The Chameleons
32. Candice, Roy and an ocean inbetween
Try as she might, Candice couldn’t get rid of her mother. It had been pure bad luck that she and Gerrit had been spotted by Lucy Cohen at the hotel but once it had happened, the chain of events that followed had been as inevitable as Saturday following Friday.
Lucy Cohen was not exactly her mother’s best friend; in fact it could be said they would cross the street to avoid each other but she had little hesitation in choosing opportunity above tact, as she described to an incredulous Rosalind Myers how she’d seen Candice embracing a young man in the foyer of a rather lowbrow hotel in Miami. She had of course, failed to mention the reason why she was there herself and had dismissed Milt Gorman as fast as she could before rushing to the phone. She hadn’t wanted to take the risk that Candice might have a counter accusation to discredit her scoop.
Within half an hour, a call had been put through to Candice’s room.
“Candice,” the voice was ice-cool.
“Mother!” Candice nearly dropped the phone and pushed Gerrit, who was nibbling at her neck, firmly away.
“I understand you’re back?”
“Well, that’s fairly obvious since you’re speaking to me.” Candice resisted the temptation to ask how in hell her mother had traced her so quickly; she was used to the extraordinary network of contacts her mother had, though even by her remarkable standards, this was amazingly quick.
“How’s Roy?”
Not, ‘How are you?’ or ‘How was the trip?’ Candice knew her mother knew and prepared to play the game.
“He’s fine. How are you?”
“Why didn’t you both come straight home?”
This was untypical of her mother, getting straight to the heart of the matter. Candice realised she was probably going to lose this one but decided to brazen it out. She wasn’t quite sure, however, how much her mother knew.
“Roy decided to stay a few more days in Amsterdam. I wasn’t feeling too good so I came home early. It was so cold and wet there, I think I may have picked up something.”
She could hear her mother’s barely disguised snort on the other end of the phone and knew it was too late for white lies.
“Okay, Mother, I know you think you know something and yes, I’ve brought a friend with me. We met him in Amsterdam and I’m going to show him a little bit of Florida. I’ll explain everything later.”
If she thought she was going to get away with it as easily as that, she was sadly mistaken.
“A very young friend so I’ve heard!”
Candice decided to go on the attack.
“What Mother! Do you have spies at all ports of entry? What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”
“There’s no need to take that tone Candice. I’m your mother. I’m just concerned that’s all. When I hear my only daughter’s been seen kissing a man, who’s not her husband, in public, I’m naturally curious. Are you surprised at that?”
“No. I’m not surprised but we weren’t kissing, it was a hug; the sort of thing friends do with each other remember?”
Her mother never hugged.
“…and it wasn’t in public, it was in a hotel reception.”
“A little defensive aren’t we? Anyway, when am I going to meet this young friend of yours?”
Her tone was just too much for Candice.
“I’ll ring you but I don’t know when we’ll be in Tampa. I want to show him a few sights first.”
Her mother’s second audible snort was the last straw.
“Okay Mother, think what you like. I’ll be in touch soon.”
She slammed the phone down and couldn’t stop shaking as Gerrit took her into his arms.
“Mother trouble?”
“You have no idea!”
Roy was getting drunk but not only on beer. Sylvia’s high spirits and relentless joie de vivre made him feel like a teenager again and he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much. The performance faded into the background as he revelled in the attention she was bestowing upon him and more than once, they collapsed into fits of giggles as neighbours reprimanded them for over-exuberance.
“Let’s get out of here…” she said, “…I’ve seen it before anyway.”
“And you can still laugh at it?” Roy asked in disbelief.
“Oh, sometimes I just need to get out and learn how to smile again, you know? It doesn’t have to be particularly funny. I can get high on atmosphere. I can laugh at funerals, though I try not to. All that seriousness! It kills me!”
She led a slightly hysterical Roy out into the street.
“Okay, where now? You live here, I’m just a tourist.”
“No you’re not. I think you’ve adopted Amsterdam and from what you’ve told me, it’s the right place for you.”
He looked at her, wondering if she was being sarcastic and for the first time, wondering if she was right.
“I mean it. Your aura fits here. It blends with the energy of the city. I can tell. Most people clash with strange surroundings and after they’ve spent a few days, they’re glad to get home.”
She fingered a crystal hanging from a leather string around her neck and pierced him with those incredibly green eyes.
“You’ve got to tell me more about this Elfriede, I think I might know her. C’mon, I know a place not far from here where we can have a quiet drink and get to know each other better.”
She took his hand and led him out of the theatre into the street where the cold air helped restore his equilibrium. After some persuasion, he sat on the back of her bike, legs dangling to one side and they set off. He was amazed at her strength. Again, he was willingly following someone who overwhelmed him with his or her personality. What was it about this place that led him to meet such interesting people and was he being gullible in following them blindly into the unknown? What had she said about him being at home here? He certainly felt it but whether it had anything to do with auras and energy and stuff like that he wasn’t at all sure. It was all a touch too New Age for his Middle American sensibilities but then again, so many strange things had happened while he was here, he was beginning to wonder if spirituality didn’t extend a little further than the obligatory services at his Tampa synagogue. This woman was definitely different. For one, she seemed to be stuck in a time warp in her dress sense; a caftan-type dress with tiny mirrors, sandals even in winter and a fake afghan coat, all helping to create a seventies Californian image. Her hair borrowed much more from the Punk era though, as did the ring through one nostril. In just a short time, he had learned to suspend any fixed preconceptions about people. Amsterdam threw up so many individuals who didn’t seem to fit into any mould, a far cry from the manicured matrons of his home state. He loved it; it excited him, especially the unpredictability of it all. Though he did wonder if so many years of conservative values might mean that it was too late for radical change and that when he got back to Florida, he would slip effortlessly back into the habits of a lifetime. The thought of going back to Florida filled him with a sudden dread. Tasting forbidden fruit was a persuasive seducer and despite the resurrection of his marriage, the rest of his lifestyle would be far more difficult to adapt to new thinking.
Sylvia cycled through a small park close to the museums. He recognised the area but then she swerved into a side street and they came to a halt before a small house with a basement at the bottom of some steps.
“Here we are then.”
“But I thought we were going to a bar or something.”
“I said a quiet drink and a chat didn’t I? You can’t get that in a bar, especially at this time of year, so here we are, chez moi.”
Roy must have looked bewildered because she laughed at him, shaking her head.
“Don’t be so coy Roy. Coy Roy, I like that. Don’t tell me a girl’s never invited you back to her place before! Oh please, don’t give me that innocent, frightened puppy look; you’re not that naive! Come on in.”
‘No, I’m not,’ thought Roy, ‘Not any more.’
She ran down the steps and unlocked the door and he followed, not sure whether he was more physically excited, or more mentally stimulated. The one thing he was sure of was that this was living; what had he done with his life before Amsterdam?
Candice and Gerrit’s second piece of unbelievable bad luck came in Wauchula, a small town in the centre of Florida, as they were driving up towards Orlando from Miami. They had decided to take the scenic route and avoid the freeways, because Gerrit had wanted to see something of the real Florida and had pulled into a gas station to fill up, when from across the forecourt came a familiar voice.
“Candice, honey, cooee! It’s me.”
Candice realised afterwards that they had been dangerously close to Tampa but it was a big state and the chances of meeting her mother out of town were practically nil. There was no escaping it though, massive coincidence or not, there she was, large as life, in a car driven by her Aunt Mimi on the other side of the forecourt. It was at that point that Candice realised that fate existed and her mother was pretty much in control of it.
“What a coincidence! Here I was just thinking about you. In fact I said to Mimi, didn’t I Mimi? I said, ‘I wonder what Candice and her friend are doing now,’ and then lo and behold, there you are. Isn’t life strange? Isn’t the world just so small? I thought you were going to ring me by the way?”
Candice just had time to whisper to Gerrit, “Just follow my lead. Whatever you do, agree with me okay?”
“I was mother, tonight. I can’t believe it, you never leave Tampa.”
“Oh well, Mimi thought I looked a little peaky, so she suggested we drive out to see Nathaniel, you remember Nathaniel? Well, anyway, we’ve had a little tour around and it’s done me the power of good, especially seeing you.”
This was, as with most of her mother’s speeches, all said in one breath. That way, nobody had a chance of interrupting.
“And this must be your little friend. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced; I’m Rosalind Myers.”
She extended her hand like royalty and Gerrit pondered for a minute whether he should kiss it or not but settled for a shake instead.
“I’m Gerrit den Breejen, how do you do?”
“Oh, very nicely thank you. What a charming young man Candice. Tell me, what brings you to our shores?”
