Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

ANGELCAKE	By : tatyanahill Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 1613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Angelcake is a derivative based on some of the characters of Harry Potter. I do not make any money from writing it, or the rest of the series it belongs to. I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters from the HP series.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
∞ 5 ∞
THE BITCH
Valentina came out of the outside toilet in a foul mood. She pushed the door behind her hard with the back of her foot in an effort to slam it and nearly lost her balance. She had on rubber gloves and was carrying the crumpled, dripping object she had dislodged from the bend in the toilet. She was holding the offensive thing balanced between two short tree branches, as far as possible away from her body and walking rapidly toward the compost pile. Breathing through her nose, she stopped in the grass for a moment checking her arms and clothing, wincingly and feeling like she was about to retch. A little of the water had SPLASHED-ON-HER-FACE! when she was pulling it out! She just needed to check that nothing else had gotten on her. If her stomach weren’t so strong, she would have surely vomited by now. She wanted to disappear. After dropping the vile thing a few times and re-balancing it back between the unhandy branches, she finally got it to the compost heap and left it there.
   It was one of those paper carton sandwich containers with the cellophane window on top that ‘someone’ had squashed into a ball and had flushed (unsuccessfully) down the toilet. She had already had the screaming row with ‘Him’ about it earlier, before she steeled herself up to finish fishing it, along with a metal spoon(!) that had been flushed along with it, out. He had stared blankly at the thing, seemingly having no idea of what a store-bought sandwich carton even was.
   ‘Wasn’t it bad enough that the inside toilet wasn’t working?! It was already inconvenient enough getting up in the middle of the night to go out there, without having to resort to the bushes!’
   ‘It was nothing to do with him; it clearly said “Sausage” and he didn’t eat sausage. He was a vegetarian.’
   ‘Who else could have put it there, then?’
   ‘He didn’t know. Probably one of the builders.’
   ‘The builders hadn’t been there for over a year – almost two.’
   ‘The neighbour then, or the postman (he was always hanging about, she probably fancied him).’
   ‘Don’t be disgusting! And what on Earth could either of them be doing with a sandwich carton from TESCO?! Were Tesco’s sausage sandwiches so good that one of them had to go all the way to England to get one?.. And then instead of throwing the container in the rubbish bin, like any sane person, why had either of them decided to go out of their way to visit THEIR miserable little toilet with the idea of blocking it up? (Because no one in their right mind could actually expect a thing like that to flush without a problem!) Obviously, they knew that a sandwich container was the perfect item with which to make their punishment (because it clearly was some sort of punishment)!... And of course neither of them noticed when the guilty person came in and took a spoon out of their cupboard to flush along with it, just to be extra annoying.’
   ‘He didn’t know. She should ask herself why she allowed either of them to be using their toilet. She was encouraging them probably, while he was off working hard, for his hard earned money. He himself had never even been inside a Tesco; the company had a deplorable standard of ethics, which he categorically refused to support. In fact he would rather go hungry than shop at Tesco! And in any case, going in the bushes saved valuable natural resources and energy – she might consider the importance of real issues like that once in a while! Really, she should try to enlighten herself more often by reading more about water and other important environmental things like he did. That was the problem with most consumers today: they existed in a completely unconscious state, which was the cause of many modern maladies such as global warming. It was tragic. He himself was going to do everything in his not inconsiderable capabilities, to make the world a better place. She ought to consider following his example.’
   There was no point in mentioning he was in England every other week, or that the postman never came up the drive anymore, or that the neighbour Martin Martin was on holiday, or that there was probably a date on the carton proving it had just been put there, if she cared to look. There was no point in mentioning that he was only ever ecologically minded when someone else was looking and he could get some sort of praise for it, or that she was run ragged, running behind him attending to lights and taps that he left on and whatever else he was wasting or breaking. Equally there was also no point in mentioning that he was undoubtedly the most superficial and hypocritical person she had ever met and the fact that he hid under the guise of being some sort of exceptionally conscious minded, uncommonly saintly person was not only incredibly annoying, it was laughable… He would just stare at her in the same blank manner to indicate that he had no idea of what she was talking about. He would have a reason why he was completely innocent and why she was being a crazy, nagging bitch (not to mention a whore, who had nothing better to do than wait until he left for his hard done toil, to entice their corpulent, sweaty, ignoramus of a neighbour over for secret rendezvous and toilet breaks). Feeling like she would have a heart attack if she continued trying to reason with him, she stomped off furiously...
