Snow Blind (22 page)

Thump-thump, thumpety-thump. A nearby club plays trance tunes that echo in the space around me. I drop my head back onto hard ground; rocks and a little vegetation cradle it. It is difficult to rest it without sharpness in the back of my cranium. The jet-black sky is littered with stars. I look to my left and see my arm draped in a river; the force of which powers a foot away from my head.

I remember now I needed to pee in the middle of town. I found some metal steps leading down to the river and thought it might be discreet. I wanted to get to the riverside before unleashing myself but found a locked metal stepladder at the far end of the platform blocked my way. Six feet or more above me is the metal platform I stood on to wee, from which I must have fallen. The sweet smell is the result of my core body warmth heating up the urine puddle I must be lying in. The last thing I remember from up there was the expansive splash that my wee made on the rocks below from a height. I can move all my limbs but the night air numbs them. I touch my face on the left side, it leaving small traces of either blood or mud on my fingers. My left shoulder has taken a beating. My physical preoccupation is to escape, bruised and battered. How long have I been here?

Last night will be judged as the worst of times. I sit up and water drips from the sleeve of my jacket back into the river. That bastard Max, stringing us along about ByeFly. A prostitute for Christ sakes; I was a glass of wine away from suffering irreparable damage to my marriage. I couldn't have managed it with Bepe on my mind. Bepe, I can't wait to see you at the airport again; hug your little frame. Can't imagine Robert stayed amongst the wine-induced vomit. Steve is a little shit. I can't feel whether I have really damaged my left arm or it is just frozen in the cold. A woman shouts “
Merde
.” in the street above me, followed by the rapid clatter of her accelerating high heels.

“Oh my god,” I say out loud to no-one.

“Oh, my god.” I don't really have a god but I am asking any one to sponsor me now and erase time for me. My left knee still hurts. A surge of energy springs me to my feet; it is the feeling of complete embarrassment that does it. I need to get back to my life to repair any damage. Juliet sleeps with the thought that I am a love-sick teenager who never recovered from her. Okay, it may be my truth in some ways but I have accommodated it for years. That loss is part of my DNA and I was not looking to alter it. I select Another Star from “the Tracks of My Years” as soundtrack to this ultimate embarrassment; I will never be able to listen to it properly again. Exposing this truth amongst the others might mean trouble. I have to be Bepe's real father; now nothing can come between us. How am I ever going to get out and up to the platform again?

I jump with no real conviction to grab the platform above me. It is only now that I realise the loss of strength in my left arm. I could never have reached it anyway. I was lucky that the riverbank was uncovered, despite the spring thaw. I upturn my jacket collar and button each button for warmth, while trying to wring out some of the water from my left sleeve. A boulder stands in close attendance to the river wall; one roll and I could use it to climb up. Initially I don't get low enough to push it, so I get on my knees and push with my right shoulder. It rolls over once, scraping moss onto the top of my sleeve, but coming to rest near where I needed it. Stepping onto it and with one hoist I pull myself onto the top rung of the locked ladder and back up to the suspended platform.

I re-orient myself on the pavement back in town square; the casino and club off to the right, the hotel will be left. Just imagine if I had fallen into the river; the knockout blow would have drowned me. This has to stop, days and years of self-neglect, but it's not about me anymore.

A couple walk arm in arm towards me, but edge away in fear when they get close.

“Are you all right?” the girl asks hesitantly, unsure of whether she wants to be drawn into my drama. She discharges the potential guilt of not helping an injured soul.

“Never better.” I say with blood on my face, smelling of piss and alcohol, my jacket and hair soaked. I must tackle this head on.

C
HAPTER
33

Dan 02.53

“Jules,” I speak in an insistent whisper as I walk the third floor corridor. I am trying to selectively rouse just her so I strike an apologetic tone. I know she is here somewhere as I called her room yesterday before we left for the restaurant, it was 32 something.

