted. Nobody answered. The tracks shifted and the new song was more blaring than ever. She knocked again, slightly harder. Still no
answer. What should she do? The obvious choice was to walk away. Not to bother anybody else with her insignificant problems, deal with them quietly and alone.  The other option? Barge into the flat, all guns blazing, saunter up to him and force him, with all the drug-addled wasters as witness, to face up to his responsibilities. People did it all the time in films. But in films you have the chance to re-do the situation should anything go wrong. This was not a film, this was real life, where mistakes cannot be undone, where you cannot go back in time. You had to stick by your decisions, your mistakes, your failures and face the consequences. She knocked on the door again, harder still, with a wary confidence. At last the door was opened by a woman. Her eyes glazed over, her hair a mess and her make - up streaming down her face. She shrieked:‘Hiya doll!! Come in and join the party!!’

* * * *

Oh my God, what a night. My flat is crawling with beautiful women and the alcohol is flowing freely. I am in heaven. That skinny blonde standing by the TV looks lonely. Perhaps I should go over to her and give her some company? She looks well up for it. Maybe we could get somebody else to join in. To hell with three’s a crowd, there are plenty of drunk girls here, I can literally take my pick. The skinny blonde catches my eye again and pouts.  Here we go.

 ‘Steve, Steve, man, can I just say this is one great party!’ my drunken best mate Rob slurs as he corners me and starts to talk his usual rubbish whilst leaning heavily on a attractive female. I watch helplessly as some other guy saunters up to my blonde and takes her for a drink.

‘What do you think you’re doing! I was so close to pulling and having a early night!’

‘Christ sorry man! Didn’t realise! So you’re finally split up with that Caitlin weirdo then?'

'‘No way man. Me and Chloe are still together. But sometimes you know I just need a break from the old routine, it’s like, a male human right, besides what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, so long as we get it together three times a week, she will never know.’

‘Man you have got it sorted’ said Rob with a laugh and a punch to my arm.

'I really don’t know how you do it Steve....Steve?’

I wasn’t listening to or looking at Rob, somebody else had caught my eye. A man, the man in fact who had stolen my blonde. He was now standing there taking long swigs out of a bottle of vodka. My bottle of vodka. He had raided my store and helped himself, the little thief!! I pushed Rob out of the way and moved towards the guy. I knocked the bottle away from him and pushed him against the wall.

‘What do you think you’re doing, where did you get that!?’

‘Woah man, chill!’ he held his hands up in mock innocence. ‘Jesus, look I was going to check with you but it was just kind of sitting there, Christ man stop being so cheap, is this a party or not?.’

 By now people were starting to watch, some girls sniggered. Were they laughing at me? Did they think I was cheap? The guy stood there with a smirk on his face as if to suggest he was in the right and I was being unreasonable. Me, unreasonable? He continued to smirk so I gave him something else to smile at. I hit him, hard, and the smile quickly vanished when he felt the blood flowing out of his broken nose. The music continued to blast out of the stereo. Somebody changed the tracks and the walls shook with reverberations as I went off in search of my blonde once more. In the distance I could make out the voice the voice of some drunken girl screeching at somebody who had just arrived. ‘Hiya doll!! Come in and join the party!!’

* * * *

The flat was reeking of stale smoke and booze, just as usual. The woman who had admitted her was now hugging her as if they were old acquaintances. She tried to shake her off, mumbling something about needing a drink and the woman released her. The music was painfully loud and intense as she walked past the overspilling ashtrays, the numerous half empty beer bottles and the piles of discarded clothing. She knew her way well enough around this dingy flat and even in the semi darkness she managed to find her way to the kitchen with relative ease. At least in the kitchen they needed light, perhaps she may be able to find somebody who could direct her to the person she was looking for. She did not need to look any further for there he was. He and his companion were the only two people in the room and they were certainly taking advantage of their solitude. It took her a few seconds to register what was happening and even longer for him to register her presence in the room. He pushed away the anorexic blonde barbie who had welded herself to him and stood there dumb for a few minutes. As much as she tried to prevent it, she could feel a solitary tear slide down her cheek. It was not as if she had not expected this, she knew what kind of person he was, but she had done nothing wrong, she had always been agreeable, why was he doing this to her? Serious questions must be asked and serious words
must be exchanged. No backing out this time.