   She stood against a tree and watched the goats down in the pasture. ‘Their pasture’. Since he made the agreement with the neighbour, they now jointly owned the pasture land which adjoined that of the little house – his ‘gift’ to her. Now they were formally joined. She would never get rid of him! He would never let it go; even if she tried to give her part back, he’d still be there in full force. She couldn’t give it back anyway; the animals would have nothing to eat. It was a nightmare. She could not imagine how she could have allowed herself to agree to it – to any of it.
   Valentina walked over to the long, crumbling, old stone barn. She stood there eyeing it resentfully. She pressed on her breastbone, closing her eyes for a few moments; her chest was aching again. She couldn’t remember what she had gone over there for. She would probably have Alzheimer’s soon – if she didn’t have a heart attack, or a perforated stomach first. She looked inside blankly, but still couldn’t remember what it was that she needed.
   She picked up a tile that must have fallen from the partially started new roof above and put it on top of one of the pallets full of other new tiles, avoiding a puddle that had formed on top of the weathered, plastic sheeting loosely covering everything. She stared resentfully at the stacks of new tiles and unfinished roof and then over to the scattered heaps of old tiles and other debris left around from the old roof, shaking her head. There were already a few shoots of grass sprouting up in-between some of the tiles on the unfinished roof; the whole thing would probably need to be completely redone. Ironically, the roof of this old, long barn hadn’t been that bad in the first place. It had probably been renewed at some point in the distant past, when the other roofs of the other buildings on the humble little farming property were still in reasonable order. The outcome was, that it had been the soundest roof there when Valentina arrived shell-shocked, three years earlier, to take up the decrepit little estate. It was an unexpected – and not particularly welcome – bequest left to her by Mimi, the woman who had been like a mother to her since she was small and whose sudden death she was grieving over badly then (and still).
   She looked over to the smaller barn and exhaled tensely. It housed the animal stalls and had a car port off of it. The roof was caving in on the animals’ side. She worried every day that it would collapse and kill the animals or herself when she was there with them, but was helpless to fix the situation. This was her fault for believing him that it would be done in a month (or done at all). The animals weren’t safe. Thinking about it made her sick, but it was irresponsible not to think about it... But then she couldn’t do anything about it! Perhaps they should stay outside. But perhaps it WAS “completely fine” and she WAS “overreacting” as he would airily assure whenever she brought the matter up.
   In the beginning, she believed him (and in him). Although in truth, he hadn’t been the sort of man she would have ever normally went for, she quickly grew to care for him because of his seemingly outstanding, decent, gentle qualities and passionate devotion (and that he needed so much to be loved). There were a few very serious early warning signs, which seamed shocking and strange, but understandable on review of his explanations. So, she felt lucky that she had found him (…well actually that he had found her). She had had a rough few years after the excruciating heartbreak with her ex-boyfriend Rex and all his narcissism and commitment phobia… as well as the falseness and games of the other big shots she had known in the past and those who surrounded them, with their glamorous, but spiritually impoverished lives. She was grateful to be with someone who was genuine and generous and so completely committed to her, grateful for the feeling of being ‘rescued’ and looked-after by someone who was not very grand and elegant (which in the harshest honesty was regrettable) yet in exchange was magnificently pure of heart and genuine. Quite often, she hadn’t been completely sure his plans were as well laid out as they could have been, but she was happy to pay him the respect a man needed in letting him do things his way; he was so sweet and such a kind and decent man, a little patience and reverence was nothing to give in return.