‘Straight in for the kill Mother,’ thought Candice.
“Are we going to sit here on the forecourt? There are other cars waiting. We’re on our way to Orlando and we have a pretty tight schedule. I’ll ring you when we get there Mother okay?”
“I won’t hear of it! You’re so near home now dear. I insist that you come and stay for a few days. You can always hop over to Orlando later, Mickey Mouse will wait I’m sure. Anyway, I want to hear all about Amsterdam.”
‘I’ll bet you do,’ thought Candice but as ever when her mother had that glint in her eye, she wilted under pressure. She looked appealingly at Gerrit, in case he had a brilliant way out of this mess but he must have misinterpreted the glance because he virtually sealed their fate.
“That would be lovely Mrs. Myers. I’d love to see the west coast and Tampa and where Candice grew up.”
Her mother positively beamed.
“Oh, call me Rosalind please. I’m sure we’ll get along famously. Now why don’t I ride with you and Candice can ride with Mimi?”
This was going way too far for Candice.
“No way! I mean, no thanks Mother. Gerrit’s not used to the roads here and needs me to navigate for him. We’ll see you back at the house. Bye”
With that Candice dug Gerrit in the ribs and taking the hint, he revved up and they drove off.
“What? What did I do? I thought that’s what you wanted.”
Candice glared at him.
“You do realise that this is going to be Hell on Earth? It takes an expert with years of training to stand up to my Mother’s probing. You don’t stand a chance. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby. Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Sylvia had a tiny living room with an en-suite kitchen and he assumed, an equally tiny bedroom.
“It’s enough for me. Why should we have loads of space that we don’t need? It’s my womb; my cocoon and I feel safe in it.”
He couldn’t argue with that and glanced around as he took a seat on her small two- seater settee, draped with a highly patterned paisley foulard. Every inch of wall space was covered with pictures, posters and photos and he knew immediately that he would suffocate if he had to live here. There were candles in various stages of disintegration everywhere and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf crammed with paperbacks, magazines and CDs. A brown, shaggy, circular rug upon which stood a battered coffee table, filled most of the floor space and by the window, was a large but very healthy palm.
“I got everything from the junk markets when I first came here and now I can’t bear to part with it all, so it just seems to accumulate you know. Would you like a beer?”
Roy nodded.
“Yes please. It’s charming, it really is. It’s very you!”
“You mean it’s very me but you’d choke from claustrophobia if you had to live here? Oh, it’s okay, I know what other people’s reactions are but I like it and that’s what counts isn’t it?”
“Oh absolutely!”
For the next hour or so, they just talked, about anything and everything. Roy couldn’t believe how easy she was to make conversation with. He loved hearing her ideas about the world and its injustices and inequalities and was deeply impressed by her insights into the human condition. He found himself formulating ideas of his own and expressing himself in a way that felt good. He’d somehow missed out on these sorts of discussions at school and university. He’d always been on the fringes of the radical and more rebellious elements who questioned life and the way things were done but he now began to realise that he’d always had some sort of a social conscience; it had just been buried underneath a welter of conventional norms.
“What made you say that I belonged in Amsterdam?”
“I told you, your aura, your energy field if you like, blends with the city’s. You may have spent your life in Florida but it’s obvious that Amsterdam suits you. Were you happy at home? With Candice?”
“Now that’s a huge question! At times yes and I think now especially, at least as far as Candice is concerned.”
“Are you sure? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve no vested interest in this. I’m not out to pry you away from her or anything like that. We’re having a lovely evening but I don’t expect more. It’s just something about you. You look as though you’ve finally started to find yourself, to find your place in the Universe. It doesn’t matter at what age it happens, it only happens when we’re ready for it but I do believe that your future lies here somehow. Now, how’s that for controversial?”
Roy tried to take it all in but the drink and the joint she’d given him were clouding his judgement. At that particular moment, he believed every word she said and began to make hazy plans for making his stay more permanent but nothing would develop logically in his mind. Staying here was scary but going back was scary too and where would Candice fit into all this? He decided to abandon such problems until the next day and drew in deeply as she began to undo his belt.
Gerrit decided he’d had enough of it all sometime during dinner on the second day of their stay with Rosalind Myers. The novelty and sense of adventure had most definitely worn off. He began to feel some sympathy for Roy because since the moment they had landed on American soil, Candice had changed. The relaxation was gone and he’d realised that she was on home ground and behaving as such. He was finding himself giving way to her wishes and needs at every point and felt very much the junior. At times, she was so condescending, he had to remind her that he was an intelligent adult who could see things for himself and didn’t need an explanation for every minute detail. Irony was also totally lost on her and he found his attempts at humour being taken literally and with apparent irritation. Even before they had got to Tampa, the sex was full of tensions, as if she was looking over her shoulder before, during and afterwards. Perhaps he was exaggerating, after all, it was still a holiday and this was as new to her as it was to him. He decided to stop worrying and go with the flow; it would get better; they hardly knew each other. His optimism was misplaced. Candice was now in her mother’s house and was tetchy to say the least, snapping at him every time he tried to make a move towards her.
“Don’t! Christ, if she finds out I’m done for!”
“Let’s get the hell out of here then. I came here to be with you, not your mother and anyway, what’s wrong with telling her the truth? We care about each other don’t we?”
“You can’t be serious! This woman makes Lucretia Borgia look like Florence Nightingale. Oh forget it! There’s no question of any hanky-panky while we’re under my Mother’s roof. No way! As for leaving! Impossible, she’d be onto me like a shot and she’d follow us!”
Gerrit was getting bored now, what had started out as an exciting adventure was turning into a more than stressful situation and he gradually came to the conclusion that his infatuation for Candice was rapidly evaporating and began to regret the whole business. The crunch came when Rosalind was serving him potatoes. He’d already been kicked twice under the table for what he regarded as harmless indiscretions and was beginning to feel really uncomfortable.
“Some white sauce with your potatoes Gerrit?”
She insisted on calling him Gerrit with a hard G and emphasising the last syllable, which irritated him intensely.
“Tell me again. How did you and Candice and Roy of course…” she smiled sweetly at Candice, “…become such good friends? I don’t think I’ve completely understood the situation.”
Gerrit looked at Rosalind and noted the loaded question and malicious intent in her eyes. This was ridiculous, time to bale out.
“Well…” he began, avoiding Candice’s warning stare, “…basically, Candice thought that Roy was treating her like shit and she needed someone to fuck to put it all right and I was there at the right time and in the right place. Is that clear enough for you?”
He lifted a fork to his mouth.
“Mmm, nice potatoes by the way.”
It was difficult to tell who was more shocked, Rosalind, who clutched her chest and fell backwards on her chair, or Candice, who was clutching her head in her hands and whimpering quietly. Gerrit put down his knife and fork and got up, sticking his hands in his pockets so that they wouldn’t see how much they were shaking.
“And now I think I’ll go and pack. Thank you for a lovely dinner.”
Roy tried hard to respond to Sylvia’s advances but whether it was the drink, or the joint, or a combination of both, he found the spirit to be willing but the flesh decidedly weak.
“Oh God! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I really want to, I do. I must be more drunk than I thought. This never happens to me!”
“Oh, so it’s my fault then? Typical man, push the blame onto the woman. What’s the matter, am I not sexy enough for you? Not Florida-beauty enough?”
“That’s ridiculous and you know it. I don’t know why it’s happened, must be the joint or something.”
“Oh, again my fault!”
Sylvia got up and brushed herself down as if she’d been grovelling in the dirt. Her whole demeanour changed and he was shocked to see her face change from purring seductress to mean-mouthed fury.
“I think you’d better go,” she said, tight-lipped.
“Sylvia please, let’s not end it like this. It must have happened to you before. Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I think you’re a wonderful woman. I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and I really fancy you. I do.”
He realised he was pleading and becoming pathetic but he really didn’t want to lose this contact, who he felt would help him find some answers. It wasn’t the same person though. Sylvia’s smile disappeared completely and her eyes narrowed to slits. He felt he suddenly had to deal with an angry large cat.
“I asked you to leave. I don’t ask twice usually. Now please fuck off and don’t come back.”
A very dejected Roy accepted the inevitable and left, banging his head on the lintel to add injury to insult. He turned for one last attempt at reconciliation but the door had slammed behind him. A tiny part of his brain reasoned that her reaction had been a little over the top but the vast majority couldn’t get beyond the shock to his masculinity. Already feeling miserable, he almost immediately stumbled into a bollard that seemed to be lying in wait for him on the pavement. Staring at its phallic immovability, the irony was almost too much to bear and he trudged back to the apartment in a state of utter dejection.
