Chapter One
We are sold this idea that love will complete us. Watch any movie and you'll find it over and over again - the highest aspiration of women is always marriage. Endless possibilities in storytelling and they've got us chasing down cupid's arrow. Love, a divine part of life doesn't complete us, and turns out physical perfection or luxury won't make us happy. Being beautiful, an overrated human quality has little to do with the physical self, but we are sold these ideas because inadequacy equals money. They call us ugly to sell us shit while we buy into absurd ideas about success. It's so clear now after the storm, past transference and clinging to the delusions we all need to survive. Life is just seeing how much truth your spirit can take, and hindsight is 20 fucking 20. No one knows what the hell they're doing. We're all stumbling around blindly trying to find answers, and in that crazy dance we hurt each other. We feel alone and never truly understood, just like the billions of people who watch the stars with us. I never truly knew Mark. I hate to admit it, but I fell in love with a perception. An idea of him, a reflection of what I needed in a person, pure untapped potential. Romantic whirlwind? Yeah. Fucking deluded? Absolutely. I didn't hesitate for a second to send the guy I had known a whole 3 months intimate photos when he asked. But it's only rumours. No point worrying until you have something to worry about, right? Looking back there were red flags that I artfully ignored in my rosy delusions and thrill of rebellion against my own better judgement. Even when I knew I wanted out, the delusions only got louder. Are you really going to meet someone better? This is comfortable, just see where it goes. It'll get better when (insert apathetic excuse here). Fuck that life. We all eat lies when we're hungry, but I'm leaving the table. Oh shit, Toby's here. I can hide, or lock the door... Too late. "Hi!" He walks in without knocking, looking like a five year old trying to conceal an exciting secret. My friend Toby, the transparent pumpkin headed fuck. I feel my heart start to drop before I hear the first word of the story that I know is coming. "Mark showed everyone some photos today..." Of course he did, it's probably the first proof of anyone's interest in the assclown. I feel my heart start burning a hole through my chest. I can pretend not to care, take the whole empowering, above it all angle, but I don't think I have it in me. "You know what I think?" I look at Toby with a level of apathy reserved for emo hipsters but he continues. "Consent is sexy. I think everyone knows Mark is an asshole". Ah, when logic overrides slut shaming. You've got to appreciate the little victories. I may have been a little harsh on my pumpkin headed friend. "Thank you Toby." He looks me dead in the eye "you're still a fucking muppet. Ever heard of cropping?" "Goodnight Toby." I pull the blanket over my head and hear him leave. I could just live under this blanket for at least a month. I just need my laptop and a power point. On second thought I should probably avoid... Facebook. He wouldn't. I should have cropped my face out. No. There's no fucking way.... 106 notifications. Holy shit. There it is. There I am. That's me. Untag untag report report deactivate. Deactivate from everything, from it all.
That was months ago now. I'm still deactivated. Detached, depressed, deluded and destructively disillusioned. Then I met Sabina. Craving korma from the local Indian joint Malabar, I saw them sharing a table. Mark and a stranger clearly on a first date, huddled in close to the window overlooking the wet street. For a moment I watch in the shadow of an illegally parked RV that reeks of wet carpets and weed. They're drinking red wine, he's wearing a new blue shirt. Even without sound it's clear they're making small talk. Mark's expressions and gestures hint at a sensitive nature. She seems passive. They are hitting it off. I imagine walking past the window and acting surprised to see him. Maybe do the fake escalator. I turn to walk back home the long way. It's funny when you realise you've crossed paths with people, I didn't recognise Sabina from that night at all. She was just the gorgeous woman who sold me a fish.
After Mark shattered my self esteem and ruined my favourite take out place, I often found myself at the pet shop on the highway, in front of the aquarium lost in blue otherworldly silence. Sabina tapped me on the shoulder, I didn't know how long I had been standing there. "See anything you like?" she chirped "Yeah serenity" I reply, transfixed. She sized me up in a long sideways glance. "Follow me." I turn and see her, a woman brimming with energy, all swishy black hair and teethy smiles. She leads me to an office cluttered in 1970s decor. I awkwardly wait at the threshold until she ushers me inside towards an old bulky cabinet, I peer inside and see a row of the most beautiful Siamese fighting fish gracefully floating in pristine glass spheres. Their delicate fins dance around in swirls of colour, in the centre sits a bowl larger than the others. Inside, flashes of bright gold and turquoise circle the bowl rhythmically, little black eyes burning like embers. I am mesmerised. Sabina fumbles with a key on a long brown cord. I notice a row of padlocks on the cabinet doors. She darts her head back anxiously for a moment then unlocks them, jerking open the creaky wood. She slowly scoops up the bowl with the prized fighter inside darting furiously. She extends her arms out, the flawless glass bubble between her palms. I look at her confused as she steps towards me gesturing to take the bowl. "How much?" She smiles and shrugs "nothing". I hesitate for a moment before reaching out. The glass is smooth and cold against my skin. "Well, just a promise to keep him safe". I hold the bowl up to my face and look at the ethereal fish staring back at me. "But you should go now". The feeling of wonder is shattered as she pushes me towards the door. "Wait. Are you sure I don't have to pay? This doesn't feel right". She pauses and blinks hard. "Do you have a car?" "Yeah?" "Come back at 3 and give me a ride home. It's gonna rain."
