A Moment Of Clarity
by Martin Friel
I took a seat at the back, settled with my pint, a packet of tobacco and waited. Sometimes it took a long time for her to arrive but I was always prepared to wait. I patiently rolled a handful of cigarettes and carefully arranged them in a row on the table. I placed my pint squarely in the centre of a beer mat which I positioned at the perfect point on the table; far enough away to accommodate my newspaper but close enough to reach without effort. Now all that was left for me to do was order refills when necessary and to wait.
Marianne and I had been seeing each other for some time now. She worked in this pub and we had an unspoken arrangement to meet here. She would never tell me what her shifts were so I had to take pot luck and hope I got the right days and times. I would also regularly make sure she got home ok; this city is no place for a beautiful girl to be walking around on her own. I had never seen anyone quite like my Marianne. I think she was Spanish or Italian or something. Definitely not from this country. She was far too beautiful for that. She had a way of wafting through a room. She didn’t walk in the traditional sense but glided and twirled about the place. It was as though her feet rested on a thin layer of air and she sailed through the place. As soon as I clapped eyes on her I knew she was the one for me. I had never taken much interest in people of either sex until I saw her for the first time. She owned me completely. As a result, I spent most of my spare time in the pub, waiting. I didn’t particularly like being in the pub or with the people in it but it was the best place to meet my Marianne.
We had what I would call an old-fashioned relationship, all affected looks and stolen glances; very sweet really. It had been a long courtship on my part but worth it because I could see that I was making progress, that she was finally succumbing to my dubious charms. She always changed my ashtray more than others, served me before those who weren’t regulars and accepted my smile with grace. She always had a kind word for me and was always concerned as to my well-being. She used to tell me to get out of the pub and enjoy life more but I knew that that was just her odd sense of humour coming out. She needed me in there when she worked. I kept an eye on her. Apart from this, very little was said between us but I understood; she was a professional, she could not be seen to be fraternising with the locals. Although she smiled at everyone, the smile that she sent sweeping in my direction always had a little something extra in it. It betrayed a burning passion, of this I was certain.
Although obviously besotted with me, four days ago she had decided to test the strength and conviction of my love for her. It was a bright afternoon, even in this dingy hole. It was quite empty, the space being taken up by a grey-blue cigarette smoke that hung lazily in the air. I had been waiting for my Marianne all day. Eventually she walked in, the bright sunlight creating a dazzling backdrop behind her. She looked, dare I say it, radiant. As she drifted through the door a rather stocky, dark-featured fellow followed her. They took a couple of stools at the bar, ordered drinks and fell into an animated conversation. I strained to make eye contact with her, trying to glean some kind of explanation. Our eyes never met but I noticed that she had started to show her left hand to the bar staff. The females squealed and gasped with delight; the males kissed her on both cheeks and shook her companion’s hand. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It looked for all the world that she was showing off an engagement ring. I had seen such scenes on the television. I was completely baffled but suddenly, it all made sense. She was testing me! She obviously wanted to be sure that I was 100% committed to her before she confessed her love for me and exposed her heart to the world. She was looking for a reaction, probably a punch-up or something. Perhaps she had imagined a scene where I come to her rescue and drag this brute out the door, for him to never be seen again. Then she could throw her arms around me a plant a thousand thankful kisses on my face. I laugh and tell her to take it easy before leading her out the door towards our bright new future. Or something like that anyway. You know how melodramatic women can be. If this was indeed the kind of reaction she was expecting she was poorly mistaken. I had much more class than that. If she would give me a day or two, I would prove to her that I wanted us to be together forever. The plan of action was forming in my head already; a perfect gesture of commitment. Emboldened, I drained my glass and headed towards Marianne. As I approached she heard my heavy footsteps, turned and smiled. I looked her steadily in the eye and softly said, “Challenge accepted”, and bowed slightly at the waist. She looked utterly bewildered. I knew that this was not the reaction she had been expecting to illicit from me and I found her confusion strangely pleasing. I already had one up on her and I hadn’t even started yet! I turned and strolled out with just a hint of arrogance in my step.
It didn’t take long before I figured out what I had to do. It would take nothing less than a supreme, ultimate show of love and commitment. It was a big step to take but she had thrown down the gauntlet and I was more than willing to take up her challenge. This was beginning to feel like a defining moment in my life, almost like I had been building up to it all these aimless years. This was to be the penultimate scene in my life, and I was more than ready. After all, where Marianne is involved I am prepared to do anything to make her happy.
