IceBerg - 25. Chapter 25

Alex wasn’t happy when he found out Charlie was back. He just frowned and said no more about it but the silence was so uncomfortable.

Last few days he had been very touchy with me, always holding my hand, pulling me to him, even in bed he wanted my hand. He wanted to be intimate with me. I was just numb. I told him I was tired and I turned over. He made little remarks, saying he felt bad, he just wanted me and I turned back over, letting him do whatever he wanted. Like a good partner.

He snored after now; they used to be sweet sounds but now it was a blowhorn deep into my ear drum. I had the lights out most of the time too, when we were in bed, I didn’t want Alex to see the marks or how I looked, he would have just made comments. I didn’t know what to say to those comments because they were true.

I was twenty-six years old and I looked ridiculous.

When I was at work, I busied myself with editing scripts, and during filming, I let Charlie watch while I went back to my other job to type up his comedy script. The irony was that my humour in the script writing was more creative than usual.

At lunch, I would hang out with Claire. I would sit there and hear how she felt awkward around Charlie but didn’t want to upset me as I was his friend but she was so glad to just let it all out, you know?

I had to let her talk. It was the least I owed her.

Later on, at the weekend, I managed to finish early and went to see Sharon and Oli and David. We watched Desperate Housewives, Oli and Sharon making witty commentary amongst themselves. They poked fun at David’s bar stories with drunk cliental, eye rolled Sharon’s stories of how rude people were to her, got excited over Oli’s stories of his new job.

***

It was now the end of filming; it had been out and it was showing some success.

It was Saturday and I was on my own in my new apartment.

I moved in a while ago, Alex found it, it was way bigger than my old apartment, and thanks to Alex it was smooth and easy to move in, already furnished, a large place, two bedrooms. With a decent view of the city outside. He definitely did some research into it. Plus, the spare room was a space room for writing.

Alex had joked that it was my writing room, he even set up the posters of inspiration for me, and even found an old typewriter I’ve wanted for a long time. He was good at designing. I was afraid to touch half the room. I just mostly stay in my new bedroom and didn’t break any of the things he had bought. The fresh wall paint of cream walls still lingered in the air, always reminding me that I only moved here few weeks ago.

He was so excited about me moving in, a new place and he had a key too, so it was almost like we were nearly living together, like a normal couple.

In my writing room, he put quotes all around the room, inspiring words from playwrights, poets, publishers.

Smelt nice in there too, like a soft of fresh berries. No paint smells.

On this Saturday, I had decided to sit in my writer room, for the first time, after work, and I opened my laptop up. It was the early hours of Saturday morning, Alex was in training all day, Oli was asleep and at David’s, Sharon was asleep but had a day of shopping planned, Claire was visiting her family and Charlie. Charlie was.

Charlie and I didn’t hang out as much anymore.

Email came through. Grant had sent me something. It was a group email message. About this UK comic con thing next week. Crap. How did I forget about that? Another one. The last one, it seemed pointless me going to it.

Scrunching my face up into my palm, I pushed my chair away from the screen. It was to do with promoting the show, to jump on the little growing popularity it had.

I had to tell Alex. He’d say that last time I went Charlie and I ended up. Ended up. Ah. But then he would say he didn’t feel comfortable with me going. Then I would be guilt tripped into not going.

I turned back to the laptop screen. The cheerful messages from Grant on how exciting it would be and how everyone had worked hard for this.

Frowning, I realised I needed to go. This was my show. I needed to be there to promote it. I reached over to my phone and sent Alex a quick text.

‘Sorry just got an email about going to this convention thing next week, to promote the show, just a panel that’s all. Saying it is mandatory all staff go to this. I can sleep in the hotel room and leave the next morning if you want? I will just go to one convention.’

I send it even thinking that I should just go for the whole week of touring. It was a week in the email. He was away training for a week anyway, a different city this time.

But one day would be enough.

I looked over to my bedroom it was too far. I sat on the floor and curled into a ball.

This will be fine.

***

‘Mr. Greystone, can we have a picture please?’ an eager young girl rushed forward with her phone, wide eyed and large grin.

I smiled. She and her friend squealed as I put an arm around each other them smiling my tired face into the camera as they snapped a selfie picture.

‘Thank you so much!’

I said nothing, waving, giving them a toothy grin. They walked away giggling; their heads were close together. I shoved my hands into pockets.