Climbing the stairs to my apartment I hear my neighbours feud through the walls as I fumble for my keys. Inside it's dark, I yank open the curtains and carefully place the bowl on the windowsill overlooking the dead tree still covered in fairy lights in the backyard. He glides around the bowl curious of his new surroundings. I need to think of a name. Turning on the stereo, Lou Reed croons as I stare at the strange beautiful creature sharing the room with me. I glance at the pile of unopened mail towering precariously on the table, then lay on the floor gazing at the ceiling. How did I get lonely enough to agree to this? I regret it already. I tune out when Toby tells me gossip because I can't muster up a shit to give, and now I'm going to be social with a stranger? Maybe it'll be good. I need a change. I stopped anguishing over why Mark wanted to ruin my life. Maybe he was sociopathic, hated women, hated himself. Maybe l had the same haircut as the first girl to break his heart. I'm not making myself sick for a riddle I'll never solve. But I can't stay numb forever. She was right. It's raining.
I pull off the highway into the empty car park, turn off the engine and check my phone. 2.54pm. No messages. She's locking up the store. A black 1970s Plymouth pulls up behind me. I glance back at Sabina and my jaw drops. In one swift movement she sweeps the side part of her hair to the opposite side, revealing platinum blonde hair underneath. She looks completely different as she runs through the rain to the car. She burst inside like an explosion of fire "Go!" "Woah, OK where?" "Just drive!" I look in the rear view mirror and see a lumbering man get out of the car and menacingly stride towards us. I start the engine and skid off, just as his hands thump violently on the back window.
On the highway my hands are shaking against the wheel "what the fuck was that!?" "Do you know Orange Sundays?" "The cafe!?" "Yeah. Let's go there. We can talk." We walk in and sit in a booth at the back. A preppy woman scowls intensely at Sabina from the next table. Finally Sabina stands up and walks over to her, smiling widely. "Hi. I noticed you're giving me more eye contact then your friend here." The woman narrows her eyes and scowls. "Guys don't like that much make up you know." "Well I suggest they stick to a light BB cream and mascara then" she replies to the bewildered woman before walking back to our table with a happy shrug. As the dinner crowd came and went, we sat talking until it was dark. She told me about the asshole who nearly smashed my window, about the vicious animal fights he hosts in a mansion in the mountains, making bank by forcing the rarest and most beautiful animals to fight, suffer and die. He had spent close to a million on rare breeds this year alone, she'd overheard fragments of horrific stories from managers in hushed whispers over the years. The fighter she saved was worth $8,000. He payed in cash, telling her he'd be back to pick him up. She decided in that moment she couldn't be a part of anymore death. She pocketed the 8k, rung her boss and quit on the spot before seeing me at the aquarium. When I ask what other animals he fights her eyes go dark. She silently sucks in a deep breath as if about to start a long story, but then stops, shifting uncomfortably in the booth. "I'm not sure what I'll do with the cash..." she starts, trying to change the subject. I'm about to push it further when we both clock the Plymouth pull up to the curb. I'm frozen in fear until Sabina grabs my arm and pulls me into the bathroom. I look back just in time to see the huge man shatter my windscreen with one perfect blow from a hammer. "Right. Well now I know my first purchase" Sabina quips. After what feels like an eternity in the bathroom being strangely bored waiting to possibly die, we go scout the damage and it's bad. It gets worse when it starts raining. Sabina runs into the dollar store next door looking for a solution. We find it in the form of garbage bags and a cheap scuba kit. Driving the car down the freeway in garbage bag ponchos, goggles and no windshield, screaming through the rain I made the decision. I named him Moirai.
There are more dangerous humans on earth than dangerous animals. I told Sabina to keep the money. The car, now hidden in my garage was not only a write off, it was a target on my head. I had to sell it, or better yet throw it off a cliff - eliminate the link and collect insurance. Sabina didn't laugh at that joke, she just looked thoughtfully into her coffee. Strangely my job, the only thing that had made sense and mattered to me all these months became irrelevant. Almost forgotten. It wasn't until I listened to my bosses frantic voicemails asking where the hell I'd been that I started thinking about the reports that were due on Tuesday. About that little cubicle. The knick knacks on my desk. The numbly suppressed panic of my co workers. I was so worried about making it feel like a good fit that I didn't bother acknowledging that it wasn't. I just loved the purpose of it all but now it seemed... redundant. Wasting another second at a desk doing something I don't care about, letting my being bleed into nothingness lest it run down my corporate value. The thought haunted me almost as deeply as the recurring dreams of the man in the black Plymouth, his looming shadowy figure had me waking in a cold sweat every night. "You're awfully quite" Sabina almost whispers, blowing the steam from her coffee. I don't know why, but I decided to trust her. "Can I tell you about something that happened to me at the start of the year?" When I finish telling my story staring into my hands, I look up and see tears streaming down her face. "It's the same fucking story" she whispers darkly. "People getting kicked down by apathetic control freaks who walk away unscathed. Black people, women, the gay community. Every minority. Every freethinker. The barrage of shame and violence, the roadblocks to our human rights." There it was. She had articulated into words the rage that seared my conscience. You notice the first time you lose it, that ability to try as honestly as possible to let it all in... Otherwise what's the point? She looks deeply into my eyes "I hope I've inspired some trust in you." I feel a surge of strength run through me "you've inspired more than that."
