Saturday, May 20, 2006

Broken dreams

My third short story, about a girl whose dreams are broken. Poor dearie...enjoy. :-)
Broken dreams

She snuggled close to him, feeling his gentle breath upon her bare shoulder. His fingers ran idly down her back, evoking sighs of pleasure. She didn’t want this moment to end. Yes, she knew she was an idealist. But who honestly could live without dreams? She imagined black-suited lawyers with their hair severely pulled back in a knot, dealing with their clients mechanically day after day to get a huge wodge of money. Money that was shoved in a bank for the future. For what future, she had no idea. The only 'future' event that the money was most often used for was their funerals--an elaborate occasion with empty eulogies about their efficiency. Never about their dreams. They had none.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, vanishing images of grim lawyers.

"Oh, nothing much," Laurie answered, running her fingers through his soft hair.

He nibbled her ear in response. "I love you." Heartfelt and sincere, full of meaning that was able to be conveyed through speech. The rest was delightfully conveyed through the body, its subtle nuances far more expressive than words. They had been together for years, ever since they first met in college. Back then, they were both young and idealistic, having imagined that they would save sex for marriage. After all, it was the best thing to do, as everyone said. Safe from HIV and unwanted pregnancies. Most of all, it was the morally right thing to do. They always focused on that, and downplayed the other more immediate dangers. Perhaps they considered the soul to be in more danger of corruption than the body, which was easily mended through pills and doctors. The skill of healing the soul was much more complex, they implied. But Laurie didn't think so; the priests sitting in the dark rooms seemed to be experts at it, judging by the almost gleeful glint in their eye as they welcomed sinner after sinner, cleaning their souls.

After a while however, they got bored of waiting. Or rather, he did. The moment he quietly proposed that they do it, Laurie acted aggrieved, at first.

"How can you even think of such a thing?" she had screamed at him before throwing him out of her house. Even as the words flew from her mouth, desire flamed within her heart, like a roused dragon that had been asleep a thousand years. She tried to suppress them; confessing to a bored-sounding priest in hope that he would help her to forget them. All he told her was to try and forget them as soon as possible. Otherwise...three blank dots were left delicately in his speech, enabling her to imagine the worst thing that could ever happen to her. But the more she tried to forget them, the more the desire was incited in her heart. Until one day, she found herself thinking of nothing but a dark room with both of them in it, cementing their love through a new language that was not of words.

She had gone to him first, knocking on the door with slight trepidation. He had shown surprise; after all, ever since his proposal, she had cut all contact with him. Yet, here she was at his doorstep looking anxious, but at the same time, holding a glint of desire in her eyes.

"May I come in?" Laurie had asked. She had not waited for a reply, and had just walked straight in. His room, usually tidy, was messy; scrunched-up balls of paper littered the floor while a heap of dirty clothes lay around the room in an unaesthetic fashion.

"What's up Laurie?" he had asked, almost unnecessarily. He knew as well as she her purpose of arriving. She had been sitting on the edge of the bed, the shade from the lamp hiding her face in darkness, masking her facial expression. She had started to move away from the dark, towards him. As she drew near, he saw purpose, anxiety, (love?) written on her face.

Laurie held his fingers and put them to the buttons on her shirt, undoing them. "I'm ready," she had whispered, sultry like the large-bosomed heroines in badly written romance novels. But, this was real. Although it wasn't like how the novels described it to be (mind-blowing and utterly passionate), the sincere love they shared covered the occasional fumbling mistake with forgiveness, flushed embarrassment with passion. This was what they had always dreamed of, after all. Though not ideally perfect, it was satisfactory for the both of them, as they lay side by side in gentle silence in the aftermath, their love stronger than ever.

Then, it crashed. Unexpectedly. She was not prepared for it. After all, weeks of stolen nights with him did nothing but brighten up her ordinarily gloomy face. The smile of fools, they called it. Everyone noticed it, as they also noticed the bounce in her feet, laugh in her voice, smile in her eyes. So, when it happened, Laurie felt as if she had been pulled hard from the topmost clouds in the sky to the hard cement below, no cushions provided.

It started with a seemingly innocuous message in his mobile. Hi, that night was absolutely fantastic. ;-) When next, Johnny boy?

