Matt and John’s passion
She slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes. Had it really been two hours ago when she closed them, the tears pouring through her lashes? Her face felt all salty and stiff. Maybe this was what a Botox-treatment felt like. She sighed heavily and scrapped herself off the bathroom floor. Her new dark green dress was all wrinkly. She almost started crying again, just for that.
When she opened the bathroom door, John was sitting next to it. When she walked passed him, she noticed he was sleeping. Dear, dear John, she thought, always by her side, even when she told him many times to go to hell. She kneeled and stroked John’s check, gently. John sighed and lifted his head. When he saw her, his eyes opened wide and he threw his arms around her. ‘I’ll be okay’, she said, ‘we’ll be okay.’ ‘Are you sure?’ John asked, ‘we could- ehm, we could go to the hospital if you liked?’ ‘No, no, let’s not’, she said, ‘I… I’d like to keep things as they are.’ ‘But…’ John took her hands and kissed them. ‘I don’t want to’, she said, ‘we won’t be hearing from him again anyway.’ ‘We better not’, John said, his tone suddenly less sympathetic. ‘Oh John, you know what happened now!’ she cried, almost bursting into tears again. John sighed and tried to force a smile. ‘I know’, he said, ‘don’t you worry. I know.’ She dropped her hands on her lap, relieved. ‘Come on’, John said, ‘let’s get you some tea.’ ‘I’d rather have a drop of whiskey’, she said, pulling herself off the floor for the second time in less than ten minutes. ‘I’m not giving you any alcohol’, John said, his tone strict, even fatherly now. ‘Now don’t you go all father-figure on me right now’, she said, ‘don’t think that after tonight you are in fact a father, just because you saved me out there.’ ‘Well aren’t I supposed to take care of you?’ John said, raising his voice, ‘you clearly can’t look after yourself!’ ‘Now don’t say that’, she said, ‘I’m so sorry John, I should give you more credit. I shouldn’t get all cross with you. You’re so good to me. It’s just so hard to believe anyone that good wants to be with me. I get all territorial because I think you will hurt me. But you’re right, you’re taking care of me –and you should! I just never thought I would be some kind of charity case.’ She had started crying halfway her monologue. ‘You’re not a charity case, believe me’, John said, sympathetic again, ‘I love you. That means I see your values and your good side. It’s not charity if I get something out of it. If you feel better and safe, you will be happy and that makes me happy. See? Don’t think you don’t deserve me. We belong together. Tonight was just a wrinkle in a perfectly good dress, like the one you’re wearing.’ ‘Thank you so much for being there for me, John’, she said, ‘let’s not fight, let’s go to sleep. I’m so, so tired, darling. Please lie with me.’ And they lay together.
‘Another one, bud?’ the bartender asked. ‘Hmm?’ the man moaned, while staring in his empty glass. ‘Would you like another scotch?’ the bartender asked leaning against the bar. ‘Oh yes, yes please, I’m sorry’, the man said. He lifted his glass and handed it to the bartender. While he poured the scotch, the man looked at him intently. He was like a stereotype bartender, just grabbed off a movie screen. The man chuckled at the image in his mind of a giant hand pulling the bartender out of a television screen. When his glass was handed to him with fresh scotch in it, his mood dropped immediately. As if he only knew he was miserable if there was a glass of alcohol in front of him to remind him of that. Maybe if he would leave this dark bar, his mood would be fine. He would live on like nothing happened.
‘Lady-troubles?’ the bartender asked. ‘What else?’ the man said pessimistically. ‘Got a-lot of those here’, the bartender said, ‘I sometimes wish I knew who the women were. I could send them some flowers.’ ‘Now why would you do that?’ the man asked, not really that interested. ‘Well for starters, they must be damn beautiful if they make their men go hanging out here all sobbing away’, the bartender said, chuckling, ‘and they do amazing things to my business here. If it weren’t for them, I’d go bankrupt in a second.’ ‘That’s very funny’, the man said, ‘maybe I should start a bar, so things would be looking up every time some bitch passed by.’ The bartender sensed –and he sensed right- a mood that he shouldn’t get involved with. ‘If you need anything else, just call me barkeep’, the bartender said and went talking to a middle-aged lady at the end of the bar, who probably had ten thousand cigarettes too many in her life.
