Heart of Glass (24 page)

“
How old are you?” Mark
asked.

“
Nineteen.”

“
And you’ve never had a
toke? Shit.”

“
Rolling a reefer wasn’t a
priority subject at the school I went to.” How dare he. Looking
good in leather didn’t give him license to ridicule.

“
So, there’s more to you
than a pretty face,” he laughed. “I like a girl who knows her mind.
Here, try some. Take a couple of drags and keep the smoke in your
lungs. It makes you feel chilled out, that’s all. It won’t hurt
you.”

I took the reefer and did as
I was bid, though why I don’t know. The smoke stung my throat and
my eyes began to water, it took all my willpower not to cough or
throw up all over his leathers.

Exhaling, I laid my head
back against the seat and closed my eyes, letting the silence grow
around us. After a while my head began to feel dizzy. “It feels
weird.”

“
Yeah.”

“
Have you tried lots of
drugs?”

He pulled on the reefer and
closed his eyes, ignoring me. Clearly, asking a total stranger
about his drug habits wasn’t the thing to do.

“
A few,” he said, at last,
“but this isn’t the time for that conversation.”

“
Why?”

“
Because. One day I’ll tell
you the whole story and you’ll understand.”

“
Am I to assume there’s
going to be more nights like this?”

Mark opened his eyes. His
stare so intense I felt captured by it. He was frightening. “I
think we’ll have many more nights,
Blondie
.”

After a bit, I began to
shiver. It seemed a pity to break the silence, the sun was rising
and golden glow was seeping through the sky like paint into water.
“I think I’ll go inside, I’m cold,” I whispered.

“
Don’t go. Stay till the
sun comes up. Here, let me hold you.” His arms wound around me and
his mouth curled into a smile, as I nestled into his body, resting
my head upon his chest. His jumper had the same musty smell as the
dope, like damp wool but sickly sweet. The sun poked its head
through the clouds, bathing us with its rays. I couldn’t go inside
now. It was much warmer there, safe in the Devil’s arms.

Chapter 18

SWEET DREAMS

Some of them want to use
you

Some of them want to get
used by you.

Eurythmics

By mid 1983 I’d begun to
hear Eurythmics songs in my head. I wasn’t mentally ill but my life
was heading in that direction. It was like a sideshow ride where
the bottom falls out from under you and you want to get off and
spew but you can’t because the ride is so good. And while the ride
is spinning, all you can hear is Annie Lennox singing over the crap
speaker system.

Oh, I was having the time of
my life. It was just that, at some point, the ride began to go so
fast I lost control of my legs.

“
I want to kiss you,” Mark
whispered, as he strolled behind me, giving my bottom the slightest
graze with his hand, “Please
Blondie
, one little
kiss.”

“
No. Go away. I’ve already
told you. I have a boyfriend. And don’t call me
Blondie
.” Mark’s face was pitiful in
its earnestness. “Alright,
Blondie
. I’ll go this time, but I’m
not giving up until you kiss me.”

And that was what I was
afraid of, that he wouldn’t give up. His continual sweet talk was
wearing me down. No matter how resolute I sounded, he wouldn’t
listen. I watched him walking away, oblivious to the girls falling
in his wake as he crossed the floor. He was so sexy but infinitely
dangerous too. I was right to stay away.

In the months since we’d
spent an hour watching the sunrise, Mark had been relentless in his
pursuit. Everywhere I went, he appeared. Every time I sat down he
was there, his eyes boring holes through my clothes until I could
feel them on my skin, his smile making me drool like a puppy. Lush,
by some strange coincidence, had added more of The Doors songs to
their repertoire and he sang ‘Don’t You Love Her Madly’ and ‘Love
Me Two Times’, dedicating them to me,
Blondie
, his secret lover. Of
course, I wasn’t his secret lover but nobody knew that. They didn’t
know the game he was playing or that it was me he was playing it
with.