* * * *

I have tailed my blonde into the kitchen and man she looks even better in the light. I saunter up to her and after a witty chat-up line she tells me her name. Yeah as if I care what she is called. In a matter of minutes we are left alone, my mates know fine well when their host needs some alone time so as to give some specific attention to one of his guests. We were just getting down to business when, suddenly, we are rudely interrupted. The kitchen door opens and for a few seconds I cannot believe who I see standing in the doorway. Christ Chloe!! What the hell is she doing here, she wasn’t invited! I push my blonde away from me. She has no business with my life. Chloe appears to be crying, what the hell is she doing that for. Nobody asked her to walk in on me, maybe if she was a little bit more out there, I would not have to seek alternative pleasures. She doesn’t look as though she is going to go away so I suppose I will have to talk to her. Why can’t she just leave me alone?

* * * *

Her voice froze, the shock of her seeing him in such a predicament had more of an impact than she initially thought. He stood there looking at her, his blank look gradually turning to irritation. The girl on commission for peroxide quickly lost interest and tottered out of the room, leaving them alone. Her voice unstuck, and she had now, at least the courage to speak, yet the words came out in a barely audible, squeaky whisper.

‘Steve we need to talk’, as she said these words an invisible weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

‘Sure, fire away,’ was his arrogant reply. ‘I don’t want to talk in here, please, can we go outside?’

‘Why have you got something terminal? No anything that you need to say, you can say it in here.’

‘Steve I’m pregnant’

* * * *

She stands there kind of dumb for a few minutes, so long in fact, I wonder if the shock has killed her. The atmosphere is awkward to say the least and then it just turns annoying. My blonde gets fed up and glides gracefully out of the room, I half contemplate going after her when, suddenly, Chloe squeaks something about needing ‘to talk’. Oh dear this sounds serious. She asks if we can go outside. Yeah right. I am not leaving my guests to satisfy her needs. Anything she cannot live without saying, she can say it in here, I tell her straight. I do not expect her reaction to be quite so immediate, I expect her to look at me with tearful eyes, pleading with me to go outside, collapse and cry uncontrollably begging me to reconsider. However what she says comes as quite a shock, totally unexpected and unwanted. Even though her voice shakes the words come out strong. ‘Steve I’m pregnant’

* * * *

He did not seem to fathom the words at first, his eyes glazed over, with a look reminiscent of shell shock victims. Could this be it? Could he finally be facing up to reality, now that it has hit him so hard? Miracles rarely happen and one was not due to take place any time soon. Now it was his turn for his voice to falter.

‘Wh - what?’

‘Pregnant, Steve, I’m pregnant.’

He looked as though someone had punched him hard in the stomach, but being him he managed to regain his composure. The glaze disappeared from his eyes and was quickly replaced by fury. In a sudden movement he strode towards the door and slammed it shut.

‘You better not be taking me for a ride,’ he growled.

‘No, Steve, I am being deadly serious, I took a test and everything, there is no mistake.’

* * *

The information takes a few seconds to sink in. Her? Pregnant? That cannot be right. She better not be playing around with me, because if she is pretending just to get money out of me she can go to hell. She needs to know her place, no - one jokes with me and gets away with it. I slam the kitchen door and threaten her but she still maintains that she is telling the truth. Perhaps she is? Man I have got to get out of this one...