   ‘Nothing was too good for his Princess’ and he had insisted the builders rip out everything and redo all the roofs using the finest materials. For some reason only known to him, he had insisted they redo the best roof first, which (in hindsight) was just as well, because otherwise they would now be living in a cottage without a roof over it at all. As it was, there was a hole in the little cottage’s roof that let water into the second bedroom quite badly when it rained.
   Near the doorway of one of the dividing walls of the long barn, she noticed something red in the dirt. It was the pair of long handled pliers she had been looking for earlier. Well, at lease she had it now for the next time she needed to fish something out of the toilet. For some reason the pliers reminded her that she was looking for the disinfectant.
   She marched inside the little stone cottage. The kitchen was basic, but quite sweet looking (if one ignored the mess). It hadn’t been modernised and looked very old-fashioned. As the whole house only had two rooms downstairs and two upstairs, the kitchen was a fair size. The walls were the same rustic stone construction as the outside and there were exposed beams on the ceiling and a flagstone floor. A large, rustic stone fireplace dominated the right wall. There was an attractive deep, old, white ceramic sink with the customary gingham curtain underneath, which was surrounded by a couple old-fashioned, freestanding, typically French cottage cabinets and mounted, painted shelves against the front wall. Against the left wall there was a cooker that looked like it was from the 1950’s, a small modern fridge (the only new looking object in the entire place) and a trendy, traditional looking, expensive range cooker that had never been plumbed in and was instead used to pile things on (mainly bills and paperwork). Toward the back wall there was a painted dresser and a painted farmhouse kitchen table which were strewn with papers, crumbs, dust, empty opened envelopes, pens and a jumble of other unremarkable articles: paper prescription bags from the vet, an empty medicine bottle, a disassembled extension cable, a few hand tools and the like. The most striking thing in the kitchen was an ancient, wooden sort of bench/bed with a high back and sides that they had bought at the local auction house in happier times. It was positioned in front of the fire and had a thin mattress on it with a duvet bunched up at one of the ends; it was used as a sofa, or occasionally a bed in the wintertime, when the rest of the house was too cold, or when Valentina couldn’t go upstairs to her room. Scattered throughout the room were other kitchen things, as well as many completely ‘un-kitcheny’ things. Back on the right wall as one entered, there was a squat plank door with thick, aging, ivory coloured paint, which led to a small bathroom and toilet. The convenience had been added on to the property long after it was built. However, the plumbing didn’t work (and probably hadn’t done for a couple decades at least) so it was mainly used as a coats / animal stuffs / junk room / storage room. On the far left wall of the kitchen, there was a wide doorway leading to what would normally be the living room. It was curtained off with a red bed sheet and was used by ‘Him,’ Valentina’s off-again-off-again ex boyfriend and domestic partner / ‘business partner,’ as his living quarters and office, as well as storage for some of Valentina’s many moving boxes which took up space throughout the property. A door on the right side of the back wall, led to the hallway housing the washer (which worked when it felt like it). There was a further door out to the garden and what would have been the staircase leading upstairs, if there were a staircase; instead there was a ladder bolstered by a chest of draws (stuffed full of books), several bricks and a very heavy looking industrial iron object that might have once belonged to some type of farm machinery. It would have been a dear little house, if only it had a little time spent on it and if it weren’t for the fact that it was so junked up with things left about. The whole place was dusty and cobwebby. There were a load of dishes in the sink and left open boxes of food things on countertops of the cabinets which were sprinkled with an array of crumbs and grime: a tea box, a couple used tea bags, a cracker box, fruit peelings, various bottles of jam and condiments and trailings of muesli… It hadn’t always been like that. Its current state was completely demoralising but there hardly seemed any point in doing anything about it.
   Valentina’s whole mood became even more sour and tense when she saw ‘Him’. Jerremee stuck his head out of the covered doorway of his room, smiling sheepishly. He shuffled over in his beach slippers, smiling eagerly, but with his gaze held downward in subservience, looking wide-eyed, and bashful.
