The Belt Page 10

  “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.

  Chapter 9

  The first ten days were a breeze. John hadn’t had a single nightmare, they were talking a lot, and he was sharing the worst experiences he’d had while being with Margaret, so that she would keep on feeling sorry for him, and assuring him those days were over.

  The thing that disturbed John a bit was finding his leather belt twice around the place. One morning he spotted it on the bed, after he had woken up, the other time was in the bathroom. It was exactly the same belt over which he had a fight with Cindy. He had no idea what to think about it, but, in order not to be disturbed by it anymore, John bought himself a new belt, a black one, and every night before going to sleep, he made sure he put it back in the wardrobe.

  Cindy called him once to tell him she had found a new place to live and she was moving out, but the rent was already paid for the given month, so she demanded he give her half of the money back if he was still going to live there. He told her he would transfer the money to her bank account, but even though, the two-story apartment was free and he could come back to it, he didn’t really want to. Living with Molly was simply cheaper. First of all, it was her own place, so there was no rent to pay, just bills, and he hadn’t been living there long enough to make them his problems any time soon. Secondly, he didn’t have to buy food, he was even specifically told not to as Molly had her own shops and farms to purchase all natural, eco, bio-dynamic carrots and cabbages from. And at that point she was getting ready to spend another two weeks flying between continents, so John had the perspective of spending a fortnight on his on terms, going crazy with Paul, like a dog off a leash. What was not to like?

  What surprised him was Molly asking if he was planning to move out before her coming back. She asked him that one evening when they were lying on the sofa drinking organic red wine and watching the evening news while John was giving her a foot massage.

  “You want me gone?” he asked.

  “Well, not gone gone, but you know, not living here,” she replied.

  “I don’t understand,” John replied and gently put her leg on the floor.

  Molly sighed, put her glass on the coffee table and looked at him seriously. “You know it’s fun this thing we’re doing,” she said waving her hand and pointing at them both, “but, um, let’s just say I really like my life and my independence too much to let them go.”

  “What do you mean let’s say?” Molly’s declaration was something he had never taken into consideration. Yes, she did mention back then on the phone she didn’t feel like living together permanently, but he thought they were having a good time, and he was doing his best to yield to her lifestyle, and her rules considering order and tidiness. They had great sex, would often go out in the evening either to the theater, or a restaurant. What was more, John was absolutely sure Molly’s friends liked him. He was sure he was settled, so her announcing the whole independence need and, basically, asking him to look for a new place to stay, was absolutely unexpected.

  “I don’t know,” she replied and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just that I like living on my own, I like my well-ordered life.”

  “Well-ordered? You’re gone for basically half a month. Every month. How is this well-ordered?”

  “It is from my perspective.”

  “Yeah, from yours, maybe,” John replied and drank some wine.

  “Isn’t it the most important perspective from my point of view?” Molly asked and reached for her glass. John didn’t answer, he only emptied his portion of wine, swallowed the sip pretty loudly and sighed. He scratched his left cheek with his right thumb, put the glass away and looked at her.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Perfectly serious.”

  “I mean, I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand one thing, okay?”

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s wrong? I thought we were really good together.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, we are,” Molly said and put her palm on his shoulder, rubbing in an assuring gesture. “We’re really good,” she repeated softly.

  “If we are, then why do you want me out?”

  “Frankly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because I want my life back. I mean, John, we’re having some fun from time to time when you’re having a rough patch with Margaret; it’s nice, it’s sexy, but, honestly…”

  “The thing with Margaret is over.”

  “Yeah, I understand. It’s just that it’s too permanent for me, all right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I like my life. I feel good with the way it looks, and I don’t need to have any changes, okay?” Molly sighed and got up from the sofa. She turned around and was now looking at him with her arms crossed.

  “I thought you’d be happy once I left Margaret,” John said.

  “Oh, of course, happy for you, sure! The woman was making your life miserable, and it was painful to see you hurting. And I am happy, but because you’re free, not because my life is now different. Molly put her palm on her chest to underline that she was the real issue of this conversation, not John, not Margaret.

  “Look,” she continued and sat back on the sofa next to him, “it’s good the way it is. I don’t want any normal relationship with both of us losing what we like most, with both of us making compromises we don’t really feel like making. You coming here once in a while was a different story, but being together, like this,
like full-time? I’m sorry, John, I’m just not interested.”

  “So it’s kind of an Up In The Air situation,” he replied quietly.

