Miranda Sparks’ wonderful life

Chapter 12

I like to dance, especially when I’m cooking for Mike. There’s a soft clang of the knife on the wood chopping board. Pasta and vegetable salad are coming up for dinner. I stand in the kitchen wearing a reddish apron and slice tomatoes. From the living room comes the voice of James Blunt. I catch the beat and start dancing. The chorus comes on and I sing along:

– You’re great. You’re great. You’re gorgeous, it’s true. I saw your face in the masses. And now I don’t know what to do, since I’ll never be with you.

It’s already6 on the clock. Mike’s not due back from work until seven o’clock. I dump the sliced tomatoes into the frying pan and turn down the heat.

– Okay, now noodles…

It is a moment of my happiness, my love and boundless joy. I’m bustling around the kitchen with a glass of Chardonnay and enjoying the hustle and bustle. Everything is so perfect, it feels like a dream come true.

What else can I wish for? I love and am loved, I have an excellent job, a comfortable apartment, and every day I smile and am truly happy.

I dance out of the kitchen and through the living room to the bathroom to get the laundry out of the washing machine. My thoughts are occupied by my father and his words. He didn’t want me and Mike together. I remember the days when I went against my father’s vision, principles and standards. Nothing’s changed, I’m still the same. If only he could accept Mike into the family, I think that idyll would scare me. There’s no such thing as the perfect one. When everything is so great, at some point there’s going to be a breaking point.

I take out my own boyfriend’s black T-shirt and hang it lovingly on the dryer. This love is very crazy, very powerful for me. I’m ready to tie Mike down and not let him go anywhere, just so we can be together all the time. I miss him even when he goes to another room. Apparently I’m a «Mike addict,» it’s mind-boggling how he hasn’t run away from me yet.

Early eight o’clock, dinner is ready, and I’m sitting on the couch in the living room, watching Kevin Paris’s cooking show and taking another sip of wine from my glass. As the door opens, I jump out of my seat and run to meet my lethargic boyfriend. As usual, he opens his arms for me and presses me firmly against him. At this moment I am happier than ever. There he is – my man. I will never give him up to anyone.

– I missed it.

Mike kisses me on the top of my head.

– I’m a baby, too.

We stood in the hallway with our arms around each other to feel like we were together again. I could have stayed like this forever, but Mike was tired and hungry, so I had to let him go first.

– Guess what’s for dinner now?

I smile with all my two30 teeth and take the bag from him to put it back.

– Pasta.

He guessed, as usual.

– How do you do it?

Mike takes off his coat and walks over to me, kissing me lightly on the lips.

– That’s what I wanted to ask you!

– Me!?

– Yeah. – He takes my face in his hands and our lips meet again, only this time in a dizzying kiss. – I’ve missed you desperately. – He says into my lips and kisses me again.

– Are you hungry!?

Mike’s lips move from mine to my neck, and I pull my head back and close my eyes in pleasure. I feel as good as I’ve ever felt. His hot breath tickled my skin and a blissful grin appeared on my lips. I run my fingers through Mike’s hair and pull them down gently. His lips make a small path to my collarbone-it feels so good, it makes my knees tingle.

That night we sat down to dinner exclusively at the clock10. I was very happy, and that happiness, afterward, tortured me every moment I spent without Mike. The beautiful memoirs echoed in pain. I hated them and adored them. They were on constant rewind in my head. Closing my eyes, they brought me back to those times and kept me from remembering every touch, word, or gaze.

– Violet… Violet…

Mike’s voice sounded in the darkness, calling to me, asking me to come back. I heard him, and I walked toward him. It had always been that way, ever since the first day we’d met.

Little by little, the sounds that surrounded me began to reach me. After you faint, you want to fall back into that darkness, because it’s the only way to escape reality.

«Mike’s alive,» it sounded in my head as I opened my eyes and looked ahead of me. The man who’d let me believe he was dead and left me alone to suffer the pain of love lost forever was now standing over me with his furry head bowed.

– Are you awake!?

