I could NOT do this again.
I was not ready to take another emotional battering. No energy to climb back to sanity.
I scrambled away from him, scurrying in my haste to get away, tripping over my own legs and landing in an graceful heap on the floor. I popped up and stood behind the chair. Eyes wide, face frozen like a deer in headlights.
“NO” - his hands are raised and he's cautiously edging towards me, “I'm sorry, didn't mean that to happen.
And I pause. Who am I fooling. It's gotten really late whilst I sat there chatting to Craig I'm not foolish enough to run outside without a well thought out plan ready to be executed. Really, I had to be rational. Weight up my options. Outside awaited me a dark country lane, a car with no petrol and no mobile. I decided to be reasonable.
I hadn't realised that he was getting closer to me as the conversation drew on. When he had first led me into his house I had sat across from him. One hand gripping my handbag.
First cup of tea.....he's opposite me. We're talking. The conversation is flowing nicely I'm secretly plugging him for information in case something happens. This is what I learnt. His name is Craig David, unfortunately like the 'singer'. Hates jokes of this nature. I bite my tongue to stop me saying “can you fill me in” or pointing at his tea and crying “what's your favour? OOo, tell me what's your flavour hmmmm!”
Second cup of tea....and he was next to me. Not a problem honestly. At least not yet it hadn't been. It wasn't as if I could feel his breath on my face when he spoke or anything, I think that would have been a major clue that I need to move seats, or move on out the house.
So I had three illogical options.
One, I could run to the kitchen. It must be loaded with utensils that I could use as weapons. But did I really want to be the one calling the police from a strangers house. Waiting for them to arrive, then having to explain not only what I was doing in said strangers house but also why I had been stupid to enter said strangers house and stay till dark whilst drinking three cups of tea. I also didn't think I'd be able to explain a fatal or semi-fatal knife wound as a self defence reaction against an unwanted kiss.
Alternatively, I could take him on. Man to hmm..not so man and just tackle him down. Logically speaking, it was safer then the knife option. Though I didn't really want a record that said I had used G.B.H. On some guy because he kissed me. Pathetic right. And lastly, I re-evaluated my run plan. Virtually plotted the escape route. Doubtlessly it would be a lot more difficult to execute in the dark.
I clenched the sofa. The corduroy uncomfortable beneath my palms, whilst my body rocked on the precipice of fight or flight. Watched him. He was watching me back. His mouth moving, slowly and wordlessly. As if he was rehearsing just what to say. I calm myself down. Reach an appropriate level of normalcy. Or as close to normalcy as I could get at that given moment. I release the chair from its hostage situation and knot my hands together. My fingers still sore and tense.
“it's okay...” I said. So muffled that he continues to look at me. His blank, confused expression the only reply that I'm likely to get. I close my eyes, clear my throat, cease ringing my fingers like their wet laundry and repeat.
“It's okay!” he smiles back at me. Though it seems far from real, its so strained that it refuses to sit comfortably on his now, 'I could be a friend but have I screwed it up?' face. So I nod, whilst smoothing back hair off my face- anything to resemble a reasonable looking female. I also knew that I had to keep my hands occupied or else they would be attempting to wrap themselves(with slight force from me) around his neck.
Neither of us had moved yet. The undercurrent in the room contradicting my previous words. He's looking at me and I'm looking everywhere else.
I move first, hands still fidgeting now with the the buttons on my shirt.
I sit down.
Pick up my half empty, and now cold cup of tea and stir it.
Thursday, 24 December 2009
I could NOT do this again.