   “Can I make you a cup of tea?” he said in a willing, singsong voice.
   “No thank you,” she said in a weary, civil tone.
   “Who’s that from,” he said with the same sweet, wide-eyed demeanour, pointing at a greeting card and its envelope over on the cluttered table behind him. Valentina’s immediate reaction was to ignore him (it wasn’t as if there was any chance he hadn’t already read it – at least twice) but if she didn’t answer him, he would only ask again.
   “From Agnès,” she said as if affording him the words were a heavy imposition.
   “Oh-hh bllless,” he enthused with a syrupy fondness that would have convinced anyone not familiar with their story, that he knew Agnès and missed her dearly.
   Valentina responded by cutting her eyes at the empty space she had been looking at instead of Jerremee and turned away wearily.
   “Don’t forget to write her back and say a special hello from me,” he added.
Valentina crouched down to look under the sink for the disinfectant. Jerremee came over and started to do the dishes above her. Not finding what she wanted and with Jerremee seemingly unaware that he was in her way, she went to the disused bathroom to check for the disinfectant.
   “Can I make you a cup of tea?” He had left the dishes and come up behind her in the bathroom, apparently interested in what she was doing.
   “No. Thank you, she said cordially,” stopping what she was doing to reply. Finding the disinfectant, she noticed some badly muddied (and now mildewed) things she had meant to wash weeks before and began arranging them, so she could get her soiled clothes in with them, after she finished with the outdoor toilet.
   “Can I make you a cup of tea?” he said following her as she teetered blindly across the room with the big pile of clothes and a large plastic bottle of detergent.
   “Yes, alright,” she submitted in frustration, as she tried to manoeuvre the hallway door open with her elbow, without dropping everything.
   Jerremee waited until she got the door open (and also waited while she picked up the dirty sock she dropped, only to drop more of the pile of clothes, requiring her to put everything down to pick it all up again). He followed her out into the hallway.
   “I wish you were as happy with me as I am with you,” he said in a grovelling tone.    Valentina’s face remained harsh and unreceptive. She put some of the clothes into the washing machine and closed the door.
   “I wish you were as happy with me as I am with you,” he repeated. “It’s too bad you expect me to be perfect,” he continued in a kindly manner, ruffling and pulling at his hair, staring at the floor, occasionally looking up, wide-eyed and standing slightly pigeon toed.
   Oh, here we go, she thought to herself. “Not today Jerremee – really.” She held her palm out to him dismissively and then continued focusing her attention on the washer, fiddling with the electric plug and looking behind the unit dubiously.
   Jerremee’s Five Year Old personality was completely disturbing to Valentina. Ordinarily she would have felt incredibly sorry for anyone going through such strong mental torture (which one would assume another would be in, if they were regressing into their child self on a regular basis) and would have rushed to their rescue. So, although the behaviour in a boyfriend disgusted Valentina, it did indeed make her feel extremely sorry for Jerremee as a human being (AT FIRST) until she saw him turn the behaviour on-and-off instantly when he needed to. It was just another one of a handful of acts he used to cope with situations he himself had caused, but couldn’t otherwise get himself out of and control people into doing what he wanted in general. It went on Valentina’s list of things to despise him for.
   “I wish you were as happy with me as I am with you. I think it’s so unfair,” he rubbed his head, smearing his thinning hair around and pulling it down over his face, while frowning. “You know when my life was perfect? When you were my girlfriend. I’m not perfect even though you expect me to be. It’s so unfair,” he said in a sweet, desperate sounding voice, picking at the dish sponge still in his hand.
   Look at him, she thought to herself. He is in total control. He uses this merde as a weapon. If someone comes to the door (especially a man) or his e-mail pings him, he’d drop that sponge and turn into his Successful-Lawyer or his Shy-Ladies-Man character in a blink. Monster!
