The Numbers Game (42 page)

            “Oh my
God,” she whimpered, as her legs lay sprayed up in the air and the first
tinkling of urine started to trickle down her leg. “Oh my God.”

            At first
it came out in small increments but then her bladder, sensing the wonderful
feeling of relief, released it in gushes of tidal wave proportions. Serena
couldn’t stop it no matter how hard she tried.

            A light
tapping came at the door.

            “Serena is
everything all right?”

            Serena
swallowed her tears but not her pride. “I’m fine; just leave me alone,” she
shouted.

            And
Jasper, obviously having neither energy nor will to counter any claim following
Markie’s message, replied, “Okay then, I will.”

            Leaving
Serena lying alone in her self-made puddle of piss, sweat and tears.

Only after getting
plenty of rest and cleaning herself up did Serena even try to embark on
explaining things to Jasper.

He was plainly
waiting for it. Laid out like a ghost on one of the back porch recliners,
Jasper looked busy studying the moving clouds when Serena finally came down the
next morning. She hadn’t wanted to come down. Oh no, she would have lain in bed
all day if it meant making the situation go away. But come midday there was no escaping
the situation.

            What was
she waiting for, a miracle fairy godmother to come and rescue her? She had been
awake since eight in the morning and had already gone through all the possible
scenarios in her head. The only way to put an end to this mess was to just get
up and glide through it.

            Thinking
of Nike, Serena plucked her still sticky self out of bed and jumped into the
shower for the second time in hours.
Honesty was the best policy
or
deny,
deny, deny
? She wasn’t sure which approach was going to work best on this
occasion and decided to wait and see what came naturally. It all would depend
on how Jasper was, on how he reacted.

            Unfortunately
Jasper wasn’t looking too good at that moment.

            “So who is
this Markie fellow?” he asked finally.

            Serena
cringed. It wasn’t just the way he said fellow; even worse was the Markie. No
one ever called Markie Markie except she, Rick and a handful of close friends
who’d known him since Little League. To the rest of the world he was Mark
Janssen – no abbreviation – full stop.

            “He’s
my…old boyfriend,” she replied, choosing her words carefully. She couldn’t help
but make a funny face in the process of the first goal. Lies nil, Truth one.

            “Who you
happen to be on a break with?”

            Oh feck.
Serena had forgotten Markie mentioned that little tidbit.

            “Um…” she
bit her lip hard, wrinkling her brow. “Um…sort of but not really.”

            Now it was
Jasper’s turn to pull the “what the feck” face.

            “Serena,
it’s either one or the other. You’ve either broken up with him for good which
means your relationship has come to an end. Or there are still cards that are
yet to be played which mean your relationship isn’t over. So which one is it?”

            Jasper
shot that question straight through her heart and waited to see what would
happen next. Would she sink or float to the surface like a witch?

            “There
must be some other alternatives!” Serena pleaded.      “That can’t be just it.
What about when one loves the other but the other has doubts? What about when
there’s so much history between you two but the passion and fun has fizzled
out? Tell me what category those instances fall into?”

            “I think the
latter,” Jasper answered solemnly and got up.

            “Where are
you going?” Serena screeched, grabbing him by the arm.

            Jasper
shrugged it off.

            “I’m going
home Serena and I’d prefer it if you don’t call me for a while, at least not
until I’m over the fact that you’ve lied to me this entire time.”

            With that,
Jasper marched his rigid feet across the wooden floorboards and through the
sliding door, back into his house.  Serena sat there motionless as a statue, as
shocked as Jasper probably had been the night before.

            “Wait!”
she called, getting up to run after him. “It’s not what you think!”

            Seeing
that Jasper had already reached the front door, Serena increased her speed but
made it only far as the sliding door. The closed sliding door, which Jasper had
in his fit of rage still managed to find the practicality to pull shut. In a
similar vein that transpires with everyone at least once in their life, Serena
felt the painful thud of glass to nose - the horrifying throbbing that only
occurs by running into a door at full sprint.

            “Jasper,”
she moaned, as her head went into a spinning frenzy followed by her body too.

            But by that
point it was too late for anyone to help, let alone Jasper who had already
zoomed out of her street and out of her life forever.

Serena didn’t hear
from Jasper in the ensuing week, which explained why Markie managed to leave
two more messages to no avail.

            Honestly
she didn’t have much desire to answer calls (unless from Jasper), exit out of
bed (unless for Jasper), laugh, smile, dream or do anything requiring mental or
physical activity. At least initially…

The girls
back in the trailer said that Jasper was a right ass for ignoring her pleas for
a hearing out.

            “He should
at least give you a chance to tell him what he wants to hear.”

            But it was
no use. Jasper, the sensitive artiste, had already made his escape, not unlike
the one that had taken place years earlier just after their consummation. Not
only was his phone number disconnected, but when Serena made her way down to
his piddly C-Lounge attachment, the same female friend, who had been semi-naked
all those months ago, told her Jasper was gone.

            “Gone
where?” Serena cried, clutching her blue-paper-wrapped gift behind her back. It
was an old arty-farty miniature sculpture of Venus that she’d found in a junk
shop not too long ago; paid only four dollars but surely it was worth four
thousand.