  “Yeah, a bit,” Molly admitted and took his hand in her palms.

  What struck John was the fact he kind of felt sad. Leaving Margaret, then Cindy, was nothing like that. Then he was glad it was over. This situation was something he didn’t predict, something that surprised him. It felt strange, out of water. And Molly was so confident about all this—no drama, everything was well thought-through.

  “John, so, what’s it gonna be?”

  “Yeah, well,” he opened his eyes wide and sighed heavily, puffing out his cheeks, “um, you know, I mean – it’s all quite surprising, what can I say?”

  “I know it is, and I have been thinking a lot about it, really. I mean, I was afraid, you’d think I’m being heartless, cruel, or whatever, but the truth is, I did give you shelter for ten days, and I will give it to you for two more weeks, so I don’t think I’m that bad, am I?” Molly asked, but it was rather a rhetoric question, not requiring any answer. From her perspective she was okay, she allowed John to stay with her a bit, but clearly she was hoping he would stand on his feet and move on. Or, actually, move out.

  “It feels weird, I have to admit,” John said and cleared his voice.

  “I know, baby, I’m sorry,” she replied and it seemed she actually did feel bad about the whole thing; however, there wasn’t really anything to debate.

  “So, John, will you do your best to find yourself your own place to stay while I am gone for two weeks?” she asked. Her voice was firm, and there was no shadow of doubt that she meant it.

  “Yes. Yes, I will,” he replied and licked his upper lip, “What choice do I have?”

  “Fantastic, baby.” Molly smiled broadly and kissed his him.

  “But where does that leave us?”

  “Us?”

  “Yes. I mean, are we still together?”

  “Oh, sure, you can call and visit me from time to time, no problem,” Molly replied and smiled again. “We will have some fun, catch up a bit, you know, like we used to,” she added and got up from the sofa. “Well, I need to go for my evening Pilates session.” She stood up and kissed him. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

  When Molly went to the bedroom to pack her gym things, John leaned on the sofa, put his hands behind his head and entwined his fingers. About an hour ago, he was sure he had a perfect place to stay, a perfect woman on his side, the one who he was able to say lived up to his standards, but who, as it turned out, required even more freedom than he did. That was something new.

  “Oh, John,” Molly said and looked at him while standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “Yes?”

  “Please put it somewhere, it’s getting so annoying having this thing lying literally everywhere around the house,” she said and showed him the brown leather belt with a big buckle, which was reflecting the bedroom lamp light in such way it kind of looked as if it was glittering.

  “Oh my God,” John whispered. “But I am not using this one anymore, I bought myself a new one,” he said louder and swallowed. The feeling of anxiety came back immediately.

  “Well, that’s the one that has been lying around the place all the time. Well, I am putting it into the chest of drawers, make sure you remember where it is.”

  “Yeah, yes, I’ll remember,” John said and felt a few drops of sweat appear on his forehead.

  Chapter 10

  “I would like to call another witness,” said the prosecutor. Margaret was walking down the wooden stairs, the sound of her heels hitting one step after another, was becoming more and more quiet. John was sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the bars, looking ahead at the judges. He was breathing heavily while rubbing his ribs and liver area. His face was distorted by pain and fear.

  “Can I, um, can I get some more water? I’m really thirsty,” he said to the creature standing next to the cage and carrying the long wooden stick. It looked at John, took a few steps ahead to the prosecutor and said something to him. The prosecutor turned around, looked at John, then said something back to the creature, which came back to its initial spot, next to the cage.

  “Well? Where’s my water?” John asked, but the creature only looked at him briefly, didn’t say a word, and froze to the spot. John licked his lips with his almost completely dry tongue and put his elbows on his bent knees. He leaned his head against the bars and wondered what was happening. He had a feeling the air was at least a hundred degrees, and he was sweating, thirsty, and the pain pulsing bluntly under his skin in the abdomen area wasn’t letting him go. John sighed and dried his forehead with his palm.

  Someone was now walking up the stairs. The steps were steady, regular. Whoever was coming next, wasn’t hesitating.

  “Your honor, I would like to introduce another witness, Margaret Smith’s son, Mickey,” the prosecutor said, and John immediately got up. The pain he felt around his lower ribs tore through his body, but he almost didn’t notice it as he swiftly walked towards the front of his cage, and placed his hands on the bars, wrapping his fists around them The creature reacted by raising the pole a bit, but seeing John wasn’t causing any trouble this time, it remained in its place.

