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No Body No Crime
I sit here with a glass of sauvignon blanc in my hand looking out onto the street. There is the familiar rush. A police van passes by, it's sirens lingering behind. Incase you are wondering if I am waiting for someone, no. I am not. I'm here celebrating in solitude.
I am Alison. I work as a magazine editor in New York. I come to this place every week, on Tuesdays. Or I used to, but I might start doing that again. Not for dinner this time. Just a glass of wine.
The weather is not too cold but I haven't removed my coat. It is like I am holding the glass with the last of its contents in a death clutch. My hands experience a new found power. If I am to remove my coat, I have a feeling I won't be human anymore. All of me would appear to float mid-air and when I look at my hands, I would see stardust around it. That, obviously, is in my head. That's how I feel. And I want to keep that feeling alive.
To say I am happy does not do justice to my feelings. I am content. Yes. I have done something right. Something that should have been done a year ago.
I had taken the evening off after finalising the next week's magazine. It's amazing how far these two events feel. Sitting here and sitting in my office reading the editors column to see if I wanted any change. I didn't. So after that, I walked out of my office. That feels like a different reality now. And practically speaking, that was just hours ago.
I wonder if any of the people here notice anything. It is so much. So big. But they have no idea. To them, I'm one of them. Dining here at a Saturday night. Though that statement is not wrong, but how saintly oblivious they are. I'm not saying that these same people won't push you down a precipice to gather gossip, some of them will but for now, they are saintly oblivious.
For now, I let them be that.
######
A year ago
__________________________________________
It was a windy Tuesday night. I had been waiting for some ten minutes when I saw Este step out of her cab in front of Olive Garden. She didn't catch me looking at her from the window. She made her way towards me with a smile. I smiled in return. I was happy to see her. When we were seated, I asked her, "How was your day?".
She said nothing. Before I could ask a second time, the waiter came. I ordered spaghetti. She ordered a salad. After the waiter was gone, I asked
"Are you okay?" I knew she was not. I've known her half my life. I could know when she was not okay.
"I'm not sure how I feel, Al" she said.
"Has something happened?"I asked
"A lot, I guess". Her reply came instantly. But then she fell quiet. She had more to say. "I went to the bank today. I needed few documents that were in the locker of our joint account. So, I went and got the documents. And..." She took her phone out and gave it to me. "I found this."
It was a ring. A feminine finger ring with a pearl at centre lined by diamonds in a Z pattern. "It was in a box. As I opened it, it smelled of rose."
Este did not like or own any pearl jewellery as far as I knew. And she could not stand the smell of rose without getting head aches that would stay for hours.
I looked up at her and was not sure what to say without it coming across as straight off brash or completely ignorant. Just then the waiter came in with the food. After he went, I said,
"What are you going to do about it?"
"I think I'm gonna call him out", she said, toying her food with her fork. She was not eating any of it.
"Can you think of any other incident?"
She put down her fork and said, "Now thinking about it, yes. I can. Not incidents but signs."
She was ruminating her words, meditating on the signs she overlooked. I watched her as she said nothing and was sorry that her marriage was failing. And that for her, it was not just failure. It was loss.
"I'm sorry, Este", I said. That was all I could get out.
"How can I prove it?", she asked me. "I'll bring it up tonight but I don't think I can prove anything. He'll say he bought it for me."
"Talk to him about it. And everything else that comes to your mind. Tell him what you're thinking and see what he says", I assured her, "I'm sure, Este, we can do something. He won't get...
I am Alison. I work as a magazine editor in New York. I come to this place every week, on Tuesdays. Or I used to, but I might start doing that again. Not for dinner this time. Just a glass of wine.
The weather is not too cold but I haven't removed my coat. It is like I am holding the glass with the last of its contents in a death clutch. My hands experience a new found power. If I am to remove my coat, I have a feeling I won't be human anymore. All of me would appear to float mid-air and when I look at my hands, I would see stardust around it. That, obviously, is in my head. That's how I feel. And I want to keep that feeling alive.
To say I am happy does not do justice to my feelings. I am content. Yes. I have done something right. Something that should have been done a year ago.
I had taken the evening off after finalising the next week's magazine. It's amazing how far these two events feel. Sitting here and sitting in my office reading the editors column to see if I wanted any change. I didn't. So after that, I walked out of my office. That feels like a different reality now. And practically speaking, that was just hours ago.
I wonder if any of the people here notice anything. It is so much. So big. But they have no idea. To them, I'm one of them. Dining here at a Saturday night. Though that statement is not wrong, but how saintly oblivious they are. I'm not saying that these same people won't push you down a precipice to gather gossip, some of them will but for now, they are saintly oblivious.
For now, I let them be that.
######
A year ago
__________________________________________
It was a windy Tuesday night. I had been waiting for some ten minutes when I saw Este step out of her cab in front of Olive Garden. She didn't catch me looking at her from the window. She made her way towards me with a smile. I smiled in return. I was happy to see her. When we were seated, I asked her, "How was your day?".
She said nothing. Before I could ask a second time, the waiter came. I ordered spaghetti. She ordered a salad. After the waiter was gone, I asked
"Are you okay?" I knew she was not. I've known her half my life. I could know when she was not okay.
"I'm not sure how I feel, Al" she said.
"Has something happened?"I asked
"A lot, I guess". Her reply came instantly. But then she fell quiet. She had more to say. "I went to the bank today. I needed few documents that were in the locker of our joint account. So, I went and got the documents. And..." She took her phone out and gave it to me. "I found this."
It was a ring. A feminine finger ring with a pearl at centre lined by diamonds in a Z pattern. "It was in a box. As I opened it, it smelled of rose."
Este did not like or own any pearl jewellery as far as I knew. And she could not stand the smell of rose without getting head aches that would stay for hours.
I looked up at her and was not sure what to say without it coming across as straight off brash or completely ignorant. Just then the waiter came in with the food. After he went, I said,
"What are you going to do about it?"
"I think I'm gonna call him out", she said, toying her food with her fork. She was not eating any of it.
"Can you think of any other incident?"
She put down her fork and said, "Now thinking about it, yes. I can. Not incidents but signs."
She was ruminating her words, meditating on the signs she overlooked. I watched her as she said nothing and was sorry that her marriage was failing. And that for her, it was not just failure. It was loss.
"I'm sorry, Este", I said. That was all I could get out.
"How can I prove it?", she asked me. "I'll bring it up tonight but I don't think I can prove anything. He'll say he bought it for me."
"Talk to him about it. And everything else that comes to your mind. Tell him what you're thinking and see what he says", I assured her, "I'm sure, Este, we can do something. He won't get...