   “Is it?” she said aloud in a cold, ironic tone. “Well I think ‘unfair’ is to be entrapped in a painful circumstance I did not agree to and to be abused by a manipulative, lying con artist who is trying to convince me that he is helping me.”
   “My life was perfect when my girlfriend spent quality time with me. We never spend any quality time together. It’s so hard for me. I come home to this house and go into my little room. And you’re not patient with me anymore.”
   “I cannot see where you could possibly have the time for any extra ‘quality time’ Jerremee… really, with all of the demands of your Internet relationships. I’m sorry I am so terrible to you. I honestly don’t enjoy it. However, I can’t feel sorry for you, because I am also living in this awful little muddy house, in my little room, in the middle of nowhere – instead of being in London – because some person who is basically the Olympic gold medallist of lying and deceiving, convinced me to give up my life for this and now I am trapped. And no it wasn’t going great before, but not it is unbearable!” She frowned at the washing machine and rocked it back and forth a bit, looking at the back of the appliance again. “And it’s pretty difficult for me to be nice to a person, or want to spend any time with that person, when their only conversation topic is: ‘Show me your tits’ – apart from their endless «connerie» that makes Baron Münchhausen look like a choirboy! I don’t have any more patience to listen to your lies, or being treated like a cheap whore when you decided you don’t want to act like little sweet Jerremee. And I don’t want to be your mamá, OR the man that you need me to be the rest of the time, ANYMORE. So I am sorry… But you are correct, it is true that no one is perfect.”
   “Everyone lies. I am sure you aren’t so perfect. I bet you have lied,” he pouted.
   “Yes, everyone does lie and yes I have. The problem with you is: you don’t know the difference between being gentle to save someone’s feelings when they ask ‘does my butt look big in this’ (when they are already at the party wearing the trousers!) and making up some really wicked story against some poor girl to make her look like a stalker and a thief, when it is YOU who pursued HER and had sex with her for months!! Or claiming your business partner touches children, just because you don’t like him (because he told me some secrets about about you – which were THE TRUTH); or claiming the reason you couldn’t show up somewhere is because your mother died (when your mother is alive and well, probably eating her dinner as we speak); or that you can’t provide me what you offered and YOU promised, because you are giving so much money to your ‘ex-woman’ (when you are not actually giving the poor woman anything at all) or that your other ‘ex-girlfriend’ (whom you CLAIM is a drug addict –AND a lunatic– the poor woman) stole your credit cards, when she did no such thing! Do I need to say more?! Drop the little boy act!” She had said everything in one, run-on sentence and took in a much-needed breath. She was fuming. She had intended on not responding to him. Stupid girl.
   “You used to be more patient. I’m not perfect. It was easier when I had my girlfriend to keep me from derailing and making my bad little judgements on things. Everything would be fine if you would manage these things for me and save me from making my small, silly little mistakes. It’s so unfair.”
   “My life has not been perfect for a long time Jerremee, but it was easy to be patient before all the other not very nice Jerremees arrived and I saw what you really are. And before you started sucking the life out of me 24 hours a day and trying to drive me CRAZY with your lies (she dare not mention further his lies about his financial status – it was a prickly subject) and your enemies and your affairs and your drinking and your porn! By the way where is the tea?!” Valentina looked away coldly, pressing on her aching breastbone and swallowing stiffly. She slapped the top and front of the washer very hard several times, and it finally started. She felt nauseated.
   “Look, just leave me alone. Alright? Stop following me around. Don’t you have a new business partner whose life you need to ruin?” she said rubbing her sore hand. She jumped up realising she hadn’t added the detergent and flung the soap compartment open, grabbing the bottle.
   “I told you! It’s not my fault Jacob was with those girls. I told him they looked under age. I knew they were just trying to defraud me out of my money. It’s a shame Jacob was lacking the self control a more decent man should have. It was probably the uh, uhm margie-wana stuff. I warned him not to bring it out.”
   “Whatever you say Jerremee. Do you know where the green torch is?” Valentina said dismissively and started to look for the torch.