If I'm doing this I'm doing it right. No internet. There's no point in walking to the edge of truth just to look down at a screen and work out how to condense what I find. No more distractions, I need to be sharp - painfully present. When Mark shared my photos I allowed the palpable shame to twist onto me, but I'm not to blame. He'll learn that. We decide to meet at the butterfly bar later that week. Though I'd never heard of the place, it felt like home as soon as I walked through the black double doors covered in Día de Muertos graffiti. The dark narrow alley to the bar is lined with hundreds of ancient candles. Towering wax sculptures light up the layers of faded posters on the exposed brick, pure testaments of time. The voices and music grow louder as I approach the red archway into the bar. I breathe deeply to slow my pulse before I cross the threshold and step inside what feels like the retreat of an eccentric music collector. Huddles of striking people speaking low are rhythmically punctuated with bursts of laughter and a four piece band lazily improvising in the corner. I scan the room and see Sabina sitting alone with an untouched beer. She looks up and smiles at me, then looking past me her face lights up in joyful recognition. I turn in happy bewilderment only to feel instantly sick as I see Mark walking toward me. We lock eyes in a horrible moment of acknowledgement, then he keeps walking as if I were a stranger. I turn to watch them embrace, joke, kiss. She gestures over to me lovingly, and I see the colour run from his face as he glances over. She looks at me strangely, gesturing for me to join them. My legs feel like cement. I smile weakly and make a drinking motion before stumbling towards the bar. This will buy me some time. Time? For what!? That's the love of her life. The man we've been planning against. "Double jameson and dry please." Holy shit. Ok. I'll just leave. If I follow the bar she won't see me... "Hey stranger!" Sabina grabs my shoulders from behind and spins me around. "Are you alright?" "Yeah. No. Not really. Ah this sucks..." My split mind races to weigh the pros and cons as Sabina looks at me concerned. I want to tell her, but I realise that I can't. "I think I ate something bad." "Damn, are you OK?" "Yeah I'll be fine... I just need to go." I stumble out of the bar in a daze and start walking, too lost in my thoughts to consider a direction, when it starts to rain. I run into a nearby bus shelter and pull my phone out to Uber to see my battery die. I sit for a while listening to the howling wind and rain, with nothing to distract me from my tangled mind. I realise in a shatteringly clear moment that I should have told her. He has the advantage now. Maybe that's childish competitiveness, but I can't shake the feeling that my choice was a huge rock thrown into a still pond, wide reaching ripples of consequences are already in motion. Through the blinding rain I see the 429 bus coming toward me, and l leap out to frantically wave it down. It doesn't stop. I knew Mark was capable of some shady shit but I had underestimated him. I've been in forests less shady then Mark Piers. With everything telling me not to, I stand and fight through the panic to walk back to the bar. At the final crossing I see them storm out of the double doors and into the street fighting. I watch for a moment as they scream through the rain, their gestures and body language becoming wilder, as if trying to brush off the elements beating down on them. That was the moment I realised the first time I saw Sabina wasn't at the aquarium, it was Malabar. The dark haired girl eating Naan and smiling. She's been dating Mark for months. I shiver as a bead of rain slides down my eyelash, my shirt clinging to my skin. Sabina's hands flail wildly as she spits venom at him. She put it together. She knows Mark is my ex. I start to cross the road when I see Mark's face go dark. I'm halfway across the road when I see her turn away from him. She sees me and we lock eyes, I see her anger slip into softness. I see Mark push her. I see the car coming. I see her body flung into the air and spin like a ragdoll. I feel myself vomit. That's all I remember. "That's good" my therapist coos at me. "That's the most detail you've remembered so far, that's great work. Now have you thought of a passion project yet?" The passion project was a healing tool meant to empower me, give me purpose and direction. I thought it was all bullshit until I found one, and now I'm a person born anew. I got in touch with Mark when the 6 month probation sentence for Sabina's 'accidental death' was made public. I feel all the pain from the trial melt away standing on the street in the warm winter sunshine, admiring the perfectly polished rims and new windshield of my beautiful car. I feel calm as I hear a roaring engine approaching. The stress of parking it here weekly has paid off. I see Mark walking towards me and I throw the keys through the air, he catches them smiling. He always loved my car. "Glad there's no hard feelings, Mel" He calls out walking to the drivers side door, but I'm already walking away as the black Plymouth pulls up.
Chapter Two
I don't know how I became friends with these idiots. Sometimes I think if I knew what they were like I wouldn't have started hanging out with them. "If you're not gay then you would just ask, Mark. It's not a big deal dude, everyone does it." This rationale, although painfully stupid just may be the most coherent argument Chad, the alpha meathead of our group has ever made. Typically he sticks to grappling or starting basic chants that he refuses to give up on as his chosen form of debate. "You guys are idiots. No wonder none of you have girlfriends, you know fuck all about women, numb nuts." I start to walk to the bathroom when Johno jumps off the couch and puts his arm around me "luckily we have you here to teach us, wise one!" He goes in for a hug and I push him aside laughing "I'm wiser than your illiterate ass!" In the bathroom I can hear them howling and laughing. I know they mean well, they just don't know what it's like. I think Rob was in love once, but he doesn't really talk about it. It's just early in the game and I'm falling for her, the fear of doing the wrong thing, it can be crippling. I reach for my phone. It's gone. I start to pat myself for a second before I realise. "Johno you sneaky bastard!" I shout, only to hear the room erupt in laughter. I grab the door handle but it doesn't budge. I push with everything I have and ram it a couple of times before I decide on another approach. "Come on, don't be dicks, I really like this chick." I try to control the emotion in my voice but I'm starting to crack. "That's exactly why we're helping you mate. Don't worry we know exactly how to play it." "Don't play it anyway! Don't fucking text her man, please. Just fucking let me out!" "Relax Mark! This will work out well for you, I promise... Oh shit she sent one! Oh shit! Topless man! Check it out! Oh she's a keeper Mark!" They don't let me out for 20 minutes. In that time she sends 4 more pictures with their encouragement, thinking it's me. They describe them in detail as I blink back tears of rage. I'm painfully aware that at any moment they'll open the door and I'll have to join in the fun, pretending to be unfazed. "She's a bit keen Mark, didn't take much for her to crack!" They discuss texting the pictures to each other then decide to upload them to facebook. Well just one or two. It's just easier. Cheaper. Funnier. "If she didn't want this she wouldn't have sent them... Dumb bitch needs some sense knocked into her... Serves her right... This is hilarious..." Their voices melt into each other as I press my forehead against the cold door.
