This week’s story from a song lyric. A bit of drama for you. Do you know the girl’s name?
We’d been going out for four months. It was brilliant. I was head over heels. She was everything to me, the girl of my dreams. We met a party and she looked gorgeous, all smiles with such a pretty face. She sparkled. She was full of life, always wanting to go out to the clubs or cinema. I couldn’t resist her. We found a lot in common, music, politics, religion(lack of), sex. Perfect.
I was the studious one, she was the party girl. At first, I didn’t mind, but as we got more serious, I found myself getting jealous. When we went to the pub, I’d be happy to sit in a booth, just us. But she wanted to be with her friends, chat to the gang, flirt with the boys. Of course, she said she only wanted me and she’d come back to me at the end of the evening so we could walk home together. But it was disturbing me.
One Friday night, she said she was going out with her girlfriends. She told me I should have a night with my mates. So I did as I was told, I was like a slave to her really, besotted. I did whatever she said. I was lost, but I was suspicious.
I made an excuse and left my mates early and went home to stew. At eleven o’clock, I went out and drove past her apartment, pangs of pain in my mind. I could see her living room window. The blind was down but the lights were on and I could see silhouettes of two people, one definitely a man.
What was going on? She was my woman.
I parked up and waited, consumed by passion. I waited and waited. The night was long and it was cold. I wrapped myself in the car rug and sat there watching her window all night long. When the sun came up, a man emerged from her front door. He was wrapped in a dark coat and strode down the street without looking back. I felt sick, my stomach churning.
I opened the glove box, pulled out the knife and slipped it into my pocket. I walked over the road and rang her bell. Eventually she opened the door, wearing her bath robe, her hair wrapped in a towel.
She was surprised to see me, and before I could say anything, she just laughed. Perhaps it was a nervous laugh or did she just not care? I think it was the laugh that annoyed me more than anything. I pulled the knife from my back pocket and it glinted under her hall light.
She stopped laughing.