chapter forty-two, Monday:11thnovember2013 lost
Flattening down the fabric of my jersey pencil skirt, its hem at my calf, wearing my new cone heel cowboy boots and a peplum top I look at myself in the mirror, the tools of the last week visible although I do still have a slight tan, I am thinner than I should be and tired too. Automaton all morning, work, then I can really get back into my swing. Daniel hasn't called, and neither have I, aren't we supposed to be grown-up? Do we ever really grow-up?
The boys had noticed it as soon as I stepped out of the car yesterday, and this morning they come wandering over to say hello and ask where have I been? Glad to be home I take another brain cleansing massive lungful of cold clean honest country air, wonder how my life is changing but all the important things are staying the same. Feeling a little better, I decide to be a denim designer and head into town to do some work. Yes, authentic, super soft, super lightweight, poly-twill denim, and I suddenly feel more like myself. It'll take a bit of getting used to, I think, but I can do it I’m sure of that.
Steffi managed it didn't she? Well...not really. Bloody hell.
I grab a Vogue alongside Horse&Rider, it's all about authentic denim and hoof-boots apparently, not much has changed there then I surmise. I check my favourite denim blogs, and seeping through the seams my passion for jeans is awakening, returning me to the familiar, and enlivening me.
Do my job, to be useful, the routine, the ritual, it's comforting.
I slide into the cold seat of my car, it's too old for heated seats, my breath's vapour fills the air instantly misting up my window. I start my Landrover and it rattles heavily trying to heat up, and putting it into gear I drive, I feel slightly sick to my stomach suddenly, wheezy and short of breath. My head begins to swim, I stop the car because 'safety first', then suddenly I don’t seem to care where I am or what I’m doing, then total velvety nothingness.
I feel oddly calm, a little chilly, and supremely sedated.
I open my heavy eyes and it smells clean, sterile, the air tastes artificial, pre cleaned and filtered. I'm cold. Its gleaming white, too bright and I wince. I try my fingers and toes, all working. Have I fallen off a horse? It won’t be the first-time I’ve come around to the sound of fast retreating hoof beats with the bridle in my hand and mud on my jodhpurs. But, not this time.
I move my head and instantly pay with a clap of steering pain rushing through inside. An injury? No, can't feel anything, my hand lands back down quickly and heavily with a smack, I don't seem to be able to channel any energy where I want it. I can tell my boots aren’t on, not a fall then, what?
I have an odd tingly pain across my ribs like a rib break but less localized. I can barely lift my head but force it and look down. I'm naked, and though my lenses can't focus yet I can see a dark shadow across my side, a large bruise? My head rushes with blood, and I have to lie back down, my breaths are shallow and raspy.
Where the f*ck am I?
I hear a soft hissing from above me, a blast of cold vapour reaches my lungs and suddenly I don't care about anything any-more. Not even who’s feeding the horses. But of course I hope someone is.
I am cold, I shiver, I am awake.
I have my extremities back in play and can move my arms and legs. I swing carefully off the mattress I’m lying on and my bare feet hit the freezing floor, that helps waken me further. Have I just been left here? And where the hell are my Marc Jacobs boots?
There's nothing to wrap around me, not even a sheet covers the bare ticking stripe of the mattress. Neural pathways are clearing, like a city of traffic connecting through complex road schemes and calming measures. I've been here before, suddenly I look down at my body, I look thinner, how long? Can't go there, not enough information. Need input, need to know more. A tattoo, its ink up my right side, still not fully focused but it looks like a huge bird and galloping horses, with symbols all worked beautifully around my body. I turn my head quickly to where I know there's a door, remembering, though from this side it just looks like more white tile.
Think Tharie, try to focus your mind on something.
Sitting trot to H, long rein along the side and canter a ten metre circle.
I stand, unsteady but I know if I don't force myself to do it another mist of sedative will send me away again and I’ll be useless. Escape, is now a firm plan.
George and Harry, I suddenly hope they're OK, cats look after themselves, how long have I been in here? A sudden wave of claustrophobia hits me, the room isn’t small but I can’t see sky or breathe natural air, so I’m trapped, and it's not making my brain happy at all. What day is it? Bloody hell, I've missed Dr Who.
I am standing, my head is a chaotic mess if noise and a rush of blood makes me swoon a little too, but the cell is bare and there's nothing but my own legs to keep me upright.
I stumble to the wall and bang my fist on it with what strength I can muster, it rattles, since it’s designed as an illusion not to be impenetrable, no subject would have known there is a door here, unless they'd been here before. I shudder at the memory. I bang my fist in sequence along where I remember the seam must be, and as my head clears I notice a slightly wider grout line in the tile so that's confirmed. One tile depresses slightly as a hiss of vaporous poison escapes from a vent high above, so I hurry, and the door slides sideways, and I stagger once more through Daniels wardrobe into the room beyond. Smelling his clothes as I pass, nice.
A tattoo has successfully embellished most of my right side from the jut of my hipbone to just under my breast and around to below my shoulder blade, don't think about that right now I chastise myself, get the f*ck out of here. I look desperately around for my clothes, what’s happened to them? My gorgeous boots, last season's but still, can’t get another pair, bloody hell. Is that what’s important? No!! I will miss those boots though, soft buttery leather, beautiful little fringe along the back seam...stop it, focus.
Collected canter through the centre to X, stop and salute.
I dress in Daniels black t-shirt and skinny black jeans, they're too big but I like the low crotch style so I rock the look, I add a studded belt to keep the jeans from falling down and socks and DM's, too big but what choice do I have?
I pour myself a drink, and the soothing burn if the dark gold bourbon flows through me a medicine to beat the drug in my system. Daniel has added JD to the cabinet for me, when did that happen? The remotes are on the coffee table as before and I sit on the sofa to gain some strength. I'm beginning to achieve some level of clarity as the chemicals clear my system, and switch on the computer. I log in as me into the RANDom server, here I can check my mails and my text messages, I have missed calls and texts from Daniel a couple from my Mum, some from Pete too. I double check my dates and I have been off the grid for two days!
The horses!
I send a quick message to my Mum and Pete confirming I’m OK. Another to Jinni to check and feed the horses, she replies she has already been there, she’d passed and noticed them looking sorrowfully into empty hay bars. Love that girl. I don’t want to alarm them so I lie and tell them my phone was stolen and I had to stay in town for a few nights.
I call Daniel not sure if he’d take my call, “Tharie! Where are you?” I tell him. “Don’t move, I’m in the office.” I hear him sigh loudly at the phone, “god Tharie” he hangs up.
He is order, and I am chaos.
Daniel helps me into the car and Stan drives me home.
TC: “Thank you for the rescue” throw a line.
DP: “That’s OK” reel it in.
TC: “I thought all this was over?”
DP: “It is” are we speaking about the same thing?
TC: “Miss you” did I catch anything?
Silence, no.