Wild and Violent. You Had Too Much Freedom
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As she claimed, I still have to choose the shoes myself … I am sure that this is another of her tricks, and I was prepared for the fact that she is taking me along with her to buy my favor.
Why she needs this — I have no idea … But who can understand her, this strange woman?
I was afraid that she would drag me by force into the brand-name boutiques at which the car stopped, and when once again I refused to get out of the car, hugging myself and frowning, the stranger leaned slightly towards me sitting in the front seat.
“What’s bothering you?”
Well, I couldn’t tell her I’d feel out of place under the salespeople’s gaze. I think I overestimated my courage.
“Just give it a try. Play a role, have a good time, let loose. Come on, it’ll be fun. You have a good imagination — think of something that will be enjoyable.”
Oddly enough, it worked on me.
Who would dare judge a rich mom’s capricious brat who came with the sole purpose of humiliating everyone in the sales floor?
“Your clothes are complete crap!” I drawled, making a dismissive gesture with my hand, and the stranger burst out laughing.
“That’s a different story!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “And most importantly, stay yourself. You’re beautiful,” she concluded, and before I could respond, she swung the door open and left the car.
I followed her, already focused on the upcoming amusement, but her words stuck deep in my head.
I couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking.
It wasn’t immediately clear where to start. I tried on basic items — jeans, T-shirts, hoodies, solid colors but nice to the touch — with pleasure. For some reason, I didn’t feel like racking my brains, so I chose almost everything black.
The clothes were well-made, the size was right, and they fit perfectly — I didn’t look like a ragamuffin. Yes, I didn’t believe the reflection: the only thing it showed reliably was the bruise on my face. The rest — the glowing eyes and the strangely smiling mouth — were clearly someone else’s.
I myself was amazed at how quickly enthusiasm and courage took over from the eternally hunted state and agitation.
“Don’t you want other jeans?” Stella asked me, standing on the other side of the curtain — I wouldn’t let her into the fitting room.
“Nope,” I blurted out capriciously, and I realized too late that it would be exactly like with the hairdryer.
“But come to think of it?”
I zipped up my fly and pulled down my T-shirt. No, my arms might be skinny and bruised — but apart from that, there’s definitely something to it!
A hand suddenly appeared through a gap in the curtain, holding a pair of jeans.
“Try them on!”
As soon as I took the clothing from her fingers, accidentally touching her skin, her hand disappeared, and her hurried, retreating steps were the sign that I had no one to complain to.
Okay, so let it be these …
Stella handled the consultants who sensed fertile ground and obligingly carried out all instructions so briskly that I began to think: I don’t even know what she does for a living … She’s definitely dominating someone!
“Psst, can I take a look?” she whispered through the curtain, already returning to me, and I barely held back a chuckle.
“Just a second,” I breathed out, for some reason starting to feel embarrassed by my bare arms, straightening my back to look at least a little more presentable. “Now you can.”
The woman ended up in the same fitting room with me; we shouldn’t have been cramped, but for some reason I felt short of breath, and my back instantly broke out in sweat.
“Oh,” she smiled, nodding meaningfully. “Gorgeous.”
Only now did I realize she was holding three hangers of shirts — black, dark blue, and light blue. All three were from the very brand whose boutique I’d refused to go to before.
Anticipating all my objections, she shook her head, hanging the clothes on the free wall hooks.
“No refusal. I want you in a shirt,” she said and disappeared behind the curtain, leaving me silently blinking, staring at my reflection.
Thank God, I’m the only one so spoiled — I heard the vulgarity in her phrase.
All three fit me perfectly, I liked all of them. With the very last one, the black one, I wanted to spend a little longer fiddling around, carefully buttoning all the buttons, including the ones on the cuffs.
Whether it was from thrill or clumsiness, I just couldn’t fight the row on the sleeves, for I had to do everything perfectly.
“I’ll ask you again — can I take a look?” her voice came from behind the curtain.