As long as she had known him, he had never permitted her, or anyone else for that matter, to call him Johnny boy. It was too much like what his ageing aunts used to call him as they played gin rummy, occasionally giving him a few coins from their winnings to buy his favorite ice-cream. An ancient endearment, a relic. Jonathan disliked the past, preferring to live in the present, unbridled by the chains of the past. Laurie had been permitted to call him Johnny boy only on one occasion--when they were making love.

In the heights of pleasure, Laurie would scream that name long and loud. He never seemed to mind it as he released all his inhibitions, the passion of full release, transcending realms of past and present. That name remained locked in the bedroom, only brought to life by the fusion of two bodies, moving to a furious beat amidst a crescendo of utterances full of aching pleasure. Laurie always thought that it was her body only that unlocked the sound of that name.

She thought wrong. The anger hit her like a bucketful of thick hot blood. The beautiful white wedding dress, preserved in Laurie's imagination, complete with frills and pearls, was splattered in blood. Ripped, torn, burned. The pain of betrayal left a bitter seed in her soul, spreading bile and green poison, embracing her memories with toxic claws so that they choked, and died. Her spirit writhed in agony for a full day. After that, the poison and blood were flushed down, having done their work, cleansing her of the false memories and love she once had. She was clean as a surgical knife.

It was time for revenge.

Laurie started by mentally reviewing the secrets he entrusted to her, to be locked in the safety vaults of her heart. She played with the idea of chopping his balls off and feeding them to her ravenous pregnant cat. But, she decided against it. Too messy, and she wasn't adept with a knife, which might lead to an accidental death. Laurie wanted to hurt him, not kill him, and watch his suffering while sipping martinis, preferably in the company of another man to enhance her satisfaction.

She knew what would hurt him the most: a scholarship to a prestigious university that depended on his excellent sports performance. An upcoming football game with Red Bulls from Elton High would, in all likelihood, determine his winning of the scholarship. A game watched by a noisy, cheering audience and inconspicuous talent scouts. A game which would hold his finest moment, or ugliest disgrace. If there was anything Jonathan loved more than her, it was his beloved football. Laurie smiled to herself--May 19th would not be a day of celebrations. It would be a day of mourning, anger and grief--the whole school partaking in a mass of anger and grief, with Laurie as the priest.

She had one week to prepare for the destruction she would commit.

May 19th. 1900. An hour before the game.

"Hey Laurie." He kissed her on the lips softly.

"Jon..." She allowed herself to be kissed, closing her eyes.

"This is the big game, Rie. The final one--before I’m off! Can you believe that?" he spoke with gusto, but his smile was anxious.

Laurie reached out and stroked his face with light fingers. Her voice was soft; the tone was light, yet heavy with conviction at the same time. What he did not notice was the subtle malice laced in the voice. "You'll get 'em. You always have. Why should this be any different?" Then, she kissed him, savoring the taste that was still clean, unsalted from tears. They would fall soon enough, and this time, Laurie would not be there to kiss them away. Only a piece of tissue, if she felt generous. More likely, there would be nothing at all.

The game began. At first, they were winning. Then, Jonathan started to stumble. They were minor mistakes at first, mistakes attributed to growing fatigue. However, a break did not seem to recover him. In fact, after the break, his performance steadily decreased. He couldn't seem to catch the ball, attack his opponents for the ball, or even perform his trademark lightning run that usually eluded his opponents. The cheers that rang loud from the audience softened in volume, turning into confused murmurings, and then stopped altogether. They were too stunned even to boo.

Needless to say, they lost. Terribly. The opposing team was ecstatic in their unexpected victory, slapping the losing team on the back with praises on what a good game they played. The male cheers of victory soon died down as the visiting team left. All that was left was the black silence that hung in the air, thick and dank. Throwing their towels behind their backs, the boys went to shower wordlessly, leaving Jonathan sitting alone on the bench, wondering what the hell had happened to him.

Laurie approached him, a lone figure in the night lit garishly with large field spotlights. She sat down next to him.

"It's all right, tomcat," she said, using his pet name.

"No, it isn't. I failed. I failed them," he said, his voice thick with emotion which he struggled to control. "I failed us..."

"Nothing you couldn't help. You just had a bad night--worrying about the game, your friend Ron. No wonder you played terribly!"