   “I myself have no interest in such immoral things. In fact, I would find all that really quite boring to be 100 percent truthful. I would never touch such immoral women. They knew to keep well away from me! ‘I have a wonderful girlfriend at home,’ I told them. Of course in the spirit of generosity, I do feel very sorry for them – low upbringing I suppose,” said Jerremee following close behind Valentina.
   Previously the story had been that he had never seen the girls and that Jacob had gone out on the prowl on his own that night, while he went up to his hotel room alone. (Jacob had only narrowly escaped prison time over the matter and since split up with his wife. Jerremee of course had escaped with nothing more than a formal caution after he gave his side of the story implicating Jacob as being solely responsible.)
   «Je n’ai pas le temps d’écouter ces conneries!» she said, raising her voice in a hostile tone and holding her palm out to him. “Do you know where the green torch is? Yes, or no?!”
    “I don’t know how a man could have a wife at home and be interested in such immoral things. I don’t know what’s wrong with Jacob. He has a drinking problem that’s what it is. Honestly, who would be interested in that sort of life? Boring really.You know, it really is shockingly sad how immoral some elements of our society are. Poor guy, he’s lost. I should feel sorry for him... I suppose if a man doesn’t have the perfect woman to save himself for like I have in you.”
   «Oh! Putain de bordel de merde!» Valentina exclaimed and with that, shoved the bottle of disinfectant under her arm and marched off out the side door. She had begun using foul language so much since she met Jerremee, that she felt like she could probably fit in nicely with the old men down at the gambling hall.
   Jerremee followed after her: “You never want to spend any quality time with me.”
   “Leave me alone Jerremee. Okay? LEAVE ME ALONE.”
   “You know what you need to do? You need to live for the moment.” (Jerremee loved to throw in therapy speak and other pseudo-intellectual comments into his speech that he had picked up from his various chat room romances – remarkably many of the women were quite learned. He thought it gave him a certain alluring flare when arguing a point.).
   “You know why I cannot ‘live for the moment’, because most of the time I am so stressed out of my mind being around you, I feel like my heart will stop, which makes me worry about what’s happening with my heart – because I COULD DIE! – which you couldn’t possibly understand, because contrary to the calm, kind businessman you present to everyone else, you are a child! An evil robot child from a nightmare! The rest of the time I am too sad!!”
   “I’d rather be hated for what I am, than loved for what I’m not,” he said piously. (Jerremee also loved to use famous quotations and proverbs and threw them into a conversations and arguments alike whenever he could, whether the moment seemed fitting or not.)
   “And I am sad because I am so busy worrying that roof is going to drop down on the animals, and how to pay most of my bills (not ‘all’ because I know that’s not going to be possible any time soon) and that in a couple months I will be freezing «mes couilles» off in there and I have to see that «crétin» next door driving past my door whenever he wants, because, thanks to you, he has ‘24 hour access, whenever he wants’ and I am not painting AS WE AGREED because I couldn’t possibly be creative in this sick environment.”
   “YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BRING MONEY INTO IT!!!!” He went from irritated child, to raving lunatic in an instant.
   Why did she mention the bills?! It was going to kick-off now.
   “You HAD to bring up MONEY!! You have to show I’m not good enough!! You are obsessed with money! You are the most selfish and self-centred person I know! You don’t even want a relationship! That’s it! That’s it! It’s all about you! My hard earned money pays for everything here!! You would have nothing without me!! I bought that field with my hard earned investment, just so you could have YOUR business! Where would you be without that field, so YOUR goats could graze there?… All out of MY KIND GENEROSITY! If it weren’t for me, you all would starve! YOU! NEED! ME!! I want some sex!!!... I deserve sex! Isn’t your life better than it was!? Isn’t it?!! Isn’t it?!”
   “What do you think?! Oh yes, my life is so greatly improved with you in it. That is why I am an angry, ill, miserable bitch.” God he was disgusting. She wondered if he realised how disgusting he was? Maybe.