Try as she might, Candice couldn’t get rid of her mother. It had been pure bad luck that she and Gerrit had been spotted by Lucy Cohen at the hotel but once it had happened, the chain of events that followed had been as inevitable as Saturday following Friday.
Lucy Cohen was not exactly her mother’s best friend; in fact it could be said they would cross the street to avoid each other but she had little hesitation in choosing opportunity above tact, as she described to an incredulous Rosalind Myers how she’d seen Candice embracing a young man in the foyer of a rather lowbrow hotel in Miami. She had of course, failed to mention the reason why she was there herself and had dismissed Milt Gorman as fast as she could before rushing to the phone. She hadn’t wanted to take the risk that Candice might have a counter accusation to discredit her scoop.
Within half an hour, a call had been put through to Candice’s room.
“Candice,” the voice was ice-cool.
“Mother!” Candice nearly dropped the phone and pushed Gerrit, who was nibbling at her neck, firmly away.
“I understand you’re back?”
“Well, that’s fairly obvious since you’re speaking to me.” Candice resisted the temptation to ask how in hell her mother had traced her so quickly; she was used to the extraordinary network of contacts her mother had, though even by her remarkable standards, this was amazingly quick.
“How’s Roy?”
Not, ‘How are you?’ or ‘How was the trip?’ Candice knew her mother knew and prepared to play the game.
“He’s fine. How are you?”
“Why didn’t you both come straight home?”
This was untypical of her mother, getting straight to the heart of the matter. Candice realised she was probably going to lose this one but decided to brazen it out. She wasn’t quite sure, however, how much her mother knew.
“Roy decided to stay a few more days in Amsterdam. I wasn’t feeling too good so I came home early. It was so cold and wet there, I think I may have picked up something.”
She could hear her mother’s barely disguised snort on the other end of the phone and knew it was too late for white lies.
“Okay, Mother, I know you think you know something and yes, I’ve brought a friend with me. We met him in Amsterdam and I’m going to show him a little bit of Florida. I’ll explain everything later.”
If she thought she was going to get away with it as easily as that, she was sadly mistaken.
“A very young friend so I’ve heard!”
Candice decided to go on the attack.
“What Mother! Do you have spies at all ports of entry? What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”
“There’s no need to take that tone Candice. I’m your mother. I’m just concerned that’s all. When I hear my only daughter’s been seen kissing a man, who’s not her husband, in public, I’m naturally curious. Are you surprised at that?”
“No. I’m not surprised but we weren’t kissing, it was a hug; the sort of thing friends do with each other remember?”
Her mother never hugged.
“…and it wasn’t in public, it was in a hotel reception.”
“A little defensive aren’t we? Anyway, when am I going to meet this young friend of yours?”
Her tone was just too much for Candice.
“I’ll ring you but I don’t know when we’ll be in Tampa. I want to show him a few sights first.”
Her mother’s second audible snort was the last straw.
“Okay Mother, think what you like. I’ll be in touch soon.”
She slammed the phone down and couldn’t stop shaking as Gerrit took her into his arms.
“Mother trouble?”
“You have no idea!”
Roy was getting drunk but not only on beer. Sylvia’s high spirits and relentless joie de vivre made him feel like a teenager again and he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much. The performance faded into the background as he revelled in the attention she was bestowing upon him and more than once, they collapsed into fits of giggles as neighbours reprimanded them for over-exuberance.
“Let’s get out of here…” she said, “…I’ve seen it before anyway.”
“And you can still laugh at it?” Roy asked in disbelief.
“Oh, sometimes I just need to get out and learn how to smile again, you know? It doesn’t have to be particularly funny. I can get high on atmosphere. I can laugh at funerals, though I try not to. All that seriousness! It kills me!”
She led a slightly hysterical Roy out into the street.
“Okay, where now? You live here, I’m just a tourist.”
“No you’re not. I think you’ve adopted Amsterdam and from what you’ve told me, it’s the right place for you.”
He looked at her, wondering if she was being sarcastic and for the first time, wondering if she was right.
“I mean it. Your aura fits here. It blends with the energy of the city. I can tell. Most people clash with strange surroundings and after they’ve spent a few days, they’re glad to get home.”
She fingered a crystal hanging from a leather string around her neck and pierced him with those incredibly green eyes.
“You’ve got to tell me more about this Elfriede, I think I might know her. C’mon, I know a place not far from here where we can have a quiet drink and get to know each other better.”
She took his hand and led him out of the theatre into the street where the cold air helped restore his equilibrium. After some persuasion, he sat on the back of her bike, legs dangling to one side and they set off. He was amazed at her strength. Again, he was willingly following someone who overwhelmed him with his or her personality. What was it about this place that led him to meet such interesting people and was he being gullible in following them blindly into the unknown? What had she said about him being at home here? He certainly felt it but whether it had anything to do with auras and energy and stuff like that he wasn’t at all sure. It was all a touch too New Age for his Middle American sensibilities but then again, so many strange things had happened while he was here, he was beginning to wonder if spirituality didn’t extend a little further than the obligatory services at his Tampa synagogue. This woman was definitely different. For one, she seemed to be stuck in a time warp in her dress sense; a caftan-type dress with tiny mirrors, sandals even in winter and a fake afghan coat, all helping to create a seventies Californian image. Her hair borrowed much more from the Punk era though, as did the ring through one nostril. In just a short time, he had learned to suspend any fixed preconceptions about people. Amsterdam threw up so many individuals who didn’t seem to fit into any mould, a far cry from the manicured matrons of his home state. He loved it; it excited him, especially the unpredictability of it all. Though he did wonder if so many years of conservative values might mean that it was too late for radical change and that when he got back to Florida, he would slip effortlessly back into the habits of a lifetime. The thought of going back to Florida filled him with a sudden dread. Tasting forbidden fruit was a persuasive seducer and despite the resurrection of his marriage, the rest of his lifestyle would be far more difficult to adapt to new thinking.
Sylvia cycled through a small park close to the museums. He recognised the area but then she swerved into a side street and they came to a halt before a small house with a basement at the bottom of some steps.
“Here we are then.”
“But I thought we were going to a bar or something.”
“I said a quiet drink and a chat didn’t I? You can’t get that in a bar, especially at this time of year, so here we are, chez moi.”
Roy must have looked bewildered because she laughed at him, shaking her head.
“Don’t be so coy Roy. Coy Roy, I like that. Don’t tell me a girl’s never invited you back to her place before! Oh please, don’t give me that innocent, frightened puppy look; you’re not that naive! Come on in.”
‘No, I’m not,’ thought Roy, ‘Not any more.’
She ran down the steps and unlocked the door and he followed, not sure whether he was more physically excited, or more mentally stimulated. The one thing he was sure of was that this was living; what had he done with his life before Amsterdam?
Candice and Gerrit’s second piece of unbelievable bad luck came in Wauchula, a small town in the centre of Florida, as they were driving up towards Orlando from Miami. They had decided to take the scenic route and avoid the freeways, because Gerrit had wanted to see something of the real Florida and had pulled into a gas station to fill up, when from across the forecourt came a familiar voice.
“Candice, honey, cooee! It’s me.”
Candice realised afterwards that they had been dangerously close to Tampa but it was a big state and the chances of meeting her mother out of town were practically nil. There was no escaping it though, massive coincidence or not, there she was, large as life, in a car driven by her Aunt Mimi on the other side of the forecourt. It was at that point that Candice realised that fate existed and her mother was pretty much in control of it.
“What a coincidence! Here I was just thinking about you. In fact I said to Mimi, didn’t I Mimi? I said, ‘I wonder what Candice and her friend are doing now,’ and then lo and behold, there you are. Isn’t life strange? Isn’t the world just so small? I thought you were going to ring me by the way?”
Candice just had time to whisper to Gerrit, “Just follow my lead. Whatever you do, agree with me okay?”
“I was mother, tonight. I can’t believe it, you never leave Tampa.”
“Oh well, Mimi thought I looked a little peaky, so she suggested we drive out to see Nathaniel, you remember Nathaniel? Well, anyway, we’ve had a little tour around and it’s done me the power of good, especially seeing you.”
This was, as with most of her mother’s speeches, all said in one breath. That way, nobody had a chance of interrupting.
“And this must be your little friend. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced; I’m Rosalind Myers.”
She extended her hand like royalty and Gerrit pondered for a minute whether he should kiss it or not but settled for a shake instead.
“I’m Gerrit den Breejen, how do you do?”
“Oh, very nicely thank you. What a charming young man Candice. Tell me, what brings you to our shores?”
‘Straight in for the kill Mother,’ thought Candice.