They open the door sheepishly and throw me my phone. I let off a bit of steam and then laugh along with them. What else am I gonna do? I pretend to critically assess the photos, while realising that I can't even imagine being with her now. Not knowing she's the type of girl to do that, she's tainted somehow. It's a pity too, I really liked her. Toby shoves me on the shoulder, jolting me from my thoughts "We're going to the park, are you coming?" I hate the park with them. Last week they posed near a fork in the path trying to seem threatening to joggers, it was embarrassingly transparent. Any woman who seemed unfazed and chose to continue past us would cope a barrage of unimaginative abuse about her appearance, usually revolving around how fuckable she was. The newest and youngest of our group pushed to come up with the boldest and nastiest comments. "Na, I gotta study." Walking home I think about calling her. Explaining. Apologising. I know it's the right thing to do but I can't, I need to cut my loses. I'm playing COD the next day trying not to feel sorry for myself when I get a text. That little ringing bell I craved from my phone makes me feel sick now, just the thought of hearing from her... I apprehensively look to see Chad's text, asking me to go for a drive. I jump at the excuse to get out of the house. We head down the freeway with his music blasting loud enough to comfortably avoid conversation. We pull up at the hideous blue plaster pet shop on the Highway. I'm about to offer GPS thinking we're lost when he jumps out of the car and heads inside. I follow him, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over me as I walk through the double doors, still painted with the familiar but now cracked and faded seascape. This was my favourite shop when I was nine. The outside hasn't changed much, still a hideous urban plaster monstrosity, but the inside is completely renovated. I'm staring in awe at the aquarium that now dominates the side of the building when I notice a beautiful women counting fistfuls of cash at the counter. There's something about her that rocks me to the core, everything seems to blur around her in pinpoint focus. She suddenly looks up, straight at me as if sensing my gaze and I feel my face flush red. She looks down smiling shyly and keeps counting. I start to walk towards her when Chad yanks me by the arm "let's go" "wait, can I just..." he follows my line of sight frowning "we have to go bro." I follow him back to the car promising myself I'll come back. I'm a little relieved when I think about it, I don't even know what I would have said. A few weeks later I find myself subtly searching for her face while pretending to look at hermit crabs. She's probably not even working today. I finally admit defeat when I hear a soft voice from behind me "see anything you like?" I turn and see her huge white smile and shiny black hair. It throws me for a second, I feel my face getting hot as I stare at her, managing finally to mutter a confused "no." "Ohhh we've got an honest one!" she laughs, playing with a little key locket around her neck. I finally manage to stutter "Do you like working here?" "Why, you want my job?" I notice myself awkwardly shifting my weight "no I...well, I work..." she leans towards me wide eyed "I'm fucking with you." I'm relieved she kindly interrupted my jarring stutter. She blinks hard "Wanna grab a coffee? I'm so bored I can feel my brain choking itself into unconsciousness" I can't stop the big dumb grin from spreading across my face "yeah I could use a caffeine hit."
We walk to Orange Sundays, a hole in the wall cafe I've never heard of. We're weaving our way to a booth when a lonely man eating eggs reaches up and quickly brushes her hip as we pass his table. I can barely process what I saw when she's already swung around and faced him - her demeanour calm but eyes ablaze, dancing in rage. "Hi. I'm a human. An actual person, not just a body, but I do own this body. It's not a public commodity, see. Do you have the basic intellect to comprehend that, or are you a complete animal?" The defiantly puffed out chest of the smug man quickly shrinks, his eyes darting, his face flushed. "Don't touch women, creep" calls a woman from a table over and a few people clap in solitary. He stands awkwardly, grabs his things and hurries out of the cafe. Sabina motions to the door as he staggers past, then jumps into the booth smiling at me "Window booth! Almost worth the terrifying and incessant rape culture." I am stunned, intimidated, fascinated. That's the moment I fell in love. Hard.
It's a cruel paradox that human nature makes us curious of what others think of us while the greatest prison we live in is fear of those thoughts and assumptions. I still torture myself wondering. There was a time that I believed that you could know as much about as a person as they were willing to let you know, but I'm starting to think that people are essentially unknowable. I try to remember 'I am not what you think I am, you are what you think I am.' The thing about Sabina though is you never knew where you stood. It was charming, frustrating, enthralling, horrible. Getting a straight answer was like pulling teeth. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell you, but I sensed her fear when she even started to articulate an option. I could almost see the invisible ropes she felt being drawn around her body. She couldn't breathe without the limitless freedom of defining her world solely in the present moment. I couldn't work out if it was a gift or a curse - all I knew is I envied it. No matter what happened, regardless of the chaos that followed her, she never missed a beat on her hedonistic treadmill.
I can't believe we've been dating for 6 months. I mean, not that we've talked about being exclusive. She artfully dodges those conversations like such a political pro I can hardly be angry at the sheer skill of it. She tells me that she's going to quit her job and seems interested to hear about my work - a rare joy for me (and, I suspect most accountants). As I happily explain my role and the moral uncertainties I feel about the fashion industry, I start to feel self conscious, my ramblings could only be boring to her. I stop talking and she looks wistfully out the window. "What's the plan after you quit?" "I don't know. Maybe I should just sell my soul and go work for Facebook. Updating IOS10, help them link locations, data, apps, preferences, shopping... create problems and the solutions by marketing plastic surgery to 12 year olds." I break the silence with a soft chuckle, not sure if gambling on her dark sense of humour was smart until she shoots me a sly smile. I sign audibly in relief then awkwardly cough, hoping she didn't notice. "They are looking for a new secretary at work!" I remember happily hoping to change the conversation, then immediately regret the possible merger of personal and work lives before I finish the sentence.