The man started staring in his glass again. He should have known. Women, nothing but trouble, just like the bartender had said. He had never thought this way before. If he ever were to recover from this, this… well let’s call it a heartache, he should apologize to the women of the world for thinking poorly of every single one of them just because you-know-who broke his heart. He breathed heavily, like he had been holding his breath for a minute and a half. This wasn’t a good sign. He always started breathing like this when he had had too much to drink. Driving would probably be a very bad idea, beyond bad. He emptied the glass anyway and put it down with a bang. The bartender looked his way, but returned to talking to the mummified bag of potatoes when he saw the man was leaving.
Driving would be a bad idea, but the man needed to get home. He had spent all his money at that bar, so he had to. He had to drive. He just had to. The man leaned against his car door and waited for the parking lot to stop spinning. When that sort of happened, he got in his car, while thinking: what the hell, if I die it wouldn’t bother anyone. Just hope I don’t take someone with me.
‘Can I help you sir?’ the woman behind the glass asked. ‘Ehm yes, I would like to report a rape’, John said. ‘Have you been raped, sir?’ the woman asked. ‘Me?’ John asked nervously, ‘no, no, not me. My fiancé, she was the one who got raped.’ ‘And why are you reporting this?’ the woman asked, ‘I mean, why is your fiancé not with you?’ ‘She didn’t want to report it, but I really thought she should, so’, John said, cracking his knuckles. ‘Well, you can make a statement right now, but eventually we’re going to have to speak to your wife’, the woman said, writing something down. ‘Ehm my fiancé’, John said. ‘Oh yes of course’, the woman said, ‘walk with me please.’ She came from behind the glass and led John to an office around the corner. They sat down in cheap folding chairs facing each other. ‘So, let’s begin with her name, your fiancé’s name?’ the woman said. ‘Ehm that’s Emma, Emma Bovey’, John said. ‘And your name?’ the woman asked. ‘John Christiansen’, John said. ‘Now, tell me what happened to your wife’, the woman asked after writing the names down. ‘We were at a wedding of a friend, Emma was a bridesmaid’, John said, ‘and after the ceremony, I saw her talking to a tall man with long blond hair. He wore a ponytail. I always think that that kind of men just never grew up, you know? I mean, I had long hair once, but that was when I was sixteen! You do crazy things when you are a teenager. Didn’t you do crazy things?’ ‘Sir, please’, the woman said, ‘if you could just tell things that are relevant, then we can all go to bed early, ok?’ ‘Of course, I’m sorry’, John said, ‘well I kind of lost track of them and next thing I know, I’m standing outside and I see them together. He was raping her against a wall. I heard her moaning, but she couldn’t scream because he had his hand on her mouth. So I yelled Stop! And the guy just zipped up and ran away. I saw it was the ponytail-guy though, it wasn’t that dark yet. And that was when Emma came to me all crying. I first thought she was having an affair, but when we got home, she locked herself in the bathroom after I started yelling at her. I asked her who that man was, but she wouldn’t say. I heard her talking to herself softly for a long while. She always does that when she is upset and locks herself in the bathroom. Finally, after a long time, she yelled that she was raped by him, that she wasn’t having an affair.’ ‘Did she tell you the name of this man when she told you she had been raped?’ the woman asked. ‘She only told me his first name’, John said, ‘it was Matt, his name was Matt. Maybe you can get his last name at the wedding. Someone must know who he is.’ ‘We will take care of that’, the woman said, ‘now I’m going to ask some more questions and when we have talked to your fiancé also we will do everything we can to try to find this Matt you are speaking of.’ ‘Thanks’, John said, ‘thank you so much.’
