Mr. Past
hat niggling little man called Past, how she hated Past. When she was
most vulnerable, he would jump out and slap her with painful memories.
So it was tonight. As usual on a Monday night when she hadn't heard from
Him by 7 o'clock, she had called. He was her life: all that it was, all
that it is and all that it shall be. He knew her dreams, her hopes and
her fears. He knew her inside out; top to bottom; idiosyncrasy to
idiosyncrasy. She felt that she knew him just as well. Most of the
time.
He answered his phone and she knew that his mood was somewhat sombre.
"I had a hard day at work," he said, "People at me all the time." She felt sympathetic for him. They talked for a while, trivial matters, not much. Then it was time for the close. "I won't see you until Friday," he said, "I'm busy Wednesday."
She asked the question that she already knew the answer to: "What are you doing?"
"Claire's coming over."
"Oh," she said in that tone.
"Don't �Oh'. She's just got back from Indonesia. I don't know why you have such a problem with her. We were apart a long time before you came along. I just want you to put it all behind you"
She knew that she shouldn't hold such a grudge. She knew that it was unfair to him. But all the same it was there. An ingrained feeling of what could almost be called hate. She felt she had her reason. But it was illogical to hate someone that you barely even knew. All she knew of Claire was that she had been part of the reason they had parted company in the first place. "I'll try. I think it's just something ingrained from the past."
They said their goodbyes and she returned to the lounge to finish her salad sandwich. Pain swelled in her chest; the pain she had felt when he had left her the first time. For Claire. That was the way Past saw it anyway. Maybe she and Michael were both mad, she thought. Maybe they were both made to be their constant victims. No, I know he won't do it again. But that did not quell her constricting heart.
She hated Him as much as Claire sometimes. It wouldn't be so bad if he would just tell her outright instead of trying to hide it and making her ask. Anger flared. How could he expect her not to be a little paranoid, especially when things seemed to be at a stalemate between them at the moment? Things just seemed to be playing along the same lines again. He gets bored with her and goes back to Claire. He denies it, she finds out the truth from someone else. Mr Past had been replaying that scenario long before she came along.
All I can do is trust, she thought. Trust and have faith. And pray that he realises that I am worth a hell of a lot more than her. Sometimes she felt like screaming that at him. Sometimes she felt like reminding him just how many times Claire had left him for Michael and just how this whole thing got started. She wanted to wound him with her words. She wanted to shock him into seeing reality. He said this time was going to be different, she thought. This time he was supposed to have her totally out of his mind. He says he does. But the question is, she thought, do I believe him. How does one come to believe as wholly as she did in someone that all her friends describe as a compulsive liar? She had to believe him. She picked up her sandwich and began to eat again with a little too much fervour.
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