“Juliet,” I step unknowingly onto a used room-service dinner tray. The weighty cutlery drums out a shrieking beat onto the crockery. The whole tray slides under my foot, but I manage not to skateboard too far down the hall. I fall onto my backside and get carpet burn from the tight acrylic pile. All my consideration for the hotel guests at this early hour has been betrayed. The noise stops and I cringe at the clatter but no one seems to notice. I use their cardboard door hanger to scrape soggy baguette and coleslaw from underneath my shoe back onto the tray. I notice too late that the guest who had this light evening snack has also placed a breakfast order on this card. I try to shake off the coleslaw that has obliterated their order for scrambled eggs. The standard seemingly innocent breakfast form is a painful multi-choice questionnaire that defies logic at the late hour that anyone fills it in. Can I have scrambled eggs and porridge as they are in the same section? Can I have water and orange juice? But I don't want toast with my selection of pastries; it is bound to be heart-breakingly cold. Consumer choice clashes with bossy cost management. My stomach churns at the foodstuffs I am immersed in. I try to push myself off the floor but my hand is in something ill advised. I smell mustard from my fingers now.

A chain and lock unhook a room door, throwing sharper light at the hall wall in front of me. The light would accuse anyone in its path of inconsiderate behaviour so I shrink from it.

“Daniel, what the hell…” And then her head pops out of the doorway.

I can't really imagine what Juliet must have thought I was doing; maybe scavenging a pathetic late-night feast at someone else's expense? Maybe I have been driven to make a wall painting using discarded food? I sense her shock although I cannot see the expression on her sharply backlit face. Luckily she doesn't judge me too harshly.

“Just get inside will you. You scared me sitting there.” She offers me a hand that I splash with food as she pulls me up.

“I'm so sorry for it all,” I plead vaguely to this immaculate cross woman. She is wrapped in a blue silk robe which reveals a Chinese dragon embroidered on its back as she walks inside. She seems untouched by sleep; there is no crumpling of her body, hair or demeanour by being so brashly awoken. She is the only one who gets me, even after all these years.

“You are shivering, your arm is soaked, and you are cut there. What the hell did they do to you?” She takes the duvet from the unused second single bed in her room and wraps me in it.

“Ask not what my stag mates have done for me, ask only what I have done to the stag.” A pompous way of saying it was my fault. It didn't help her at all.

“I am so sorry to drag you into all this.”

“I am a big girl, I chose to come. What did they do?”

“Max got me a prostitute. She was called Mirabel, she came from Senegal but…”

“I don't want to know about that tart, what did you do?”

“We went to her house at the back of the casino. Robert had sex with her first but I…”

“My god you both did it. You idiot Dan. Why couldn't you just say no? You don't know what you will have caught from her or that bastard Robert.”

“I didn't do anything; I threw up on her before I got the chance.”

“Thank god Dan. Sophia would be history if you had done anything. Why are you wet?”

“I fell into the river and passed out for a bit.”

“Your shivering is getting worse; you need to warm up. Get undressed and I will run a bath for you.” She disappeared to start the water thundering. I cannot detect the prime source of my shakes; being left out in the cold, my proximity to illicit sex; my drunkenness or being close to a woman I really loved?

“Get undressed then. I have seen it all before.” I start to unpeel discoloured and misshapen items of clothing in the bathroom. My jeans stand all by themselves.

My jaw chatters in waves of panic. It binds together as I try to speak, obstructing the passage of truth. “I think I still love you Jules.” I utter this softly as the knickers hit the floor.

“At least we can swop our underwear back,” she smirks, initially ignoring my comment.

She continues to parcel my clothes together without looking at me. “No you don't. You love someone from seventeen years ago. She didn't love you enough then so doesn't deserve you now. Listen, it has been great seeing you again but love isn't the reason I am here. I will get changed into something else and you can use my robe.” There is gravity in her statements but she has not taken me seriously.

“Get in the bath will you,” she says as she leaves the room taking off her robe as she exits the bathroom.