* * * *

She toyed with the idea of running away now she had said what she wanted to say. He had not taken it well. There was not much more she could gain from the situation. However as much as she wanted to leave, there was a small part of her that was not satisfied. In spite of her pathetic reluctance to speak to him at first, she had now a new-found confidence, a bold look in the face of what was formerly fear. He was standing menacingly over her, so she drew herself up and stared at him without blinking. He seemed to be put off by the sudden bout of odd behaviour and his arrogance suffered a blow. She spoke: ‘Steve, I am pregnant I am not making this up, you must believe me, it is your baby Steve.’ She hesitated. ‘Your mistake, your responsibility now.’

She touched a nerve. ‘How the hell do you know who the baby belongs to? You go with anything with a pulse, it could belong to anybody. You have no proof how dare you come in here, trying to make me pay for some other guys mistake. How dare you come in here spouting this. Get out!!’

* * * *

She seems not to be backing down, maybe she is telling the truth. We never used protection or anything like that, there is a good chance this could be my doing. Oh well, I can get out of this. I will tell Chloe she cannot make me face up to anything, besides single mothers are the norm nowadays and she has her junkie mother to look after her. I stand over her and she looks into my eyes. Yet instead of drawing them away in shame after a few seconds she holds my gaze and instead of shrinking away from me she draws herself up still holding me in a steely stare. What the hell is she playing at? Her steadiness is nowhere near intimidating, however it is unexpected
and awkward. Without warning, she suddenly speaks, telling me that the pregnancy was my fault and that I should basically face up to the consequences of my actions. Nobody talks to me like that. She has really done it this time. No way am I taking any responsibility for that anti - Christ of a child she is supposedly carrying. She can go to hell. I shout at her, accuse her of sleeping around, that there was no way that the baby could be mine. She goes back to looking pathetic and helpless again. Serves her right, nobody talks to me like that and gets away with it. She looks as though she is about to break down.

‘Get out!!’

* * * *

She shrank back into the wall as his tirade ended with the brutal ultimatum. She did not quite know what to say or do and the tears flowed freely. Why was he doing this to her? The physical strain became too much, her legs gave way and she collapsed to the floor, not caring about the indignity. Yet he was relentless. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I said get out Chloe, get out right now, I don’t want anything else to do with you. Get out, now!’

‘Please listen to me Steve why are you doing this?’ The tears flowed freely now and she shook uncontrollably.

‘Oh, you want me to help you out then? Okay. Come on then if you cannot do it yourself, I will assist you.’

He picked her up off the floor and pushed her forcefully through the flat. Nobody cared, people went on talking, listening to the music, oblivious to what was happening. He pushed her out of the front door and she fell to the floor with a dull echoing thump. With a short laugh, he slammed the door and left her totally alone. All that she could hear was the muffled music from inside the flat.

* * * *

She is playing up again, stupid idiot. Just when I think she is recovering, she faints. She isn’t unconscious but she does look ill though. Oh well not my problem any more. She has more than out stayed her welcome. I want nothing more to do with her. I assist her out, she doesn’t put up much of a struggle. I throw her out of the flat and out of my life. The next time I see her and her cross- breed baby will be in hell. She has nothing more to do with me. I suppose I better get back to my party.

* * * *

She sat there on the cold concrete floor. Shaking violently and crying as though she would never be able to stop. She had no-one left now. Nobody loved her or even cared about her and this stupid baby, even her own mother was ashamed of her. She lay down and closed her eyes, thinking about how good it would be to escape this damned real life, go to a better place, where nothing can hurt you and you will always be loved. Where she would be able to get rid of this baby once and for all. The thought of motherhood did not excite her, it never had, all she wanted was a child-free, reality-free existence. She got up again and looked down the stairs which just ten short minutes ago she had bounded up so purposefully. There were twelve steps down and
then a small landing. The music in the flat switched tracks again. A blaring din. She looked down the stairs again the beats of the music corresponding with the beats of her own thumping heart. As the music raced to fever pitch, she closed her eyes and leant forward. Within seconds she was in her favourite place gladly apart from reality.