“Are we going to sit here on the forecourt? There are other cars waiting. We’re on our way to Orlando and we have a pretty tight schedule. I’ll ring you when we get there Mother okay?”
“I won’t hear of it! You’re so near home now dear. I insist that you come and stay for a few days. You can always hop over to Orlando later, Mickey Mouse will wait I’m sure. Anyway, I want to hear all about Amsterdam.”
‘I’ll bet you do,’ thought Candice but as ever when her mother had that glint in her eye, she wilted under pressure. She looked appealingly at Gerrit, in case he had a brilliant way out of this mess but he must have misinterpreted the glance because he virtually sealed their fate.
“That would be lovely Mrs. Myers. I’d love to see the west coast and Tampa and where Candice grew up.”
Her mother positively beamed.
“Oh, call me Rosalind please. I’m sure we’ll get along famously. Now why don’t I ride with you and Candice can ride with Mimi?”
This was going way too far for Candice.
“No way! I mean, no thanks Mother. Gerrit’s not used to the roads here and needs me to navigate for him. We’ll see you back at the house. Bye”
With that Candice dug Gerrit in the ribs and taking the hint, he revved up and they drove off.
“What? What did I do? I thought that’s what you wanted.”
Candice glared at him.
“You do realise that this is going to be Hell on Earth? It takes an expert with years of training to stand up to my Mother’s probing. You don’t stand a chance. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby. Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Sylvia had a tiny living room with an en-suite kitchen and he assumed, an equally tiny bedroom.
“It’s enough for me. Why should we have loads of space that we don’t need? It’s my womb; my cocoon and I feel safe in it.”
He couldn’t argue with that and glanced around as he took a seat on her small two- seater settee, draped with a highly patterned paisley foulard. Every inch of wall space was covered with pictures, posters and photos and he knew immediately that he would suffocate if he had to live here. There were candles in various stages of disintegration everywhere and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf crammed with paperbacks, magazines and CDs. A brown, shaggy, circular rug upon which stood a battered coffee table, filled most of the floor space and by the window, was a large but very healthy palm.
“I got everything from the junk markets when I first came here and now I can’t bear to part with it all, so it just seems to accumulate you know. Would you like a beer?”
Roy nodded.
“Yes please. It’s charming, it really is. It’s very you!”
“You mean it’s very me but you’d choke from claustrophobia if you had to live here? Oh, it’s okay, I know what other people’s reactions are but I like it and that’s what counts isn’t it?”
“Oh absolutely!”
For the next hour or so, they just talked, about anything and everything. Roy couldn’t believe how easy she was to make conversation with. He loved hearing her ideas about the world and its injustices and inequalities and was deeply impressed by her insights into the human condition. He found himself formulating ideas of his own and expressing himself in a way that felt good. He’d somehow missed out on these sorts of discussions at school and university. He’d always been on the fringes of the radical and more rebellious elements who questioned life and the way things were done but he now began to realise that he’d always had some sort of a social conscience; it had just been buried underneath a welter of conventional norms.
“What made you say that I belonged in Amsterdam?”
“I told you, your aura, your energy field if you like, blends with the city’s. You may have spent your life in Florida but it’s obvious that Amsterdam suits you. Were you happy at home? With Candice?”
“Now that’s a huge question! At times yes and I think now especially, at least as far as Candice is concerned.”
“Are you sure? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve no vested interest in this. I’m not out to pry you away from her or anything like that. We’re having a lovely evening but I don’t expect more. It’s just something about you. You look as though you’ve finally started to find yourself, to find your place in the Universe. It doesn’t matter at what age it happens, it only happens when we’re ready for it but I do believe that your future lies here somehow. Now, how’s that for controversial?”
Roy tried to take it all in but the drink and the joint she’d given him were clouding his judgement. At that particular moment, he believed every word she said and began to make hazy plans for making his stay more permanent but nothing would develop logically in his mind. Staying here was scary but going back was scary too and where would Candice fit into all this? He decided to abandon such problems until the next day and drew in deeply as she began to undo his belt.
Gerrit decided he’d had enough of it all sometime during dinner on the second day of their stay with Rosalind Myers. The novelty and sense of adventure had most definitely worn off. He began to feel some sympathy for Roy because since the moment they had landed on American soil, Candice had changed. The relaxation was gone and he’d realised that she was on home ground and behaving as such. He was finding himself giving way to her wishes and needs at every point and felt very much the junior. At times, she was so condescending, he had to remind her that he was an intelligent adult who could see things for himself and didn’t need an explanation for every minute detail. Irony was also totally lost on her and he found his attempts at humour being taken literally and with apparent irritation. Even before they had got to Tampa, the sex was full of tensions, as if she was looking over her shoulder before, during and afterwards. Perhaps he was exaggerating, after all, it was still a holiday and this was as new to her as it was to him. He decided to stop worrying and go with the flow; it would get better; they hardly knew each other. His optimism was misplaced. Candice was now in her mother’s house and was tetchy to say the least, snapping at him every time he tried to make a move towards her.
“Don’t! Christ, if she finds out I’m done for!”
“Let’s get the hell out of here then. I came here to be with you, not your mother and anyway, what’s wrong with telling her the truth? We care about each other don’t we?”
“You can’t be serious! This woman makes Lucretia Borgia look like Florence Nightingale. Oh forget it! There’s no question of any hanky-panky while we’re under my Mother’s roof. No way! As for leaving! Impossible, she’d be onto me like a shot and she’d follow us!”
Gerrit was getting bored now, what had started out as an exciting adventure was turning into a more than stressful situation and he gradually came to the conclusion that his infatuation for Candice was rapidly evaporating and began to regret the whole business. The crunch came when Rosalind was serving him potatoes. He’d already been kicked twice under the table for what he regarded as harmless indiscretions and was beginning to feel really uncomfortable.
“Some white sauce with your potatoes Gerrit?”
She insisted on calling him Gerrit with a hard G and emphasising the last syllable, which irritated him intensely.
“Tell me again. How did you and Candice and Roy of course…” she smiled sweetly at Candice, “…become such good friends? I don’t think I’ve completely understood the situation.”
Gerrit looked at Rosalind and noted the loaded question and malicious intent in her eyes. This was ridiculous, time to bale out.
“Well…” he began, avoiding Candice’s warning stare, “…basically, Candice thought that Roy was treating her like shit and she needed someone to fuck to put it all right and I was there at the right time and in the right place. Is that clear enough for you?”
He lifted a fork to his mouth.
“Mmm, nice potatoes by the way.”
It was difficult to tell who was more shocked, Rosalind, who clutched her chest and fell backwards on her chair, or Candice, who was clutching her head in her hands and whimpering quietly. Gerrit put down his knife and fork and got up, sticking his hands in his pockets so that they wouldn’t see how much they were shaking.
“And now I think I’ll go and pack. Thank you for a lovely dinner.”
Roy tried hard to respond to Sylvia’s advances but whether it was the drink, or the joint, or a combination of both, he found the spirit to be willing but the flesh decidedly weak.
“Oh God! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I really want to, I do. I must be more drunk than I thought. This never happens to me!”
“Oh, so it’s my fault then? Typical man, push the blame onto the woman. What’s the matter, am I not sexy enough for you? Not Florida-beauty enough?”
“That’s ridiculous and you know it. I don’t know why it’s happened, must be the joint or something.”
“Oh, again my fault!”
Sylvia got up and brushed herself down as if she’d been grovelling in the dirt. Her whole demeanour changed and he was shocked to see her face change from purring seductress to mean-mouthed fury.
“I think you’d better go,” she said, tight-lipped.
“Sylvia please, let’s not end it like this. It must have happened to you before. Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I think you’re a wonderful woman. I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and I really fancy you. I do.”
He realised he was pleading and becoming pathetic but he really didn’t want to lose this contact, who he felt would help him find some answers. It wasn’t the same person though. Sylvia’s smile disappeared completely and her eyes narrowed to slits. He felt he suddenly had to deal with an angry large cat.
“I asked you to leave. I don’t ask twice usually. Now please fuck off and don’t come back.”
A very dejected Roy accepted the inevitable and left, banging his head on the lintel to add injury to insult. He turned for one last attempt at reconciliation but the door had slammed behind him. A tiny part of his brain reasoned that her reaction had been a little over the top but the vast majority couldn’t get beyond the shock to his masculinity. Already feeling miserable, he almost immediately stumbled into a bollard that seemed to be lying in wait for him on the pavement. Staring at its phallic immovability, the irony was almost too much to bear and he trudged back to the apartment in a state of utter dejection.