   “I made you a priority, while you made me an option!”
   That was it! That was absolutely it! “You are quoting Maya Angelou again?! You think her beautiful words can sanctify your filthy mind?! Here is one I like: When people show you who they are, believe them. THE FIRST TIME! I probably wouldn’t have gotten into this mess if I had listened to myself and I certainly would not still be in it, if I had been listening to Maya Angelou!”
   “What am I getting back for MY HARD EARNED INVESTMENT?! I saved you from a millionaire! I SAVED YOU!!” he stomped the ground, flailing his fists and pointed at chest.
   His ‘I saved her from a millionaire’ argument was, in his brilliance, what he considered as one of his trump card arguing points and was usually an indicator the argument would get much worse and stranger. He would soon get a piece of paper and manically start scribbling graphs and bell curves, to mathematically ‘prove’ his point.
   Valentina looked at Jerremee as if he were something she had found on the bottom of her shoe. “You know, I should record you when you start your shouting about: ‘I saved you from a millionaire’, so you can listen to yourself – how ridiculous you sound. You’ve saved me? Or is it that you ruined me?!” Valentina said looking down at her sore hands, the rags she was wearing and around at the surrounding mess, shaking her head dismissively. “You’ve turned me from a silk purse into a sow’s ear. There is a nice new buzz phrase for you!”
   If it wasn’t the graphs, he’d soon be on about the computer he bought her to prove what a life of luxury she was leading. That was Jerremee’s ‘thing’; for whatever reason he liked to take each conquest to the Apple computer store to pick out a device. He had made sure he got his money’s worth on the day he had bought Valentina the pricey laptop (his largest ever purchase there). Making a big scene, looking at every gadget in the store and asking lots of questions, he made sure he was noticed by all with his new girlfriend. And he HAD been noticed, but not in a good way. He had done exactly the same with every woman he brought in and it was a big joke with the guys at the store who had served “the bloke who looks like a maths professor” on the last two ‘new girlfriend purchases’. They were taking bets on what he would buy on this occasion… Then his credit card wouldn’t go through and it took ages to sort out.
   Having thanked him sweetly for the gift (which included pretending she hadn’t noticed, or felt at all embarrassed about any of what had happened in the store), Valentina had since told him several times to take the thing back. She was that fed up of hearing about how he had given it to her out of his extraordinary generosity and paid for it with his “HARD EARNED MONEY!” every other week. On reflection, she figured he had long since taken his money out of her in humiliation – the same went for the other few gifts he had given her.
   Pathetic. Anyway she wasn’t giving the computer back, it was the only useful thing he had really done for her and she needed it. He could have the two pairs of shoes and the coat though.
   Jerremee changed his course with little more than the time it took him to nearly smile over the millionaire comment (or perhaps it was the comment about turning her into a sow’s ear that pleased him, when he deduced what it meant).
   “I don’t get sex anymore. A woman should know how to give her man validation. I deserve sex!” He tapped his chest. “I won’t tolerate your abuse anymore!! You’ve lead a life of luxury because of me! I’ve bought you things! You’re just like the others! Did any of your other men get you a lovely coat like I did?! You’ve had money off of me! You’ve had the life of luxury! You’ve been a woman of leisure because of me!”
   “Ohh yes, that coat you remind me of every few weeks. Don’t forget to mention the shoes,” Valentina added coolly. “You know the ‘gift’ you insisted on getting me… And I had to prance up and down the shop trying on EVERY-SINGLE-THING they had that could fit on my foot until the shop was closing and then listen to your perverted fantasies about the things for a month after – only to be reminded EVERY-OTHER-WEEK about these «putain de chaussures» – that I didn’t want in the first place?!” Valentina shouted back, continuing to look at him with a disparaging, superior sort of manner that showed itself when she truly had lost all respect for a person.