"Ron played better than me," he muttered. "And I didn't worry. I didn't worry at all. I knew that I'd nail this game. But I didn't."

"You're NOT a failure, Jon!" Laurie said sharply. "It wasn't your fault you lost. It was the bloody referee, those other stupid team-mates of yours. Not to mention that the other team was fantastic. You had nothing to do with it, because this was your best."

"It's my best, huh Rie? So I guess, I really don't deserve that scholarship after all. Come on Rie--stop trying to comfort me. We both know it was my fault we lost this. I couldn't play! I just couldn't play! Maybe I never could in the first place!"

Jonathan kicked a ball in anger, fear, and self-loathing. His face was despondent with the stain of failure, colored by hopelessness. "Forget it. I'm going home."

He stomped off; leaving Laurie in the slight drizzle that had begun to fall, her lips curved in a smile.

The next day, Jonathan was called to the principal's office. He was not getting the scholarship, as expected. But, far worse than that, he was apparently charged with selling steroids to one of the weakest players on the team--Ron. Ron was already discharged from the team, with a rather joyful expression on his face. Finally, months of teasing and torture from the bigger guys on the team would stop. He was free at last. Jonathan would not be expelled; he would only be discharged from the team, with no hope of returning to play in future games.

The moment he stepped out from the office, he saw the looks of disgust on his classmates, and even his friends. Classic looks of alienation, which he himself once threw, were now directed at him. He was now an outcast. The emotions which he had suppressed the night before quickly rose to the surface. He gritted his teeth hard, using all his might to keep the tears from spilling. Laurie. He had to find her.

"Laurie! Oh, Laurie!" Jonathan could scarcely contain his joy when he spotted her, sitting at the table in the cafeteria, talking and laughing with a guy whom he did not recognize. She looked up at his shout (in annoyance?), whispered something in the guy’s ear, and walked towards him.

"Jonathan, hi," she said, politely.

"Laurie?" he said, confusedly.

"Oh Johnny boy," she sighed, with a smile on her lips as she led him into the quiet courtyard.

"Laurie. Oh, Laurie, I'm screwed! I'm suspended from the team. Can't play ever again." His face scrunched up in pain. "Thought I was selling steroids. Bloody hell--all I did was keep them for him! I never gave them to Ron! But they don't believe me, none of them. Not a single one...oh God...what's happening, Rie?"

"Jon...I know you didn't do it." She smiled like a cherub.

"You believe me?" His eyes lit up with hope.

"Yes, Jon," she smiled. "That's because it was me. I drugged you--made you perform the worst ever in your most important game. Sold the steroids to Ron--he thinks it's you though. Lesson to learn: never leave your mobile phone around, or illegal stuff either. Shouldn't have left 'em steroids hanging around, Johnny boy."

"I-I don't understand. Why?!"

"Because I hate you," Laurie snarled, the anger she had pressed down rising up quickly to the surface. "You cheated on me, you bastard! Hi, that night was absolutely fantastic. When next, Johnny boy? How dare you? After all the promises you made, everything we did. We made love together, for crying out loud. It wasn't a bloody one-night-stand. It wasn't sex! It was love!"

She began to cry, hot tears that burned. She wiped them away roughly. Swallowing, she said, "Well, too bad for her, whoever she is. Her lover's now a social outcast. Told her the news yet? See if she sticks around. I doubt she will. Only a whore will touch you now."

She smiled savagely. Victoriously.

"But Laurie!" Jonathan was aghast. "That message wasn't for me. It was an unregistered number, wasn't it? It was some chick from school that got the wrong number--she messaged me again. I can show you the bloody message."

Jonathan slapped his forehead. "You didn't even bother to check, or ask me! Laurie, how the hell could you do that? How?!"

The smile was gone, replaced by a white clenching horror. "I--I..." Laurie whispered, growing faint. "I don't know." She felt dizzy; her vision grew black, spotted with stars. This couldn't be right. She couldn't have made a mistake. Then, she remembered another thing--something which she meant to tell Jonathan, but had forgotten in the excitement of the last several days. She had not been getting her period for three months.

Laurie gladly sank to darkness, grasping at the chance to forget her foolishness for even a while...

Written at 3:46 AM