33. A threesome can have consequences
Marcel didn’t know what had struck him as the funniest; whether it was the fact that they had each fallen out of Mia’s moderately sized bed as they grappled with each other, or that Ben kept drunkenly insisting that he wasn’t gay, whilst kissing him fervently. Anyway, as far as grand passion goes, it had only been a moderate success. There had been climaxes and all that but the build up had been far more exciting than the actual event and he remembered the warmth of the embraces far more than the sex itself. It all looked so easy in arty French films but the reality of finding combinations and positions satisfactory to all was damned hard work and took away the spontaneity. Afterwards, they all clung together and swore undying affection but Marcel knew that this would be their last physical adventure and he was sure the others knew it too. He was also relieved that the madness of his infatuation for Ben, was now firmly over. He hoped they’d stay friends but had little more interest in him sexually. He often wondered if it was a weakness in his character because it happened so often. He’d chase and hunt but once having caught the victim, he quickly lost interest, although logic told him this was pretty common in the sexual game. Mia had been the first to get out of bed and he could see in her face that she felt pretty much the same way. He’d clung onto Ben in the hope of at least a cuddle. After all, he’d spent sleepless nights over this guy; he might as well get good value but Ben became uncomfortable as soon as Mia left and slid out of bed to get dressed. It had been an awkward parting too. None of them quite knew what to say and after a quick cup of coffee, it was clear that Mia was anxious that they should leave, so with mumbled goodbyes and vague promises of ringing and meeting up, they went their separate ways.
After he had got home, Marcel thought about knocking on Willem’s door for a heart to heart but it was only ten o’clock in the morning and he decided against it. He made more coffee and sat down to reflect on the night before. It had certainly been a New Year to remember but had he enjoyed it? On the one level, certainly; it had been an unique experience for him and he’d been quite gratified to find that he could perform with a woman again. Like many, he’d had mixed feelings in his teenage years and had had several girlfriends, with whom he’d had sexual experiences. They’d always left him feeling insecure however and later he realised why but he’d always taken some satisfaction in the fact that he’d given ‘the other side’ a chance and made a choice later. He didn’t really find women attractive physically, though he could appreciate female beauty and thus the events of the night before posed him several questions. Had he only been able to perform because Ben was in the bed too? In truth, probably. Could he sleep with Mia again? Probably not. Could he sleep with Ben again? Well, in the right circumstances, of course but the fatal attraction was gone, so again, probably not. Putting a condom on had been the worst moment. Then he’d panicked. Even with men, he found it a clumsy operation at best and always likely to take away the spontaneity of the moment but with a woman! Mia had even tried to help, which had made it worse and it was only Ben’s hand stroking him from behind that had prevented total collapse and embarrassment. Apart from anything else, Marcel was always aware of his own status and while he saw no need to tell either of them; after all, he was completely virus free thanks to the triple therapy and he would always play safe, it was always at the back of his mind. All in all then, last night had been something of a personal success, at least physically
but what had it achieved? He came to the conclusion that it didn’t really matter. They’d probably lost the magic and maybe even the friendship, depending on how the other two reacted and for that he was sad. He really liked both of them and wanted to try to build on what had happened so far but he suspected that both Mia and Ben would have very mixed feelings this morning. In the end, they’d had a nice time and experienced something they would always remember, maybe that was enough. He felt he needed a little self-protection, so prepared himself for the fact that it would all go wrong. That way, life could go on with minimum damage.
The first thing Mia did after they’d gone was strip the bed. She tore off the sheets and flung them straight into the washing machine and didn’t rest until clean bedding was in place. Experiencing a mixture of emotions, none of them positive; she was angry and ashamed, not at what had happened but at the fact that she felt a complete fool. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how Marcel had interacted with Ben and she realised that there was little chance of anything long-term there. Not that anything long-term was wanted particularly but it would have been nice to know that it was possible. She’d been hurt that while Marcel was in her arms, he still had hold of Ben and she’d resented Ben’s apparent enthusiasm for Marcel, despite his protestations to the contrary. Wasn’t he supposed to be in love with her? In short, it was hard to avoid the feeling that she’d just been making up the numbers and had got little pleasure out of the whole sorry episode. Faking an orgasm was the only way to bring an end to what she saw as a fiasco. It was all too complicated and completely not her style. Anyway, it was over now and she could put it behind her and carry on with her life. Friendship was still a possibility she supposed but even that had been diminished by the carnality and she realised the fun had been in the challenge itself and not in the culmination. Ah well, a new year had dawned and Mia was never one to hold on to the past for too long. Maybe it was time to move on; to sell the shop and try something new; maybe even to travel. She’d always wanted to see more of the world but what about after that? The restless part of her nature was nearly always tempered by the need for safety and security. If she sold the shop, she’d have nothing to fall back on. It was hardly a gold mine but it kept her afloat, paid the bills and gave her a reason to get out of bed each morning. Perhaps the travel idea could wait, after all, she was still young.
The idea of meeting someone and settling down never entered the equation, she was far too independent for that, or at least that was the self-image she had cultivated. She often asked herself if, secretly, what she was really afraid of was that nobody would ever show enough interest to want to settle down with her. Over another strong cup of coffee, she came to the conclusion that what she did now was satisfying enough, at least for the time being, though she found it difficult to quell the tiny voice at the back of her mind which kept telling her she was going to be lonely and unsatisfied with life. Sod it! She’d managed so far hadn’t she? She had her work, her health and her flat. If she wanted it, she could have friends, both sexual and platonic. What more did she need? She picked up a style magazine and started searching for a new piece of furniture in the Classifieds. Furniture she could rely on; it didn’t screw up her mind.
Ben woke up with a stinking headache. He’d gone to bed immediately after he’d got home, feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted. Looking in the mirror, he groaned. He looked like shit, he felt like shit and what’s more, the night before was a bit of a blur. He knew what he’d done, the only question was, why had he done it? He was referring of course to the physical contact with Marcel. After all, he already knew Mia very well in that area and there were no surprises there, in fact he was fairly certain she’d done her usual trick of faking an orgasm when she was fed up. Marcel however, was another matter. He’d remembered being drunk but he had to admit he wasn’t that drunk, so he couldn’t really blame it on that. He also remembered the waves of affection that overcame him at a certain point in the evening and he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed those feelings. The kiss at midnight had been incredible and he knew he’d been to a large extent, responsible for it. He’d wanted Marcel at that moment, as much as he’d wanted Mia. It was just one of those incredibly romantic moments that happen just a handful of times in a lifetime. He came to the conclusion that he’d had no objections whatsoever to going to bed with the pair of them. Whether it had been the moment, the atmosphere, the drink, the friendship, all that was irrelevant, he had wanted sex with both of them and that shocked him.
It wasn’t as if it came out of the blue. He’d known Marcel had had feelings for him and he’d felt sorry for the guy because there was no way he could return them and yet, last night they’d gone further than he ever dreamed possible. Why was that? Maybe he was trying to get back at Mia because it was so obvious she’d been attracted to Marcel. As he brushed his teeth, he almost convinced himself that that must be it, a sort of revenge thing. Then he realised that his feelings for Mia had already changed, from hopeless obsession to something more objective. Her manipulating and game playing had become more obvious and he began to suspect that he’d been used to get her closer to Marcel in some way. Well, if that was so and he didn’t find her as attractive any more, then the revenge theory went out of the window, which left the inescapable fact that he’d had sex with Marcel because he’d wanted to, nothing more, nothing less. He could still feel Marcel’s body against his own and could remember the extent to which he was an active partner in the lovemaking, though he didn’t like calling it that and he experienced a guilty thrill. This was such new ground and he somehow felt smugly modern but at the same time guilty at somehow betraying his lifelong convictions. His head throbbed as he tried to grapple with his mixed feelings. In the end, he concluded that whatever had happened and on whatever levels he’d enjoyed himself, he couldn’t imagine doing it again. It had happened because of a unique set of circumstances and it didn’t mean that he was suddenly gay. If he had feelings in that direction, he didn’t want them to come out, or become part of his life; it was all far too complicated and if Ben liked anything, it was a simple life. So what now? What would happen if they wanted to repeat the experience? Even as he asked himself the question, he knew it was unlikely. Last night hadn’t been the beginning of something, it had been the end. In a way, he felt proud to have been open enough to participate but it was so intense, he knew he couldn’t cope with it developing into something more long-term. He instinctively felt that the others, especially Mia would feel the same way. He wondered if they could even go on being friends! God, the next meeting would be damned awkward, well for him anyway. Maybe he wasn’t as sophisticated as the other two. It hurt to admit it but he knew he didn’t have the social skills, or the knowledge of art and music and books that they had. Oh well, for just a very short time, he’d been part of something special. If they never spoke to him again, he knew he’d advanced light years in experience, in one dazzling night.
