The Yellow Bikini

THE YELLOW BIKINI

Without him realising, I observed his leaving of my life. He began to
silently compare me with others. Women. I was talking to a girlfriend
and his eyes moved between us. Look at me. Look at her. Look away. Look
again. All the while he did not know that I watched. I felt no panic or
fear; I was simply interested in observing the act. I thought, he is
unaware of my awareness. I continued to watch him. For months I watched
and thought, he does not know I know.

We went abroad on holiday. I lay with my eyes closed against the
brightness of the sun. I wore a yellow bikini. He scrutinised my body.
He thought the body he had praised; the body that had excited him for
fifteen years was now inadequate. My body had not changed. It was while
I wore that yellow bikini that I realised there was more substance to
his contemplation. I knew then that somewhere a stranger existed in my
life. And my heart began to beat in the heat. I felt his fear. He was
going to betray me once he had stopped fighting with his
conscience.

You wanted him. You had no conscience. To distance yourself from the
pain and destruction you would cause you refused to allow him to
discuss me. He told me that. You banned him from speaking about me. You
telephoned him at our home. Your voice intruding into my sitting room -
but I had the power to disconnect you - temporarily sever your
intent.

I wonder what happened that day he did your deed for you? He told me
as he was leaving that you were waiting in a restaurant. You were
treating him to dinner. Did you enjoy? Was it easy to digest that sweet
dish of triumph?

I opened his mail. Access bills and bank statements. The cost of
entertaining you. Clubs and restaurants. I was told you had to change
your holiday plans because Cyprus was not safe. Risk area. Your well
being at risk. What colour was your bikini? I had to beg him for money
and he sent me fifty pounds. Later, after our life together had been
wrapped in old newspapers and placed into the darkness of boxes, he
asked me to repay the fifty pounds. In my daze I returned it. Did you
eat out again that night? Did he pay for ambience and candlelight with
my fifty pounds? Did you swallow my repaid debt? Was it the food of
love?

He forced me out of my home. Did you ever wonder where I would go? I
had to put our past into somebody's garage. I had to hand the keys to a
solicitor. He looked down at me and gave me a receipt.

I went to the park opposite our home to sit quietly and say a private
goodbye. A kind of therapy. Go through the pain in order to free
yourself for some kind of unknown future. I cried for the life that was
taken from me.

You walked past the window. Blonde hair. You banned him speaking my
name but you walked into my home. Slept on my bed. Did not sleep on my
bed. Hypocrite with blonde hair and no conscience. Do not speak her
name but let me investigate her possessions, touch more of what was
hers. Let me have this man, this life instead of her. Let me take her
breath. Do not speak her name but give me her life. Did you like our
colour scheme? The blue living room would complement your hair. Most
blondes have blue eyes. Did you look better in my living room than I
did?

I shall be kind to you. I shall prepare you. The pain will be intense
and remorseless. Your organs will scream with agony. Your skin will
scream with agony. Your hair will bruise your scalp. Your mouth will be
permanently dry. Your eyes will burn the heat of furnaces. You will
constantly shake and tremble uncontrollably. Your heart will
drum&;#8230;drum&;#8230;drum against the wall of your chest. You
will hear it too loudly. Your ears will vibrate with the sounds of
internal breakdown. Day, after day, after day. You will not eat. You
will drink too much but only half a glass at a time because a full
glass spills as you shake. You will see his face, his smile, hear his
voice, every second of every minute of every hour. You relive every
year. Your heart aches. The pain in your chest&;#8230;when will it
stop?
'Eventually. Time heals.'
Your palms will sweat. The doorbell will ring but you will not answer.
You cannot speak. Drum&;#8230;drum&;#8230;drum. Eyes burning and
swollen. Catch your breath. Do not keep forgetting to breathe. Day,
after day, after day.
'Eat something. You MUST eat!'
'I can't swallow.'
The permanence of the tears. You have no control. They come, they go.
They stop, they flow. Your hair is falling out. Your eyes turn dark.
Drum&;#8230;drum&;#8230;drum. Day, after day, after day. Mind
games that destroy.

What is important for you to know is that he remained in my thoughts
every minute of the day for too long. It took too many years to not
think of him. Think of this. Do you love your home? Do you love him
with every cell of your body? Is your body the same? Will the bikini
fit? What colour will it be?

Your day is creeping closer and I feel like laughing.