Tripping the Night Fantastic

Chapter 9

Current conditions in the studio had mellowed slightly. Simon had been tied to a chair and Jane had fixed her hair and calmed down. She approached him now. He was still red-faced and moody but was no longer furious. She pulled up a chair in front of him and sat down. She didn't speak straight away and Simon didn't acknowledge her.

'We need to talk,' said Jane.

He ignored her.

'Simon!'

'You cheated on me!'

'Can you blame me?'

'Yes!'

Stalemate. Simon struggled in his chair.

'I can take them off,' offered Jane.

Simon stood up, the chair still tied to him, and ran, like most sane men would, backwards.

'Simon, what are you doing?!' Shouted Jane.

He collided with something. It turned out to be Casey. Both men landed together in a pile on the floor. They groaned, surrounded by bruises and aches. Simon slowly stood up and bits of broken chair fell away from him. Simon looked down at Casey.

'Sorry, I...'

'Owe,' groaned Casey.

Simon was still tied up, but only to himself now. The chair had been smashed to bits. One of the bits was lodged in Casey's leg.

'Oh my god you stabbed him!' cried Jane.

'Oh come on, I didn't stab him. Not on purpose.'

Casey clasped the piece of wood and pulled it out of his leg. Jane turned away in anticipation for the spurt of blood that was sure to follow. It didn't. Simon looked at the piece of wood in Casey's hand and then at the wound in his leg. The wound was, by all accounts, invisible. He looked back at the piece of wood. If he squinted hard enough he could just make out the quarter millimetre of blood that was on the splinter-width end of the piece of wood.

'Oh my god! I nearly splintered him to death!' Simon shouted dramatically in Jane's face.

Casey frowned at it and threw it on the floor.

'What happened to you two?' he asked.

'You know what happened; she fucked that whore.'

'I didn't "fuck" anybody, I don't have a penis,' said the very wise and observant Jane.

'You cheated on me! And you're trying to rationalize your betrayal with semantics?!'

The hurt in Simon's face could have derailed a curtain. (I read in a book once the following sentence: "the hurt in his face could have derailed a train" but it didn't seem plausible. Hopefully my change above has created a less dramatic, and more acceptable, sense of realism.)

All of the pointless anger she was feeling for Simon suddenly left her system. Her mind cleared and she felt guilty.

'I'm sorry. I am.'

And she really was. Like a flick of a switch, light dawned and she had no idea why she had done it. When actions are based on feelings and you try to remember the logic behind them you come up blank.

Simon said nothing. He turned around and marched out of the Studio.

Jane watched him leave and then looked down at Casey who was still lying on the floor. She gave him a sad and apologetic smile and then burst into tears. Casey put his arm around her sympathetically and she sobbed into his shoulder, her tears could have drowned a whale.