Chapter 41
41
RORY
Friday 20th December
My 3rd night staying over at Julian’s. As soon as I bumped into him on Wednesday, and told him about the fallout, he insisted I sleep there until the renovations on my apartment are completely finished.
I’m in bed after our 3rd takeout meal since I moved in. Yes, that’s 1 every night. Julian’s veterinary surgery is pre-holiday busy, owners fearful their pets’ minor complaints might worsen during the closed festive days. Whereas I have no zest for cooking, no zest for anything much. I’ve insisted on paying. Japanese night one, curry yesterday and full-blown fish ’n’ chips tonight, with buttered baps, mushy peas, tartare sauce and pickled eggs.
4 chocolate baubles from Julian’s tree lifted my mood even further, but only for as long as it took to swallow them.
I miss the 2 insectile ladeez in my life. The natural world has always inspired humans’ creations; it’s called biomimicry. Scientists considered the way desert spiders moved when inventing space rovers, and beavers have been looked at closely in terms of creating fur-like wetsuits for surfers. These 2 stick insects inspire me to stay humble. Sounds pretentious? Maybe it is. But they don’t ask for much, just the basics. They blend into their environment, and Brandy and Snap are self-sufficient in terms of reproduction. Yet, like all insects, they’re important, clearing vegetation and fertilising the soil with their waste. Us humans make our lives so complicated, attracting stress instead of repelling it.
Most of all, I miss Elena, a zillion times a day (it would take a boring amount of zeros to write that as a number) every time a silly fun fact, or an idea for work, comes to mind, or I’ve watched a great thriller like the film Julian and I put on last night. I miss the look on her face when takeout arrives, how those blue eyes light up and she gets bossy with the plates, insisting we must eat before the food gets cold. I even miss her jazz music, it’s grown on me like a weed that turns out to be beneficial, like clover that fixes nitrogen in soil. Those tunes are comforting, gentle, like Elena’s presence when it’s just the two of us in her lounge after a gruelling day in the office. We don’t need to talk, and we automatically sense if the other needs a drink or snack. It’s easy. Reassuring. It’s homely.
Or used to be. 4 chocolate baubles go down a lot easier with 4 whiskies, don’t you know? Julian didn’t say anything but ran me 1 large glass of water to take to bed, and here I am humming ‘Ocean Eyes’.
What if something fateful does happen to Elena tomorrow? I can’t block out that concern, because I care so very much for her, like she cared for her mum, like Julian cared for that Alsatian dog. When emotions run high, people can fall into the trap of believing internal lies to be external truths.
Will Elena disappear for good in the next 24 hours?