Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to readers who have written to me personally and on the comments page. I appreciate all your feedback, good or otherwise. Writing this chapter has been a journey for me, and I also learn more about myself in the process.
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Chapter 4 - Our Unfulfilled Dreams
Mr. Boardmann greeted me at the door, with a harsh force in his grasp of my fingers. By now, I was quite used to his manner of greeting. It gave me jitters, involuntarily reminding me of how he clenched and leeched into my arms yesterday in his hastiness to compel me to do as he wished- to stay. And it worked. I did stay. How I had hated a display of force, even that slightest bit to which he exerted over me, because it made me scared. I did not like feeling scared. I felt like I was long past it. I feared though of the unknown, but that was different from my heart suddenly pumping itself out of rhythm.
He need not have touched me. The slightest touch could always escalate to dreaded violence. And now, I had no one to turn to anymore for immediate help. Pablo was not on standby for me tonight. He was with Fiona, my counterpart who also worked in the suburbs but at the other end. She was doing a house call there and she had fears too about her client. In this industry, you have to rely on your own instinct.
Had he spoken to me roughly, I would have stayed anyhow. I could have muted his words, yet so far I had not because this one man had intrigued me to the core of my very existence. And I had trusted him with my safety. My faith hung on to this troubled man.
Now, he looked at me with pure delight on his upturned face, before mentioning that he had requested my company for the whole month. He did not appear surprised that I accepted his offer. This time I could utter that the pleasure was mine without any further interjections from him. He was willing to pay a lot for me, and not unexpectedly, he gathered that a large part of my pleasure lay solely in the remuneration of my companionship. He must have thought me shallow, and I did not mind, not in the least. My true intentions were concealed and thus I could carry on with an unobtrusive image I was trying to portray, hopefully less observed by his prying eyes. They had pierced like daggers, devouring my soul. All that was left of me was merely a shell of who I once was. But he can never know. I would not show weakness, would not succumb to it anymore.
I had wanted to tell myself that I was in it for the remuneration which he offered. I knew better though to acknowledge my inner most thoughts. My curiosity about him had transcended monetary gain. I wanted to help him. That was true enough. I had never known someone who had left on me such an impact in two nights; which akin to a rogue wave, crushed upon me to bring forth fragments of awakening. I felt as if I had slumbered for too long until I did not remember why I slumbered. He had opened doors within my closets, and unleased darkness I did not want to see. Who was I really and what on earth was I doing? Not only did the bouts of existential angst flood me in waves, it was also the knowledge of what I could not recall that was coming out to get me. It was a déjà vu. I had lived this experience before and I had failed to overcome it. However hazy my recollections were, I knew I had failed. The unknown beast was unleashed; and I felt that it was going to be me. I was my own monster.
I was occupied with flagrant thoughts of my own prophesized damnation when, thank goodness, he caught my attention again.
"You're dressed differently today." He said, as a matter of fact, looking at my dress with some perceived interest.
It caused me to skim down along the lengths of my dress. I did not think he wanted an answer. It was a statement.
His eyes were on the embroidery of red poppy flowers at the edges of the sleeves and bodice of my otherwise pastel blue dress. I had dressed down today because yesterday he had made comments about my little black dress restricting my movement while sitting straight up on his bed. I neither knew if it was a sarcastic remark nor one in which he made with empathy, or perhaps with no innuendo intended. I had to keep myself in check from plunging too deeply into his emotions, trying to analyse them as if it were scripture. He was like opium fuelling my desperation to be free of something.
Despite that, in my standard formal tone, I asked "How are you, Mr. Boardmann?"
"I'm so pleased to see you again. I know I made a good offer, but I did not know for sure if you would accept. I had made you upset last night and I was quite sure that I would never see you again." He said.
Why was he making so many statements today? Or could it be that he was not? I had already gone into stealth mode and made every emotion brew with double meanings when it was that simple. I kept silent. It was the only way I knew how to deal with his dispassionate statements which betrayed not an inkling of emotion. I did not quite know how to react when I heard no subtle cues which could bring me within the periphery of his emotional compass.
I should have liked to gravitate my answers towards what I thought were well-suited and as honest as it could be by matching this emotional undertone. With my other clients, I had managed to read their emotions and they could always count on my empathy towards them. They felt that I had understood them. It was fulfilling somewhat. My goal was to relate to clients. Sex came easier when they warmed up towards me.
But Mr. Boardmann was in a league of his own. In addition to his current emotionless statements, he had displayed a variety of strong emotions in the course of the two nights. It was a behemoth ordeal to get a hold of those emotions quickly enough before he transfixed himself onto a different emotion. He was so unpredictable that I could not get a grip of anything long enough to feel comfortable with it, even with those positive ones.
I bore the brunt of his stronger emotions and they were painful for me to bear. But what of he who had borne it? His burden must have been tenfold heavier. Oddly, I was transported back to a saying from my youth. It was a Malay proverb used by social workers to describe our situation, lived underground, bearing the illegal nature of it in a populous Muslim country.
It is heavy for my eyes to see, heavier still for your heart that carries.
I looked at him, trying not to concentrate too much on those grey, wolfish eyes. I could not bear to hear him accuse me of scrutinizing him more than I could bear my own torment and unresolved feelings by looking into his eyes.
"But you must have changed your mind. Was it a mistake?" I asked, entertaining the possibility that he suddenly wanted me out of the door now.
My eyelashes fluttered low as if I were on the wings of a butterfly trying to navigate its way.
He scratched his head, looking remotely lost.
"The only mistake I made was the decision not to see you again." He said.
He gazed at me vaguely but spoke animatedly, "I changed my mind when I woke up the next morning. I wanted your company again. Three time's a charm." He said, rather quickly for his standard.
He sounded a bit nervous but I could not be totally sure. Maybe he was getting impatient with me. His eyes held a superficial vagueness which was undecipherable.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Boardmann?" I asked, tending to the conversation delicately.
He was silent but I felt his presence enveloping me like a shroud of mist. The butterfly which fluttered in me now landed on the top buttons on his shirt, staying there as if it were nectar.
"To be honest, Lila, I do not know. I just know it feels right when you're here." He said.
Whether it was frustration, disappointment or just a statement of fact, it was impossible to tell. Upon saying that, his voice became imbued with a deep emotion which was plunged overall in sadness. Only the sadness was certain.
"Your agent raised your rate threefold. You must be very much in demand tonight. Anyhow I'm glad that I was able to rise to the occasion. You'll not be with anyone else, not while I still can afford you. I need your attention all to myself." He said.
There were hints of possessiveness in his voice. I felt goose bumps; it sent shivers to my spine. I had no other potential client bidding for me tonight, and suave speaking Penelope; in all eagerness to raise my rate; must have given him that factitious impression.
From the corners of my eyes, I could sense his eyes; roving now; piercing me with the wanton hunger of a wolf. Instinctively I kept my eyes cast further downwards to his chest. The only natural way to look was further down. I was not tall, and however high I looked up, it would have laid my eyes bare before him.