Satisfied with his analysis, he tore up a piece of toilet paper into tiny pieces to put on the places where the razor had wreaked its revenge.
34. Elfriede’s battle against evil
The unexpectedness of the Wisi-man’s arrival shook Elfriede to the core. She had always known that it might one day happen and had always tried to be alert but she hadn’t expected a confrontation on New Year’s Eve and especially not in Valentine’s home. She looked down at Valentine’s prostrate figure and focussed on her Kra. It was weak but she was still alive, her paralysed eyes staring ahead. Elfriede was relieved; it meant that she could concentrate on her enemy without having to worry about Valentine trying any of her amateurish tricks.
“I will kill her you know.” The Wisi-man grinned at her, his eyes flashing but it was more a baring of teeth than a grin and Elfriede wasn’t taken in.
“If necessary, that is.”
“You will have to kill me first and that may not be so easy.”
Elfriede challenged him but felt far from secure. All her learning over the years had told her that to defeat a Wisi-man with evil intent, needed help from your ancestors and above all, help from the Wintis. She was almost sure she would get help from neither. She had rejected the Wintis and her forefathers would hardly forgive her for that and come to her aid now. She was also certain that the Wisi-man had all the help he needed from much the same source. She had been warned that this would happen one day and she’d ignored the help offered; at the time the price had seemed too high to pay. Now was the day of reckoning and she felt genuine terror for the first time since her stay in the hospital.
The Wisi-man started to dance; tiny sideways steps backwards and forwards, his hips swaying and his arms arched forward like the horns of a bull. She could even hear the drums that gave him the rhythm, faster and faster they throbbed and she tried to focus her mind on how best to defend herself. It was no use running from the room. If he went into trance, as he seemed to be doing, he could materialise anywhere and besides that, he would almost certainly carry out his threat to kill Valentine. What could she do? Her mind raced and she thought back to the teachings of the Dresi-man in the village. What had he told her to do in a situation like this? Could she call on him for help? Could she reach him? There was only one thing to do and that was to go into a trance herself. She concentrated her thoughts and started singing. Soon she could feel her feet moving and her body arching; it was working.
Valentine watched the scene unfold from within her frozen body. She couldn’t move but she could see and she watched in horror as the Wisi-man’s power visibly grew and his presence began to fill the room. She had to try to help Elfriede but she was paralysed, so all she could do was pray.
“Oh, Anana, oh Keduaman Keduampon, greatest of all the gods, creator of everything, protector of us all, there’s a soul here in desperate need of your help. Oh spirits of my ancestors, I beg you, come to my sister’s aid. This soul here is in great danger. There is great evil threatening her and me, your presence in the Now, here on Earth. We need your help. I respect you. I honour you my ancestors and have always given honour to you. Now I need your help, quickly, there’s little time. Please help!”
As she watched the two protagonists go into a state of trance, she repeated her prayers again and again, with little hope of success. She knew Elfriede’s history. She knew that she’d committed a great sin by disrespecting her ancestors’ spirits and rejecting the Winti’s demands. Then she had an idea.
‘I may be trapped inside my body. I may not be able to move but perhaps I can join Elfriede in the spirit world and help her there. By concentrating all her will, Valentine tried to separate her mind from her body. She couldn’t dance and she couldn’t sing but she imagined she could and with difficulty pictured her feet moving and her voice soaring.
Elfriede found herself on a flat piece of ground in the middle of the rainforest. She could smell the earth and the wet vegetation but it was dark and she could see very little. Suddenly she felt her throat constricting and she struggled for breath. The Boa wound itself around her neck squeezing slowly but relentlessly. She could feel its scales and muscles as they rippled across her skin She knew it was the Wisi-man and tried to concentrate. This meant allowing the snake to momentarily have its way and she knew she only had seconds. Summoning all her energy, she transformed and took the form of a smaller, Vine snake and slipped out of the Boa’s grasp. Without preparation and support however, she couldn’t maintain the snake’s form and quickly returned to her own body. Grabbing a stick, she lashed out wildly at the Boa but he too transformed, this time into something far more dangerous. Before she knew it, she felt her shoulder torn apart by huge claws. Screaming with pain, she backed away and although she couldn’t see clearly, she could see the malevolent eyes of a large Jaguar ready to pounce. Once more, she tried to focus all her energy and even yelled to the Wintis for help but knew there would be none. It was no good; she had no strength, no mental power, no charms and no more tricks up her sleeve. This was the end; the Wintis had finally got their revenge. In those few seconds, she thought of her people in Amsterdam; the people whose lives she had tried to protect and improve and felt deep sadness. What would happen to them now, without her guidance? Everything she had tried to do to give them hope and fulfil their lives could now fall apart. She had failed on all counts; defying the Wintis and thinking she could get away with it, had proved to be an illusion. The jaguar snarled at her and instead of attacking, circled round her. The Wisi-man knew he had nothing more to fear; Elfriede was his; he could afford to play a little with his prey, as all cats like to do. Even given a few seconds respite, Elfriede couldn’t find any power with which to defend herself and as the Jaguar prepared once again to deliver a final blow, she prepared herself for physical and spiritual death. Voices in her mind urged her to repent, to beg for forgiveness but she refused. She wasn’t going to sell her soul for a second time, death was far less demanding.
The cat was in mid-air, when the darkness split and there was a sudden flash of light. Something hurtled down and landed on the Jaguar’s back, sinking its teeth into the unguarded neck. It was another Jaguar, a female and Elfriede instantly knew who her saviour was.
Valentine had struggled for what seemed an age before she felt herself separate from her body and take spirit form. She briefly looked down and wished that she could remain this way; the freedom and lightness was such a relief after the aches and pains of old age. She found herself in a tunnel, lit by a luminous, greenish light, along which various souls wandered too and fro. She was frightened, she had never had the power, or been allowed to venture this far into the other dimensions but she needed to find Elfriede however and once again prayed to the spirits of her ancestors for help. Several of them came forward but all refused to help, fearing the wrath of the greater gods. She began to lose all hope and felt herself slipping back into human form, when suddenly someone appeared by her side.
“I can help you. I know Elfriede. I taught her when she was young. She is a good soul. I gave her knowledge and warned her of the dangers she now faces. She took a great risk in rejecting her destiny and now she pays the price. The Wintis are angry and unforgiving, she will get no help from them but I believe she has created her own destiny and has a good heart. I will suffer for this but I can at least tell you where she is. Come dance with me.”
Valentine had heard Elfriede talk about her Desi-man and thought that this must be him. She instinctively trusted him although she knew it was not always wise; spirits were renowned for the tricks they played on the unsuspecting. Girding up her courage, she followed his footsteps and danced and felt her energy returning. He sprinkled her with water and blood and poured what she knew to be earth from Africa over her head, whilst all the time chanting and dancing. She was given herbs to chew and potions to inhale and gradually, a picture began to emerge. Through a slit in the tunnel wall, she could see Elfriede in the clearing and the Wisi-man circling her in the form of a big cat. Slowly, she felt herself changing shape and form and with a huge, furred paw, she began to tear at the fabric of the wall until she could squeeze through. She knew straight away what she had to do.
Elfriede’s heart nearly burst as she recognised her old friend rolling on the ground with the Wisi-man. Her jaws were firmly clamped on his throat and she couldn’t be pried loose, no matter how much her opponent tried.
“Valentine!” she shouted, “I’m coming.”
Her voice had the wrong effect however. Valentine looked up and for a second, relaxed her grip on the other cat’s throat. This gave the Wisi-man the chance he’d been looking for and twisting his body, he managed to throw his attacker on her back. The two cats fought in a snarling, spitting whirl of fury but it was clear that the stronger male was getting the upper hand. Elfriede threw herself forward n top of the larger cat and plunged her fingers into its eyes, at the same time jerking its head back with all the strength she could muster. The Wisi-man screamed in pain and just before she heard his neck snap, she heard his thoughts.
“You will not escape. There are more like me.”
The element of surprise had won them the day though and it was over. She fell forward on top of the limp body beneath her, gasping for breath, her shoulder burning from the pain of her earlier wounds. Against all odds, she had triumphed but it had only been because of Valentine’s intervention. Never again would she make jokes about Valentine’s magic tricks. She laughed, both in relief and happiness. Heaving the dead male away, she prepared to embrace her friend. Her unconfined joy was brought to a juddering halt however, when she saw the blood pouring from the female Jaguar’s throat. Valentine’s eyes stared up at her. She was dead.
