She's Gone

by Arty

The beeping stopped and a tousled head popped up from underneath the bedclothes. Either she'd been successful or it had stopped by itself. I didn't much care which. The girl looked nice despite her day-old makeup and unkempt hair. 'Mandy' that was it, or was it 'Sandy'. Oh fuck it! What did it matter? What did anything matter? I hoped that she'd had a good time; I couldn't muster the necessary effort to care, much, if I had.

I realised that I was in the middle of the bed; this was strange; normally I'm fanatical about sleeping on the right side or the left depending on whether you were in it or out of it. While I was pondering the oddity of me waking up in the middle I realised that the bedclothes on my right were stirring. Two? I tried to remember the last time there'd been two girls in my bed? Perhaps Sandy and Mandy were both right. Another face popped up and yawned. I tried to think of something witty to say; then I shrugged, why bother I wouldn't be seeing them again.

"Good morning ladies."

The two women looked at each other. The looked almost identical; were they twins? I'd fantasised about twins, now I couldn't remember if they'd lived up to my fantasy. How much had I had to drink last night? Not as much as usual, as my head wasn't pounding and nothing appeared to have died in my mouth. I sank back into my pillows, exhausted by the simple effort of speaking three words.

Then I remembered.

'She's gone.'

I thanked the women mentally; they'd staved off the realisation for a whole five minutes; that was something of a record for me. I closed my eyes and allowed the despair to wash through me. Long practise meant that, outwardly at least, I didn't show it; anguish, like an old friend, permeated my soul and made himself comfortable again.

"I'd offer you both breakfast, but I don't think there's anything to eat. Sorry. I'm not much of a breakfast person - I can do coffee though."

"Coffee's good." Right-hand girl answered. Left-hand girl nodded her assent. Using considerable care I extricated myself from the bed and left the two girls alone while I made my way to the kitchen. For the first time in a year I saw the apartment with eyes other than my own and I noticed the complete lack of personal touches. The place was as antiseptic as it had been when I first moved in. I shrugged again, physically and mentally, I wasn't going to here much longer so what did it matter anyway?

I waited while the coffee maker hissed and burbled and the dark liquid slowly filled the glass jug. The smell evoked memories that I didn't want, but I could do nothing about them and so I wallowed as they played out; their power to hurt me undimmed by the months and years. The final manic hissing signalled that the coffee was done and I poured three mugs. I hoped they took their coffee black; not that it mattered I don't think I had any sugar and I couldn't remember the last time I had milk in the fridge. I sipped on mine as I walked back to the bedroom.

"I hope you can drink it black, I don't seem to have any milk." I apologised insincerely to them.

Left-hand girl was sitting at the mirror and was brushing her hair. I put the mug on the dressing table and I watched the play of muscles in her arm and shoulder. I'd loved to do that when …

Right-hand girl came in from the en-suite towelling herself dry.

I offered her the mug. "Sorry there's no milk."

"That's OK I take it black anyway."

"Do you need a cab?"

She looked at me strangely. "You weren't that drunk last night! We drove here in my car."

"Sorry. My memory hasn't been too good lately."

I lied.

My memory was all too good; especially when it came to remembering…

"I don't suppose there's a café nearby." I was grateful for the interruption. I took her to the window and pointed across the street.

"It's okay. It's a typical mom and pop place; I think they're Spanish or Portuguese. Anyhow they do a mean bacon sarnie."

I put down my coffee and went for my shower. The water disguised my tears and I allowed myself to cry. Again. I limited myself; I only cried when my face was otherwise wet - so only every morning in the shower and when I was caught in the rain. I used to carry an umbrella, but now I welcomed the rain on my face - one more excuse.

Back in the bedroom the girls had almost finished dressing. I looked at my watch as I put it on. Saturday. Thank God! No work today. The downside was I'd have no excuse to get rid of the girls. One more thing to feel sad about; they deserved better than me.

"I'm a terrible host, if you'd like I can buy you both breakfast across the road; it's a lot nicer than it looks."

Right-hand girl seemed annoyed at something.

"Was last-night good for you?" She parodied.

"The best, we really must try I again sometime."

The pain from the slap across my face, mirrored the pain in my soul and for an instant I felt like a normal human being. Then it faded.

"You bastard! You don't remember anything do you? We could have been anybody!"

I stood mute and waited for another slap as she raised her hand again. It seemed appropriate. She saw that I wasn't about to defend myself and dropped her hand. Turning to her sister she said, "I'll be waiting in the car, don't be long." And then she stormed out. Left-hand girl looked at me sadly.

"You cry in your sleep, you know?" I nodded. More often than not the pillows were damp when I woke. "Mandy doesn't know; she sleeps like the dead; that's another way that we're different." She was Sandy then, I filed the information away; not that I'd need it, but it was habit. She kissed me and turned to leave.

"You could hit me too if it would make you feel better; it's the least I could do."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

I looked out of the window and saw the little MG roar down the road disturbing the relative quiet of a Saturday morning, before the crowds came for the market at the bottom of the street.

One of the things that we used to enjoy was wandering around a market. The patter that the stallholders used fascinated her. Crockery stalls were our favourite, especially if there were two people on a stall, as they would throw entire dinner services between them. We lived for the time when one would drop a set, but it never happened. I smiled. The pain receded and I thought some more about her. I remembered her laughter, her grin; she'd have hated me being like this but I was helpless to do anything but exist as the pain of her loss nagged at me; tearing across my soul like some demented harpist executing a solo consisting entirely of discords; time for a fix.