            “I don’t
know,” the life-like Venus in front of her shrugged. “He just popped over a few
days ago and asked whether I wanted to take over this place. I said yes and
that’s it.”

            “That’s
it?” Serena dropped her head forward. “You didn’t think it was a bit strange,
that he suddenly wanted to move? You didn’t ask him where he was going?”

            “No,” the
girl replied, sounding as though the suggestion was slightly ludicrous. “That’s
just the way Jasper is, when he wants to go, he goes and when he wants to say
where, he says where.”

            “Humph,”
Serena grumbled. She was too angry at this impostor to feel betrayed or
mistreated or sad. “What about his job next door?”

            The girl
looked surprised.

            “Jasper
hasn’t worked at the C-Lounge in ages; he’s been too busy working on his latest
collection. Surely you knew that?”

            “Oh…”
Serena cleared her throat. “Of course I did.” 

            Of course
she knew when he said he was working he meant on his art rather than waiting on
people at the bar for ten dollars an hour. What sort of clueless girlfriend was
she anyway?

            “So if I
wanted to maybe contact him…” Serena stopped, wondering why this girl might
have that information and not her but oh well…she had to ask. “How would I go
about doing so?”

            “You don’t
have his cell number?”

            “No I do,”
Serena replied, “but in case you haven’t tried it lately, it’s been
disconnected. In addition to his main line.”

            “Oh I
know, I needed to put the account in my name so I changed the number,” the girl
replied, nodding her head.

            Serena stared
at her disbelievingly.     

            “Look I’m
sorry but I have no idea where he is. If Jasper comes past, I will let him know
you were chasing him though. What’s your name again?”

            “Serena,”
she replied glumly. Suddenly every other name in the world sounded stronger,
sexier, and more independent. “But not to worry, he knows where to find me.”

            Turning
ever so slowly, Serena made her way down the steep, creaky stairs for the last
time. Once she got to the bottom she spied a rubbish container on the other side
of the road, crossed it like a chicken and dumped the Venus sculpture where it
belonged.

So now you can see why
Serena was in no condition to contact Markie.

            The sight
of him, her ex-love, would have instantly reduced her to tears. Just like the
sight of most young men (husbands, fathers and fiancées in particular) did
nowadays.

            Speaking
to Markie on the phone -that much Serena could manage.  He didn’t need to know
or even see the fact she was dressed in a despicable pair of men’s pajama bottoms
(Jasper’s) and a white singlet with a hole in the shoulder. Okay, make that two
holes, with a tub of chocolate ice cream located by her feet.

            Serena
waited exactly half an hour after her latest crying bout before calling Markie
that night. And the effect? It was amazing. Remind her to do the same before a
Jasper call. For the first time ever her voice sounded sultry ala Beyonce,
rather than high and whiny like Paris Hilton. It was so deceptive - reeking of
self-assurance and poise- it was fabulous.

            “Gosh for
a second there I didn’t think it was really you,” Markie said, when she
answered the phone, acknowledging the change.      

            Serena
didn’t have the heart to tell him it was not the only thing which had changed.

            “So tell
me about this business offer,” Serena prompted instead, eager to get the
conversation over and done with so she could jump straight back into bed.

            So Markie
did. He told her all about Harry B. Sangster and Ad Palace in L.A and the
millions of dollars at stake. He put it so simply and straightforwardly that
his narrative took was over before Serena could even register the sort of money
we were talking about.

            “And you
needed to share this with me because?”

            Markie
paused, probably wondering when Serena had become such a thickhead. He had
already gone through the deadline factor (in two weeks time) and assured
management co-operation (that was Rick and his eagerness to see lots of
silicone in bikinis).  But Serena still wasn’t sure where she came in at all.

            “Serena,”
Markie finally said, “in case I’m really badly mistaken, you and I are still in
a relationship, despite the break. And when it comes to making decisions on
where we live and things that affect our financial future, I’d like to think
your thoughts and feelings come into this equation. That is why I called you.
In two weeks I need to put forth an answer and that answer sees us either plus
four million dollars and moving to LA or staying put, offer from Ad Palace
withdrawn.”

            “But…”
Serena stuttered. This was totally not what she expected from the conversation.
She expected maybe a wedding invitation which Markie did not know whether to
accept or decline, or alternatively a family or school reunion with the same
kind of scenario. Nothing like this; nothing exciting or unpredictable with the
potential to change their whole lives.

            “But
haven’t you already made up your mind? It sounds like you have,” she said.

            It hadn’t
quite sunk in that if she said no, that she hated LA with a passion, Markie
would put a stop to all discussions right there and then.

            “Serena,”
Markie strained, “maybe you didn’t understand me. I’m not making any decision
without you. Nor do you need to make one now. I’m merely asking you to think
about how you’d feel about moving to LA. That’s it.”

            “But I
already know how I feel!” Serena exclaimed, thinking about her current
situation.

            Anything
had to be better than San Francisco, right here, right now. The further away she
got from the heartbreaker Jasper the better.

            “Really?”
Markie sounded surprised. “How do you feel then?”

            “I feel….”
All the sudden Serena was stuck for words. Nothing seemed to fit right…not
excited, not willing, not even desperate for a change.  “I feel…like I need to
think about it.”