The familiar voice sent shivers through my body. I pulled myself up in my seat and put my arms around my shoulders. It looked like it was someone else’s room, so there was a good view of the city from the window, and I was also sitting in bed at the moment.

– How do you feel?

I looked at Mike. He’d changed, a lot. His hair was shoulder-length and practically blond, he had a beard, and the glow in his eyes that I’d seen every time we were together was gone. I couldn’t help but reach forward and put my hand over his face. He pressed it tighter with his warm hand and sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

– You’re alive. – I wheezed with excitement.

– Yes, alive.

He looked at me, and I didn’t know what to say to him. Everything was so confusing and hard to make sense of. My thoughts swirled around in my head in a frantic whirl. I wished I could just hug him and run away from here. This man meant so much to me, but he had caused me so much pain that I didn’t know what I was essentially feeling at the moment. I looked at him, but I no longer saw the familiar and desirable face that I adored so much. He had become a stranger to me.

I turned away from him as tears welled up.

– Hey!

Mike took me by the chin and turned me toward him. I tried not to look at him, tears running treacherously down my cheeks.

– Please don’t cry. – There was a familiar pain in his voice, and I looked up in surprise. – That’s it, baby. That’s it, look at me.

– Mike…

His name sent a wave of pain through my body, and I threw the blanket aside with a sob, got up, and clung to him tightly. The familiar feelings overwhelmed me, and I started sobbing profusely.

– Oh, Violet! I missed you, too. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry…

I clung tightly to his shirt, which was damp from my tears.

– I… I… thought you were dead. Why is that? Why is everything like this?

– Forgive me. I am so sorry for you.

– I thought… I thought… God, you’re alive. How can that be?

I pulled away from him and sat next to him, looking more intently into his face. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear and then ran his hand down my cheek.

– Sorry.

He was so close that I couldn’t believe I’d already lost him once.

– Alive! – I exhaled as Mike took my hands. – But how?

– It’s hard to explain.

He stroked my hand with his huge finger, as if asking me to calm down.

– I’m not rushing anywhere.

– Not now, baby. Are you slowing down here?

– No. At the AZ Hotel.

Mike smiled guiltily at me and got out of bed.

– How long have you been in Algeria?

– Denek. What about you? Where have you been all this time?

There was hesitation in his gaze.

– I can’t tell you everything yet. It’s really hard, just to explain. How long will you be in Algeria?

Here it is, the 1st bell warning me to be careful what I say.

– One week.

– That’s way too little, baby. Did you just come here to rest, or do you have business here?

I got out of bed and fixed my light yellowish dress.

– Both. Especially to see you with long hair.

Mike took a step toward me and put his hands on my shoulders.

– Can I ask you something else?

– Uh-huh.

– Did you come here alone?

– One.

I don’t know why, but I wanted to say «I’m not alone. I was afraid to tell him that I still couldn’t forget him. That for the last few years5, I’d been avoiding people like crazy, indulging in our memoirs, shutting myself away in my own little apartment. He probably remembered a completely different me, one who often laughed and enjoyed life. A colorful, concrete, ready for any adventure lady. But not a dried herbarium in her place.

I’d lost my luster over the years5, and my fur was too shabby for me to just lie to Mike. Anyone who could see me at the moment would tell me how pale I was, and how unkempt my clothes were. To those close to me I had become very skinny, almost transparent, playing a constant silent game, as if I had been reincarnated as a fish. My blank face without paint, resembling an unstained leaf and indifferent attitude toward everything that was going on were all part of who I was now.

Everyone knew the reason, but no one tried to talk to me about it, not even my father. It was as if they were afraid I would snap and run to chop up my wrists. And I wanted to share this pain with someone who would hug me and let me finally get all the shit out that had been building up inside me for years. But there was no one willing. Miranda was always on the road; it’s hard to reveal your soul to someone whose life is more of a rushing waterfall. My friend was very busy with her own life; she was active, energetic, in constant motion, while I sat in a corner. I couldn’t admit to her that I was unhappy when she was so happy and fulfilled. Well, it’s not in my nature to complain about life.