I trailed reluctantly out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. The tape was cued up; I started it and lost myself in the sight of her and the sound of her voice. She filled the screen with her delight as she cavorted about the garden of the house where we had lived. She splashed in the stream and her laughter filled my mind, for a few brief seconds I was at peace. Then the tape stopped and the pain and anguish came crashing in; its effects redoubled by the calm that preceded it. I curled on the settee and wished for it to end.

I must have fallen asleep again; by the time I woke up it was dark again. It was time. I picked up my keys and the letters and left the apartment. I stopped by the post-box to seal the keys in an envelope and posted it along with all but one of the letters. This one I kept with me. I checked my pocket and felt the comforting rattle of the tablets. I'd need them as I'd slept myself out and didn't feel tired at all. Paradoxically, now that I'd finally decided, I could feel the depression lifting. The car was all prepared and it started easily. I had a moment's indecision where should I go? Finally I settled for the obvious place and drove out of the garage and into the street. I dashed back to close the door, it wouldn't be fair on the neighbours to encourage crime by leaving them open; and then I was away.

I checked the car clock 21:45, not a bad time to set out. People have gone where they want to go for the evening and aren't trying to get home. I'd be out of the city when going-home time arrived and wouldn't be affected by it. I elected to stay off the trunk routes and apart from the odd oncoming vehicle I was pretty much the only car on the road. It was just turning midnight as the signs for Beachy Head appeared, almost there.

I pulled off the road and drove across the springy, rabbit-cropped grass. I stopped well short of the cliff; wouldn't do to drive off it in the dark - I laughed mirthlessly - oh no it wouldn't do at all. It was the work of a minute or two to get things set up and then I was ready. I palmed some of the tablets from my pocket and washed them down with some mineral water. The CD was set to auto-repeat and the strains of her favourite album filled the car, it was a bit loud so I turned it down; the last thing I needed was some nosy noise pollution type interfering. I was starting to feel drowsy so I started the car and turned off the air-conditioning. And then all I could hear was her laughter and the quiet singing and the sounds of the sea and the thrum of the engine - I relaxed and drifted off as the pain receded for what I knew was the last time.

I woke to the sound of singing and someone frantically scrabbling at the door handle. I felt very ill indeed. I didn't expect to feel ill as a corpse. Finally whoever it was outside managed to open the door and I fell out of the car onto the ground. I could see the remains of the exhaust fumes leaving the car. It was early morning and the sun haloed around the blonde hair of the concerned woman who had opened the car door.

"Are you all right?"

I considered this; I was all right in that I was still alive - if a little unwell. But since I'd been trying to commit suicide was the answer yes or no? I couldn't decide.

"Well?"

"It depends on your point of view." I looked at her again. "You're certainly angelic enough, but I doubt if this is Heaven," I paused, "or Hell for that matter. So I suppose the answer is: no since this was a concerted effort to kill myself and I'm still here on top of Beachy Head."

"Why didn't you just drive off the cliff?"

"Too messy. Someone has to clean up afterwards, besides I've left the car to my brother; he'd be pretty pissed off if I left him a burnt out shell."

"You could have taken more of those." She pointed at the sleeping tablets on the passenger seat.

"They make me feel sick; I don't know if that's intentional, but I can't take enough at one time to do the job - I just throw them up." I had tried, about a year ago, and that very thing had happened to me.

"So what happened?"

"How do you mean?"

"How did you fail this time?"

I looked at her; she was smiling at me quizzically; this must rank as the all time strangest conversation of my entire life. I smiled back at her, it was hard not to and I didn't have the strength or the will to resist. I held my hand up to her.

"My name's Ian, how do you do?"

"Mine's Bella and I know how you're doing."

I decided that holding a conversation with someone who is kneeling over you was not the best thing to be doing; besides the ground was cold and covered in dew. My granny's words returned to me, 'You'll catch your death one of these days, you mark my words'. I sat up and started to laugh; pretty soon I was helpless and then the laughter turned to sobs and I was just as helpless. Though this time it seemed more cathartic somehow. Her arms were about me and I realised that I felt good and I'd been awake for almost half an hour and still I'd not thought it. I sat and revelled in her arms and listened to the gulls crying with the sound of the sea a distant background; the sun shone and today life was good.

"Two things: catalytic converters and I must have run out of petrol."

"What?"

"You asked why I failed."

"Oh!"

We sat together on the ground and watched the seagulls. She had gone, but I'd let her go and now I was back. A dollop of bird muck fell on the ground before us and I watched as the offending bird did a drunken barrel roll and flew out to sea.

"I've never seen one do that before; I wonder what that was all about?"

"Just someone saying goodbye. Look I know this is terribly cheeky of me, you couldn't give me a lift to the nearest garage could you? I need to get some petrol and then I have to try and intercept some letters."

I wondered if she had a boyfriend; she wasn't wearing a ring. I speculated about her family; it didn't matter there was no rush I realised, I had the rest of my life to find out.

-Fin-

She's Gone
Daryl Hall and John Oates

Everybody's high on consolation.
Everybody's trying to tell me what's right for me.
My daddy tried to bore me with a sermon,
but it's plain to see that they can't comfort me

Sorry Charlie for the imposition.
I think I've got it, got the strength to carry on.
I need a drink and a quick decision.
Now it's up to me, ooh what will be.

She's Gone Oh I, Oh I'd
better learn how to face it
She's Gone Oh I, Oh I'd
pay the devil to replace her
She's Gone - what went wrong

Up in the morning look in the mirror,
I'm worn as her tooth brush hanging in the stand,
my face ain't looking any younger, now I can see love's taken her toll on me.

[She's gone…]

Think I'll spend eternity in the city,
let the carbon and monoxide choke my thoughts away,
and pretty bodies help dissolve the memories,
but they can never be what she was to me.

[She's gone…]