‘You’re so stupid,’ sneered Jake. ‘They’re laughing at you, at you, at you.’

‘Not real, not real, not real,’ another voice whispered low.

‘Wake up!’ shouted a voice.

It had taken a while to get here. The coach journey was fun, all the staff, actors and directors laughing along to the camera Charlie got out. I was smiling too, but I had headphones on, feet up on my seat, staring out of the window. I had been wearing this jumper and trousers since six am, I was worried I was starting to smell. I did feel a slight grub.

I would usually be so self-conscious, rushing to the hotel room to have a quick shower. But instead, I walked around the stalls, giving a quick search on each table of the merchandise available.

I saw two Desperate Housewives posters. I smiled and ask for them both. Sharon and Oli would love these.

‘Hey,’ a hand clasped my back. It was Charlie and Grant was next to him. I turned to them, raising an eyebrow.

‘Hey, I thought you were with Piper?’

Grant grinned, ‘She is here.’

‘Really?’ I looked around.

‘She’ll be out on the panel. She really wanted to come,’ he shook his head.

‘You can’t say no to Piper,’ laughed Charlie, nudging Grant.

Grant replied, ‘You know her so well. I want to take her home tomorrow. She has a hospital appointment tomorrow afternoon. I heard you’re wanting to go back too, Greystone?’

I blinked, and Charlie looked at me, giving me a weird look.

Nodding, I said, ‘Yes, I am wanting to go. Off, um, too.’

‘You’re not doing the whole week,’ muttered Charlie. It was more of a statement then a question.

Alex would be happier about this. He wouldn’t stress out and that relived me.

‘I have things on this week,’ I said.

‘Well, I am driving back tomorrow, we have plenty of room in the back seat,’ Grant patted my arm.

‘Aw thank you,’ I said. ‘Appreciate it.’

‘Good,’ Grant stood back and looked at his watch. ‘Right, well, your panel questioning starts soon. Well, it’s the actors, isn’t it really, but you guys get to sit at the sides. You ready?’

‘Of course,’ Charlie and I both said.

                                                                   ***

‘You, okay? Going up?’ Charlie’s drunk hand grabbed at my arm. His eyes were a bit hazy.

‘Yeah,’ I gave him a weak smile, with a slow shrug I got his hand to fall off me. ‘It’s late, I’m just tired out.’

He paused before leaning back on the wall, rubbing his face, ‘Yeah, you do look tired. Was everything too much for you? There were some weird questions they were asking.’

I gave little chuckle, ‘It mostly the actors the crowd wanted to talk to, and you.’

‘I was trying to get them to get you questions,’ he mumbled, leaning off the wall.

Laughing, I nudged his shoulder and peered round behind him. The whole cast were drinking merry at this private bar party, in smart suits and swirling dresses, white smiles and glamour.

‘Get back to the party, party boy,’ I smiled. ‘I’m going to sleep. Besides, I am not the first to leave, other casts members left earlier.’

‘But I haven’t seen you,’ his voice was quiet, still burbling.

I knew what he means but him being drunk was a good advantage to me.

‘Yes, you have,’ I teased. I faked a large ridiculous yawn and took a step backwards, ‘I am off to sleep, okay?’

‘Wake me tomorrow, before you leave!’ his voice was urgent, his eyes still hazy.

I nodded, ‘I will do. Have a good night.’

He nodded back and stumbled backwards into the party. He was met by roars of cheers and laughter. It looked so shiny. I looked down on my dark clothing, my baggy jumper. Charlie made jokes and teased himself about being drunk, the actors picked him up and cheered.

I could hear him laughing. Jake. Him and others just laughing, long lines of laughs, constant laughing.

‘You’re just about so you won’t sue Charlie for using your work,’ sneered a higher voice.
‘Mad, mad, bad, bad,’ I could just hear a low whisper. ‘Not real success. He made the work better. Improved it.’

‘Look at those actors,’ said Jake. I watched as they joked about Charlie. ‘They don’t speak to you that way. You’re not interesting like. Him. Not interesting. Not.’

I got out into the corridor. I turned around and walked up to my room, the heavy sound of my boots tapping in a rhythm along the floor. Kept my head down, I made quick pace. Could still hear the clings of glasses and roars of laughter. I thrusted my hands deeper into my pockets, I got to my room and slid the key card in.

