Are you looking at me? Are you looking at me as I look at you through this tiny mirror? Your car is dirty, and your windows are down sending your hair wild. How dirty are you? I see you singing along to the music blaring from your radio, enjoying yourself. I bet you’re filthy. You creep closer so I speed up a little. We keep doing this, dancing in a line on the road for an eternity. I like this game. You’re looking at me, playing with me in a mean way. Are you smiling? I wonder how you would look at me if I was in your bed. This rear-view mirror has you all over it, you, beautiful and dirty and loud in your lime green Ford Fiesta, without a care in the world. I want you to overtake so I can catch you and end this game. You turn off onto a residential road and I don’t even know your name.
4:13 pm. I sip at my tea. It’s tepid and sweet. You’ll be home any minute. My breath steams up the window as I lean in to peer down the street.
4:15 pm. You’re late and there’s not supposed to be any traffic today, the radio said so. Where are you? Your car was serviced last week so you haven’t broken down and you got petrol this morning: £40.01. You always go a penny over, never exact.
4:23 pm. Gravel crunches as the lime green Ford Fiesta pulls into the drive across the road. I jot down the time in my journal, writing ‘LATE’ as a side note. When you’re with me I’ll buy you a nice new car, whatever you want. You’ve had that one for too long. The slam of the car door, the jingle of keys, the ‘beep-beep’ and flash of lights. You’re in. Home. Safe. I open my laptop, log in to Facebook and search you. Bella Young. My beautiful, dirty Bella. You haven’t posted anything new since this morning. Your mother, Janet, tagged you in another ‘Funny Dogs’ video. I think Janet and I would get along. I’d treat her daughter so well that she’d love me, I’d be her perfect son-in-law.
5:42 pm. I watch you undress. Your slim body, perfect, naked. You don’t ever close the curtains, why don’t you ever close the curtains? Do you care if people see you bare and sexy? I care. You put your hair in a bun on top of your head and lay on the bed turning the TV on, turning me on. I could watch you for hours like this. Your body, your curves. I want to know what you’d sound like if my mouth, my tongue was all over you, tasting you. You’d be loud, wouldn’t you.
I want to meet you. I want you to meet me and know me and know how much you mean to me. I lay out my suit ready for tomorrow, the big night. It’s your sister’s wedding day and I want to be there, with you.
12:14 pm. I pull up in my black Mini, brand new. I had to get rid of the last car, I didn’t want you to see me across the road every night, I wanted to get to know you privately. You’re not here yet, your car was still in the drive when I left. I wonder which dress you went for. You were trying so many on the other week. I liked the light blue one, skin-tight, revealing yet classy. Sexy. I head to the pub down the road, I’ll have one while I wait for you. You’re always late. I sit at the table by the window so I can see you, so I can be ready for you.
12:40 pm. You’re here in the dress that I like. I finish my drink and leave, ready for you to meet me. As I walk across the road towards you, I see your eyes, your dirty eyes, but they’re not looking at me. A blonde man with a sharp jawline and a body that belongs in the Marvel Universe walks to you, holds your waist as you hug him and kiss him, deeply. How have I not seen this man before? Who is he? What the fuck does he think he’s doing? This isn’t right. Bella, what are you doing? I need to think of something quick. 10 more steps and you’re mine. He turns away, greeting an older woman. Perfect, hopefully that woman is a talker.
“Sorry, excuse me. Do you own the green Ford Fiesta in the car park?” Don’t sweat. Not now.
You look at me, softly, and smile slightly.
“Yes, why’s that?”
You look so good up close and I wonder if you’re wearing any underwear.
“I’m so sorry, but I just saw someone hit your wing mirror off.”
You swear and it’s hot, but your smile is gone. We start walking together and I want to take your hand. You shout back that you’ll meet Captain America inside.
I apologise again and you smile sweetly at me. You tell me it’s not my fault. You thank me as we walk, trying not to look flustered. It’s cute. My car is only four spaces away from yours and everyone is heading into the church.
You walk around the car with your hands in your hair. Your hips sway as you move, and you ask what car it was that hit yours. I lead you over to my car. You can barely walk in those heels on this gravel, but you do your best. Thank God it’s not far, I don’t want you falling over. I look behind me as we reach the car. We’re alone.
One strike to the jaw and you’re out. I catch you and you’re limp in my arms, your body warm and slightly sweaty. I put you in the back and take off your shoes putting them in the boot with your handbag. I kiss your hand and close the door. Getting in, I look back at you happy that you’re mine then readjust my rear-view mirror.
I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
Image Credit: Gerd Altmann