Grinding my teeth in frustration, I growled, much harsher than I intended, instantly embarrassed, “Yes!”
When I raised my head, Stella, having got inside, was looking at me with wide eyes, carefully approaching to arm’s length.
“What’s wrong?” she asked delicately.
“I can’t,” I replied plaintively, looking away.
“What is it?”
But I didn’t need to answer: she was already lifting my right hand up to eye level, having deftly handled two buttons. She did the same with my other hand.
“Beautiful,” she smiled, touching the row of fittings fastened on my chest below the collarbones, and I opened my mouth in confusion.
My heart was about to jump out of my chest from her strange action, and I felt a sudden flush of heat. I met her gaze, and she was so close that my head was starting to spin.
I froze, feeling her brush my hair away from my face without touching my skin, and there had never been a more delirious moment in my life.
I suddenly thought that she would kiss me — and I was already prepared for anything — but she quickly pulled away, as if nothing had happened, smiling softly and looking me up and down.
“Did I understand correctly — are you tired already?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence.
I nodded, nervously tugging at the hem of my shirt.
“You can just go like this, it suits you very well. We’ll take whatever you like?”
I agreed again, eager to get out of this ill-fated fitting room as quickly as possible.
Then, with our bags in hand, we headed off to buy shoes.
Erik’s boots were too big for me — in his size fourteen I felt like I was wearing skis, but I didn’t complain: my old, torn sneakers were also far from suitable for my feet.
I didn’t even know my size, and I’d never bought shoes before … It’s strange that I even had the chance to go shopping. Even if I ever imagined shopping, it certainly wasn’t like this.
I was pleased — and I was afraid to admit how much … And I was also grateful. This is rare — I’m not used to such an attitude.
“Why don’t you buy something for yourself?” I asked, indifferently surveying the selection of men’s shoes at yet another boutique. “I mean, not here,” I glanced around, “but in general.”
The stranger touched my elbow, pointing to the thick-soled, high-topped boots, and I shrugged one shoulder.
“I rarely like anything,” she said in that same timbre that stirred my every cell, “but when I do — it surely isn’t going anywhere from me. Don’t worry — I just haven’t seen anything interesting yet.”
“Okay, then,” I tried to smile.
“These ones, please,” the woman turned her attention to the salesperson, who was waiting for her to finally speak, “and these ones. We have to start somewhere. What’s your size — a ten?”
I nodded hesitantly — she probably knew better.
“After we’ve chosen the shoes, we’ll take a coffee break,” she reassured me.
I rolled my eyes, but sat down on the ottoman.
Two stores later, we finally found something we both liked. Two pairs, actually. And she got the size right — I wouldn’t have guessed it myself.
Walking in my new shoes was much more pleasant, and I even started to feel better. Especially since she promised to buy me coffee.
Having dropped our things in the car, we ran to a coffee shop we picked, and both of us, without outerwear — me in the new shirt and jeans, no longer with tags, and she in a thin, loose blouse tucked into high suit pants, with a tiny bag over her shoulder — sat down at a table in a cozy corner, like a blissfully flying young couple.
How strange and unfamiliar it is to observe the world from a different perspective. This is the same New York, after all. The very one — cynical, dirty, deceitful; colorful, like an enticing wrapper of a useless, disgusting-tasting candy.
When I came out of my thoughts, I found that the waiter and Stella were staring at me expectantly.
Not immediately realizing what I needed to do — the stranger, as always, had given me a false idea of freedom — I bleated, “Latte.”
“And a cappuccino,” the woman added, giving the waiter a smile.
He understood and retreated.
I hid behind the hair that had fallen over my face again, feeling her gaze fixed on me. I had almost gotten used to her close look, but my restless nature was itching to ruin everything.
“I’m thinking,” I began slowly, “that despite the fact that you washed and dressed me, I remain the same as I was.”
She folded her palms on the table, leaning forward slightly toward me. Two rings glittered on her slender ring finger.
“What were you like?”
She always asks questions that I have no answer to — either too difficult or almost impossible!