After flicking the light on, I sat on the edge of the bed. It smelt like sweat in here and I could still hear them laughing. They were having so much fun. This should have been my glory. I should have been laughing with them. I created this whole thing. My hands felt itchy, edgy, I scratched hard at my hair.

Getting up from my bed, I went to the bathroom. I saw the full-length mirror. Could still hear the laughing.

I saw a skinny man in the mirror with dark clothing looking back at me, gaunt face, slim jaws. He was frowning at me and his eyes were so dark.

Lifting up my jumper over my head, I looked at the reflection of my chest. It was almost caved in; the ribs were a large eyesore.

When did it get this bad? I didn’t understand. Alex was right. This was embarrassing. My skin was pale and my shoulders were red from scattered spots.

How could Alex touch me? How could Charlie ever have wanted me? I always knew I wasn’t hideous. But now I was. The moles on my skin stood out like dirt marks, I looked more like a boy than a man. I glanced over my shoulder and I could see my spine. Each bone of my spine stood out as if being pulled out of my flesh.

I sank to my knees, closing my eyes, not wanting to see anymore. I wiped at my face, with my clumsy hands, and pulled the jumper back over me. I could smell the sweat on it. My own awful perfume. My mattered hair was dull, scattered.

It was a mess. It was a mess. A mess.

Scowling, I snatched up the black electric razor near the side. I pressed it on and the low buzz began, the familiar sound to my ears. I took a breath and raised the razor up. I was really going to do this. Get rid of the mess.

I saw Jake’s reflection standing next to me, tall, blonde hair, cigarette perched on crooked lip, his hands resting on his hips, his broad shoulders fitting well with his tight shirt revealing muscles. It was the first time I'd physically seen him in the mirror.

He gave me his dirty grin and said, ‘This is what you wanted right. You got your success and now all you can think about is yourself. You’re just seeing your ugly ass self as you truly are!’

The reflection distorted a little as his voice began to raise, ‘You made Alex do what he did! You made Charlie runaway. They have to edit your work to make half a decent show! Your dad doesn’t talk to you, Oli doesn’t need you. He has David! He has Sharon! Sharon just puts up with you! Claire just uses you. Ugh those scars on your wrist, so cliché, doesn’t make you feel better, does it? Nothing will, nothing!’

I closed my eyes and after I was done, I turned off the razor and opened my eyes. Jake was gone. There was hair everywhere. Looking back at me was deranged looking man, my bald head looked almost square then round. Eyes so dark, the white was almost gone.

Taking stands of hair from around me, I rubbed it between my finger. I was walking around smelling bad, how could anyone be near me?

I couldn’t be here, waiting for tomorrow. Saying an awkward goodbye to Charlie, who would have somebody from the party in his bed, sitting in a car making light conversation with Piper and Grant, trying to remember not to feel sorry for myself when they are a couple who had to deal with serious problems. Then saying thanks for the drive and sitting in my apartment on my own. Then trying to sleep, closing my eyes, hoping I didn’t have any nightmares this time.

No.

Going back into my room, I grabbed the backpack that was thrown on a chair. I zipped it open, rummaging out a hoody. I pulled it over me, putting the hood up around my head.

I needed to leave. I needed to run.

Wait, no what was I doing?

I went to run my hand through my hair. It was just air and fresh shaved skin. No.

This was permanent. It was all permanent now.

I shut the door with care. I couldn’t hear any noise; they might have still been partying though. No one could blame them. I could hear beeping but I had left my phone in the room, so I was hoping the beeping would stop soon.

I let out a long breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Pulling the hood more over my face, I put my hands into my pockets and kept my head down and walked through the corridor. The way forward was empty, no one was about.

The hotel front doors were wide open, the guy at reception was way into his T.V show on his tablet.

I walked through the door. Open air hit my face as I walked. My heart thumped.

I felt fear. This was better than just numbness. I should have gone back but legs kept on going forward.

                                                           ***

It had been twenty minutes and I had just walked straight. Without aim, just walking, I finally starting looking up. The cars rushed by me, the car lights hitting me and the street lights shining above. People walked by in clusters, all young, slim, dressed well, half drunk, shouting and laughing. Everyone was in a good mood tonight.