   Then like an explosion Jerremee sprang forward, shouting at the top of his lungs:    “YOU WOULDN’T SURVIVE WITHOUT ME!” He tapped his chest again more vigorously and flailed his arms about furiously, with his eyes opened wide and dashing back and forth, while his whole body tremored slightly. Even his hair looked like it was standing on end. It looked like some sort of demon was inside of him trying to get out.    “YOU WOULDN’T SURVIVE WITHOUT ME! ME!! YOU NEED ME!! I’VE PROVIDED EVERYTHING FOR YOU!!”
   Valentina couldn’t take any more. She needed to get away from him. She rushed toward the toilet with him in pursuit, yelling his head off about demeaning him and the wild sums of money and the cushy life he was supposedly providing her with. She got to the toilet and locked herself in. She stood in the mucky latrine for several minutes and as soon as she was sure he had gone back inside, she darted out to her car and drove. Before she got to the end of the drive, Jerremee ran out (completely different mood of course). She locked the doors. He stood in her path with his arms and legs spread out, so she couldn’t pass, looking very repentant and extremely concerned. She thought it might have been because it had started to rain and her windshield wipers weren’t working. He came close to the side of the car and Valentina eventually rolled the window down a crack in response to his earnest looking imploring. He bent over, looking in desperately: “Are you… seeing someone?”
   Valentina pressed the up button on the window and faced forward. She closed her eyes wearisomely for a few seconds, before driving off. The little worm! She couldn’t believe she fell for it – AGAIN! He didn’t give a speck. She could be dead, splattered all over the street, from bald tyres and no windshield wipers for all he cared – as long as she wasn’t ‘seeing someone’. Even though they had split up and he was having multiple affairs. He had no real sense of love in him or care for anyone else in the world whatsoever.
   SHE herself did care if she got into an accident (and not just for herself, it was irresponsible to other drivers to be out on the road like that)… She drove down the road just a little way and parked behind some huge piles of broken-up hardcore, that the town, or one of the larger estates must have put there to build with. She sat there fuming and shaking, with no idea of what she would do.
   ‘HIS hard earned investment’. It was her «putain de maison!» – even if it was falling down, no thanks to him. She spent enough time running around solving his problems and working herself sick, which she had never agreed to when they made their domestic arrangement and he had thanked her for humbly again and again when he was in one of his nice personalities, but suddenly didn’t recognise as of late. When he was Good Jerremee it was ‘their money’ – which was of course a pointless argument as he had none. He had given the first of his Academy Award winning performances to get her to reconsider with the Politician. In the beginning he impressed her with his professions of being able to ‘move mountains.’ Mountains? He couldn’t move his shoes from the door! The first time when there was no money for groceries, he waxed lyrical about the profits of ‘living on love and air.’ The first time there was no money for oil and winter was coming and she was beginning to realise she had made a terrible mistake, he claimed she was shallow and money grubbing – a frequent weapon of his now.
   Of all of his nasty pretexts, his painting her out to be a selfish gold digger was the one that got to her the most (which he did because like everything Jerremee ‘innocently’ did, he knew it caused the most injury). Firstly, it drove her crazy because she had been used and had her heart broken so badly previously by men of means, that she had truly loved ‘just for themselves’ (and more than once) that she didn’t think it was possible for her to love again. The hurt eventually tuned into icy resolve and so she HAD planned in the future to be certain that she only concerned herself with what benefits she would be receiving out of any new man that came into her life. She wasn’t going to be used and then thrown away by some heartless, rich trophy hunter ever again!… But then she found to her frustration, that she couldn’t go through with the plan. Secondly, the situation of impoverishment and ill health that she found herself in since allowing Jerremee into her life was worse than she had ever experienced or imagined possible; the fact that he put it about that SHE was using HIM and enjoying a life as a woman of leisure, as if he was some big shot helping out the little waif (when she couldn’t think of anyone she looked up to less and he certainly was not a big shot – not even close) was too much for her ego to bear.
chapter music selection: “DIAMONDS” - SHIRLEY BASSEY
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

ANGELCAKE