‘Did you hear about that whole affair going on in the back?’ the mother asked the bride. ‘What affair?’ the bride asked. She was slightly tipsy from the champagne. ‘Well, you know John and Emma’, the mother said, ‘they are about to get married.’ ‘I know that, mom, she was my bridesmaid’, the bride said irritated. ‘Well, do you know she is having an affair?’ the mother asked. ‘As a matter of fact, yes’, the bride said, ‘with Matt. She met him in college, a few nights after she and John started dating. They have been having an affair ever since. Last thing I heard was that she was leaving John for him.’ ‘How did she manage to go through the entire wedding?’ the mother asked, intrigued. ‘Well, she told me that she told Matt that John was some kind of psycho jealous guy and would go all violent at her if he found out’, the bride said, ‘so he had to stay away.’ ‘Well Matt went outside and he didn’t come back to the wedding again’, the mother said, ‘I heard he and Emma were having sex right outside and that John went out to look for her and, well, he found her alright. Matt must have taken off with his ponytail between his legs.’ ‘Well, what does it matter’, the bride said, ‘it was about time. Stringing along John for three years isn’t the nicest thing Emma has done in her life. Could you walk me to the car? I think my husband is waiting.’ ‘Oh darling, I’m so happy for you’, the mother said, clapping her hands, ‘let’s get you home, you must be exhausted. I hope this affair-story doesn’t overshadow your beautiful wedding.’
It was five a.m. when the telephone rang. John snapped on the light and rubbed his eyes. Emma was sound asleep next to him. She could sleep through anything. He leaned over and grabbed the phone. ‘John speaking’, he said. ‘Mr. Christiansen, this is officer Marylandt, we spoke at the police office last night?’ a woman’s voice said. ‘Yes of course officer’, John said, ‘how can I help you?’ ‘Well we thought we should inform you of this morning’s happenings’, officer Marylandt said, ‘we found Matt.’ ‘Really?!’ John said, suddenly wide awake, ‘But I thought you had to speak to my fiancé first?’ Emma was waking up too. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked half moaning. ‘They found Matt’, John said, holding his hand on the phone. ‘What!’ Emma cried, ‘what did you do? Did you go to the police? I told you not to go to the police!’ ‘Is everything okay sir?’ the officer asked. ‘Eh yes everything’s fine’, John said, ‘it’s just my fiancé, she’s in a bit of a state right now.’ ‘I can imagine’, the officer said a bit harshly, ‘what I wanted to tell you is that we found Matt, only it was at the scene of a car accident. His car crashed into a limousine with some newlyweds and the brides’ mother inside of it. Only the chauffeur of the limousine survived the crash. Matt had been drinking heavily.’ ‘Oh my God’, John said, ‘that’s terrible.’ ‘What? What happened?’ Emma asked. ‘That guy, who raped you, he’s dead now’, John said, ‘he got in a car accident. He had been drinking.’ ‘One last thing, sir’, the officer said, ‘we checked his phone records and he called your fiancés number around 3 in the morning. It was because of that phone we linked this case to your report.’ ‘What?’ John said. He could barely move. There must have been a mistake. ‘The number you gave us, so we could call your fiancé for an interview was the last number Matt called’, the officer said, ‘now you said that you got home at 2 in the morning, is this correct?’ John nodded. ‘Sir?’ the officer asked after a short silence. ‘Yes… Yes that is correct’, John said turning his head towards Emma. She had gotten pale. There were tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you for calling ma’am’, John said, ‘could we continue this another time?’ ‘Of course, sir’, the officer said. John hung up the phone.
‘Honey…’ Emma started. ‘Why did he call you?’ John asked while getting out of bed. Emma dropped her head and started sobbing. ‘Tell me now!’ John shouted suddenly. ‘I told him it was over!’ Emma shouted back. She got out of bed and ran into the bathroom. John stormed after her, but the door was already locked. Here we go again, he thought.
She slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes. Had it really been two hours ago when she closed them, the tears pouring through her lashes? Her face felt all salty and stiff. Maybe this was what a Botox-treatment felt like. She sighed heavily and scrapped herself off the bathroom floor. Her new dark green dress was all wrinkly. She almost started crying again, just for that.
When she opened the bathroom door, John was sitting next to it. When she walked passed him, she noticed he was sleeping. Dear, dear John, she thought, always by her side, even when she told him many times to go to hell. She kneeled and stroked John’s check, gently. John sighed and lifted his head. When he saw her, his eyes opened wide and he threw his arms around her. ‘I’ll be okay’, she said, ‘we’ll be okay.’ ‘Are you sure?’ John asked, ‘we could- ehm, we could go to the hospital if you liked?’ ‘No, no, let’s not’, she said, ‘I… I’d like to keep things as they are.’ ‘But…’ John took her hands and kissed them. ‘I don’t want to’, she said, ‘we won’t be hearing from him again anyway.’ ‘We better not’, John said, his tone suddenly less sympathetic. ‘Oh John, you know what happened now!’ she cried, almost bursting into tears again. John sighed and tried to force a smile. ‘I know’, he said, ‘don’t you worry. I know.’ She dropped her hands on her lap, relieved. ‘Come on’, John said, ‘let’s get you some tea.’ ‘I’d rather have a drop of whiskey’, she said, pulling herself off the floor for the second time in less than ten minutes. ‘I’m not giving you any alcohol’, John said, his tone strict, even fatherly now. ‘Now don’t you go all father-figure on me right now’, she said, ‘don’t think that after tonight you are in fact a father, just because you saved me out there.’ ‘Well aren’t I supposed to take care of you?’ John said, raising his voice, ‘you clearly can’t look after yourself!’ ‘Now don’t say that’, she said, ‘I’m so sorry John, I should give you more credit. I shouldn’t get all cross with you. You’re so good to me. It’s just so hard to believe anyone that good wants to be with me. I get all territorial because I think you will hurt me. But you’re right, you’re taking care of me –and you should! I just never thought I would be some kind of charity case.’ She had started crying halfway her monologue. ‘You’re not a charity case, believe me’, John said, sympathetic again, ‘I love you. That means I see your values and your good side. It’s not charity if I get something out of it. If you feel better and safe, you will be happy and that makes me happy. See? Don’t think you don’t deserve me. We belong together. Tonight was just a wrinkle in a perfectly good dress, like the one you’re wearing.’ ‘Thank you so much for being there for me, John’, she said, ‘let’s not fight, let’s go to sleep. I’m so, so tired, darling. Please lie with me.’ And they lay together.
‘Another one, bud?’ the bartender asked. ‘Hmm?’ the man moaned, while staring in his empty glass. ‘Would you like another scotch?’ the bartender asked leaning against the bar. ‘Oh yes, yes please, I’m sorry’, the man said. He lifted his glass and handed it to the bartender. While he poured the scotch, the man looked at him intently. He was like a stereotype bartender, just grabbed off a movie screen. The man chuckled at the image in his mind of a giant hand pulling the bartender out of a television screen. When his glass was handed to him with fresh scotch in it, his mood dropped immediately. As if he only knew he was miserable if there was a glass of alcohol in front of him to remind him of that. Maybe if he would leave this dark bar, his mood would be fine. He would live on like nothing happened.
‘Lady-troubles?’ the bartender asked. ‘What else?’ the man said pessimistically. ‘Got a-lot of those here’, the bartender said, ‘I sometimes wish I knew who the women were. I could send them some flowers.’ ‘Now why would you do that?’ the man asked, not really that interested. ‘Well for starters, they must be damn beautiful if they make their men go hanging out here all sobbing away’, the bartender said, chuckling, ‘and they do amazing things to my business here. If it weren’t for them, I’d go bankrupt in a second.’ ‘That’s very funny’, the man said, ‘maybe I should start a bar, so things would be looking up every time some bitch passed by.’ The bartender sensed –and he sensed right- a mood that he shouldn’t get involved with. ‘If you need anything else, just call me barkeep’, the bartender said and went talking to a middle-aged lady at the end of the bar, who probably had ten thousand cigarettes too many in her life.