“As if you yourself don’t know what I’m talking about,” I muttered, regretting that I had even started this pointless conversation.
I am a fool such as the world has never known.
“Don’t you see, I’m not going to forcibly change you!” Stella leaned even further over the table, trying to meet my gaze.
I snorted, biting my lips until they bled.
“Look at me,” she asked.
I stubbornly remained silent, turning away.
“Please, look at me.”
It was only because I discerned a tremor in her gentle voice that I looked up at her. She was pale — probably almost as pale as me — and very worried. I felt sick of myself.
“You know, you know perfectly well — I’ll ruin everything. It’s all for nothing — I’m not capable of anything good!” I spoke heatedly, and she got even more frightened. “You shouldn’t have started all this — I won’t be a homebody, I won’t be of any use for you!”
I nervously threw my hair back with my hand, and the stranger grabbed my wrist, which was now above the table.
“I can’t give you what you want,” I breathed out.
“You have no idea what I want,” she shook her head.
“And you don’t know what I want!”
“Because you don’t know it yourself!”
Swallowing defeat in the verbal battle again, I sat up abruptly, and she released my hand as I leaned back in my chair.
My eyes closed tiredly, and from under my lowered eyelashes I watched as the waiter placed our coffee from the tray on the table.
After Stella sipped her drink, I moved. I placed four sugar cubes in the cup and patiently stirred the sugar with my left hand, while she kept her eye on my fingers.
She probably noticed this morning that I’m left-handed.
And I noticed that her husband is left-handed.
“I hope you still have the energy to look for your jacket?” she said, as if nothing had happened.
I raised an eyebrow — I thought she’d get angry and send me back where she took me from. So, I’m unconsciously pushing her to do this!
“Of course,” I lied. “And you?”
When will I ever figure out how to address her …? When will I ever figure out anything at all?
12. Good Ear
Whether I was stalling, or whether we were both picky about my outerwear choices, we returned home late. The cuffs occasionally jingled behind us, forgotten on the ceiling handle, but they no longer bothered me — it was even funny how our relationship had changed in these twenty-four hours.
Or it hadn’t …?
I tried to remember all the shopping we’d made today, seemingly necessary but overwhelming: three T-shirts, two pairs of jeans, two hoodies, three shirts; two pairs of shoes, a jacket, a belt, gloves, not to mention underwear and socks.
Maybe I was a doll being dressed up and put in a dollhouse, but right now I didn’t mind at all.
I’d sold myself out. Yes, I’d sold myself out, and I didn’t regret it one bit.
On the way back, we grabbed some food from the restaurant. I wasn’t sure I’d be hungry by the time we got back to the apartment, but the idea of a cozy dinner was inspiring.
Then the stranger showed me the library in Erik’s study, and I spent about half an hour reading Jack London stories, my feet up in a chair in the warm light of a lamp, while the stranger was doing something at the computer open on her lap.
A flood of pleasant memories came over me: I rarely thought back to the orphanage in Vienna for a good reason, but the meager library, where I often spent time reading everything in sight out of boredom — from old textbooks to stupid popular novels — was one of them.
Perhaps I ran away from the orphanage because there was nothing else to read …?
The woman in the next chair yawned without taking her eyes off the screen, and I glanced at her through the pages of the book.
“What time is it?” I asked, clearly able to make out the face of the antique clock above the study entrance.
“Half past nine,” she replied.
“Does he … Erik … always come home this late?”
Stella placed her laptop on the table and stretched, raising her slender, clasped hands. The silky fabric of her blouse accentuated her seductive silhouette, and I couldn’t help but admire her, even though there was nothing erotic in my thoughts.
Or was there …?
I got frightened by my own suspicions, and with an effort of will, I switched my attention from the stranger to the book.
“It’s not that late,” she answered my question with a smile. “But he doesn’t always leave for the whole day … From time to time.”
I nodded, satisfied with the information. He simply works late and irregularly — there’s nothing strange about that; not all representatives of the human race work from nine to six.