Marcel didn’t know what had struck him as the funniest; whether it was the fact that they had each fallen out of Mia’s moderately sized bed as they grappled with each other, or that Ben kept drunkenly insisting that he wasn’t gay, whilst kissing him fervently. Anyway, as far as grand passion goes, it had only been a moderate success. There had been climaxes and all that but the build up had been far more exciting than the actual event and he remembered the warmth of the embraces far more than the sex itself. It all looked so easy in arty French films but the reality of finding combinations and positions satisfactory to all was damned hard work and took away the spontaneity. Afterwards, they all clung together and swore undying affection but Marcel knew that this would be their last physical adventure and he was sure the others knew it too. He was also relieved that the madness of his infatuation for Ben, was now firmly over. He hoped they’d stay friends but had little more interest in him sexually. He often wondered if it was a weakness in his character because it happened so often. He’d chase and hunt but once having caught the victim, he quickly lost interest, although logic told him this was pretty common in the sexual game. Mia had been the first to get out of bed and he could see in her face that she felt pretty much the same way. He’d clung onto Ben in the hope of at least a cuddle. After all, he’d spent sleepless nights over this guy; he might as well get good value but Ben became uncomfortable as soon as Mia left and slid out of bed to get dressed. It had been an awkward parting too. None of them quite knew what to say and after a quick cup of coffee, it was clear that Mia was anxious that they should leave, so with mumbled goodbyes and vague promises of ringing and meeting up, they went their separate ways.
After he had got home, Marcel thought about knocking on Willem’s door for a heart to heart but it was only ten o’clock in the morning and he decided against it. He made more coffee and sat down to reflect on the night before. It had certainly been a New Year to remember but had he enjoyed it? On the one level, certainly; it had been an unique experience for him and he’d been quite gratified to find that he could perform with a woman again. Like many, he’d had mixed feelings in his teenage years and had had several girlfriends, with whom he’d had sexual experiences. They’d always left him feeling insecure however and later he realised why but he’d always taken some satisfaction in the fact that he’d given ‘the other side’ a chance and made a choice later. He didn’t really find women attractive physically, though he could appreciate female beauty and thus the events of the night before posed him several questions. Had he only been able to perform because Ben was in the bed too? In truth, probably. Could he sleep with Mia again? Probably not. Could he sleep with Ben again? Well, in the right circumstances, of course but the fatal attraction was gone, so again, probably not. Putting a condom on had been the worst moment. Then he’d panicked. Even with men, he found it a clumsy operation at best and always likely to take away the spontaneity of the moment but with a woman! Mia had even tried to help, which had made it worse and it was only Ben’s hand stroking him from behind that had prevented total collapse and embarrassment. Apart from anything else, Marcel was always aware of his own status and while he saw no need to tell either of them; after all, he was completely virus free thanks to the triple therapy and he would always play safe, it was always at the back of his mind. All in all then, last night had been something of a personal success, at least physically
but what had it achieved? He came to the conclusion that it didn’t really matter. They’d probably lost the magic and maybe even the friendship, depending on how the other two reacted and for that he was sad. He really liked both of them and wanted to try to build on what had happened so far but he suspected that both Mia and Ben would have very mixed feelings this morning. In the end, they’d had a nice time and experienced something they would always remember, maybe that was enough. He felt he needed a little self-protection, so prepared himself for the fact that it would all go wrong. That way, life could go on with minimum damage.
The first thing Mia did after they’d gone was strip the bed. She tore off the sheets and flung them straight into the washing machine and didn’t rest until clean bedding was in place. Experiencing a mixture of emotions, none of them positive; she was angry and ashamed, not at what had happened but at the fact that she felt a complete fool. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how Marcel had interacted with Ben and she realised that there was little chance of anything long-term there. Not that anything long-term was wanted particularly but it would have been nice to know that it was possible. She’d been hurt that while Marcel was in her arms, he still had hold of Ben and she’d resented Ben’s apparent enthusiasm for Marcel, despite his protestations to the contrary. Wasn’t he supposed to be in love with her? In short, it was hard to avoid the feeling that she’d just been making up the numbers and had got little pleasure out of the whole sorry episode. Faking an orgasm was the only way to bring an end to what she saw as a fiasco. It was all too complicated and completely not her style. Anyway, it was over now and she could put it behind her and carry on with her life. Friendship was still a possibility she supposed but even that had been diminished by the carnality and she realised the fun had been in the challenge itself and not in the culmination. Ah well, a new year had dawned and Mia was never one to hold on to the past for too long. Maybe it was time to move on; to sell the shop and try something new; maybe even to travel. She’d always wanted to see more of the world but what about after that? The restless part of her nature was nearly always tempered by the need for safety and security. If she sold the shop, she’d have nothing to fall back on. It was hardly a gold mine but it kept her afloat, paid the bills and gave her a reason to get out of bed each morning. Perhaps the travel idea could wait, after all, she was still young.
The idea of meeting someone and settling down never entered the equation, she was far too independent for that, or at least that was the self-image she had cultivated. She often asked herself if, secretly, what she was really afraid of was that nobody would ever show enough interest to want to settle down with her. Over another strong cup of coffee, she came to the conclusion that what she did now was satisfying enough, at least for the time being, though she found it difficult to quell the tiny voice at the back of her mind which kept telling her she was going to be lonely and unsatisfied with life. Sod it! She’d managed so far hadn’t she? She had her work, her health and her flat. If she wanted it, she could have friends, both sexual and platonic. What more did she need? She picked up a style magazine and started searching for a new piece of furniture in the Classifieds. Furniture she could rely on; it didn’t screw up her mind.
Ben woke up with a stinking headache. He’d gone to bed immediately after he’d got home, feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted. Looking in the mirror, he groaned. He looked like shit, he felt like shit and what’s more, the night before was a bit of a blur. He knew what he’d done, the only question was, why had he done it? He was referring of course to the physical contact with Marcel. After all, he already knew Mia very well in that area and there were no surprises there, in fact he was fairly certain she’d done her usual trick of faking an orgasm when she was fed up. Marcel however, was another matter. He’d remembered being drunk but he had to admit he wasn’t that drunk, so he couldn’t really blame it on that. He also remembered the waves of affection that overcame him at a certain point in the evening and he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed those feelings. The kiss at midnight had been incredible and he knew he’d been to a large extent, responsible for it. He’d wanted Marcel at that moment, as much as he’d wanted Mia. It was just one of those incredibly romantic moments that happen just a handful of times in a lifetime. He came to the conclusion that he’d had no objections whatsoever to going to bed with the pair of them. Whether it had been the moment, the atmosphere, the drink, the friendship, all that was irrelevant, he had wanted sex with both of them and that shocked him.
It wasn’t as if it came out of the blue. He’d known Marcel had had feelings for him and he’d felt sorry for the guy because there was no way he could return them and yet, last night they’d gone further than he ever dreamed possible. Why was that? Maybe he was trying to get back at Mia because it was so obvious she’d been attracted to Marcel. As he brushed his teeth, he almost convinced himself that that must be it, a sort of revenge thing. Then he realised that his feelings for Mia had already changed, from hopeless obsession to something more objective. Her manipulating and game playing had become more obvious and he began to suspect that he’d been used to get her closer to Marcel in some way. Well, if that was so and he didn’t find her as attractive any more, then the revenge theory went out of the window, which left the inescapable fact that he’d had sex with Marcel because he’d wanted to, nothing more, nothing less. He could still feel Marcel’s body against his own and could remember the extent to which he was an active partner in the lovemaking, though he didn’t like calling it that and he experienced a guilty thrill. This was such new ground and he somehow felt smugly modern but at the same time guilty at somehow betraying his lifelong convictions. His head throbbed as he tried to grapple with his mixed feelings. In the end, he concluded that whatever had happened and on whatever levels he’d enjoyed himself, he couldn’t imagine doing it again. It had happened because of a unique set of circumstances and it didn’t mean that he was suddenly gay. If he had feelings in that direction, he didn’t want them to come out, or become part of his life; it was all far too complicated and if Ben liked anything, it was a simple life. So what now? What would happen if they wanted to repeat the experience? Even as he asked himself the question, he knew it was unlikely. Last night hadn’t been the beginning of something, it had been the end. In a way, he felt proud to have been open enough to participate but it was so intense, he knew he couldn’t cope with it developing into something more long-term. He instinctively felt that the others, especially Mia would feel the same way. He wondered if they could even go on being friends! God, the next meeting would be damned awkward, well for him anyway. Maybe he wasn’t as sophisticated as the other two. It hurt to admit it but he knew he didn’t have the social skills, or the knowledge of art and music and books that they had. Oh well, for just a very short time, he’d been part of something special. If they never spoke to him again, he knew he’d advanced light years in experience, in one dazzling night.