The man started staring in his glass again. He should have known. Women, nothing but trouble, just like the bartender had said. He had never thought this way before. If he ever were to recover from this, this… well let’s call it a heartache, he should apologize to the women of the world for thinking poorly of every single one of them just because you-know-who broke his heart. He breathed heavily, like he had been holding his breath for a minute and a half. This wasn’t a good sign. He always started breathing like this when he had had too much to drink. Driving would probably be a very bad idea, beyond bad. He emptied the glass anyway and put it down with a bang. The bartender looked his way, but returned to talking to the mummified bag of potatoes when he saw the man was leaving.
Driving would be a bad idea, but the man needed to get home. He had spent all his money at that bar, so he had to. He had to drive. He just had to. The man leaned against his car door and waited for the parking lot to stop spinning. When that sort of happened, he got in his car, while thinking: what the hell, if I die it wouldn’t bother anyone. Just hope I don’t take someone with me.
‘Can I help you sir?’ the woman behind the glass asked. ‘Ehm yes, I would like to report a rape’, John said. ‘Have you been raped, sir?’ the woman asked. ‘Me?’ John asked nervously, ‘no, no, not me. My fiancé, she was the one who got raped.’ ‘And why are you reporting this?’ the woman asked, ‘I mean, why is your fiancé not with you?’ ‘She didn’t want to report it, but I really thought she should, so’, John said, cracking his knuckles. ‘Well, you can make a statement right now, but eventually we’re going to have to speak to your wife’, the woman said, writing something down. ‘Ehm my fiancé’, John said. ‘Oh yes of course’, the woman said, ‘walk with me please.’ She came from behind the glass and led John to an office around the corner. They sat down in cheap folding chairs facing each other. ‘So, let’s begin with her name, your fiancé’s name?’ the woman said. ‘Ehm that’s Emma, Emma Bovey’, John said. ‘And your name?’ the woman asked. ‘John Christiansen’, John said. ‘Now, tell me what happened to your wife’, the woman asked after writing the names down. ‘We were at a wedding of a friend, Emma was a bridesmaid’, John said, ‘and after the ceremony, I saw her talking to a tall man with long blond hair. He wore a ponytail. I always think that that kind of men just never grew up, you know? I mean, I had long hair once, but that was when I was sixteen! You do crazy things when you are a teenager. Didn’t you do crazy things?’ ‘Sir, please’, the woman said, ‘if you could just tell things that are relevant, then we can all go to bed early, ok?’ ‘Of course, I’m sorry’, John said, ‘well I kind of lost track of them and next thing I know, I’m standing outside and I see them together. He was raping her against a wall. I heard her moaning, but she couldn’t scream because he had his hand on her mouth. So I yelled Stop! And the guy just zipped up and ran away. I saw it was the ponytail-guy though, it wasn’t that dark yet. And that was when Emma came to me all crying. I first thought she was having an affair, but when we got home, she locked herself in the bathroom after I started yelling at her. I asked her who that man was, but she wouldn’t say. I heard her talking to herself softly for a long while. She always does that when she is upset and locks herself in the bathroom. Finally, after a long time, she yelled that she was raped by him, that she wasn’t having an affair.’ ‘Did she tell you the name of this man when she told you she had been raped?’ the woman asked. ‘She only told me his first name’, John said, ‘it was Matt, his name was Matt. Maybe you can get his last name at the wedding. Someone must know who he is.’ ‘We will take care of that’, the woman said, ‘now I’m going to ask some more questions and when we have talked to your fiancé also we will do everything we can to try to find this Matt you are speaking of.’ ‘Thanks’, John said, ‘thank you so much.’
