At His Mercy

Part 6

I'm not sure what time it is when I awaken, but I'm immediately disorientated. I look up and see crystals shimmering. I'm at Adam's house, wearing his clothes, sleeping in bed, did i use his toothbrush? I am completely under his control. How did this happen? My heart is racing and I feel tightness in my chest. Oh god,  I can feel my throat closing, i turn over onto my stomach and hang over the edge of the bed; purse? where did i leave it? There! I empty its contents and immediately pick up the blue inhaler. The vapour instantly opening up my the tightening vice around my throat.
As I get up, I notice the other side of the bed has been slept in. The pillow is indented and the sheets have been pulled back. Adam slept here last night? The thought alarms me, but then I'm relieved. At least he isn't here to see me wake up dishelleved.
I slump back and pull the covers over my head, sandlewood lingers on the sheets. I breath in the sweet musky wood scent slowly. It's wonderfully comforting. Like a big warm hug. Homely.
On top of other things, I don't know how much self control I would have myself. How many times did I think about those moments we would just lay and look at each other without speaking? Just appreciating each other's presence. The thought makes my heart ache. Oh god. Who was I kidding when I came here? I'm not as immune to Adam as I had deluded my own mind into thinking. It is so treacherous. I let myself believe I could face him. It is clear I'm not as unaffected by him as i would like to believe. Just looking at him is enough to raise my pulse without thinking.

I lay back thinking about the Pollack. Adam smiling. That smile. It hurts to think of it. Adam the tyrant, the uncompromising spoilt chauvinist is easy to deal with, but for a moment, when we stood together facing each other, it was like before. We laughed together! Even if it was for a moment. Those moments had transported me back in time- to a place where we had been happy, comfortable with each other. Amicable. The thought alarms me, because it hurts to think of those people we once were. Those people that have gone and all those could have beens with them.
5 years ago...

I open the door to Adam's flat, as I enter the first thing I see is the suitcases on the floor. I feel the excitement bubble inside me- we're going away. Adam had been talking about getting away after the exams, somewhere for the weekend, so I wouldn't have to be away from home too long. 'Adam' I call out, smiling as I put down my laptop and take off my coat before moving into the lounge. Adam is hunched over the desk, sifting through some letters.

He turns, straightens up and comes towards me, but he isn't smiling. In fact he looks anxious.

Present day. .
There's a knock on the door and it clicks open as a young waif of a girl comes into the room. She is wearing traditional shalwar Kameez, a scarf over head. Immediately, I sit up straight. The girl smiles timidly and comes into the room, 'Mei ajaoon?' can I come in? but she's already half way across the room. I nod, pulling the covers over my bare legs. Then the curtains are being drawn back, I shield my eyes as the light fills the room.

Forgetting my initial embarrassment, I get up and walk across the room, drawn to the balcony.

Its lush, so much colour. vibrant flora and fauna. Rich emeralds, magenta, marigold, scarlett, burnt oranges. The garden opens out like a pop up picture book. Plants are arched open like fans, trees hang heavy with cascading blooms, bushes are fluffy with their jewel like buds and the green green grass unfurls like a roll of emerald silk. Automatically, I slide open the door and walk onto the balcony. The heat hits me as soon as I step out, but I don't care. My eyes drink in the garden as if I'm afraid to blink. A path winds around the numerous trees, shrubs and bushes. I half gasp in amazement, reminding myself to breath. I could stand here forever and never get tired of this view. Whoever created this garden is a true artist.

I don't know how long I stand there leaning on the balcony. these are the colours of dreams, of what my dreams used to be like, I remind myself.

5 years ago. . .

'Omnis are naturae imitatio est.' Whitworth Art Gallery: we're stood shoulder to shoulder at the foot of a huge oil canvas, some obsecure artist. the look of disbelief on Adam's face is a picture 'Too gaudy for your liking?' I taunt. Adam gives me a sidelong look and raises an eyebrow. Even when he is serious, he is sexy. That look of concentration is too much. 'Life is full of colour Adam, how can you be so mundane?' I say mockingly.

'I am not mundane!' he asserts tugging my hand ,pulling me away from the painting and I laugh gripping it and pull him back. 'It's overpowering!' he says smirking. 'too much'

'That's probably someone's garden, their pride and joy!' I exclaim.

'I don't think so, everyone knows most artists are destitute, its probably a public park somewhere.' I know he's right. 'I don't think I could bear waking up to that every morning!' he says as an afterthought.

'Oh my,' I say in my mocking tone 'too cheerful for you is it?'

Present day ....
'Omnis ars naturae imitatio est,' I whisper.
'You're up.' Adam's gaze is steely and cuts through my reverie. I turn to look at him stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. He's dressed in navy chinos and a white linen shirt. 'You should get dressed.' He states. I can't see his eyes as he's wearing sun glasses but his face is hard and expressionless and then he's gone.

I spend 10 minutes looking through Adam's cupboards. His words racing through my head 'all art is an imitation of nature.' It's confusing, I don't understand, does it mean he prefers the real thing to art or has he changed? That garden is magnificent, but its not something I would expect from Adam. In all the time we were together, it was clear that he was clean and efficient. Even the painting downstairs is an anomaly.
Everything in his flat was white and chrome and charcoal grey. There were never any missing socks, or any mess or colour for that matter. It irritated the life out of him having things that cluttered up his apartment. I stop- I cluttered up his apartment. How foolish I must have been not to see that. In I would waltz, my bright coloured tops and lipsticks. How could I have been so blind at the time? Even then it was clear how completely different we were, I just chose not to see it.

I should have asked him about my clothes, because they've mysteriously disappeared from the chair. Eventually, I move across the room and open the cupboard doors on the other side; it's full of female clothes! Ofcourse, how could I have been so silly? I leaf through the outfits- pastels! They're all pastels, confirming my initial suspicions. Demure. I finger the material, the sequins sewn into them. rich needlework, lace and brocade. I could make a better decision if I knew what we were doing today, but then I think about what Adam was wearing, smart casual and I decide on a cream embroidered cotton rich tunic/dress. Luckily the outfits have been completed with matching shoes, scarves and trousers . I open a few drawers and find one filled with dress jewellery. Another has a number of different random things, but I find a brush. I pick up my purse from the bedside table and pull out the compact, mascara and lipstick. It'll have to do for now.

I shower quickly and look down at the vanity to find 2 toothbrushes in the glass holder. Again I stop and stare. Did I ever leave anything in his apartment? Of course I did, I remind myself. There were signs of me there. There were always toiletries; make up, shampoo, lipstick, perfume. But when all was said and done, I didn't actually leave my mark. I was never a permanent fixture.