We are sold this idea that love will complete us. Watch any movie and you'll find it over and over again - the highest aspiration of women is always marriage. Endless possibilities in storytelling and they've got us chasing down cupid's arrow. Love, a divine part of life doesn't complete us, and turns out physical perfection or luxury won't make us happy. Being beautiful, an overrated human quality has little to do with the physical self, but we are sold these ideas because inadequacy equals money. They call us ugly to sell us shit while we buy into absurd ideas about success. It's so clear now after the storm, past transference and clinging to the delusions we all need to survive. Life is just seeing how much truth your spirit can take, and hindsight is 20 fucking 20. No one knows what the hell they're doing. We're all stumbling around blindly trying to find answers, and in that crazy dance we hurt each other. We feel alone and never truly understood, just like the billions of people who watch the stars with us. I never truly knew Mark. I hate to admit it, but I fell in love with a perception. An idea of him, a reflection of what I needed in a person, pure untapped potential. Romantic whirlwind? Yeah. Fucking deluded? Absolutely. I didn't hesitate for a second to send the guy I had known a whole 3 months intimate photos when he asked. But it's only rumours. No point worrying until you have something to worry about, right? Looking back there were red flags that I artfully ignored in my rosy delusions and thrill of rebellion against my own better judgement. Even when I knew I wanted out, the delusions only got louder. Are you really going to meet someone better? This is comfortable, just see where it goes. It'll get better when (insert apathetic excuse here). Fuck that life. We all eat lies when we're hungry, but I'm leaving the table. Oh shit, Toby's here. I can hide, or lock the door... Too late. "Hi!" He walks in without knocking, looking like a five year old trying to conceal an exciting secret. My friend Toby, the transparent pumpkin headed fuck. I feel my heart start to drop before I hear the first word of the story that I know is coming. "Mark showed everyone some photos today..." Of course he did, it's probably the first proof of anyone's interest in the assclown. I feel my heart start burning a hole through my chest. I can pretend not to care, take the whole empowering, above it all angle, but I don't think I have it in me. "You know what I think?" I look at Toby with a level of apathy reserved for emo hipsters but he continues. "Consent is sexy. I think everyone knows Mark is an asshole". Ah, when logic overrides slut shaming. You've got to appreciate the little victories. I may have been a little harsh on my pumpkin headed friend. "Thank you Toby." He looks me dead in the eye "you're still a fucking muppet. Ever heard of cropping?" "Goodnight Toby." I pull the blanket over my head and hear him leave. I could just live under this blanket for at least a month. I just need my laptop and a power point. On second thought I should probably avoid... Facebook. He wouldn't. I should have cropped my face out. No. There's no fucking way.... 106 notifications. Holy shit. There it is. There I am. That's me. Untag untag report report deactivate. Deactivate from everything, from it all.
That was months ago now. I'm still deactivated. Detached, depressed, deluded and destructively disillusioned. Then I met Sabina. Craving korma from the local Indian joint Malabar, I saw them sharing a table. Mark and a stranger clearly on a first date, huddled in close to the window overlooking the wet street. For a moment I watch in the shadow of an illegally parked RV that reeks of wet carpets and weed. They're drinking red wine, he's wearing a new blue shirt. Even without sound it's clear they're making small talk. Mark's expressions and gestures hint at a sensitive nature. She seems passive. They are hitting it off. I imagine walking past the window and acting surprised to see him. Maybe do the fake escalator. I turn to walk back home the long way. It's funny when you realise you've crossed paths with people, I didn't recognise Sabina from that night at all. She was just the gorgeous woman who sold me a fish.
After Mark shattered my self esteem and ruined my favourite take out place, I often found myself at the pet shop on the highway, in front of the aquarium lost in blue otherworldly silence. Sabina tapped me on the shoulder, I didn't know how long I had been standing there. "See anything you like?" she chirped "Yeah serenity" I reply, transfixed. She sized me up in a long sideways glance. "Follow me." I turn and see her, a woman brimming with energy, all swishy black hair and teethy smiles. She leads me to an office cluttered in 1970s decor. I awkwardly wait at the threshold until she ushers me inside towards an old bulky cabinet, I peer inside and see a row of the most beautiful Siamese fighting fish gracefully floating in pristine glass spheres. Their delicate fins dance around in swirls of colour, in the centre sits a bowl larger than the others. Inside, flashes of bright gold and turquoise circle the bowl rhythmically, little black eyes burning like embers. I am mesmerised. Sabina fumbles with a key on a long brown cord. I notice a row of padlocks on the cabinet doors. She darts her head back anxiously for a moment then unlocks them, jerking open the creaky wood. She slowly scoops up the bowl with the prized fighter inside darting furiously. She extends her arms out, the flawless glass bubble between her palms. I look at her confused as she steps towards me gesturing to take the bowl. "How much?" She smiles and shrugs "nothing". I hesitate for a moment before reaching out. The glass is smooth and cold against my skin. "Well, just a promise to keep him safe". I hold the bowl up to my face and look at the ethereal fish staring back at me. "But you should go now". The feeling of wonder is shattered as she pushes me towards the door. "Wait. Are you sure I don't have to pay? This doesn't feel right". She pauses and blinks hard. "Do you have a car?" "Yeah?" "Come back at 3 and give me a ride home. It's gonna rain."