There had been a lot of good buildings, white marbles, smooth, as if they were just made this year, not even a scratch. The further I walked, the less the building appeared and now I had arrived at a dark tunnel in the middle of nowhere. The roads were turning into windy forest paths, the people had all but disappeared, an occasional dog walker passed me. The lights had all faded out.

I had no idea how far I had walked or where I was. I wanted to stop. Pondered about turning back. I ran my hand under my hood to my bare head.

The usual me would have turned back. Walking through a dark tunnel in the middle of the night. It was suicide. I could have fell over, smashed my head up, I could have been mugged, beaten up, attacked, murdered, raped.

Then what. What was left to fear? To be murdered? Tortured?

I headed towards the dark tunnel, my hood still up and I walked through it. The echo of my feet splashed in the water; it was a hollow echo.

I didn’t want to die.

If anyone came down here, they’d be more scared of me. I was the hooded man with a deranged look and bones sticking out of his body.

When I got to the to the end of tunnel, I felt a little disappointed that nothing happened.

‘You wishing something would happen to you, don’t you?’ sneered Jake. ‘You don’t want to die but you want to come close to it.’

There was a muddy grass hill to walk up. I clambered up and the darkness was making shapes now, I could just see the outlines of bushes and trees. I must have got into a field or forest. I stumbled a bit, before I got my footing on some firm path.

There was a scattered group of large trees around me, the ground was messy with wet leaves.

I looked up a little, and saw the shadows of one particular tree. There was a little hallow hole inside, just enough for me to crawl in and sit. There were probably animals or something in there. I went forward anyway. The closer I got the lighter the tree was getting. This was odd. There was no light anywhere.

Reaching out, I touched the bark, it was not as rough as I thought it would be, almost sanded down, smooth a little. I felt each knot and bump, a gentle pattern against my fingertip. I closed my eyes.

Moon was out, bright and bold, right under this tree. I smiled.

I bent down and crawled into the tree, ready for any animals in there. But there were none, it was just a hole, big enough for me to climb inside. I wrapped my arms around my knees and huddle inside the tree. Looking back out, all I saw was an endless of trees and darkness. Birds gave quick flutters across the sky. Flickers. Flutters.

I closed my eyes and I saw the candle lights at the church flicking out in front of me, breathing in life.

I sniffed, and clasped my hands tight together.

Please, God. Please. I didn’t know what to do anymore. You were there, right?

‘He is always there, silly,’ mum nudged me.

‘But mum, Samantha at school says that there is no proof,’ I frowned, my nine-year-old self pulling a face.

‘Everyone has their own opinion,’ mum smiled at me. ‘Why don’t you explore how you feel and believe what you want to.’

‘What do you think though, mum?’

‘I believe he is there, even in the worst time; you can never give up, he is a power that lives in all of us.’

A loud owl hooted. My nose was cold.

Please keep me safe, I thought. Please just keep me safe for tonight. I knew I was not good right now. It was my own fault that I was out here when I could have slept in a comfy hotel bed. I just needed to do this. I didn’t know why.

‘Forty days and forty nights?’ I screwed up my ten-year-old face.

‘That’s right,’ smiled Mum. ‘He was in the desert of forty nights and forty days.’

‘How did he do that?’

‘It was love.’

‘Love? But he should have died!’

‘Too right, he should have died,’ Sam was next to me. My main character from my show.

I was dreaming. I know I was. Hallucinating, dreaming, one of the two.

This was the Sam I had pictured in my head when I was writing, not the actor, the real Sam, a regular guy with floppy hair and a friendly big smile.

‘Stop overthinking!’ Sam laughed at me. ‘You’re just like Lady.’

‘I can’t believe the writers wanted a love scene between you two,’ I smiled at him.

‘I know, ugh,’ he shuddered. ‘It wouldn’t have worked. You know me! So, ha, who have you got with me?’

‘I don’t know, I never finished up your story,’ I looked on the ground.

‘You should do that,’ Sam gave me a bright smile. ‘I personally want to get with Rachel, myself, nothing serious, but you know, some fun.’

‘The maid? She was only written up to bring some life into the scenes, she has not much to say!’

‘She doesn’t need to say much if you know what I mean,’ Sam nudged me, laughing.

‘You are the worst,’ I laughed.

‘Well, you wrote me,’ Sam teased.

We laughed more.

‘Sleep here, tonight,’ Sam said, softly. ‘We’ll look for somewhere else for you tomorrow to be.’