|
Chapter 11.
Within two days, everyone at Smokey's knew I was in love - or thought I was terminally ill. I'd entered into a dream like state of uncaring. All conscious thoughts were now focused on Jennifer; her hair, the way she moved, the way she smiled, everything.
The gamblers knew I was in love and laid bets with each other on how long it would last.
Ron knew I was in love - so he threatened to fire me for not concentrating on the job. He didn't scare me. I knew he was too focused on his latest money idea to be bothered. The object of his new affections was a dance area at the unpopular end of the bar. It meant he could have discos in the evenings and strippers during lunch. His brain was ticking over like a happy cash register. He'd even approached Gerda, the student next door, about whether she'd consider doing the floorshow. The idea had no future. She had a nice face but her closely cropped brown hair and nonexistent cleavage wouldn't pull the punters.
As soon as Gerda discovered I was in love, her whole attitude to me changed. She started to be a lot friendlier. It seems she'd previously thought I was gay because I'd objected to her underwear slapping me in the face whenever I entered the bathroom. Added to this, she'd also dumped her boyfriend and was looking for a replacement. Since I was conveniently next-door and no longer gay, she started popping in to see me. Her dark brown foxy eyes darted this way and that as she appraised my possessions to discover signs of the real inner me.
I was trying to get myself some breakfast one morning. Gerda and I were shoulder to shoulder in the broom cupboard that Ron insisted calling our kitchen.
"You are becoming obsessed with this woman," said Gerda sagely.
"I'm obsessed with finding my coffee," I grunted, scrabbling behind some cereal packets that were shoved to the back under the sink.
"Admit it. You can't concentrate. You don't know where to find things. You're a wreck!"
"I'd be less of a wreck if I could get some coffee in me."
"Why do you keep going on about coffee? It's not good for you. It over stimulates the brain."
"I like coffee."
"You won't find it when you're in that mood. You need to release the tension. Have you ever thought of cheating on her?" She edged closer in case I liked the idea. She'd acquired a man's shirt from somewhere. It was hopelessly too large and kept slipping off her shoulder revealing cleavage that wasn't there.
"How can I cheat when I hardly know her?"
"You don't know her but you think of nothing else? That's not healthy. You should try going out with other women then you'd get her in proper perspective."
A cereal packet fell on the floor. It looked as if mice might have chewed it.
"Who I think of is my own business."
"Is she good in bed?" Gerda was not easily put off.
"I've no idea!"
"Sooo, you're obsessed with her because she's unattainable and that's why she appears so attractive. The frustration you feel remains unfulfilled and therefore intensifies. It's a self-feeding system. You need a lightening conductor to short circuit the problem "
I whirled round crossly.
"Have you taken the last of my coffee," I demanded.
"There was hardly anything to take. You can't care about a few grains of coffee surely. What are you - a skinflint?"
"I'm thirsty, that's what I am!" I stormed down to the bar to make some real coffee.
Bars don't usually have much natural light and are always dark and gloomy places when they are closed so I was not totally unhappy when Gerda pulled up a stool besides me and perched on top. I felt like confiding, anyway, now I had some caffeine in me.
"You're a Psychiatry student aren't you?"
"No, I'm studying Psychology - it's different."
"Well it's all to do with the brain, isn't it?"
"Where men are concerned, that's debatable - what are you thinking of?"
"If a man is obsessive about a woman to the extent that he won't leave her alone and wanted to control everything she does, would you say he had a personality disorder?"
"You don't look that crazy to me. I always thought you were quite easy going."
I snarled grandly hoping to prove her wrong. She ignored my menaces and hopped off her stool to twirl around on the area of the carpet Ron had marked of as the dance floor.
"Do you think I should do the floor dancing for Ron?" The shirt billowed out revealing skinny legs with glimpses of equally skinny thighs.
"No," I said. "Look I'm not talking about me but somebody else and I'm trying to understand them. Is there a standard obsessive profile that I could relate him to?"
"Yeh, sure." She came and sat next to me again, sipped some of my coffee and started to massage my shoulders. "My goodness you are tense!"
"Stop doing that. I'm trying to concentrate. Just answer this question. If I wanted to get a look at this guy, how would I find him? Would he be recorded on a register somewhere or could I get to see some records or what.
Gerda climbed up onto the stool again, looking rebuffed.
"If there are records about him, you'd never get to see them in a million years, unless you were working for the people who were monitoring him. But you don't need to be as complicated as that. If he is really is so obsessed with her, he will be very close to her indeed. He will be watching her every move. To find him, all you have to do is watch her."
It was like a great light coming on inside my head. The way forward was clear now and I showed her my thanks with a big friendly kiss on her lips.
She wriggled on her stool suggestively.
"If you're really so grateful, perhaps we should go upstairs!"
"Mmm! That's a great idea," I said.
|