Satisfied with his analysis, he tore up a piece of toilet paper into tiny pieces to put on the places where the razor had wreaked its revenge.
34. Elfriede’s battle against evil
The unexpectedness of the Wisi-man’s arrival shook Elfriede to the core. She had always known that it might one day happen and had always tried to be alert but she hadn’t expected a confrontation on New Year’s Eve and especially not in Valentine’s home. She looked down at Valentine’s prostrate figure and focussed on her Kra. It was weak but she was still alive, her paralysed eyes staring ahead. Elfriede was relieved; it meant that she could concentrate on her enemy without having to worry about Valentine trying any of her amateurish tricks.
“I will kill her you know.” The Wisi-man grinned at her, his eyes flashing but it was more a baring of teeth than a grin and Elfriede wasn’t taken in.
“If necessary, that is.”
“You will have to kill me first and that may not be so easy.”
Elfriede challenged him but felt far from secure. All her learning over the years had told her that to defeat a Wisi-man with evil intent, needed help from your ancestors and above all, help from the Wintis. She was almost sure she would get help from neither. She had rejected the Wintis and her forefathers would hardly forgive her for that and come to her aid now. She was also certain that the Wisi-man had all the help he needed from much the same source. She had been warned that this would happen one day and she’d ignored the help offered; at the time the price had seemed too high to pay. Now was the day of reckoning and she felt genuine terror for the first time since her stay in the hospital.
The Wisi-man started to dance; tiny sideways steps backwards and forwards, his hips swaying and his arms arched forward like the horns of a bull. She could even hear the drums that gave him the rhythm, faster and faster they throbbed and she tried to focus her mind on how best to defend herself. It was no use running from the room. If he went into trance, as he seemed to be doing, he could materialise anywhere and besides that, he would almost certainly carry out his threat to kill Valentine. What could she do? Her mind raced and she thought back to the teachings of the Dresi-man in the village. What had he told her to do in a situation like this? Could she call on him for help? Could she reach him? There was only one thing to do and that was to go into a trance herself. She concentrated her thoughts and started singing. Soon she could feel her feet moving and her body arching; it was working.
Valentine watched the scene unfold from within her frozen body. She couldn’t move but she could see and she watched in horror as the Wisi-man’s power visibly grew and his presence began to fill the room. She had to try to help Elfriede but she was paralysed, so all she could do was pray.
“Oh, Anana, oh Keduaman Keduampon, greatest of all the gods, creator of everything, protector of us all, there’s a soul here in desperate need of your help. Oh spirits of my ancestors, I beg you, come to my sister’s aid. This soul here is in great danger. There is great evil threatening her and me, your presence in the Now, here on Earth. We need your help. I respect you. I honour you my ancestors and have always given honour to you. Now I need your help, quickly, there’s little time. Please help!”
As she watched the two protagonists go into a state of trance, she repeated her prayers again and again, with little hope of success. She knew Elfriede’s history. She knew that she’d committed a great sin by disrespecting her ancestors’ spirits and rejecting the Winti’s demands. Then she had an idea.
‘I may be trapped inside my body. I may not be able to move but perhaps I can join Elfriede in the spirit world and help her there. By concentrating all her will, Valentine tried to separate her mind from her body. She couldn’t dance and she couldn’t sing but she imagined she could and with difficulty pictured her feet moving and her voice soaring.
Elfriede found herself on a flat piece of ground in the middle of the rainforest. She could smell the earth and the wet vegetation but it was dark and she could see very little. Suddenly she felt her throat constricting and she struggled for breath. The Boa wound itself around her neck squeezing slowly but relentlessly. She could feel its scales and muscles as they rippled across her skin She knew it was the Wisi-man and tried to concentrate. This meant allowing the snake to momentarily have its way and she knew she only had seconds. Summoning all her energy, she transformed and took the form of a smaller, Vine snake and slipped out of the Boa’s grasp. Without preparation and support however, she couldn’t maintain the snake’s form and quickly returned to her own body. Grabbing a stick, she lashed out wildly at the Boa but he too transformed, this time into something far more dangerous. Before she knew it, she felt her shoulder torn apart by huge claws. Screaming with pain, she backed away and although she couldn’t see clearly, she could see the malevolent eyes of a large Jaguar ready to pounce. Once more, she tried to focus all her energy and even yelled to the Wintis for help but knew there would be none. It was no good; she had no strength, no mental power, no charms and no more tricks up her sleeve. This was the end; the Wintis had finally got their revenge. In those few seconds, she thought of her people in Amsterdam; the people whose lives she had tried to protect and improve and felt deep sadness. What would happen to them now, without her guidance? Everything she had tried to do to give them hope and fulfil their lives could now fall apart. She had failed on all counts; defying the Wintis and thinking she could get away with it, had proved to be an illusion. The jaguar snarled at her and instead of attacking, circled round her. The Wisi-man knew he had nothing more to fear; Elfriede was his; he could afford to play a little with his prey, as all cats like to do. Even given a few seconds respite, Elfriede couldn’t find any power with which to defend herself and as the Jaguar prepared once again to deliver a final blow, she prepared herself for physical and spiritual death. Voices in her mind urged her to repent, to beg for forgiveness but she refused. She wasn’t going to sell her soul for a second time, death was far less demanding.
The cat was in mid-air, when the darkness split and there was a sudden flash of light. Something hurtled down and landed on the Jaguar’s back, sinking its teeth into the unguarded neck. It was another Jaguar, a female and Elfriede instantly knew who her saviour was.
Valentine had struggled for what seemed an age before she felt herself separate from her body and take spirit form. She briefly looked down and wished that she could remain this way; the freedom and lightness was such a relief after the aches and pains of old age. She found herself in a tunnel, lit by a luminous, greenish light, along which various souls wandered too and fro. She was frightened, she had never had the power, or been allowed to venture this far into the other dimensions but she needed to find Elfriede however and once again prayed to the spirits of her ancestors for help. Several of them came forward but all refused to help, fearing the wrath of the greater gods. She began to lose all hope and felt herself slipping back into human form, when suddenly someone appeared by her side.
“I can help you. I know Elfriede. I taught her when she was young. She is a good soul. I gave her knowledge and warned her of the dangers she now faces. She took a great risk in rejecting her destiny and now she pays the price. The Wintis are angry and unforgiving, she will get no help from them but I believe she has created her own destiny and has a good heart. I will suffer for this but I can at least tell you where she is. Come dance with me.”
Valentine had heard Elfriede talk about her Desi-man and thought that this must be him. She instinctively trusted him although she knew it was not always wise; spirits were renowned for the tricks they played on the unsuspecting. Girding up her courage, she followed his footsteps and danced and felt her energy returning. He sprinkled her with water and blood and poured what she knew to be earth from Africa over her head, whilst all the time chanting and dancing. She was given herbs to chew and potions to inhale and gradually, a picture began to emerge. Through a slit in the tunnel wall, she could see Elfriede in the clearing and the Wisi-man circling her in the form of a big cat. Slowly, she felt herself changing shape and form and with a huge, furred paw, she began to tear at the fabric of the wall until she could squeeze through. She knew straight away what she had to do.
Elfriede’s heart nearly burst as she recognised her old friend rolling on the ground with the Wisi-man. Her jaws were firmly clamped on his throat and she couldn’t be pried loose, no matter how much her opponent tried.
“Valentine!” she shouted, “I’m coming.”
Her voice had the wrong effect however. Valentine looked up and for a second, relaxed her grip on the other cat’s throat. This gave the Wisi-man the chance he’d been looking for and twisting his body, he managed to throw his attacker on her back. The two cats fought in a snarling, spitting whirl of fury but it was clear that the stronger male was getting the upper hand. Elfriede threw herself forward n top of the larger cat and plunged her fingers into its eyes, at the same time jerking its head back with all the strength she could muster. The Wisi-man screamed in pain and just before she heard his neck snap, she heard his thoughts.
“You will not escape. There are more like me.”
The element of surprise had won them the day though and it was over. She fell forward on top of the limp body beneath her, gasping for breath, her shoulder burning from the pain of her earlier wounds. Against all odds, she had triumphed but it had only been because of Valentine’s intervention. Never again would she make jokes about Valentine’s magic tricks. She laughed, both in relief and happiness. Heaving the dead male away, she prepared to embrace her friend. Her unconfined joy was brought to a juddering halt however, when she saw the blood pouring from the female Jaguar’s throat. Valentine’s eyes stared up at her. She was dead.
32. Candice, Roy and an ocean inbetween
- A threesome can have consequences
- Elfriede’s battle against evil
The Amsterdam Series
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