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Authors: Eden Night
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and putting the finishing touches to his office costume.
"No work today?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I lay back against the headboard and pout. "No work today. No work tomorrow. No work ever again!"
He laughs and throws my silk dressing gown across the bed.
"In that case, you can go flat hunting. I think we've outgrown this place."
He leaves for work and I pad around the tiny little flat. I ring my landlord and give him notice on my flat. I search Google for the contact numbers of a house clearance company. I make the decision that I will go back to my flat tomorrow, pack a bag of things, clean out the fridge, bury the spider-plant and then leave the key with a neighbour ready for the clearance guys.
None of what I'm doing makes any sense. It is less than two months since my first date with Alexander. In that time I've thrown away my career and now it would seem I'm throwing away my life. I've never been one for risks; whatever it is that Alexander has done to me, the transformation is almost complete.
I dress and head out to scour the letting agents. I have no real idea what rental budget I have but I guess that with Alexander’s salary and the money from Bohemia I can go relatively high. There's no shortage of flats, but decisions have to be made quickly. I compromise a little on location in order to secure the lease on a large two bedroom Victorian first floor flat. At just over two and half thousand a month it seems a reasonable compromise. There's a tube station nearby for Alexander. I ring him whilst I'm viewing and he asks to speak directly to the agent. Before we leave, the agent puts the keys into my hand and wishes me luck. I have no idea what Alexander said to the agent, but in my limited experience, this is not the usual way of renting flats; usually there are several weeks of papers and signings and references. It would seem we can move in immediately. I spend an hour walking through the flat, imagining what we could do to the place. With all the original features and slight sense of decaying elegance, the flat makes a good backdrop for us to act out our life.
I walk into the master bedroom and smile at the roll-top bath someone has rakishly put in the bedroom. The flat has a history of whimsy. I dare to imagine that this might be a home Alexander and me; a place where we can become a couple. I think about Quentin and Emeline, young, married and beautiful. Simple bands of gold that inform the world that they are not alone – that to take them on, means taking them both on.
I lay down on the floor and watch the dust motes dance in the sunlight, fantasising about Alexander and me getting married, committing to a lifetime of what we have now. It wouldn’t be easy getting Alexander to think such a thing – he isn’t really the marrying type, and I know this. Most twenty three year old men aren’t. It didn’t mean that they didn’t do it – in the end. There was time to make him love me. Years.
We spend the next six months constructing a beautiful world. In a hedonistic lust for life and feeling, we host dinner parties to which we invite complete strangers, we go dancing and learn the Argentinian Tango, we attend Lost Soul lectures on, The History of Fleas, on Voodoo, on The Theory of Relativity, How to distil your own gin - nothing is off limits. We go to art gallery openings, music gigs and film festivals.
Chapter Six: Midsummer Night’s Eve
We are travelling at speed through Oxfordshire lanes towards Arabella’s country house. She has arranged a Midsummer Night’s Eve party, to which only her most ‘talented’ students are invited. She has joked that it is an end-of-term celebration. She has assured us that is only dinner and dancing – but both Alexander and I know that something magical and wondrous will occur. He has already been to the house and set up the cameras in anticipation. Alexander is trusted.
Our – my – lessons with Arabella have been over for weeks. After
"No work today?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I lay back against the headboard and pout. "No work today. No work tomorrow. No work ever again!"
He laughs and throws my silk dressing gown across the bed.
"In that case, you can go flat hunting. I think we've outgrown this place."
He leaves for work and I pad around the tiny little flat. I ring my landlord and give him notice on my flat. I search Google for the contact numbers of a house clearance company. I make the decision that I will go back to my flat tomorrow, pack a bag of things, clean out the fridge, bury the spider-plant and then leave the key with a neighbour ready for the clearance guys.
None of what I'm doing makes any sense. It is less than two months since my first date with Alexander. In that time I've thrown away my career and now it would seem I'm throwing away my life. I've never been one for risks; whatever it is that Alexander has done to me, the transformation is almost complete.
I dress and head out to scour the letting agents. I have no real idea what rental budget I have but I guess that with Alexander’s salary and the money from Bohemia I can go relatively high. There's no shortage of flats, but decisions have to be made quickly. I compromise a little on location in order to secure the lease on a large two bedroom Victorian first floor flat. At just over two and half thousand a month it seems a reasonable compromise. There's a tube station nearby for Alexander. I ring him whilst I'm viewing and he asks to speak directly to the agent. Before we leave, the agent puts the keys into my hand and wishes me luck. I have no idea what Alexander said to the agent, but in my limited experience, this is not the usual way of renting flats; usually there are several weeks of papers and signings and references. It would seem we can move in immediately. I spend an hour walking through the flat, imagining what we could do to the place. With all the original features and slight sense of decaying elegance, the flat makes a good backdrop for us to act out our life.
I walk into the master bedroom and smile at the roll-top bath someone has rakishly put in the bedroom. The flat has a history of whimsy. I dare to imagine that this might be a home Alexander and me; a place where we can become a couple. I think about Quentin and Emeline, young, married and beautiful. Simple bands of gold that inform the world that they are not alone – that to take them on, means taking them both on.
I lay down on the floor and watch the dust motes dance in the sunlight, fantasising about Alexander and me getting married, committing to a lifetime of what we have now. It wouldn’t be easy getting Alexander to think such a thing – he isn’t really the marrying type, and I know this. Most twenty three year old men aren’t. It didn’t mean that they didn’t do it – in the end. There was time to make him love me. Years.
We spend the next six months constructing a beautiful world. In a hedonistic lust for life and feeling, we host dinner parties to which we invite complete strangers, we go dancing and learn the Argentinian Tango, we attend Lost Soul lectures on, The History of Fleas, on Voodoo, on The Theory of Relativity, How to distil your own gin - nothing is off limits. We go to art gallery openings, music gigs and film festivals.
Chapter Six: Midsummer Night’s Eve
We are travelling at speed through Oxfordshire lanes towards Arabella’s country house. She has arranged a Midsummer Night’s Eve party, to which only her most ‘talented’ students are invited. She has joked that it is an end-of-term celebration. She has assured us that is only dinner and dancing – but both Alexander and I know that something magical and wondrous will occur. He has already been to the house and set up the cameras in anticipation. Alexander is trusted.
Our – my – lessons with Arabella have been over for weeks. After
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