To make matters worse, he
befriended Dean, not an easy task in itself as Dean always expected
the worst of any man who came within ten metres of me. He bought
him beers and they had long intellectual conversations, about what
I didn’t know, while Mark tried to feel me up without Dean
realising. Dean was into neurons and Mark killed millions of them
every weekend but somewhere they’d found a common ground. I moved
to a safe side of the circle and pretended his hand hadn’t been
grasping my arse. I tried to remain true to my promise. I didn’t
flirt and I hadn’t even thought about any other boys.

Well, except for that one
dream of the faceless man who ravished my body, but that could have
been anybody.

Over the summer, and into
autumn, as the ride gained momentum, my sole focus was Dean. But
with each passing day it grew harder, especially with Mark playing
the lovelorn fool. He wasn’t helping my cause one bit and it wasn’t
what I’d expected when he’d offered me his help. As I watched him
climb up onto the stage, I wondered what went on inside his
dreadlocked head. He had no morals to speak of, I had told him a
thousand times I wasn’t interested but he persisted in stalking me
through the city. I could see he was waiting, biding his time until
I gave in, and give in I would; we both knew it.

Assuming his rock star
persona, Mark took the microphone from its stand. “This song’s for
you,
Blondie
.”

Oh God, here we go again, I
thought, wondering what classic he would twist to suit his will
that night.

The guitars burst into the
familiar riff of ‘The Clash’ song ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’
The lyrics pumped through the air, the crowded room went wild
singing along, every girl looking expectantly around in the hope
that they might see, or even be, the mysterious Blondie. I was
appalled. Mark was singing straight to me as if we were alone in
the room. His dark eyes were eating my insides, his body writhing
sensuously, simulating sex. Dean was standing beside me, tapping
his hand against his leg. He wasn’t one for dancing in bars but the
tune was catchy.

“
Whoever that
Blondie
chick is, she’s
giving Mark a hard time.”

I coughed into my
drink.

“
You’ve gotta do something
about him. Tell him to go away,” Coops whispered.

“
I’ve tried but it only
makes him worse. Look!” I pointed to the stage where Mark had
fallen to his knees and begun to beg. “What else can I
do?”

I was beside myself with
worry. I felt guilty and, for once, I was innocent. I’d done
nothing to encourage Mark’s advances except sit on a balcony and
watch the sunrise. Okay, so I’d had a few lewd and disgusting
thoughts about him naked, but I hadn’t told a soul. Not even Prue.
I had given my word to be good. It wouldn’t be fair.

***

The phone rang incessantly,
until I answered.

“
I need to see you. Can I
come over?”

“
Mark? Are you
stoned?”

“
No. Can I come over? I
really need to.” He had made it something of a habit to turn up on
my doorstep for a ‘coffee’ when he knew I’d be alone.

“
Why?” I hissed, looking
over my shoulder for Dean who was in the bathroom.

“
I just ……
Please?”

I sighed. Mark had a habit,
one that he was trying to conquer and replace with a new one. Me.
He’d been trying not to use and I supposed I should help him; he
had helped me so much when I was sad about Ben. “Alright, but give
it an hour. Let me get rid of Dean.”

“
Thanks, Bella.”

It was the first time he
ever called me by my name.

***

It was amazing how someone
could look such a fright and yet somehow still be devastatingly
handsome. His hair was ragged as if he had just woken up and the
dark circles under his eyes were blacker than ever. “You look
dreadful. What’s the matter?”

He sat down on the sofa, his
red eyes pitiful. “I’ve been up all night. I can’t be alone, Bella.
The drugs are everywhere.”

I bent into the fridge and
pulled out a beer. I handed it to him and he flipped the lid. “I
need a hit.”

“
Why? What
happened?”

“
I feel bad. I want to
die.”

I was mute.

“
Today’s a sort of
anniversary. It’s a long story.”

I reached over and put my
hand on his sleeve. “I have all day.”