“Do you go to work?”
I looked at her again, and the woman had no longer touched the computer, even the lid was closed.
“No.”
“So you’re home all day?”
Well, I have to know what awaits me if I intend to spend this week here!
“Not all day,” she tilted her head slightly to the side, catching my gaze, “I usually can’t sit still. If you want, I’ll take you with me, or you can take a break from me.”
She spread her hands with a smile, but I remained serious. I guess I was just tired.
As if hearing my thoughts, she said, “You seem even more thoughtful than you were during the day. Do you want to sleep?”
I shrugged, setting the book down on the table and straightening my legs.
“Perhaps. I haven’t figured it out yet,” I sighed. “But you’re right, I should be sleeping.”
“You can take the book and read it in bed.”
So I did, taking Jack London and his characters with me, and she, approving of my choice, wished me goodnight.
Already lying in bed under the blanket in just my underwear, immersed in a bookish world where the working man Martin had fallen in love with a bon ton girl, transforming himself for a higher purpose, I listened from time to time to what was happening in the home. Judging by the sounds, Stella had taken a bath shortly after I left, and then she’d walked up and down the stairs several times, stepping carefully — probably so as not to wake me. Only after midnight, when the stranger had gone to the bedroom, did the front door open, letting in the head of the family.
I had long since become accustomed to my exceptionally good ear, and more often than not it had saved me in a variety of situations, but now I cursed the ability to hear through walls.
Because, upon returning home, Erik headed to his wife. And instead of, for fuck’s sake, going to bed, he decided to fulfil his marital duties!
I didn’t immediately understand what was going on: at first they were quietly purring pleasant nonsense to each other, happy to see each other, but then the ambiguous fuss soon turned into quite unambiguous groans of impatience.
Of course I’ve seen people having sex; of course I’ve heard people having sex! But it has never happened this way … this wildly and terrifyingly for me.
I covered my head with the blanket, but still couldn’t get rid of these unbearable images that popped into my thoughts, recreated on the basis of the sounds I heard.
I covered my ears with my hands, I bit my fingers to switch my attention to the pain, but it was all in vain; I literally saw him caressing her, how he hovered over her, moving inside her, and how she scratched his shoulders, arching her back …
The way sweat glistened on her bare breasts, collarbones, and neck. The way she whispered his name with just her lips.
I realized with horror that I was aroused myself.
And moreover — that I wished I were in his place.
I hated myself for it, trying to find another explanation, while the torture continued excruciatingly long … Come on, seriously, stop!
Enough! Please, enough!
But they seemed to be mocking me, not wanting to stop what they were doing — the man was no longer holding back his demanding gasps and groans between kisses, while Stella remained almost silent, and I could only hear her rapid breathing and trying to take air into her lungs.
It was only when they moaned in unison, exhaling, and he, echoing her, came to his senses in her arms, that I whimpered louder than I intended.
I kept shivering, and through the silent sobs that rolled over me, I realized they had heard me.
Or they hadn’t …?
He had. She hadn’t.
13. Hilarious
Three days passed in their home: I couldn’t even believe that now in the mornings I’m cooked breakfast, during the day — mostly in the company of the stranger — I’m taken for walks and entertained, and I spend the evenings with the book in the warm and cozy bed.
They no longer had sex around me.
And I also tried to avoid Erik, even though I had no objective reason to. He reacted to me adequately, if not to say friendly, although he did not intentionally try to become friends with me, keeping his distance, besides, I recognized Stella’s husband as a very interesting and witty interlocutor.
But there was something frightening about his appearance — either he moved like a predatory beast, or I knew that, if something happened, I wouldn’t be able to cope with him …
For the umpteenth time, I caught myself feeling jealous of her. Possessive, as if she shouldn’t spend time with anyone but me.
I knew my feelings were foolish and naive, and I was ashamed of them.
I no longer refused invitations to go for a walk in Battery Park or have dessert — simply because it was great to mess around in her company.
