29 October 2010

I woke up just like almost any other day. I felt that sensation – a feeling as though there were a boulder on my chest, a boulder that grew heavier with time. This feeling would come over me whenever disaster was imminent; it was the very same feeling that had accompanied me on the night my father disappeared. I tried to ignore it, because I had to go to university for my exams, and perhaps to meet Oliver… He’s an ordinary lad who barely understands my tastes, but he tries his best to make me happy. I don’t know if my feelings for him are love? Or are they just a lovely illusion that keeps me attached to him so I don’t lose that lovely feeling of being cared for? 

“Juliet, we’re going to be late for the first lecture. Try to hurry up.”

My flatmate Sofia’s voice cut me off as she reminded me of the time.

“All right, I’m coming… just let me finish putting on my make-up.”

***

The weather was cold, and the sky was full of clouds. People think I’m silly and eccentric because I love this sort of weather. People don’t understand me, and I don’t understand them. What’s wrong with accepting someone else’s opinion? The grey clouds in the sky, the cold wind that blows constantly, and the dead leaves everywhere – to me, this is a beautiful scene. There are no garish colours, no blazing sun, no fantasy world; it is reality… Reality is always changeable; the leaves must die so that others may live, just as this must happen to us humans. Yet people’s folly drives them to flee from death and fear it, even though it is inevitable and inescapable. I cannot blame anyone, for the instinct for survival drives us to save ourselves, but this in no way justifies the obsession with immortality and eternal youth. The doors to the lecture theatre opened, and the Professor of Literature entered, walking with dignity. He began his lecture on Shakespeare, specifically the play *Macbeth*. At the end of the lecture, the professor asked us to write a report on this play and on the psychological conflicts of the characters, setting next week as the deadline for submission. I gathered my things and left the lecture theatre, wondering how I would begin writing the report, and headed towards the garden to start reading. I left the college building and found an empty bench; I made sure it wasn’t damp before sitting down. I opened the book and immersed myself in reading until I heard a male voice say:

“‘ ‘All the perfumes of the Arab lands will not cleanse this small hand of the blood of the slain.’”

I looked up at the source of the voice. It was a fair-haired man, dressed elegantly in a heavy black overcoat, with a grey woolly scarf—tinged with black—wrapped around his neck. I stared at him in astonishment until I said:

“Pardon? Who are you?”

He smiled uneasily and said:

“Forgive my impertinence, Miss Sinclair. I am Alistair Grey.”

He held out his hand and continued:

“A businessman. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

My eyes widened at what was happening. How did he know my name? Who was he? Why was a businessman inside the university? I stood up, closed the book and tucked it under my arm, then said to him:

“I’ve never heard of you… What do you want?”

He laughed with a rough voice—a light but suspicious laugh—and said:

“Oh, it’s just a shared interest. I love Shakespeare’s plays; he’s a great writer, isn’t he?”

I took a step back.

“And who said I like Shakespeare? Perhaps I’m reading the play for a university project.”

The smile faded from his face; he cleared his throat and replied:

“You’re right. I’m sorry for my misjudgement, Miss.”

“It doesn’t matter… What do you want from me? ‘Shared interests’ is a blatant lie. There are other girls reading the same play; why didn’t you speak to any of them? You’re up to no good, I’m sure of it.”

I said this in a calm voice, yet one full of anger and annoyance. I noticed he began to look around as if he didn’t know what to say, then I said:

“Listen to me carefully, I’m not that sort of girl! I won’t get involved with you for money; I’m an honourable woman and I don’t need anyone!”

Gray took a step back, as if moving away from a spreading fire – a fire that would consume him rather than warm him.

“Miss Sinclair… what on earth are you talking about? I was just…”

I cut him off:

“There’s no need for this. A businessman on campus makes no sense at all; you’ve surely bribed the management so you can harass the girls.”

He shouted in indignation:

“Harass the girls?! What utter nonsense! Would I leave sophisticated women to come and look for pitiful girls? You’re rambling, Miss Sinclair. I’m not interested in you or any girl; I’m here because I need you for something important, which has nothing to do with the details of your body or what you consider seductive.”

She shouted, having noticed that some of the students had taken notice of their argument:

“And what is this important matter, then? You’re lying to yourself and trying to deceive me, but I’m not a fool to fall for it!”

He replied, gritting his teeth, his veins bulging with rage on his flushed face:

“Miss Sinclair, you really are a rebellious one… Should I applaud you? Why won’t you speak respectfully?”

I slapped him on his right cheek; I don’t know why I did that just now… But the shock was written all over the students’ faces, and of course Gray froze in his tracks. He rubbed the spot where I’d struck him and glared at me with hatred. I thought he was going to kill me right there and then; his gaze didn’t look like that of a real human being, but something far more terrifying. Yet he didn’t hurt me; instead, he turned to leave, saying as he walked away:

“I’ll sue you for this. ”

I looked around after he’d gone. My classmates were in shock; some were laughing, whilst others were worried and asking me:

“He said he’s going to sue you!”

“Juliette, do you know that man?”

“I do know him! He’s the owner of the Northern Pearl hotel chain.”

“Oh my God, so he’s a very rich man then. He’ll definitely have a team of lawyers.”

“Juliette, are you going to be all right?”

“Juliette?”

“Juliette…?”

I finally spoke after gathering my strength:

“I need to go to the loo.”

I ran as fast as I could to the toilets, tears streaming from my eyes as I ran. Is he going to sue me? Am I in trouble? What about my mum? I went into the toilet and locked the door, sat down on the toilet seat and cried my heart out.

“What am I going to do? I can’t afford a solicitor… Why was I so stupid as to slap him?! I wish I’d broken my hand this morning so I wouldn’t be in this mess!”

To be continued…