Getting up, he went to the
large window across the room. He opened it and climbed through onto
the Juliet balcony then, sitting down, he stared at the view of the
water. I could see the pain draped around in his shoulders.
Climbing through after him, I threw two pillows to the ground and
pulled my cigarettes out of my pocket. I lit one and offered it to
him, then got one for myself.

“
Tell me,” I said. It
sounded so much more mature than ‘fuck me,’ which was what I really
wanted to say, though I was loathe to admit it.

He took a deep breath and
dragged on his cigarette. “Are you sure you don’t have anything
stronger?”

“
No, now tell
me.”

“
Four years ago, I went to
live in Sydney and I started this band, you know. I’m pretty good
on guitar….”

Hmm, I mused, watching his
long fingers stroke edge of the pillow, I bet you’re good at lots
of things.

“
I didn’t know
that.”

“
Anyway, we travelled all
over, playing gigs, drinking, smoking tones of dope and doing speed
and stuff. We didn’t get much sleep. It was that whole rock star
thing.”

“
Sounds like
fun.”

“
It was.” Mark scratched
his arm carelessly and sniffed. “I got to know lots of people in
the industry and one night we went to see “The Truth” playing. I
knew the lead singer, Brendan Dyson. He asked me to play some
session gigs with them.”

“
You know the lead singer
of ‘The Truth’? That’s amazing! They’re so good. I have their first
album.”

He shook his head at me.
“Fuck, your innocence spins me out,
Blondie
. All the girls I know are
fucking jaded by life.” He stubbed out his cigarette, tossing the
butt over the balcony into the garden below. “Anyway, that was when
I met Teresa. I thought she was a groupie; she was always hanging
around and I fell for her pretty hard. Before I knew what was going
on, we were fucking each other stupid. She turned me onto ‘H’. She
used to smoke it after we had sex….”

I was silent. I knew what
was coming.

“…
. So, one day, I turned
up at the studio and there she was, in the sound booth, hanging off
Brendan. While we were fucking, she’d as forgotten to tell me she
was married to him.”

“
You had an affair with
Teresa Goddard! Oh my God, I’ve seen her photo in ‘Rolling Stone’,
she’s gorgeous.”

“
I know,
Blondie
, you don’t have
to remind me…. Anyway, our affair continued for a while and I
wanted her to leave him. She said she would, she said she loved me
but she was always stoned and I never knew if she meant it. Drugs
make you lie.”

“
What happened?”

Mark’s hand crept over,
taking mine. “Brendan caught us in bed, he bashed the shit out of
me. Teresa was screaming that she wanted to be with me but he took
her away. He made my life hell. I couldn’t get a gig anywhere. He
got inside her head and convinced her that she could never leave,
she needed his money to support her habit.”

“
What’d you do?”

“
I tried to get her back
but she wouldn’t come. Then I found out that she’d been pregnant
and had had an abortion. She killed my baby, Bella.”

“
Oh Mark.” I reached out
and took him into my arms. His musty smell seeped into my bones. I
could feel his body shaking in despair as I held him.

“
I felt so bad that I went
out straight away and got a fix. I stayed in bed for a month, I
couldn’t move and I didn’t talk to anybody. I tried to kill myself
a few times. I’ve been a junkie ever since.”

“
Do you use a
lot?”

“
I’ve been clean since I
came home but it’s not easy, especially today.”

“
Why?”

Mark’s shoulders raised and
fell in a huge sigh, the weight as big as a mountain. “Today’s the
anniversary of the day she left me.”

The words were out of my
mouth before I realised what I had said, “Do you want to stay here
tonight? Will that help?”

“
Can I?”

We talked well into the
night, sharing cigarettes and wine until we were both a bit tipsy.
After a long while, his features relaxed and his smile returned.
The nervous itching subsided and he was no longer biting his nails.
He said the craving had passed. I felt drained. It was hard work
being a counselor. I stood up and climbed in the window.