thethemeis: An Unusual Ability
theauthoris: LiamD
He looks like he hasn’t washed in weeks and smells worse. The way he has been staring for the past hour or so is nothing short of lecherous and his appalling dress sense (ripped acid-washed jeans accompanied by a filthy, worn white vest) does everything but scream ‘I am definitely a woman beater and almost certainly a rapist’. Claire might have once thought that judging a man on such superficial details as these would be an unfeasibly shallow way to live, yet if her recent experiences of the opposite sex have taught her anything, it’s this: If a man comes across as an arsehole, the odds that he is in fact an arsehole are incredibly favourable.
He knocks back the eighth pint of the cheap lager he’s been drinking all night, pouring a good quarter of the beverage down his front while doing so. He apparently doesn’t notice the spillage which drips from his thick beard to form a damp patch on his stained vest since he makes no effort to dry his face. Instead he stands up and saunters toward her, apparently having amounted the necessary sum of Dutch courage. As he leaves his table, dark patches around the crotch of his jeans become evident. She hopes those are also from the beer.
These little details that mark this man out as a person with no self-respect, no regard for his own well-being and consequent disregard for others, are not things that Claire Relf needs to notice. She has seen this man a few times in The Drake, knows what type of person he can be – what a hopeless drunk he is. It is perhaps this foreknowledge that gives her mind the reason to notice the further evidence (if needed Mi’lord) of how egregious this man truly is.
‘’Ello gorgeous.’ he slurs in a low drawl. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’
Claire glares at him in disbelief. Before she even starts her response he lets out a loud burp, not even bothering to turn his head away from hers.
‘…Besides the fact that you’ve just belched in my face…’ she begins, ‘…you are filthy, you smell awful, you have no dignity, no manners and you’re stone drunk. Why would I possibly want a drink from you?’
He doesn’t respond to this immediately and Claire almost feels guilty for her hasty outburst. Then he hawks a missile of phlegm into her empty glass and looks her directly in the eyes. Her skin crawls.
‘I wasn’t always like this y’know.’ For a moment his voice sounds sober, somehow distant. ‘I’m not a bad person, not really. I’ve just been through a lot recently.’
‘Okay, wait, let me guess.’ She scoffs. ‘You used to have it all, a wife and two kids, a big house, a six figure salary? I’ve heard it all before and I’d appreciate it if you’d just leave me alone.’ This is what she wants above all else. Despite Claire’s bold front she is wary of the drunk in front of her. He is now grinning pensively.
‘Well you haven’t heard this one before. I can guarantee that. It’ll fill your heart with wonder.’
In spite of herself she finds that she does want to hear his story. Perhaps so she can laugh derisively after he has spun a yarn she has heard from each of the drunks in this place time and time again. Or perhaps she’s genuinely curious, wondering what type of riches to rags story could possibly fill her with wonder.
‘Try me.’ She offers in a loathsome tone that is betrayed by the fading contempt in her face.
He takes a moment to acquire a nearby bar stool and sits beside her. ‘Many people who hear this story would think the narrator crazy. But every word of what I’m about to tell you is true. By the time I’ve finished telling it, you’ll feel very differently about me. You’ll see things from my perspective, understand why I am the way I am.’ He looks into her eyes again but her skin doesn’t crawl like the last time, at least not until he finishes his sentence.
‘You might even grow to love me’. He chuckles softly as she grimaces and commences his tale.
You were right about the money and the house. After I’d finished my Mathematics degree at Cambridge I was able to immediately land myself a graduate job in accounting for a reputable firm in the city. As a bachelor I was completely loaded. Within five years I had my own house, a shiny new Merc, a fifty inch 3D television, all the mod-cons a wealthy man could desire. Everything was going great. I even enjoyed my job which was uncommon in that line of work, or so I was told by my colleagues.
Looking back now it seems perfectly obvious, but it took me a while to put my finger on it back then. I’d only really feel it when I wasn’t busy. When I was lying in bed at night, waiting for my brain to shut itself down. One night it hit me. Hit me right between the eyes and gave me a follow-up jab to the stomach for good measure. I was lonely. It was the most intense feeling I had ever experienced. I had no one, no remaining family ties, no real friends outside of work, nobody to come home to. I didn’t socialise much, didn’t really know how, didn’t feel any desire to was the real problem. So I never met anyone. That loneliness I’d feel night after night, it began to eat away at me. It took great mouthfuls straight from my soul, if there is such a thing. Outwardly, nothing changed. The money still rolled in, I turned up to work everyday, the grind continued just like clockwork. But inside it felt like my will to live was being siphoned elsewhere at an exponential rate. After twenty days of this I decided that I couldn’t take it any longer, simply couldn’t bare to be alive. So I took a carving knife from my kitchen drawer and made my way towards the alley behind this very pub, with the intention of ending it all. Why the alley? Well it probably sounds stupid now, but I couldn’t bare to sully my freshly cleaned house with my blood.
I remember arriving at the alley very clearly. There was an unpleasant smell to it as I opened my rucksack to retrieve the knife. It was a pungent stench, unholy. A smell that accompanies deals with the Devil. Maybe that’s just the benefit of hindsight talking, because just as I touched the flesh of my wrist with the blade, A voice that might have been as serpentine as Satan’s himself talked me out of the deed.
Claire jolts on her stool as the strange man before her suddenly shouts towards the bar.
‘Two more Carlsbergs over here Bill.’
Despite the lack of a ‘please’, it doesn’t strike her as uncouth. If anything it sounds warm, like greeting an old friend. Perhaps she has misjudged this man after all she thinks. Perhaps. But she is bothered by the lack of a conclusion to his story.
After a moment of silence, she asks ‘Who was it, what did they say?’
He smiles again. ‘All in good time my dear, I can see how badly you want to know. Standing behind me was the most revolting man I’d ever seen. Let’s not forget that back then I was a clean shaven accountant, rather handsome in fact. I was never an ugly man.’
Claire takes a moment to inspect his face and realises that underneath his messy beard and long clumps of hair could be an attractive face, she supposes. The further she examines the more true this seems to become.
‘I don’t want to say too much about the man who spoke the words I heard in the alley. Don’t want to remember him at all if I can help it. But he made me a curious offer, said he could gift me with… an unusual ability. He told me life would be worth living again. It would come at a price of course, he told me I would appear as a vile drunkard to the rest of the world for as long as I lived but if the reward for such a sacrifice was my eternal happiness, how could I refuse?’
Her head swims with various possibilities but can’t quite figure out where this is going. ‘Wh-‘
He interrupts her before she can speak. ‘See Claire, on this evening we were fated to meet. You might have felt feelings of revulsion towards me at first, but your love for me has slowly blossomed, even over the course of our short conversation. From the moment I saw you walk in, I knew that you were my soul mate, that we shall live a long and happy life together and you felt this too. Deep down, you know it’s true. Don’t you?’
Claire Relf has never felt so many emotions wash over her so quickly in the space of one evening. She is completely stunned. This handsome, unfortunate soul standing in front of her has completely blown her mind yet simultaneously made her feel safe, made her feel that no matter what, everything will be alright if she just stays with him. She nods blankly to him and he asks her a final question.
‘So, will you come back to mine tonight?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she replies, as if this request is the most natural thing in the world. One thing is still bugging her though, some unfinished business in the back of her mind.
‘…What was it though. What did he give you?'
He smiles at her and she blushes madly. ‘He gave me the ability to make people believe every word I say.’ He tells her. ‘But don’t worry, I’d never use it on you.’
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