Climbing the stairs to my apartment I hear my neighbours feud through the walls as I fumble for my keys. Inside it's dark, I yank open the curtains and carefully place the bowl on the windowsill overlooking the dead tree still covered in fairy lights in the backyard. He glides around the bowl curious of his new surroundings. I need to think of a name. Turning on the stereo, Lou Reed croons as I stare at the strange beautiful creature sharing the room with me. I glance at the pile of unopened mail towering precariously on the table, then lay on the floor gazing at the ceiling. How did I get lonely enough to agree to this? I regret it already. I tune out when Toby tells me gossip because I can't muster up a shit to give, and now I'm going to be social with a stranger? Maybe it'll be good. I need a change. I stopped anguishing over why Mark wanted to ruin my life. Maybe he was sociopathic, hated women, hated himself. Maybe l had the same haircut as the first girl to break his heart. I'm not making myself sick for a riddle I'll never solve. But I can't stay numb forever. She was right. It's raining.
I pull off the highway into the empty car park, turn off the engine and check my phone. 2.54pm. No messages. She's locking up the store. A black 1970s Plymouth pulls up behind me. I glance back at Sabina and my jaw drops. In one swift movement she sweeps the side part of her hair to the opposite side, revealing platinum blonde hair underneath. She looks completely different as she runs through the rain to the car. She burst inside like an explosion of fire "Go!" "Woah, OK where?" "Just drive!" I look in the rear view mirror and see a lumbering man get out of the car and menacingly stride towards us. I start the engine and skid off, just as his hands thump violently on the back window.
On the highway my hands are shaking against the wheel "what the fuck was that!?" "Do you know Orange Sundays?" "The cafe!?" "Yeah. Let's go there. We can talk." We walk in and sit in a booth at the back. A preppy woman scowls intensely at Sabina from the next table. Finally Sabina stands up and walks over to her, smiling widely. "Hi. I noticed you're giving me more eye contact then your friend here." The woman narrows her eyes and scowls. "Guys don't like that much make up you know." "Well I suggest they stick to a light BB cream and mascara then" she replies to the bewildered woman before walking back to our table with a happy shrug. As the dinner crowd came and went, we sat talking until it was dark. She told me about the asshole who nearly smashed my window, about the vicious animal fights he hosts in a mansion in the mountains, making bank by forcing the rarest and most beautiful animals to fight, suffer and die. He had spent close to a million on rare breeds this year alone, she'd overheard fragments of horrific stories from managers in hushed whispers over the years. The fighter she saved was worth $8,000. He payed in cash, telling her he'd be back to pick him up. She decided in that moment she couldn't be a part of anymore death. She pocketed the 8k, rung her boss and quit on the spot before seeing me at the aquarium. When I ask what other animals he fights her eyes go dark. She silently sucks in a deep breath as if about to start a long story, but then stops, shifting uncomfortably in the booth. "I'm not sure what I'll do with the cash..." she starts, trying to change the subject. I'm about to push it further when we both clock the Plymouth pull up to the curb. I'm frozen in fear until Sabina grabs my arm and pulls me into the bathroom. I look back just in time to see the huge man shatter my windscreen with one perfect blow from a hammer. "Right. Well now I know my first purchase" Sabina quips. After what feels like an eternity in the bathroom being strangely bored waiting to possibly die, we go scout the damage and it's bad. It gets worse when it starts raining. Sabina runs into the dollar store next door looking for a solution. We find it in the form of garbage bags and a cheap scuba kit. Driving the car down the freeway in garbage bag ponchos, goggles and no windshield, screaming through the rain I made the decision. I named him Moirai.
There are more dangerous humans on earth than dangerous animals. I told Sabina to keep the money. The car, now hidden in my garage was not only a write off, it was a target on my head. I had to sell it, or better yet throw it off a cliff - eliminate the link and collect insurance. Sabina didn't laugh at that joke, she just looked thoughtfully into her coffee. Strangely my job, the only thing that had made sense and mattered to me all these months became irrelevant. Almost forgotten. It wasn't until I listened to my bosses frantic voicemails asking where the hell I'd been that I started thinking about the reports that were due on Tuesday. About that little cubicle. The knick knacks on my desk. The numbly suppressed panic of my co workers. I was so worried about making it feel like a good fit that I didn't bother acknowledging that it wasn't. I just loved the purpose of it all but now it seemed... redundant. Wasting another second at a desk doing something I don't care about, letting my being bleed into nothingness lest it run down my corporate value. The thought haunted me almost as deeply as the recurring dreams of the man in the black Plymouth, his looming shadowy figure had me waking in a cold sweat every night. "You're awfully quite" Sabina almost whispers, blowing the steam from her coffee. I don't know why, but I decided to trust her. "Can I tell you about something that happened to me at the start of the year?" When I finish telling my story staring into my hands, I look up and see tears streaming down her face. "It's the same fucking story" she whispers darkly. "People getting kicked down by apathetic control freaks who walk away unscathed. Black people, women, the gay community. Every minority. Every freethinker. The barrage of shame and violence, the roadblocks to our human rights." There it was. She had articulated into words the rage that seared my conscience. You notice the first time you lose it, that ability to try as honestly as possible to let it all in... Otherwise what's the point? She looks deeply into my eyes "I hope I've inspired some trust in you." I feel a surge of strength run through me "you've inspired more than that."