She gave me personal space, and at some point I could say I wanted to be alone — and the stranger would just nod and leave me to my thoughts — or silence.
This morning, she brought me a box with the phone and keys. I didn’t immediately find what to say — and simply thanked her.
I wasn’t sure I’d dare leave the home on my own, and the communication tool with my current attachment was unnecessary, but something told me she had, first and foremost, deprived herself of the temptation to chain me up.
She enjoyed taking care of me — I got it almost immediately, even if I didn’t believe it — and I made my decision. I would let her do it until one of us decided to quit the game.
Moreover, the dialogue overheard between the hosts gave rise to some reflections.
Returning from the kitchen, chewing on the move the candy from the glass bowl on the bar, I stopped at the entrance to the living room, not daring to give away my presence.
“… I never realized until now,” the stranger’s husband said quietly, “what all this means to you. We’ve been together for so many years, and it’s just … so natural—”
He chuckled, maybe smiling, and the woman stirred on the sofa, apparently staring at him questioningly.
“You remember — by the way, it wasn’t that long ago: Leigh joked that it was time for us to have kids … Well, you won’t believe it … but I agree with him.”
“What …?” Stella breathed out.
“We’ve never discussed it — and you know perfectly well why …” He hesitantly broke off his sentences, catching his breath, in an uncharacteristic manner. “But … if we suddenly had a child, I’d say I’m ready for it.”
There was an ambiguous silence, which I would have interpreted as shock on the stranger’s part.
“Are you serious?” she finally managed to say.
Her voice sounded more baffled than joyful.
“I wouldn’t joke … like that. I’ve always avoided the subject … But after your … Victor showed up,” he deliberately emphasized my name in the middle of his sentence, “it was like someone punched me in the nose, and it dawned on me.”
She was silent again, and I, standing behind the wall, was afraid to move, lest, as usually happens at such moments, a single creaking floorboard should confuse those speaking.
“I realized you’d wanted a child for a long time, and I was a blind egotist, thinking only of myself. And also — since things have turned out this way: if this boy were our son, I wouldn’t mind. Of course, if only we could persuade him to behave more calmly and fatten him up a bit … But otherwise, he’s hilarious.”
I was dumbfounded, and I guessed Stella was too.
Hilarious …?
Does it matter that I’m already fourteen and unlikely to change? Or is this not about me, but about some abstract child whose place I mistakenly took? After all, really, all she needed was an object to direct her love and care toward!
Erik is away from home all day — and he doesn’t really talk about where he goes or for how long; some things — Stella often picked up calls these days — don’t occupy her thoughts or time completely … Naturally, she’ll want to give a part of herself to someone.
That someone turned out to be me. Did I deserve such a gift …?
“Everything happens at the right time. Your confession took me completely by surprise,” the stranger said, judging by the sound, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I don’t even know what to do with this information. And as for Victor …” She smiled, and I felt a strange flush of fluster rise to my cheeks. “When you get to know him better, you’ll agree with me — he’s adorable.”
She said it sincerely.
I suddenly thought that if they had adopted me, I wouldn’t have run away.
“I believe you,” Erik replied with a sigh. “But I admit, I’m a little jealous of him.”
It was said with a smirk, meant to hide his true feelings, but if he really sees me as a rival, then he clearly has some self-esteem issues. A hunted minor weakling couldn’t possibly come between him and Stella, could he?
My fantasies are out of place here — the gap between us is too great, I can only drag someone to the bottom, but not make them happy.
Soon I had to enter, as if nothing had happened, the living room, where Stella and Erik were sitting close to each other on the irregularly shaped sofa, still leaning back on the pillows.
I twirled the candy wrappers in my hands, they looked at me with serious faces, but smiling eyes, and I even felt a little uneasy.
When I walked further and sat down on the edge of the sofa on the stranger’s side, she, continuing to prop up her husband’s side with her sharp shoulder, said, “I’m inviting you both to dinner this evening. Don’t you dare to refuse.”