Read Online Bedtime Confessions (The Chambermaid's Tales - Short Stories) by Sarah Michelle Lynch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Michelle Lynch
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goads me. She sounds ridiculous saying such words in her voice. I speak with a relatively metropolitan Northern accent, but hers is positively silken. Like a newsreader's, only, hers is a voice so distinct it is sometimes like she speaks a different language. She's tuned like a Steinway piano. She'd sound good with or without a skilful musician at the helm. Maybe her voice is a little bit too sexy for someone as pent-up as I.
“ Why don't you give Mark another chance?” I counteract.
“ You know why,” she says smartly. There really is nothing more we can discuss there. He's too simple, Mark, with his need for debauchery. As long as he gets that, he's fine. But otherwise…
“ Let me help. Tell me…” she asks gently, taking my hand. She squeezes my fingers and I look into her enquiring gaze. It's a stare I trust and she really hasn't ever let me down as a friend.
“ In therapy, I talked a lot about my family. My childhood. My schooldays and all that,” I begin, fiddling with some papers as I begin to muster the courage to confess. “I realised I had a beautiful childhood, despite the cancer. I fought with my brother and sister but we always had one another. I remember the times James would defend my honour at school… he was my rescuer. My big, bad brother. I remember the person I once was. But the thing was, I changed. I grew increasingly cold and distant because I struggled to regain that simple happiness that so many take for granted. You know… just being glad to wake up in the morning. I lived never knowing anything for a certainty. Some of what I went through is unexplainable. Everyone then treated me differently. I built several coping mechanisms. Sometimes, it seemed like I was the only one suffering.”
I take a breath and she encourages me on, nodding and blinking. Waiting patiently.
“Riding a bike is so easy, wouldn't you think Flo?” I ask her quite plainly.
“ Like breathing. You get on and go.”
“ So if I were to say that I once knew a grown man of 37 who couldn't ride a bike, what might you assume?”
She looks puzzled and shakes her head. She takes a few moments. “I'd assume, perhaps, that he just never liked bikes.”
“ It's easy. You get on, and after a few falls, you peddle. That's it, isn't it?”
“ Yes, my darling.”
“ In therapy, I revisited some of my most intimate moments with Him. I realised something terrible. Perhaps, I would have called him months ago, if I hadn't realised… what I realised in therapy.”
“ Tell me,” she asks in earnest, and I begin to tell the tale…
It was a sunny June day and my lover had been in my life only a few months. However, it felt like years. I felt like I knew him so well already, and yet in other ways, I did not know him at all. We existed so peacefully, together. Yet, neither one of us were brave enough to insist that we take our relationship into the real world. Neither of us were prepared to suggest that we move in together, make ourselves public, or even just put a ring on my finger. That alone might have quelled my yearning for more.
That morning, he looked sheepish when I asked if he wanted to bike up into the countryside with me. I pried the information from him and he eventually revealed he was unable to ride. I really felt bad but also, I wasn't convinced he was telling me the truth. I begged him to accompany me and so, we threw my Raleigh shopper in the boot and drove to a cycle hire to get one for him.
He took the bike in his hands as if it were alien. I m ean, the man is in charge of billions of pounds of money. He has about ten cars and ten homes dotted around the world. He has so much power. Yet he could not ride a bike. My instincts were troubled but I refused to acknowledge the warnings.
He held the handle bars and I could see his knuckles were white. He tentatively straddled the crossbar and I thought I saw him shaking, but I wasn't sure. I laughed a little and took the piss but he took it on the
“ Why don't you give Mark another chance?” I counteract.
“ You know why,” she says smartly. There really is nothing more we can discuss there. He's too simple, Mark, with his need for debauchery. As long as he gets that, he's fine. But otherwise…
“ Let me help. Tell me…” she asks gently, taking my hand. She squeezes my fingers and I look into her enquiring gaze. It's a stare I trust and she really hasn't ever let me down as a friend.
“ In therapy, I talked a lot about my family. My childhood. My schooldays and all that,” I begin, fiddling with some papers as I begin to muster the courage to confess. “I realised I had a beautiful childhood, despite the cancer. I fought with my brother and sister but we always had one another. I remember the times James would defend my honour at school… he was my rescuer. My big, bad brother. I remember the person I once was. But the thing was, I changed. I grew increasingly cold and distant because I struggled to regain that simple happiness that so many take for granted. You know… just being glad to wake up in the morning. I lived never knowing anything for a certainty. Some of what I went through is unexplainable. Everyone then treated me differently. I built several coping mechanisms. Sometimes, it seemed like I was the only one suffering.”
I take a breath and she encourages me on, nodding and blinking. Waiting patiently.
“Riding a bike is so easy, wouldn't you think Flo?” I ask her quite plainly.
“ Like breathing. You get on and go.”
“ So if I were to say that I once knew a grown man of 37 who couldn't ride a bike, what might you assume?”
She looks puzzled and shakes her head. She takes a few moments. “I'd assume, perhaps, that he just never liked bikes.”
“ It's easy. You get on, and after a few falls, you peddle. That's it, isn't it?”
“ Yes, my darling.”
“ In therapy, I revisited some of my most intimate moments with Him. I realised something terrible. Perhaps, I would have called him months ago, if I hadn't realised… what I realised in therapy.”
“ Tell me,” she asks in earnest, and I begin to tell the tale…
It was a sunny June day and my lover had been in my life only a few months. However, it felt like years. I felt like I knew him so well already, and yet in other ways, I did not know him at all. We existed so peacefully, together. Yet, neither one of us were brave enough to insist that we take our relationship into the real world. Neither of us were prepared to suggest that we move in together, make ourselves public, or even just put a ring on my finger. That alone might have quelled my yearning for more.
That morning, he looked sheepish when I asked if he wanted to bike up into the countryside with me. I pried the information from him and he eventually revealed he was unable to ride. I really felt bad but also, I wasn't convinced he was telling me the truth. I begged him to accompany me and so, we threw my Raleigh shopper in the boot and drove to a cycle hire to get one for him.
He took the bike in his hands as if it were alien. I m ean, the man is in charge of billions of pounds of money. He has about ten cars and ten homes dotted around the world. He has so much power. Yet he could not ride a bike. My instincts were troubled but I refused to acknowledge the warnings.
He held the handle bars and I could see his knuckles were white. He tentatively straddled the crossbar and I thought I saw him shaking, but I wasn't sure. I laughed a little and took the piss but he took it on the
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