In The Bowels of Her Memory

It was the smell of his breath that bothered her. It lingered on her neck, clung to her hair and pervaded her nostrils the morning after. It was a kind of liquory smell, like an alcoholic’s after a few mouth rinses, an intoxicating substance that laced the words he whispered in her ear that night. No matter how much she lathered herself with Dove soap; no matter how much she sprayed Victoria Secrets fruity mist on to herself, it would not give. Interestingly enough, it was not an unpleasant smell that oozed from his mouth, if anything, it aroused her, which in turn, sent slivers of guilt cutting through her.

‘We need to pray about it,’ Dennis’ voice cracked over the phone. Sadie wasn't sure if it was an apology or maybe he said it before that? What difference did it make anyway? Sorry couldn't return the night to her, the night that Sadie had imagined before it was snatched away from her. She tried to force down the memory of it all, but it all rushed up to her brain like sick at the back of the throat.

‘Sadie?’

‘Okay’ she said with a tinge of contrived nonchalance. If you sound like you don't care, like it's not a big deal, then eventually it won't be, she thought.

‘Father God, I ask your divine forgiveness at this time,’ he droned. She tried to listen and agree, for there is power in agreement where two or three are gathered in His name. Yet the flood of sullying memories pervaded, and all Sadie could think about was the fuchsia blouse she had worn to bible study, drenched and cold on her skin upon her return. How she'd thought about throwing it away at once, but didn't. It was her favourite church top, one sent in the barrel from Aunty Hortense.

‘Lord you know best going forward, author and finisher of our faith, be with Sadie at this time, may she continue to be an example to others, dear Lord.’

‘In no other name but the precious name of Jesus,’ he paused for her to chime in to confirm her agreement only to be greeted by the silence bouncing back at him.

‘Hello?’

‘Amen’ Sadie finally said with a sigh. Another surrender. What was it about him that caused her to shut herself down? Only a few hours ago, she vowed to never speak to him ever again, cut all ties. She even rehearsed the few choice words she would use. Bringing front teeth to lips but never quite able to get the f sound out right enough. And soon, conflicting emotions of love and suppressed desire crept in her mind and so she resigned herself to the fact that she only had herself to blame really, no use putting up a front now, she should have thought about that before agreeing to go for a late night drive after bible study. A harmless little drive- she wasn't working until late anyway, why not go out instead of going home so early. Dennis wasn't a stranger either.

The two had been friends (if you could call it that) since Sixth Form. Anyone who knew Dennis could not deny his remarkable gift of charm; his ability to force a smile out of anyone, to laugh freely without inhibition at anyone's expense. He was a winner at life, one of those people who possess some type of secret access to a rule book greatly elusive to mostly everybody. There are some rule book possessors, as with most treasurable items, who along with their gifts and penchant for succeeding at life, also possess the quality of humility. Dennis was not one of them. He put his own needs far above anyone else's. You would not recognise this selfishness ordinarily, for it was his charm that arrested the attentions of others, so much so that they were willing to shave away any less forgiving qualities for the benefit of the doubt. A shame.  It fed his ego, and gave rise to a rare type of arrogance. 

It was no help that he was good looking-- not stunning--but the kind of looks that would cause one to take a second glance, in case you missed the chiselled chin, eyes the colour of Bequia honey and too smooth nutmeg skin. On the third glance however, you’d notice the slightly smaller head in proportion to the rest of his body, along with its strangely cuboid shape. So in reality, Sadie was not actually in love, she was trapped in his egotistical web into which he lured the unassuming. Although she was naively unaware of this, there was no doubt about his selfishness that night.

She slammed down the phone, nearly crippled by the fresh set of memories making their way to the forefront. A wave of nausea hit her and she wasn't sure what she found more disgusting: her compliance in the whole thing or the ugly thing itself. The knots of guilt and self-hatred rippled through her body once again. If she had only just refused to go for the drive then she would not have found herself in this predicament. 

The events replayed in her mind like a distant film- herself the protagonist, her actions foreign, unrecognisable.  Her arms still throbbed from the struggle. The struggle right? She did put up a struggle as best as she knew, yet somehow his strength was a wall.  Eventually, her arms hung loose and she lay limp in the car seat, the crude leather sticking to her skin. Dennis took this surrender as a yielding to desire but the truth was that she just wanted it to be all over. And when it was, he lay flaccid atop her, tiny beads of perspiration forming on nutmeg skin. She could not remember crying; just the sensation of a pool of wetness forming between her breasts; his liquor breath heavy on her cheek. 

                                                                            …
The horn of a car. Meeka. Tuesday was workout day and it was Meeka’s turn to take them both to the Arnos Vale playing Field for a quick exercise. On any other day, Sadie would have been outside already waiting for her bestie. It was a ritual to which the two women had grown accustomed. Tuesday afternoon workouts offered a cool solace from the hectic office in the heart of the bustling capital of Kingstown. A time when the torturous sun finally relents and clouds become flamingos, pink and soft floating on a sapphire canvas. Today, she slowly popped her head out of the wooden kitchen jalousie and shouted she'd be out in a second. As she furtively slid on her black tights, she hoped today's workout would rid her of the mild burning sensation emanating between her legs.

‘You good?’  Meeka asked in her high pitch voice, the kind she'd use when she felt somewhat alarmed by something.  Meeka was not easily fooled. Sadie paused, jarred by the innocent request for her well-being. She thought of Dennis’ face cupped in his hands afterwards, too ashamed to even look at her; how he dropped her home and kissed her goodnight; had she even kissed him back? The tussle; her relenting; the heavy liquor breath; the slivers of guilt once again…

‘Yeah, I’m good, just a little tired from work today,’ she replied, resigned to the reality that the filth of last night would remain hidden in the bowels of her memory forever. 

                                                                  …