I have taken so many blows over the past few days that this latest one seems inevitable, even though it is an important one. I view disappointment as a comfortable friend, an ally against the outside world. The water scalds me; Juliet scolds me. Just how does she know my truth? I try to put some cold water in the bath but cannot turn the tap. I sit down and my body fizzes against the bubbles. I cannot feel anything in my left arm. I close my eyes and submerge myself, sucking the water over me as a veil. The pain from the graze on my face brings me back up in haste. I have moved too quickly and water sloshes onto the floor. She comes back in fully clothed.

“I'm sorry, I must have embarrassed you tonight.”

“No, no, I am fine. It has been great spending time with you, but we can't go back. Your future has never looked better, you are about to be married…”

“…Because Sophia's dad arranged it for me. I was invited to my own wedding.” I finish her sentence. “Yes it's fabulous being Daniel Greenhenge. I have probably lost my job if Max is telling the truth. Most of my friends are arseholes. To cap it all I almost killed my son three days ago.” My blood is boiling twice over from the bath.

“I've got to get out of here.” I mean the bath but she thinks I mean her company.

“There is no hurry; I just want to set you straight before you leave. I have not been completely honest with you.”

I see a chink in her armour at last. What does she feel? “What do you mean babe?”

“Dry yourself off and we can talk in the bedroom.” I hop out of the bath and grab her already sodden towel. The towel is moving water around my body but not removing it. Her robe clings to me in the middle of my back; I hadn't dried sufficiently between my shoulder blades. When I exit the bathroom I see her sitting cross-legged on the only chair, tugging at her hair, knotting it and re-knotting her bunch.

“I did come here to tell you something. You have a right to know. Dan you are a father. I mean you are Ethan's father.”

“But you said…” All alcohol is drained from my system.

“Forget that, I lied to you years ago and on the plane; it wasn't really the place to tell you.”

“Are you sure, you said…”

“Positive, I never got back with Tristan. I said it at the time to give you someone else to hate when I told you we were splitting up. Anyway, I am telling you because he is sixteen and wants to meet you. In fact he is coming to the airport tomorrow with Scott to pick me up and he wanted to just say hello. Just for now that is. He has a right you know.”

“Woahh babe. So you dumped me when you knew you were carrying my child.”

“Yes, but I knew we weren't right and I didn't want to trap you into staying.”

“That's not fair; you never gave me a chance. You never gave me a chance to be a dad.”

“But you are a dad now.”

“That's hardly the point babe. You denied me…” I stop reacting to assess how I feel. My head is stuffed with anger, joy, denial and excitement. How will Sophia react to this?

“Did you want to blow the wedding apart or something?”

“Of course not, I just wanted to let you know about your son before you got married so that you could start married life honestly.” That's my son, that's Ethan, another joy in my life. What if he doesn't like me?

“Hang on; he is my son when you decide he is. Was he my son when he came out of the womb? Was he my son when he went on his first bike ride or on his first day at school? What gives you the right to say when he is my son?” I have never felt so angry so quickly. She is no different to the others; they fill me with scorn from their disrespect. My own flesh and blood is an adult I would pass in the street. What will he want from me?

“Do you want to meet him tomorrow or not?”

“Hey, don't be like that. You have just dropped the biggest bombshell of my life on me and you are getting shirty. Too much babe, way too much. Are you sure he is…” I ask again because I couldn't take the heartache of more false hope.

“We don't need a DNA test; there was no-one else at the time. I went back to my mum when I left you and …”

“No more now, I am wrecked. Let me get out of here.”

“But Dan…”

“See you tomorrow.”

On the way out I see a mug on the tray I had tripped over. Without breaking stride I kick it cleanly; it lifts off the tray and arcs down the corridor. It bounces on carpet and stays intact; but hitting the wall creates an atmosphere shattering smash. I have two sons. I bound down the one flight of stairs in the ridiculous robe that hardly covers my genitals. Juliet has all my belongings but what the hell. I thump on the door to wake Chris.

“What the hell?”. Chris greets me as I walk past him into our room.