If I'm doing this I'm doing it right. No internet. There's no point in walking to the edge of truth just to look down at a screen and work out how to condense what I find. No more distractions, I need to be sharp - painfully present. When Mark shared my photos I allowed the palpable shame to twist onto me, but I'm not to blame. He'll learn that. We decide to meet at the butterfly bar later that week. Though I'd never heard of the place, it felt like home as soon as I walked through the black double doors covered in Día de Muertos graffiti. The dark narrow alley to the bar is lined with hundreds of ancient candles. Towering wax sculptures light up the layers of faded posters on the exposed brick, pure testaments of time. The voices and music grow louder as I approach the red archway into the bar. I breathe deeply to slow my pulse before I cross the threshold and step inside what feels like the retreat of an eccentric music collector. Huddles of striking people speaking low are rhythmically punctuated with bursts of laughter and a four piece band lazily improvising in the corner. I scan the room and see Sabina sitting alone with an untouched beer. She looks up and smiles at me, then looking past me her face lights up in joyful recognition. I turn in happy bewilderment only to feel instantly sick as I see Mark walking toward me. We lock eyes in a horrible moment of acknowledgement, then he keeps walking as if I were a stranger. I turn to watch them embrace, joke, kiss. She gestures over to me lovingly, and I see the colour run from his face as he glances over. She looks at me strangely, gesturing for me to join them. My legs feel like cement. I smile weakly and make a drinking motion before stumbling towards the bar. This will buy me some time. Time? For what!? That's the love of her life. The man we've been planning against. "Double jameson and dry please." Holy shit. Ok. I'll just leave. If I follow the bar she won't see me... "Hey stranger!" Sabina grabs my shoulders from behind and spins me around. "Are you alright?" "Yeah. No. Not really. Ah this sucks..." My split mind races to weigh the pros and cons as Sabina looks at me concerned. I want to tell her, but I realise that I can't. "I think I ate something bad." "Damn, are you OK?" "Yeah I'll be fine... I just need to go." I stumble out of the bar in a daze and start walking, too lost in my thoughts to consider a direction, when it starts to rain. I run into a nearby bus shelter and pull my phone out to Uber to see my battery die. I sit for a while listening to the howling wind and rain, with nothing to distract me from my tangled mind. I realise in a shatteringly clear moment that I should have told her. He has the advantage now. Maybe that's childish competitiveness, but I can't shake the feeling that my choice was a huge rock thrown into a still pond, wide reaching ripples of consequences are already in motion. Through the blinding rain I see the 429 bus coming toward me, and l leap out to frantically wave it down. It doesn't stop. I knew Mark was capable of some shady shit but I had underestimated him. I've been in forests less shady then Mark Piers. With everything telling me not to, I stand and fight through the panic to walk back to the bar. At the final crossing I see them storm out of the double doors and into the street fighting. I watch for a moment as they scream through the rain, their gestures and body language becoming wilder, as if trying to brush off the elements beating down on them. That was the moment I realised the first time I saw Sabina wasn't at the aquarium, it was Malabar. The dark haired girl eating Naan and smiling. She's been dating Mark for months. I shiver as a bead of rain slides down my eyelash, my shirt clinging to my skin. Sabina's hands flail wildly as she spits venom at him. She put it together. She knows Mark is my ex. I start to cross the road when I see Mark's face go dark. I'm halfway across the road when I see her turn away from him. She sees me and we lock eyes, I see her anger slip into softness. I see Mark push her. I see the car coming. I see her body flung into the air and spin like a ragdoll. I feel myself vomit. That's all I remember. "That's good" my therapist coos at me. "That's the most detail you've remembered so far, that's great work. Now have you thought of a passion project yet?" The passion project was a healing tool meant to empower me, give me purpose and direction. I thought it was all bullshit until I found one, and now I'm a person born anew. I got in touch with Mark when the 6 month probation sentence for Sabina's 'accidental death' was made public. I feel all the pain from the trial melt away standing on the street in the warm winter sunshine, admiring the perfectly polished rims and new windshield of my beautiful car. I feel calm as I hear a roaring engine approaching. The stress of parking it here weekly has paid off. I see Mark walking towards me and I throw the keys through the air, he catches them smiling. He always loved my car. "Glad there's no hard feelings, Mel" He calls out walking to the drivers side door, but I'm already walking away as the black Plymouth pulls up.
Chapter Two
I don't know how I became friends with these idiots. Sometimes I think if I knew what they were like I wouldn't have started hanging out with them. "If you're not gay then you would just ask, Mark. It's not a big deal dude, everyone does it." This rationale, although painfully stupid just may be the most coherent argument Chad, the alpha meathead of our group has ever made. Typically he sticks to grappling or starting basic chants that he refuses to give up on as his chosen form of debate. "You guys are idiots. No wonder none of you have girlfriends, you know fuck all about women, numb nuts." I start to walk to the bathroom when Johno jumps off the couch and puts his arm around me "luckily we have you here to teach us, wise one!" He goes in for a hug and I push him aside laughing "I'm wiser than your illiterate ass!" In the bathroom I can hear them howling and laughing. I know they mean well, they just don't know what it's like. I think Rob was in love once, but he doesn't really talk about it. It's just early in the game and I'm falling for her, the fear of doing the wrong thing, it can be crippling. I reach for my phone. It's gone. I start to pat myself for a second before I realise. "Johno you sneaky bastard!" I shout, only to hear the room erupt in laughter. I grab the door handle but it doesn't budge. I push with everything I have and ram it a couple of times before I decide on another approach. "Come on, don't be dicks, I really like this chick." I try to control the emotion in my voice but I'm starting to crack. "That's exactly why we're helping you mate. Don't worry we know exactly how to play it." "Don't play it anyway! Don't fucking text her man, please. Just fucking let me out!" "Relax Mark! This will work out well for you, I promise... Oh shit she sent one! Oh shit! Topless man! Check it out! Oh she's a keeper Mark!" They don't let me out for 20 minutes. In that time she sends 4 more pictures with their encouragement, thinking it's me. They describe them in detail as I blink back tears of rage. I'm painfully aware that at any moment they'll open the door and I'll have to join in the fun, pretending to be unfazed. "She's a bit keen Mark, didn't take much for her to crack!" They discuss texting the pictures to each other then decide to upload them to facebook. Well just one or two. It's just easier. Cheaper. Funnier. "If she didn't want this she wouldn't have sent them... Dumb bitch needs some sense knocked into her... Serves her right... This is hilarious..." Their voices melt into each other as I press my forehead against the cold door.
