The Belt Read online

  “Either you never took it from home, or it was stolen.”

  “No, it wasn’t stolen. I practically came here directly from home, I only stopped to buy myself some coffee, but even then I didn’t leave the car. It must be at home, that’s the only logical explanation.”

  “So, are you going home to check it?”

  John did not feel like going back to Cindy, especially since he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave the place and come back to Molly anytime soon, but he was worried that perhaps that idiot Rhonda might be calling again (she hadn’t for weeks, but who knew), and even though her phone number was camouflaged, if she kept on calling, Cindy might have finally picked up. No, he couldn’t take such risk.

  “Guess so.”

  “And you’ll be back?”

  “Of course,” he lied.

  “Okay, I’ll be going to my yoga class in the afternoon, so maybe you really should take the spare key?”

  “No, we’ll be in touch, just let me know when you come back home, okay?”

  “All right.”

  John went to the bathroom, took a shower, put his clothes on, kissed Molly goodbye and left her place. He was furious he forgot the phone. What the hell was he thinking? It was risky, it was irresponsible. He blamed his lack of attention and general distraction on the nightmare.

  As he parked his car in the underground parking lot, he decided to take a smoke. He took one cigarette from the package he kept in the glove box and just as he lit it, he felt, again, that he was going to throw up. John immediately got out of the car, dropped the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it a few times to put it out. He leaned on the car’s passenger door and took a few deep breaths to stop the nausea. He closed his eyes, and when he was feeling better, he opened them and spotted a no smoking sign on the wall, about three yards away from him. John shook his head and thought that if there was anything positive about the nightmares it was the fact that maybe he was going to finally quit smoking. Something all women around him had a problem with.

  About forty minutes later, John walked into his and Cindy’s place and heard her running down the stairs. She was all in tears, scared, and stressed out.

  “John, oh My God, honey, where have you been?!” She cried and hugged him. He reciprocated the gesture.

  “I’m sorry, Cindy, I really am.”

  “I couldn’t reach you, you left your phone in the bedroom. I had no idea where you’d been, I called Paul, but he had no clue, either.”

  Paul knew nothing about Molly. Molly was only John’s business.

  “I know, I’m so sorry,” he replied and kissed her eyes and the tip of her nose. “I couldn’t fall asleep after that nightmare, and wasn’t able to settle down. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I decided to take a ride. I was driving here and there, all around the city, finally stopped the car by the beach and I fell asleep. I woke up about an hour ago and came home directly. I wanted to call you, but I realized I left the phone at home.”

  “Oh my God, John, I was so worried, so afraid something bad had happened to you,” she cried.

  “It’s okay, I’m here, it’s all right,” he was talking to her softly, calming her down. In a way it was actually quite touching she was worrying so much about him. On the other hand, he hated the feeling of being controlled, of having the duty to explain himself to anyone. It was his life, damn it, why was it that he had to inform people where he was, what he was doing, what time he was going to come back?

  “Hey, let’s go somewhere, what’d you say?” he asked looking at her and smiling.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A date! Let’s go on a date, what do you think? Let’s wear something nice, go and eat some dinner in the city, and then who knows, a movie? Come on, it’s going to be so much fun, we haven’t done it in a while!” he said enthusiastically.

  “Yeah? You’d like that?” she asked a bit shyly and dried the wet spots under her eyes with her fingers.

  “Of course! I want to make it up to you for all those tears and stress I had caused; besides, what’s so strange about the fact I want to take my gorgeous girlfriend on a date?” John laughed.

  “Well, all right.” Cindy smiled. “Sure, it’s a great idea.”

  “Fantastic. Just let me know where you want to go, and I’ll make a reservation.”

  “Maybe something Italian?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Marcello’s?”

  “Marcello’s it is. I’m calling right now,” John replied, and took his phone and, as he was checking Marcello’s contact information in the browser, he also sent a text to Molly.

  WON’T COME, THE DRAMA CONTINUES. WILL TELL YOU LATER, XO.

  John booked a table at the restaurant and spotted a reply from Molly.

   LET ME KNOW WHEN I CAN SEE YOU AGAIN.

  WILL DO.

  Chapter 6

  The curtains moved and three figures dressed in black gowns, similar to what the man in the gray was wearing, appeared. They were all tall and slim and, as they were walking toward the armchairs, their robes were rhythmically moving, making it seem as if they had no feet, as if they were simply floating an inch above the ground. The three figures were wearing hoods on their heads, their faces were barely visible apart from their chins and lips. They walked up to the armchairs, stepped on a not-too-high dais, which made them look even taller, and sat down. As they did, they took off their hoods. The person sitting in the middle, on the biggest, armchair was a woman of wavy fiery red hair, pale, practically white skin, very red lips and focused cold gaze. The other two figures turned out to be men with thick, black as night hair, similarly pale faces and the same cold eyes. Their irises were as pale as the man’s who brought John in front of them.