I would naturally like to look better and more confident in front of Mike at this point, so that he would think that I had survived everything that had happened between us.

– Oh so!?

I saw that this was the answer he was waiting to hear.

– Yes, one.

Mike looked me over from head to toe with an attentive eye.

– You’ve changed a lot.

– I know.» I mumbled back.

– I’m sorry again Val, I’m really very sorry for the way I disappeared back then.

– The truth?

I grinned ironically. If he was hoping to get away with an apology, he didn’t know me very well.

– Listen, let’s meet up with you tomorrow night. And I’ll answer all your questions.

– Where?

– Where is more comfortable for you.

I reflected on my own hotel, but I also remembered the detective.

– Is there a restaurant in this hotel?

– There is. But it’s very crowded.

– So? Is there some sort of inconsistency in that?

Mike ran his hand through his hair excitedly.

– No, I just wanted to talk to you in a more casual setting. But if you really want to meet in a restaurant, I don’t mind.

– What time is most convenient for you?

He pulled out a cell phone from the pocket of his dark pants and, after quickly typing something, shoved it back in.

– В5. Normal?

– Yes.

I went to the nightstand by the bed to get my bag.

– Violet!?

Swiftly throwing the strap over my shoulder, I turned around.

– What?

– You will come, won’t you?

– Naturally. I have to find out why you did what you did.

– And you will find out, I promise.

– I don’t doubt it. I’m sorry, but I have to get back to my business.

We uncomfortably started waving our arms as we walked to the door.

– Are you sure you don’t need an escort? You’re still pale…

– Oh no, that’s not necessary. There’s nothing wrong with me. I really am.

– Great.

– Bye.

He looked at me with a long gaze.

– See you tomorrow, Violet.

I smiled at his forgiveness and left the room.

«What the hell was that?»

Chapter 13

Some people like the rain in the summer, explaining it by the fact that after it passes, it becomes fresher. Some people like to bask in the sun under its colorful and scalding rays. There are people who like to walk outside and feel the light breeze on their own skin. There are a lot of people like that, but I’m not one of them. The rain gives me a migraine and my hair gets frizzy, and when the rain passes, the road turns into a swamp for me and my shoes get dirty. I rarely go outside, so on the only days I do get out of the house, I am greeted by sunny weather. It makes me wrinkle, my skin dries out, and in the light I start to notice the loose, unruly hair on my head, and I always feel like it’s trying to fall on my face. It’s a terrible feeling. It’s the same with the wind, yes it’s nice, it blows me blue, but it ruins my hair, and from time to time little grains of sand hurt my eyes and even get in my mouth.

To put it bluntly, I am not a pest. I’m not capricious or rude, I don’t have any of those things in me. I’m just very absorbed in every second of my life right now, and it forces me to become more sensitive to what’s going on around me. For the most part, I’m definitely irritable, but not so much that I live like a grumpy grandmother who has a dozen cats in her apartment and swears profusely as she walks past a couple kissing. In some ways I am even happy, and this can be explained by the fact that I never thought to register on some blog or forum dedicated to lowlifes losers and post about how miserable I am. To me, that’s an indicator.

I correctly perceive the one I am at the moment, and I regard my condition more quickly as temporary, which can be completely overcome.

The worst part was that I realized at this point that not only did I no longer love my ex-boyfriend, but that he turned out to be such a jerk. It was natural to believe that after all these years he would fall down and repent and beg me to forgive him, shedding bitter tears. He didn’t know that I’d been aching and pining for him like an idiot all this time. But I expected more from our meeting, because we were so close. Weren’t we?

I fully deserve at least a clarification. Let it be heresy to help me live on, I will accept it whatever it may be. I really wish things could go back to the way they were before. But without Mike’s help, I’m not sure I can find myself the way I was before. That’s why it’s important to end this love story in the end, in the end, in the end and in the end. I have to do it. No, I have to do it!

