CLEANER II: Chapter Six - Part Two

MELISSA

The text message chimed on my phone and my heart rate went from calm and relaxed to fight or flight in a second. It could only be her.

I found the phone quickly but hesitated before checking the message. It said, Please can we meet? Nothing more. She didn’t address me as Dahlia or Miss Western. She didn’t sign it Melissa.

I frowned, turning the phone over and over again, then I set it down and went to the balcony. I looked out at the sea then back at the phone.

I questioned my actions now. I questioned waiting; not pushing ahead with this when I’d first decided to do it; when I’d booked in the trip to Bangkok; but my instincts had guided me through this so far, mostly successfully. I had listened to them; allowed her some space and time to gently simmer.

But I hadn’t forgotten the conversation in Dahlia’s garden back in Nockton Vale when I had pushed ahead and she had resisted; when this whole precarious insanity had almost folded. I didn’t kid myself that I had total control, no matter how confident I had become, nor how... weak my former employer seemed to be now.

I had given her that time to stew and now she was ready to meet. It was fortunate. The dates I had booked were fast approaching. I would have had to push it to a climax soon if she hadn’t. But I still questioned myself. I couldn’t predict how she would turn. I couldn’t be sure how she had spent the last couple of weeks parted from my influence. I felt I knew her now but did I?

Please can we meet?

Ambiguous and brief but at least polite; suggestive of supplication.

Obviously the answer was yes. I took the phone back up and tapped out a response.

Yes. 4pm today, and sent it off.

Held my breath. Waited.

OK. See you then. Melissa.

I looked at that last word and smiled.

The possibilities before me were sensational. I couldn’t wait. But more, it had been almost three weeks. Surely if she was still playing the charade then she had continued her transformation. Three more weeks of gratuitous overeating. She had to be as fat as I had been now. She had to be.

I couldn’t wait to see her. I was so nervous. I checked my watch.

There was too long to wait up there in the room. I went down to the poolside and did two dozen laps easily and swiftly. I got out and took a drink then did three dozen more, slipping through the water like I was born to it. And all the while I tried to imagine what she would look like now; if she really had reached that final point.

I hoped she had; I really did.

I ate my lunch impatiently. There wasn’t much to it. Eating lightly was second nature to me now. I couldn’t have conceived anymore of consuming the volume I used to or that she still did.

I grew more and more excited at the coming prospect.

I went back to my room and checked everything was in place. I called down to reception and asked them to let me know when she arrived so that I wouldn’t be surprised.

I opened the wardrobe and took out a large item that I had waited a long time to reveal. I opened it and set it ready on the bed for when she appeared.

I sat down and crossed my legs. I stood up and paced to the balcony and back again. I checked my watch.

All this time I had rehearsed a hundred different ways of trying to persuade her of my plan; justifications for why she would want to do it. Now I was so close I could hardly remember them. My mind was a mess of drive, expectation and fear.

The phone started to ring.

I was slow to pick it up. The voice was the woman on reception I had spoken to earlier.

“Yes?” I said.

“Your guest is on her way up,” she replied.

I put the phone down without a thank you and looked toward my door.

Was she walking toward the lift now? Was she getting in? Was she looking at her own bloated reflection in the mirrored walls?

What were her intentions?

Was the transformation complete?

I couldn’t breathe.

I suddenly knew that I couldn’t do this; that I would fail to persuade her of anything.

I needed more time to prepare. I needed to delay her. It was too late.

She was going to demand her life back and laugh at any attempt I made to obviate that. Of course she was. She wasn’t totally insane. I was insane to have believed that she might.

Through the closed door I heard the lift ding.

There was a long pause.

I pictured her waiting hesitantly outside, preparing to knock.

My heart rose in my throat.

Then the knock came and I realised that this was it, finally. This was what it had all led to.

There was no turning back – I had to proceed – and everything would hinge on this exchange.

Everything would be decided finally and I would find out if my destiny was bright and diabolically hopeful or as dismal as it had ever been.