Friday, April 26, 2013

The Bet - Chapter 64 (Saturday – week 9 Part 1 of 7)

The Bet
By Karen Singer

Chapter 64 (Saturday – week 9 Part 1 of 7)

     Yelling a battle cry, he charged down the hill in all his sissy finery – straight at the invading enemy below.  Waving a sword in his hand and having an extra toilet bowl brush attached to the tool belt encircling his waist, he rushed down the hill like some deranged berserker, knowing that the very image of him would send paralyzing fear throughout the enemy he was about to attack. 
     His beautiful fluffy petticoats bounced and spread out around him – as if creating an impenetrable zone that would protect him from any kind of harm, while not hindering his devastating attack in the least.  His pink high-heeled feet slipped a bit on the treacherous ground of the mountainside, but he was sure-footed enough to never come close to losing his balance – a feat he knew the enemy below was in awe of!
     He reached the bottom of the hill and never stopped.  He charged full steam at the ugly enemy in front of him.  And they fell back at his approach, parting in front of him – in fear! 
     But not all the enemy retreated.  There was one who remained in his path. The biggest… the strongest… the meanest… the most feared of them all.  That one man alone remained steadfast, ready to take him on in battle!
     He charged… and the giant before him raised his shiny metal shield.  With all his strength, he brought his mighty sword down on that shield, sending out a reverberating clang like the ring of a mighty dinner bell.  The shield held, but it was scratched.  The giant raised his own sword to strike back. 
      “Wait!” he yelled.  Quickly he plucked a dust cloth from his tool belt and polished the giant’s shield until it gleamed perfectly once again.  “Okay,” he said in his sissy voice as he put his dust cloth away and raised his sword once again.
     The giant swung… and he parried the blow – and curtseyed.  He stabbed – and then curtseyed.  Parry – curtsey.  Stab – curtsey.  Over and over again.  The battle between them raged!  But as hard as he fought, that giant would not be defeated – and neither would he! 
     Breathing hard with exhaustion, the two combatants took a step back from each other, watching each other, catching their breath and sizing each other up.  The giant with his huge muscles, leather and steel protecting his body, a fearsome steel helmet on his head, and weapons bristling out from every conceivable part of him.  And the sissy, equally impressively clad in a darling pink and white little girl party dress over tons of silky, fluffy ruffled petticoats, with sweet little girl socks on his feet adding decoration above his pink high heeled shoes.  The bow in his lovely curled hair equally as fearsome as the helmet the giant wore.  And of course, his own weapons sticking out from all over his tool belt – toilet brush, dust rag, dish cloth, rubber gloves, and perhaps the most fearsome weapon of all – The Dieters Guide to Good Cooking. 
     Two equally fearsome competitors vying for domination of the battlefield.  And the spectators were – awed!
     Disdainfully, the giant threw his shield aside, and plucked a wickedly spiked mace from his belt to hold in his hand opposite his sword. 
     Undeterred, Sissy pulled his equally fearsome toilet bowl brush.  And the two rushed at each other again!
     Thrust… parry… curtsey… swing… block… curtsey… thrust… parry… curtsey...  On and on they went in vicious battle, neither one gaining any ground on the other.
     Again they stepped back to catch their breath, and again the two opponents sized each other up.  The giant wiped the sweat from his face with his arm, the sissy freshened his face as well with the application of some additional lipstick.
     The problem was, they were too evenly matched!  Unless one made a drastic mistake, neither would ever claim victory.
     Frustrated, the giant threw aside his mace and gripped his sword with both hands so he could swing it with the strength of both arms.  Sissy tossed aside his sword and kept his favorite toilet bowel brush.  Just as the giant stayed now with the one weapon he knew the best, so did Sissy. 
     It would be sheer determination that decided this battle.  Sheer determination!  And despite how evenly matched they were, and despite how fearsome the giant was, Sissy knew he could win.  He knew he could do it!  He would just have to keep fighting and fighting until the giant was slain. 
     And in his dream, the battle raged again…

