The gallimaufry approach to life

'What do you mean they've cancelled Christmas? They can't do that. What about all the preparations I've made?' 'My mother says it's not her fault if you plan 6 months ahead for something they don't even celebrate.' 'But they said they were coming and then tell you to tell me they're not. On the 24th. That's not fair.' 'It's just that in the Netherlands we don't really celbrate Christmas if there aren't any kids.' I could tell he was running out of patience by the way his nostrils started to flare. 'Well that's sad.' 'It's not sad! It's just that my mother doesn't feel like celebrating twice that's all. After the 5th there's not much point really.' 'Ok I get it. Your mother doesn't like me.' 'I can't believe we're having this conversation again.' Then he stormed off, slamming the door behind him. I took another sip of sherry and got back to forcing...

I wrote this as part of a Futurelearn course to improve my skill. We had to imagine we were starting with, I remember. His brush strokes were powerful, his scrutiny intense. My naked body writhing twisted there on that dais. My nose was itching, the smell of oil paint tickling my nostrils, my nipples erect and puckering in the cold. He had forbidden me from moving. He had assured me that the ordeal would be over quickly. He had lied. He was engrossed in his own pleasure and I found myself at the mercy of his engorged ego.

'I love you.' he said looking at her hands folded over the crumpled white sheet, stars of light dancing off the red varnish on her perfectly manicured nails. She didn't take her eyes off the ceiling. 'OK' she said. OK? OK? Is that how she responds to the opening his heart to her, leaving him raw, exposed. It was her fault, she made him love her and he was sure she loved him too. She had to. There had been the gentle caresses, the way she way she ran her fingers over his balding head, the things she had told him that she'd never told anyone like her dream of becoming a nurse, and the love making, she couldn't have been faking it, could she? Could she? He stared at her tousled mane all aflame and pronounced the words once more. 'I. love. you.' he uttered each word one after the other because that was it, she hadn't understood what he'd said before. 'OK' same tone, eyes still on the ceiling. Then, she pulled her legs to her chest...