  John was breathing heavily, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth trying to calm down. He observed everything with his eyes squinted, trying to see everything as detailed as possible. It seemed he was taking part in some kind of a trial and he was a prisoner inside a cage situated on the top of a two-story wooden construction, standing before three judges. In his pajamas and slippers. Jesus Christ, what a wicked dream. What a wicked, horribly realistic dream.

  “Step back,” the man standing on the left from the cage said. It wasn’t until then that John realized he had his forehead leaning against the bars and his palms were gripping them so tightly, his fingers and knuckles were white. He looked at the man and obediently did as he was told. His legs were shaking now and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to stand still.

  “Be seated,” the woman said and the whole arena was filled with a short, but noisy sound of the spectators sitting on their seats. John, thankful, sat on his chair, but the man in the gray robes looked at him and shook his head.

  “Not you.”

  John got up immediately.

  “Prosecutor, what are we dealing with today?” the woman asked, and the man standing next to John’s cage took a few steps ahead.

  Prosecutor. He’s my prosecutor, John thought and felt a gulp of panic forming in his throat. He swallowed loudly and not without an effort.

  “Your honor, this is John Smith, a man of low standards and a pretty bad moral reputation, who has devoted his life to making it pleasant and comfortable, as he had often declared himself. There wouldn’t be anything wrong with it if he hadn’t systematically left a festival of broken hearts, unfulfilled promises, dashed hopes and failed expectations. There wouldn’t be anything wrong with it, if he hadn’t been focused selfishly on his needs only, if he hadn’t lied to the people who trusted and loved him, if he had kept given word. John Smith is, without doubt, a cold and calculating man who has been solely focused on his own needs, he has hurt everyone around him; his family, his lovers, his boss, his friends. John Smith deserves to be punished and I shall prove it.

  “What! What are you talking about? What the hell is going on!” John started shaking the wooden bars. His heart was pounding, and his whole body was covered in
sweat.

  “Silence!” The woman said firmly and banged a small gavel onto a wooden tray, but John had no intention of being quiet. Who the hell were these people? What were they doing? A prosecutor? A trial? Jesus, what was happening?

  “No, I won’t be silent! This is some kind of a mistake! I’m an innocent person, and I have no idea what I’m doing here!”

  “If you are innocent, as you’re claiming, then why are you so nervous? Why the panic?” she replied, and one of the men sitting next to her nodded his head agreeing with the question.

  “Because I was brought here without my knowledge, without my consent! Because it’s some kind of madness, it’s insane what’s going on!” John exclaimed. Struggling with the cage and the emotions made him physically tired, so he was breathing heavily.

  “Do you deny any of the allegations the Prosecutor has just mentioned?” Asked the man who had been nodding his head.

  “Of course!”

  “I have witnesses that will confirm everything I’ve said,” the Prosecutor said calmly, deferring to the judges and came a bit closer to John. He looked at him with a distance in his eyes and hissed, “Have some dignity, don’t make a fool of yourself.”

  “It’s a mistake, it’s some kind of horrible, terrible mistake,” John replied to him. He did his best to sound calmer, to hide the trembling voice and to sound more firm, more confident. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “The defendant claims he’s innocent, Prosecutor,” the woman said.

  “Don’t they all, Your Honor?” the man in the gray robes replied looking at her.

  “I see no obstacles to commence the trial,” the other man said.

  “Fine, let’s begin,” the woman agreed and hit the wooden tray with the gavel.

  The sound made John wake up.

  Oh my God, he thought, trying to calm his shaking hands. He had to drink some water, immediately. His throat was so dry, it felt as if his tongue was at least two times bigger than normal and he was only seconds away from choking.

  John got up, walked to the bathroom, grabbed the mug that held his toothbrush and toothpaste, filled it with cold, tap water and gulped it down immediately, spilling some of it because his shaking hand wasn’t able to keep the glass steady. As soon as he had drunk the entire portion, he instantly felt he needed more, so he put the mug into the sink again and turned the water on. But he was too impatient, and his thirst was too strong, to wait for the mug to fill, so he just put it aside, bent over the faucet and started drinking directly from it.

  Sometime later, when he finally felt his thirst was quenched, John looked at himself in the mirror above the sink and for a few seconds he could barely recognize himself. He looked very tired, his hair was a mess, and his face was shining both from sweat and the drops of water glittering around his lips. John grabbed a towel and dried it, but he still looked bad. He sighed, and took a closer look at his hands. They weren’t shaking anymore. He heard Cindy moving in bed, and looked at her from the bathroom and felt angry, envious. She was able to sleep peacefully. He had just had another nightmare that violently woke him up, and she was just lying there, resting; sleeping like a goddamned baby. She didn’t even wake up when he went to the bathroom!

  John walked out of the bathroom, looked at her again, and felt the anger growing inside him, like a blister on a foot after a long day of walking. It was burning, it was pulsing, and it was about to burst. John felt he had to do something, manifest his frustration is some kind of a way. He looked at the bathroom door and slammed it so loudly that Cindy immediately woke up and screamed. Seeing her anxiety, made John feel slightly better.