‘Did you hear about that whole affair going on in the back?’ the mother asked the bride. ‘What affair?’ the bride asked. She was slightly tipsy from the champagne. ‘Well, you know John and Emma’, the mother said, ‘they are about to get married.’ ‘I know that, mom, she was my bridesmaid’, the bride said irritated. ‘Well, do you know she is having an affair?’ the mother asked. ‘As a matter of fact, yes’, the bride said, ‘with Matt. She met him in college, a few nights after she and John started dating. They have been having an affair ever since. Last thing I heard was that she was leaving John for him.’ ‘How did she manage to go through the entire wedding?’ the mother asked, intrigued. ‘Well, she told me that she told Matt that John was some kind of psycho jealous guy and would go all violent at her if he found out’, the bride said, ‘so he had to stay away.’ ‘Well Matt went outside and he didn’t come back to the wedding again’, the mother said, ‘I heard he and Emma were having sex right outside and that John went out to look for her and, well, he found her alright. Matt must have taken off with his ponytail between his legs.’ ‘Well, what does it matter’, the bride said, ‘it was about time. Stringing along John for three years isn’t the nicest thing Emma has done in her life. Could you walk me to the car? I think my husband is waiting.’ ‘Oh darling, I’m so happy for you’, the mother said, clapping her hands, ‘let’s get you home, you must be exhausted. I hope this affair-story doesn’t overshadow your beautiful wedding.’
It was five a.m. when the telephone rang. John snapped on the light and rubbed his eyes. Emma was sound asleep next to him. She could sleep through anything. He leaned over and grabbed the phone. ‘John speaking’, he said. ‘Mr. Christiansen, this is officer Marylandt, we spoke at the police office last night?’ a woman’s voice said. ‘Yes of course officer’, John said, ‘how can I help you?’ ‘Well we thought we should inform you of this morning’s happenings’, officer Marylandt said, ‘we found Matt.’ ‘Really?!’ John said, suddenly wide awake, ‘But I thought you had to speak to my fiancé first?’ Emma was waking up too. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked half moaning. ‘They found Matt’, John said, holding his hand on the phone. ‘What!’ Emma cried, ‘what did you do? Did you go to the police? I told you not to go to the police!’ ‘Is everything okay sir?’ the officer asked. ‘Eh yes everything’s fine’, John said, ‘it’s just my fiancé, she’s in a bit of a state right now.’ ‘I can imagine’, the officer said a bit harshly, ‘what I wanted to tell you is that we found Matt, only it was at the scene of a car accident. His car crashed into a limousine with some newlyweds and the brides’ mother inside of it. Only the chauffeur of the limousine survived the crash. Matt had been drinking heavily.’ ‘Oh my God’, John said, ‘that’s terrible.’ ‘What? What happened?’ Emma asked. ‘That guy, who raped you, he’s dead now’, John said, ‘he got in a car accident. He had been drinking.’ ‘One last thing, sir’, the officer said, ‘we checked his phone records and he called your fiancés number around 3 in the morning. It was because of that phone we linked this case to your report.’ ‘What?’ John said. He could barely move. There must have been a mistake. ‘The number you gave us, so we could call your fiancé for an interview was the last number Matt called’, the officer said, ‘now you said that you got home at 2 in the morning, is this correct?’ John nodded. ‘Sir?’ the officer asked after a short silence. ‘Yes… Yes that is correct’, John said turning his head towards Emma. She had gotten pale. There were tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you for calling ma’am’, John said, ‘could we continue this another time?’ ‘Of course, sir’, the officer said. John hung up the phone.
‘Honey…’ Emma started. ‘Why did he call you?’ John asked while getting out of bed. Emma dropped her head and started sobbing. ‘Tell me now!’ John shouted suddenly. ‘I told him it was over!’ Emma shouted back. She got out of bed and ran into the bathroom. John stormed after her, but the door was already locked. Here we go again, he thought.