      “Guilty!”  Bang!  The judge’s gavel echoed with horrible finality, sealing her fate… sealing her doom! 
      “No!” she cried in helpless appeal.  “No!”  She turned in despair to face the table that held all the plaintiffs.  Not one face showed the least bit of remorse.  Ray, looking like some powerful executive in his elegant business suit… Derek, dressed more casually, as if he had come straight from one of his job sites… and Sissy of course, wearing his blue little girl party dress – one of her favorites on him.  All of them lined up against her, and none of them seemed to feel the least bit sorry for her. 
      “Why?” she asked them all as the total despair of her situation crashed down on her.  “Why?” 
      “You could have done something!” Derek accused angrily.
      “Done what?” she asked pleadingly.  “About what?”
     But it was Ray who spoke next.  “You could have paid!” he said angrily.  “You had enough money to ensure whatever you wanted.”
      “Paid for what?” she asked.  “Paid who?”
     And it was Sissy who spoke last.  “You could have been less afraid!  You could have spoken the truth when it needed to be told!”
      “Spoken the truth?  To…”  But she knew what he was talking about.  She could have told him in no uncertain terms how she felt about him.  But she hadn’t.  She had been too afraid… too worried about appearances… and the distractions of better men around her. 
     And now the courts had leveled their decision… and in the process, taken everything away from her.  All her money, her apartment, her property, even her job… her business – all gone.  She was left with nothing.  And there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it.  Not one single thing.  And she felt so helpless… and alone.
     She had not one friend anymore.  Not one.  Nobody!  No family, no friends… and consequently, no life.  And she felt even more helpless. 
     As dreams work, everything and everyone around her changed.  And she found herself out on the cold dark street.  Alone, hungry, homeless, uncared for… unloved.  She tried and tried to think of some way to fix the situation, to get back what she so desperately wanted, but there were no ideas.  There was no longer anything she could do about it.  That time had passed.  And she had failed.  She felt nothing but alone and helpless and she knew there was nothing she could do about the situation.  Helpless.  Helpless.  Helpless.
     In the cold foggy night, she wandered the dim streets in search of help.  She stopped a man she came across.  “Help me,” she pleaded. 
     The man looked at her and shook his head.  “I won’t lift a finger to help you.  You’ll have to help yourself.  Only you can help yourself.”
      “I can’t!” she wailed.  “I don’t know what to do!”
     The man shook his head again.  “You’ll just have to think of something.”  With that, he walked off and she was left alone again.
     Think of something?  She couldn’t think of anything.  She was totally stuck. There was no way she could help herself.  In frustration, she pounded her fists on the cold stone wall of the building and screamed, “There’s nothing I can do!”
     And she woke up… wondering if she had actually screamed that last desperate cry for real!
     There was daylight in the room, but not much.  She glanced at her clock – early!  Very early!  But after that nightmare, whatever it had been about, she knew she couldn’t go back to sleep… at least not for quite a while.  She got out of bed and grabbed her robe, and automatically walked directly to her kitchen – and her coffee maker.  And even before she got to the kitchen, her mind was already thinking about Chad… Sissy… and the way the day had gone yesterday – after he had left.  And her mind automatically went back into worry mode.
     As she stood in front of her coffee maker waiting for it to finish, she continuously played back the way he had walked out on her yesterday… and the way he hadn’t answered his door when she went to find out what was wrong…  as well as the troubling phone conversation she had with him later.  She didn’t want to think about any of it, but she couldn’t help it.
     As she finally poured her first cup of coffee, she tried to force her mind to think about the day ahead.  Today was his final day of testing.  Today would determine – everything!  And because of the way they had brought in everyone to judge the contest for them, she didn’t know what kind of input toward the outcome of the bet that she would be able to manage.  She had swayed juries a few times in her career.  Could she do the same here? 
     As of the time Sissy… Chad had left yesterday, she hadn’t lost yet.  In fact, she had been winning!  But at that time, he hadn’t even tried to hold back.  He had wasted a major part of the entire day!  But she was betting that from the moment he had left her, he had been working hard to regain that control.  He had gone back to his place and holed himself up there – ignoring her… removing all distractions, just so he could work on getting his control back – and winning the bet.
     As of the time he had left yesterday, she was still winning.  But who was winning now?
     She took a sip of her coffee and turned, as she usually did, intent on carrying it into the living room where she usually sat in one of her chairs to enjoy it.  But this time, her eyes caught sight of his highchair instead… still sitting in its usual position next to her table.  In her mind, she saw him sitting there again, eating his breakfast like a toddler… bib in place, his left fist wrapped around a ridiculously tiny baby spoon, trying desperately to get a miniscule amount of the drippy baby cereal into his mouth without spilling any – and of course, so often failing.  He was so funny sitting there.  Such a delight.  Would he ever sit there again? 
     She pulled herself away and continued on into her living room, but she stopped again when her eyes seemed to be drawn to her yardstick that was propped up in the corner – the stick she had used to punish him with – so often for a while, but hardly at all in the last few weeks.  In her mind, she saw him standing there again, diapers littering the floor to protect it, him leaning over the very chair she usually sat in every morning, and she felt herself swinging that stick – and connecting with his backside.  One!  Her mind watched as he stood and curtseyed and thanked her… before bending back over to brace himself against the chair again… and raise his backside up, inviting her to hit him once again.  Swing!  Swoosh!  Slap!  Two!  As odd as it sounded, she found that she missed that as well. 
     She turned, but she didn’t even have to move to see his perch sitting in the other corner.  The hooks further up on the wall with those stupid ugly earrings hanging from it that could be attached to his ears to hold him in place.  He had spent hours on that torture device.  Hours!  At her bequest.  Hours staring into nothing but a totally blank corner.  Hours of having to endure the pain that that simple little bar would place on his feet and legs.  Hours of not being permitted to move a muscle – or she would punish him.  Hours with nothing to do… but think.  Did he think about her during that time?  Would she ever know?  Would she ever be able to sit at her table again – while watching in amazement at him stuck up on that dreaded thing and have nothing to do?  Would she ever feel that kind of power again? 
     Her gaze fell to the floor as she finished her journey to her chair and sat down.  So many little reminders of him all around her.  Even the bathroom held a stash of diapering supplies for him in the cabinet under her sink.  Everywhere she looked, she saw little things that reminded her of him.  But would he ever be there again?  Only time would tell.  And that time was now down to just a few hours.  In a way, she couldn’t wait.  But in a way, those few hours scared her to death!

1 comment:

sarah penguin said...

Gosh. So close!