I walked down the eighth floor hallway toward my room. It hadn’t been the most pleasant day of my life, not because of my meeting with Mike, but because of the migraine that had been haunting me all day. I know it sounds unconvincing for such a statement, but I decided so, and with this, as unfortunate as it sounds, nothing can be done now. Stubbornness along with stupidity is not the best cocktail at the end of this fucking day, so I’ll just go to bed so that tomorrow would be easier.

I didn’t turn on the lights when I entered my own room, so I felt safer. I needed a shower that would wash the remains of the day from my skin and hair. I undressed as I walked to the bathroom, leaving a trail of sandals, my dress, and my underwear behind me. I had had enough of getting rid of these things, as they didn’t allow me to feel free.

I stood under a strong head of cool water in the shower stall. I needed the water to keep me from feeling my tears running and tasting salty. I grabbed a sponge and began angrily rubbing my arms, legs, stomach, and breasts with it. All of my actions were very vigorous, as if I were having a fit of anger or self-loathing. I felt dirty, as if I were in someone else’s skin. It pained me that the only man I had ever adored had abandoned me in such a subtle way. He had traded my love for means, and that hurt even more. How hard it is to think of yourself as nothing, in the eyes of a man to whom you have given all of yourself.

Clutching the sponge firmly in my hands, I slowly rolled down the shower wall. I was shattered and wrung out with powerlessness. After a few minutes, I still managed to get out of the shower and into bed. Curled up, shaking from the cold, I closed my eyes and counted to10. It helped me calm down when I needed it. My psychologist, Mr. Cooper, told me to do this counting to avoid any sensory outbursts, and I only used this technique against insomnia. It worked for me.

I was awakened by a pushy knock on the door. It was very bright in the room because of the glaring sun from the window when I opened my eyes. There was another knock, and I had to crawl out of bed to get to the door.

– Yes?

In my sleep, my voice was hoarse, so maybe they couldn’t hear me at all.

– Miss!? It’s Francis.

When I heard the familiar voice of the guide, I immediately opened the door.

– Good morning.

– Good morning, Miss Spikes!

Her friendly smirk made me a little angry. Maybe it was the way I felt disgusted!

– How did you sleep?

– It’s okay.

There was a look of surprise in Frances’ eyes, apparently because of my displeased tone.

– A bus will be here at one10 o’clock, which will take you to the local markets. – I twisted at her words. – Not good for you?

– No, it’s okay.

I squeezed a smirk out of myself.

– Convinced?

– Uh-huh.

– The general assembly will be at half past ten in the hotel lobby. It’s almost nine o’clock at this point, in case you want to go with all the other participants.

– Naturally. Thank you for you. – I swallowed audibly. – Be in the lobby by 9:30. Oh, that’s great.

– Does that mean you will go?

– Yes, I will.

– Then I won’t take up your time.

– Thanks again.

Frances smiled sweetly before I closed the door. I’d always loved traveling, no matter where it took me, as long as it was food. At times, of course, it depended on the company I was traveling with and the destination, but still, in all travel, there was that pulling road ahead that made my heart pound furiously in my chest. So I can safely say – the best remedy for a disgusting mood, for me, is a trip.

I didn’t wash my head, I just put my hair in a high ponytail. I brushed my teeth quickly, packed everything I needed in my bag, and took my phone and left the room. As I rode the elevator down to the bottom floor of the hotel, Miranda texted me, worried about my health as usual and asked how long I would be in Algiers. Then I got another text from her about our neighbor, Mr. Nice Ass-as her friend called him-that he was now back in his apartment.

Miranda had been madly fond of him ever since he moved into the apartment across the street from us two years ago. In her friend’s eyes, the neighbor was a «first-rate hottie,» though there was one «but» that made her sigh for him and not accept trying to get to know him in person anymore. The whole thing was that the neighbor had a dog. What do you know Miranda does not like dogs, so the main aspect in selecting a partner, she first finds out there is pets in his house or at least the possibility that it will appear. Only then begins to act and show enthusiasm for the man. For her it really is very important! She sighed audibly every time she thought about our neighbor – a handsome man, and I felt sorry for her in those moments. More than once I’d seen the light in her eyes light up when I heard footsteps outside our apartment door. Miranda paced around the room, looking for a reason to come out and talk to him, but she usually gave up with an audible sigh and sat down on the couch, occasionally glancing at the front door. It was a sad picture I’d watched more than once.