They open the door sheepishly and throw me my phone. I let off a bit of steam and then laugh along with them. What else am I gonna do? I pretend to critically assess the photos, while realising that I can't even imagine being with her now. Not knowing she's the type of girl to do that, she's tainted somehow. It's a pity too, I really liked her. Toby shoves me on the shoulder, jolting me from my thoughts "We're going to the park, are you coming?" I hate the park with them. Last week they posed near a fork in the path trying to seem threatening to joggers, it was embarrassingly transparent. Any woman who seemed unfazed and chose to continue past us would cope a barrage of unimaginative abuse about her appearance, usually revolving around how fuckable she was. The newest and youngest of our group pushed to come up with the boldest and nastiest comments. "Na, I gotta study." Walking home I think about calling her. Explaining. Apologising. I know it's the right thing to do but I can't, I need to cut my loses. I'm playing COD the next day trying not to feel sorry for myself when I get a text. That little ringing bell I craved from my phone makes me feel sick now, just the thought of hearing from her... I apprehensively look to see Chad's text, asking me to go for a drive. I jump at the excuse to get out of the house. We head down the freeway with his music blasting loud enough to comfortably avoid conversation. We pull up at the hideous blue plaster pet shop on the Highway. I'm about to offer GPS thinking we're lost when he jumps out of the car and heads inside. I follow him, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over me as I walk through the double doors, still painted with the familiar but now cracked and faded seascape. This was my favourite shop when I was nine. The outside hasn't changed much, still a hideous urban plaster monstrosity, but the inside is completely renovated. I'm staring in awe at the aquarium that now dominates the side of the building when I notice a beautiful women counting fistfuls of cash at the counter. There's something about her that rocks me to the core, everything seems to blur around her in pinpoint focus. She suddenly looks up, straight at me as if sensing my gaze and I feel my face flush red. She looks down smiling shyly and keeps counting. I start to walk towards her when Chad yanks me by the arm "let's go" "wait, can I just..." he follows my line of sight frowning "we have to go bro." I follow him back to the car promising myself I'll come back. I'm a little relieved when I think about it, I don't even know what I would have said. A few weeks later I find myself subtly searching for her face while pretending to look at hermit crabs. She's probably not even working today. I finally admit defeat when I hear a soft voice from behind me "see anything you like?" I turn and see her huge white smile and shiny black hair. It throws me for a second, I feel my face getting hot as I stare at her, managing finally to mutter a confused "no." "Ohhh we've got an honest one!" she laughs, playing with a little key locket around her neck. I finally manage to stutter "Do you like working here?" "Why, you want my job?" I notice myself awkwardly shifting my weight "no I...well, I work..." she leans towards me wide eyed "I'm fucking with you." I'm relieved she kindly interrupted my jarring stutter. She blinks hard "Wanna grab a coffee? I'm so bored I can feel my brain choking itself into unconsciousness" I can't stop the big dumb grin from spreading across my face "yeah I could use a caffeine hit."
We walk to Orange Sundays, a hole in the wall cafe I've never heard of. We're weaving our way to a booth when a lonely man eating eggs reaches up and quickly brushes her hip as we pass his table. I can barely process what I saw when she's already swung around and faced him - her demeanour calm but eyes ablaze, dancing in rage. "Hi. I'm a human. An actual person, not just a body, but I do own this body. It's not a public commodity, see. Do you have the basic intellect to comprehend that, or are you a complete animal?" The defiantly puffed out chest of the smug man quickly shrinks, his eyes darting, his face flushed. "Don't touch women, creep" calls a woman from a table over and a few people clap in solitary. He stands awkwardly, grabs his things and hurries out of the cafe. Sabina motions to the door as he staggers past, then jumps into the booth smiling at me "Window booth! Almost worth the terrifying and incessant rape culture." I am stunned, intimidated, fascinated. That's the moment I fell in love. Hard.
It's a cruel paradox that human nature makes us curious of what others think of us while the greatest prison we live in is fear of those thoughts and assumptions. I still torture myself wondering. There was a time that I believed that you could know as much about as a person as they were willing to let you know, but I'm starting to think that people are essentially unknowable. I try to remember 'I am not what you think I am, you are what you think I am.' The thing about Sabina though is you never knew where you stood. It was charming, frustrating, enthralling, horrible. Getting a straight answer was like pulling teeth. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell you, but I sensed her fear when she even started to articulate an option. I could almost see the invisible ropes she felt being drawn around her body. She couldn't breathe without the limitless freedom of defining her world solely in the present moment. I couldn't work out if it was a gift or a curse - all I knew is I envied it. No matter what happened, regardless of the chaos that followed her, she never missed a beat on her hedonistic treadmill.
I can't believe we've been dating for 6 months. I mean, not that we've talked about being exclusive. She artfully dodges those conversations like such a political pro I can hardly be angry at the sheer skill of it. She tells me that she's going to quit her job and seems interested to hear about my work - a rare joy for me (and, I suspect most accountants). As I happily explain my role and the moral uncertainties I feel about the fashion industry, I start to feel self conscious, my ramblings could only be boring to her. I stop talking and she looks wistfully out the window. "What's the plan after you quit?" "I don't know. Maybe I should just sell my soul and go work for Facebook. Updating IOS10, help them link locations, data, apps, preferences, shopping... create problems and the solutions by marketing plastic surgery to 12 year olds." I break the silence with a soft chuckle, not sure if gambling on her dark sense of humour was smart until she shoots me a sly smile. I sign audibly in relief then awkwardly cough, hoping she didn't notice. "They are looking for a new secretary at work!" I remember happily hoping to change the conversation, then immediately regret the possible merger of personal and work lives before I finish the sentence.