  Mickey came up, walked towards the prosecutor, without a trace of hesitation. He briefly looked at John, their eyes met for a split second, and John was struck by how cold and indifferent they were.

  “Hey, son,” he said quietly, and even though he was absolutely positive Mickey had heard him, the boy simply passed him and didn’t even bother to say anything back. He took his witness seat, guided by the prosecutor, and was now facing the three judges.

  “Mr. Smith, how long have you been John Smith’s step son?” the prosecutor asked.

  “Technically seventeen years; since I was three years old.”

  “Why ‘technically’”?

  “Because I suppose I still am, John hasn’t yet divorced my mother, so I guess I’m his step son. I’m not even sure I stop being one once they do divorce. I mean, I hope, but I don’t know.”

  “Why do you hope for John Smith to stop being your step father once he divorces your mother?” the judge sitting on the left side asked him. John realized he almost stopped breathing while waiting for an answer; he was so focused to hear it well.

  “Because I believe it would be better for both of us if he stopped. Because I have clearly been a burden for him, a ballast, and as for me, he has practically never been there for me anyway, so it wouldn’t be a great loss on my side,” Mickey said and smiled bitterly as he added, “it’d be a win-win situation for us both.”

  John closed his eyes and felt a tear falling down his cheek. He knew, without a trace of doubt, that his situation was becoming more and more dramatic with every second. Somewhere, in the back of his head, he knew it was only a dream, a nightmare that was haunting him. Perhaps his conscience was knocking on the door, but he was really scared. John no longer was confused; he was literally terrified. Not of the prosecutor, not of the judges, not even of the creature standing there on his right side, ready to poke him painfully for breathing too loudly. He was scared of what was going to happen to him after all of this was over. What the verdict would be. How would it be executed? John sat down on the floor again as he felt his knees shake. He felt a panic attack coming closer again; its unpleasant bitter taste was already up his throat and on his taste buds.

  “Can you elaborate on that?” the prosecutor asked.

  “John Smith,” Mickey sighed, “ruined my mother’s health, and has never been present in my life as a father figure. He missed practically all of my school plays, he hardly ever helped me with my homework, and he barely came to my basketball games. I used to be one of the top scorers in the high school league in the area. An MVP in the majority of games played every season. He came to see me play exactly three times, and once he’d left before the second quarter ended. I know, because I saw him leav
ing. I was sitting on the bench, and spotted him making his way out of the aisle. Then, I spotted my mom sitting alone, surrounded by the enthusiastic crowd of parents, cousins, uncles, and aunts cheering, and clapping and whistling. She was sitting alone, and her eyes were empty, and I remember it hurt me even more than the fact he had left. It was one of the most important games of the season. We won, because I hit a homer, and two of our guys were on bases. I scored three points, seconds before the game ended. I looked at my mom then, happy, so, so proud, but she only smiled a bit, sent me a kiss and I could see she wasn’t really there. Physically yes, but not mentally. So yeah, I blame John Smith not only for taking a large part of my mom’s life away from her, but at the same time for taking away an opportunity for a normal childhood from me. Something that can never be replaced,” Mickey said and sighed heavily. His voice was firm, he was talking slowly, loudly, wanted to make sure everyone heard exactly what he had to say.

  “I understand it’s all difficult, but is there anything else you’d like to tell us?” the woman judge asked delicately.

  “Not really. Maybe only this—I will always have a problem forgiving myself for trying so hard, for so long, to impress him, to make him proud, to get his attention. It’s all different when you’re a kid, such things matter. You want your dad’s approval, a handshake, a pat on the shoulder, whatever,” he sighed, “and in my case, he was basically never around. I tried to talk to him about my problems with my girlfriend; I remember I was sixteen then, and it was an important thing for me. He laughed it off, told me that such problems at my age were simply ridiculous and that there was nothing to talk about, it was just a teenage love affair that we would all be laughing about in a few months. I remember I was in such a bad condition then… she rejected me, first used me, then rejected me, then humiliated me. I was bullied for over a year and a half because of her. At - at some point I was seriously contemplating suicide…” A stifled groan bounced off the walls as the observers manifested their shock. The judge sitting on the right hit the wooden tray with the gavel demanding silence, Mickey sniffed delicately, but his voice, as he continued, was as loud and firm as at the beginning, “and, to be honest my mom helped me a lot. She had time for me. That was all I actually needed. Time and some attention. It was-it was a really difficult time.”