I myself did not see anything so fascinating in my neighbor, for me he was just a man living, on the contrary. On the contrary, I liked his dog, a golden retriever, and with a characteristic kindly gaze, like any dreamer of a furry pet, I saw him off with an outstretched hand.

My psychologist, Mr. Cooper, had suggested many methods of getting rid of the emptiness inside me during our conversations, among which was to get a dog, but because of Miranda I never did. So to make up for what I wanted, if you can naturally say so, I enjoyed watching my neighbor’s dog. She is very cute and at one point I was lucky enough to meet her and her owner in the elevator going upstairs and she licked my hand. I then ran my fingers cautiously over her wet nose until her owner could see and looked into her kind, big dog eyes. They were everything I’d been missing in my life, specifically love. Then I thought about not asking my neighbor to temporarily leave his dog with me? It’s just that he was on constant trips just like Miranda – I didn’t follow him, I was just curious where he was letting the dog go while he was gone, that’s all. But we never talked to him so I could just ask and he’d give me his own pet without a second thought.

We are strangers to each other, neighbors to each other, and neither of us pretends to be more than that, at least I certainly am not eager to start a conversation with a man who looks more like a civilized hipster with a womanizing heartthrob tendency. He was the type of good-looking man for Miranda, not for me. The neighbor was very fickle in love affairs, to say nothing of his stay in his apartment. It’s not my place to judge him for his life; it’s everyone’s choice, so it’s not up to me to judge who should exist in this world.

This man also dressed very surprisingly, maybe it had something to do with his frequent absence from his apartment! Honestly, I did not think about it enough, it was just that he always wore not clothes, but some worn-out rags, and that, despite the fact that he lived in a fairly expensive neighborhood. A married couple on the eighth floor often looked at him squeamishly as they rode in the elevator with him. But about any specific smells from his neighbor, he didn’t have any. Seriously, that really struck me about him, because no matter how torn his clothes were, the man himself smelled like a wood-musky smell, the kind that made me feel safe and strong. Mike liked fresh scents such as mint, and it seemed to me that there was no other scent I could like as much as this one, but I realized that this was not the case the moment I first encountered my neighbor.

My neighbor is an ugly man who makes me look down and nervously rub my coat sleeves while we stand in the elevator or open our own apartment doors together. These are always uncomfortable moments that make me feel like an awkward sixteen-year-old girl. But compared to Miranda’s reaction to this man, my condition is just a paltry attempt to show my real attitude toward him. In fact, I was generally more disinterested than a sighing or embarrassed blushing fan of a heartthrob. So I didn’t reply to Miranda’s text about him, and I got off the elevator and headed for the group.

Chapter 14

After spending two days in Algiers, I realized an interesting thing – it’s great to go to such places together with a group of like-minded people. It’s fun! I had never imagined that a trip to the market could be such an «exciting» experience. Judge for yourself:

1. Yesterday Mr. Russell had been drinking heavily and suffering from a bad hangover, but he decided to go with the others, because it was boring to go around town alone. And that would have been all right, but after half an hour of jolting on the bus, he got twisted right on Miss Blanc.

2. Ms. Blanc, in turn, launched into the kind of profanity that even in a South American port, not only would not have been uttered, but their ears would have been covered.

3. When we were in the ancient town of Kasbu, our guide, Miss Frances Gilmore, apparently did not look where she was going and the result was several abrasions on her knees and a dislocated finger on her right hand.

4. And finally, one last thing. Ms. Hughes became dizzy as she and her husband strolled for several hours through the local market. She made a dramatic gesture with her hand, first throwing it up and then placing it against her forehead, shiny with sweat in the sun. Her oohs and gasps sounded so theatrical that I let out a chuckle every now and then.