  “Jesus, what happened?” she asked, looking at him. Some single locks were sticking to her face, and she had pillow line impressions on her cheek.

  “Just a draft, nothing to worry about,” John replied and got back to bed.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry; everything’s fine,” he said and kissed her forehead. She took a deep breath and lay down.

  “What time is it?” Cindy asked.

  “3:17.”

  “Okay, God, I need to sleep, I have this thing at work today,” she said, and turned her back to him and fell asleep within less than a minute. John was observing her, angry and hurt that she didn’t care to ask him what he was doing in the bathroom at three o’clock in the morning. He might have felt bad, he might have had stomach issues, he might have had sleeping problems. She didn’t care, though, she just put her head back on the pillow and she was off to sleep for the next three hours.

  Screw you, Cindy.

  John was wondering if it was safe to fall asleep again, but he was too tired to give it a second thought. Whatever was to happen, he didn’t care, he was too exhausted to consider staying up, especially since he knew what was ahead of him.

  Two weeks earlier, Paul gave John the keys to his new apartment. It was still being renovated and under construction, but the most necessary things like the bathroom, and kitchen were already alive and kicking. From Monday to Friday builders and designers were working there and John was given the spare keys to use the apartment when it was empty. He hadn’t done it yet, but this weekend, Friday, after work, Cindy was going on a short business trip, so John had a plan to invite Katie to Paul’s place. She was a cute twenty-two-year-old brunette he had met in Paul’s club, they chatted a bit, drank a few mojitos together, and it was obvious that they had a nice chemistry together. They had been meeting in the club for some time now, and John knew that it was very possible they would finally get to spend the night together.

  He was looking forward to it, as it was about time for Johnny to have some fun. Cindy was constantly busy, she was working hard to get a mid-year bonus, so she was either constantly at work, or when at home, too tired for anything else than going to sleep. Molly was busy, too, plus her rigid day schedule made it difficult for John to come and visit her as often as he wanted. Yes, he needed to feel good, be in the mood for the upcoming night.

  Finally, after about an hour of thinking of his upcoming weekend, John finally fell asleep.

  ***

  Two months after they moved to the new apartment, John had had enough. He couldn’t stand living together any longer, and Cindy was the biggest problem. The things between them were different when he was knocking on her door from time to time while escaping Margaret, but the full-time living together was pretty much disappointing. After all, he was the one to introduce her to the high life, to some standards she hadn’t expected of life before, and there she was, making him constantly feel unappreciated. Neglected. She was way too focused on her life and her career, both of which, from John’s perspective were ridiculous. An HR worker in some middle-sized company, that consisted of not more than fifteen people. What possible career could one make in a place like that? What was she counting on? That she would get some on-line shopping coupons or a parking spot closer to the building? Ridiculous. Not to mention she was just so, so…ordinary.

  He had to admit, there was literally nothing attractive about her any longer for him and, from time to time, he was wondering what had drawn him to her in the first place. He just wasn’t sure anymore. Perhaps such things as kindness, as the will to take care of him when he needed a shoulder to cry on. They met when the Margaret crisis was in full bloom, and John had to admit, he was looking for a little bit of stability in his life, something lasting longer than a one-night stand. Something to make him feel like he was being taken care of. To be honest, though, being with someone only because the person was cute and cooked nicely, that just wasn’t enough for him for a long haul. She was dull, by his standards, didn’t enjoy life as he did, and it was something that kept on bugging him more and more.

  He was regularly meeting ladies and partying in Paul’s club and apartment. From time to time he was also visiting Molly, who still had no idea he had left Margaret.

  Margaret.

  Margaret and Mick.

  That was one of th
e things that John felt was so irritating about Cindy. She kept on asking him about them, asking if he had contacted his wife, or his son, if he had spoke with him, or if he was thinking of getting a divorce, or if he was getting a lawyer. It was extremely annoying because he had a feeling all of those things were delicate and that they shouldn’t have been Cindy’s concern. The truth was, deep down, John had a feeling it was better not to finalize things with Margaret. He couldn’t explain it in any logical way, but he knew, that it simply wasn’t a good idea to cut the cord between her and him.

  Not yet, at least.

  He did meet with Mickey twice. Once they went for a beer, and of course, John had to answer all the irritating questions concerning coming back home, the reasons behind leaving; the future and what it would bring. He was ready, it was obvious the kid was going to ask about it, so he gave him some general answers like: It’s complicated, it takes time, your mother and I haven’t been able to communicate for some time now, she needs help and he needs to face it, I can’t help her anymore, she needs to see a specialist, we’ve been through this many times, perhaps now that I’m gone, she might finally start taking care of herself, you’re a man now, an adult, you need to understand things aren’t always easy, aren’t always black and white, and she’s not alone, she’s got you.

  It was pretty funny how easily John came up with all those things. And the best thing of all was that Mickey was buying them. It seemed that at that time, he had a vision that his mother and John would get together again, that they both needed to calm down, and that she simply needed to start taking care of herself, get help, and then, who knew.