I skipped the pub the following day and visited the ironmongers in the high street, got what was needed, went home and got prepared for my big day. Now, as you know, Marianne never told me when she worked so I knew that it might take a while to execute my plan but everything was in place mentally to go ahead the moment she sailed through the door; god knows I have patience. Turns out she didn’t show up for the next two days. It is on the third day that you find me, but I am certain that she will show up today. She only gets two days off a week, I knew that much. So I sit, cigarettes rolled, pint in position and wait.
David Bowie’s ‘Heroes’ is on the jukebox. I convince myself that the song is addressed to me personally, a love song for Marianne and I. I silently promise not to let Mr. Bowie down. We will indeed be heroes today. He is giving it his all towards the end of the song when she walks in. She looks harried and flustered but beautiful and scampers behind the bar putting on an apron en route, apologising to her workmates. A middle-aged man simultaneously takes his jacket off a hook and comes out from behind the bar. “Don’t worry about it Marianne”, he says. “I would hate to take up the precious time of young lovers.” Marianne laughs and says thanks and the gentleman leaves. She looks around the pub as if getting her bearings and our eyes finally meet and lock. I give her a smile and a discreet wave and she returns a stilted response to both. But it is ok, I understand. She’s a professional and after what the barman has just said about us she is understandably embarrassed. I let it go and return to my paper. I notice that I am starting to sweat. I can feel it running down to the small of my back. It feels quite good, almost soothing.
As I take a swig of my pint I look up and see Marianne on her way round the pub changing the ashtrays. This is it! It’s now or never. I’m starting to sound like a hero already! I reach into my pocket and get Marianne’s present out, adjust it, and prepare for my big moment, her big moment. She reaches my table and lifts the dirty ashtray.
“Hello Mark, how you doing today?”
“Fine, fine. Just Fine. Can’t wait”, I reply with obvious enthusiasm.
She looks puzzled, shakes her head slightly and turns her back on me to walk away. As she does, I am up in a flash, arm around her forehead pulling her right cheek towards me. With one swift movement, I have drawn the Stanley knife across her jugular. I hear a yelp and turn her to face me. Almost immediately, I am awash with her blood. It feels like a truly religious, sacred moment. There is a look of complete non-comprehension and fear etched on her face. “Surprise”, I breathe as I cut my own jugular. “No more waiting. Now we will always be together Marianne!” I grab her head with both hands and seal our communion with a passionate kiss.
What followed is very uncertain indeed. All I know for sure is that I fucked up! In seconds we were surrounded by people trying to wrench us apart but we held on tight. Eventually, someone clattered me over the head with something really heavy and sore and I had to let go of her and went down. I can remember the panic that seized me at that moment. What would this mob to my Marianne? I had to protect her but I was being pinned down by several brutes. I remember almost nothing after that, just vague faces, lights, noise, confusion. I think that there was a lot of blood because I kept slipping as I struggled under the weight of these intruders. But the abiding memory of that time is confusion not to mention pain and helplessness, both mental and physical.
When I come to, I find myself in what can only be a hospital bed. I am handcuffed to it, both hands. I can make out voices behind the curtain, which is entirely drawn around my bed.
“… no, no. She should be fine. Didn’t lose too much blood. We just need to keep an eye on the shock factor. He’ll be fine as well. |Any ideas what happened?”
“Well, we don’t think the guy’s right in the head. Apparently when they had him pinned down in the place he was screaming about how they were stopping the ultimate communion or some shit like that.”
“What?”
“Aye, I know. Don’t think he’ll be seeing the light of day anytime soon. No rhyme or reason to it. From what we can get out of the girl, she hardly knew him. Just another quiet regular.”
What? She was still keeping up the pretence? What the fuck did a guy have to do to prove himself these days? If it hadn’t been for those buffoons in the pub we would have been joined forever, perfect. Can’t really blame her though. I did fuck it up. We’re both still here and now everybody knows about our love. She’ll probably be pissed off for a while but I still accept her challenge. I’ll have a wee think about it but my first thoughts are that poison is probably the best idea. No room for error there. As soon as I was fixed up I could get on with it. I wonder how long it will be before I am out? Could be a while but fuck it, I am used to waiting for Marianne.