Find myself in my bedroom rubbing pearly lipstick on my cheeks and lips. I change my clothes three times before deciding on what I was wearing initially: tight-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Stand in front of the mirror, turn. A blur looks back at me. Go into the bathroom and brush my teeth, stick my tongue out and scrape it clean.
The doorbell rings. There’s something unnerving in the fact that he never seems to be more than ten minutes away. I don’t even know where he lives, which I try to convince myself is not that weird. We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks. I open the door, the dog barks, the kitten mewls. He walks in.
‘You need to let those animals know I’m welcome here.’
His voice has an edge I haven’t heard before.
‘Want a coffee?’
‘No.’
‘Everything ok?’
‘I have great difficulty being ignored, Sonya. Remember we spoke about this?’
‘I wasn’t ignoring you. I told you I needed some space.’
‘You didn’t really mean that, though, did you?’
‘I did, actually. Trying to process some stuff around Tommy. He’s coming home on Friday.’
‘Well, then, even more of a reason for you to reach out.’
His tone is pious and intensely irritating.
‘I told you I feel we need to slow things down.’
‘Now I know you don’t mean that.’ He moves towards me, smiling possessively.
I move away.
‘How was your day, David? What were you up to?’
‘Busy day as ever, you know…’
‘Not sure I do.’
‘Busier than you, anyway.’ He smiles, softening his words.
‘Actually, I was visiting Tommy today.’
How did he do that? Twist it back on me, so I am the one who ends up justifying and explaining myself?
‘David, I was thinking… I’d love to see your place sometime.’
‘Why?’
‘Pretty normal request, I’d have thought. I don’t know where you live.’
‘I prefer it here.’
Is that supposed to be a reasonable response?
‘You look gorgeous, Sonya.’
‘I’m thirsty.’ I go into the kitchen, pour myself a glass of water, gulp it down.
‘Aren’t you going to offer me one?’ he says as he reaches across me and opens the cupboard. In spite of myself I feel that charge between us. A dragging sensation in my pelvis, painful and intensely pleasurable.
‘David, I’d love to know a bit more about you.’
‘Would you, now?’ He moves towards me, clinks his glass off mine as his free arm draws me close.
My body is being played. I try to pull away from him. ‘Have you any brothers and sisters?’
‘Not that I know of.’ He puts his glass down, takes mine from my hand, leans in to kiss me.
‘Are both your parents alive?’
‘What is this, Sonya?’
He starts to kiss me more intensely, his tongue probing my mouth, making it impossible to talk.
I push him away, half of me meaning it, the other half leaning in towards him. ‘Are you still working as a solicitor?’
‘Don’t I have my hands full?’ he says, stroking my hair, which makes me feel young and vulnerable, and cared for. I don’t remember anyone ever stroking my hair.
‘David, do you think this is a good idea? Do you think we are a good idea?’
‘Not sure I’m up to much thinking right now.’ He pulls me to him, wraps both his arms around me and starts to sway. Herbie and Marmie move closer to me, as if guarding me.
‘What do you think Sister Anne would say if she saw us now?’ I whisper.
‘I think she’d be mightily jealous! That nun has a little spark for me.’
I wonder about that. Sister Anne seemed so bullshit-proof. I’m pretty sure she’d be appalled if she found out about this.
He places his hand on my inner thigh. Herbie starts to growl, intensifying the drama of the moment, which both scares me and turns me on.
‘Sure you’re ok with this?’ David says, not waiting for an answer. He starts to pull the zipper on my jeans, his fingers feeling for me. The usual battle plays out for a moment: you know where this will lead, pull it back, take it slow, make it real, take it slow… before I am expertly steered into territory where there is no more thought.
What follows is anything but slow. He handles me with an urgency that borders on aggression. He stands at some point and shoos the animals back into the hall, closes the kitchen door and lifts me on to the countertop, then the floor. He turns me over, as if he’s determined to mark every part of me. What fantasy is this? I feel myself fly away, watching from a distance. There is silent resistance in my body, a stiffness that he doesn’t pay heed to, that I don’t pay heed to. I wonder was that some kind of punishment for all the questions.