Carla's Side - Her/Hero
"My boyfriend is too nice..."
Carla awoke with a start. The watch on her wrist was vibrating silently; the seven thirty alarm that got her up for work every morning. She looked at the clocks face, just be sure.
"8:00" it said.
"Shit!" she hissed. Had she really been so drunk last night that she'd managed to sleep through half an hour of the watches buzzing? She was going to be late!
She threw off the blankets and sat up... then froze in place. This wasn't her bed.
Carla looked around the room she was in. This wasn't her room. This room was huge; filled with expensive furniture and art that should have been in a museum gathering dust somewhere. Where was she? Cold sweat broke out on her forehead as she slowly turned to look at the person sleeping in the bed beside her.
Oh, god.
He was lying on his side, snoring softly. Pasty skin. Love handles. And a back full of hair that would have put a gorilla to shame. Carla had to put a hand over her mouth to stop from gagging. What had she done?
Launching off the bed, she hurried as quietly as she could around the room, looking for her clothing. Undies. Purse. Socks. Mini skirt that covered just that much. But where the hell was her bra?
The man in the bed gave a soft moan and shifted in his sleep. Had he rolled over? Carla ground her teeth and squeezed her eyes firmly shut. No, she wouldn't look at him. Couldn't look at his face; if she did, it would haunt her for months to come. She had to get out, fast, before he woke up.
"Forget the bra," she whispered, grabbing her halter top off a nearby chair. He could keep some souvenir of her. She had plenty more at home.
Hopping awkwardly, she tried to put on her socks while pulling her top over her head at the same time. This resulted in her tripping and landing with a soft thud on the carpeted floor. Carla lay there, eyes closed again, waiting for the pain in her shoulder to subside.
'Shit, that hurt. Please, don't wake up,' she silently prayed. A minute of silence told her that she was still safe, so she opened her eyes. The man's trousers lay inches from her nose. Expensive denim ones; still had that 'shop fresh' smell. And in the right hand side pocket, Carla saw the telltale brown leather of a wallet.
"Hey there, sugar. Can I buy you a drink?"
The cheesy pick up line flashed into her mind, making her squint with pain. That wallet. He'd been holding that bulging, cash filled wallet in his hand when he said that. She could clearly see it, stuffed to the brim with cards and notes, being offered so earnestly.
"Bastard," she hissed. How many times had that worked before, on how many other intoxicated girls? She cursed herself for having fallen for it so easily.
"I bet you think you can buy any girl by flashing your fortune. Well, this time you'll really pay."
She sat up and grabbed the wallet from its pocket. Opening it, she found twenty one-hundred dollar bills and a multitude of different credit cards. The Platinum American Express glinted at her, beckoning. Calling.
"This is revenge," she sniffed, stuffing the notes into her purse and removing the card from its holder. "Revenge for making me betray the one I love... again."
She gripped the card firmly in her hand, and finished pulling on her last sock. Then she hurried out of the room and into the hallway, picking up her shoes on the way.
-----
Two thousand dollars and a Platinum Express.
'Forget work', Carla thought on her way down the elevator. 'I've got twenty minutes max before Mr. Gorilla wakes up and starts tearing apart the joint. I have to shop while I can.'
The elevator seemed to go on forever; apparently she'd been in a forty third floor suite. No wonder it had been so extravagant. Squeezed in a back corner of the lift, she held her purse up close to her chest, feeling uncomfortable being braless behind a fabric as thin as the halter top. Crap, maybe she should have looked harder for it after all.
What had she done? What was she doing? Carla closed her eyes and let out a sigh, then banged her head against the wall of the lift. Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. She swore after the last time it would never happen again. How had she allowed herself to come full circle? She opened her eyes and stared at the mirror on the ceiling... then cried out in shock at what she saw.
Panda eyes! Oh god, her mascara was running to oblivion. She hadn't even bothered to look for a mirror in the suite; her only thought was to get out of there as fast as she could. Panicking, she scrambled through her purse, looking for some 'Make-Up Away' wipes. There was no time to try and redo it now.
"Shit," she cried as the contents fell out all over the elevator floor. "Shit, why? I don't need this."
She was still desperately trying to scoop up the various items when the elevator came to a slow halt.
-DING- it said. She looked up at the seemingly endless rows of numbers. "4" was illuminated.
"No," she whispered. Had Gorilla Man woken up? Could he have already called security and got them to lock down the building? Floor 4; she'd been so close.
The metal doors of the lift opened slowly, and Carla found herself being stared at by a tall young man. He was wearing a red and white uniform, the kind of attire hotel staff are expected to wear, and behind him was a trolley full of laundry. A towel boy.
"Miss?" he said, a look of surprise and concern on his face.
Carla could only imagine how she looked to him; crouched on the floor of the elevator, make-up leaking like some sad circus clown, and an assortment of women's sanitary items scattered about her feet. She wouldn't have batted an eye if he'd run screaming for the hills.
As it was, he dropped the empty bucket in his hands and bent down on the floor in front of her.
"Here, let me help you with that."
Carla could only sit there, hands resting uselessly at her sides, staring as he refilled her purse. Then she burst into tears.
-
She felt better by the time they'd picked up her things and reached the ground floor. The towel boy had helped her find the wipes, and led her to a bathroom. He'd even waited outside until she finished cleaning her face and crying on the toilet.
"Feeling better?" he asked as she opened the door slightly and peeked out.
"Yes," she nodded. She felt more confident now that her skin was clear and blonde hair brushed. Carla opened the door and stepped out into the foyer, bag held up over her chest again.
"Um... thanks for helping me," she smiled. The towel boy smiled back, showing rows of perfectly white teeth.
"Hey, no problem. It beats doing the laundry any day."
Carla nodded, and started to turn to leave.
"Well, it was nice meeting you. I have to go -"
"Wait!" he cried, putting a hand on her shoulder. She immediately flinched away and backed up against the wall.
"Whoa, sorry," he said quickly, putting his hands up. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"That's... ok," Carla said.
"I just wanted to ask... um..." the towel boy paused and scratched the back of his neck, "Um... just wanted to know if I could... have your number?"
Carla felt her face flush red hot, and knew she was blushing. Even when she looked like an escaped mental patient, she still managed to attract them. It was more embarrassing then thrilling.
"Oh, I see," she said, stepping away from the wall and closer to the young man. "You're a nice guy, and I can't thank you enough for the help. But I have a boyfriend... and he's really nice too."
The towel boy smiled and looked at his feet sadly.
"That's ok. It would have been strange if you didn't. Well, feel free to visit the hotel anytime you like. I'll have a fresh towel ready for you, no matter what."
Carla gave a little laugh, feeling genuinely better inside, and stood up on her tippy toes to give him a peck on the cheek.
"I might just do that. See you!"
She turned and hurried down the polished floors, her shoes squeaking as she did. The towel boy watched her go and sighed.
"Oh well, back to the ironing board," he mumbled.
Carla ran through the giant, spotless foyer, skidding and sliding as she went. There was a reception desk located in the middle of the floor; a big 'U' shaped thing that looked vaguely like some kind of UFO. And in the centre was a blue suited lady, diligently tapping away at the keyboard of a computer. She looked up as the blonde, tanned girl ran past and called out.
"Miss! Miss! Are you checking out?"
"I'm just visiting!" Carla yelled back. She ran straight into the revolving glass doors of the building's entrance and burst out on the other side, almost knocking over an elderly man carrying a briefcase.
"Watch it!" he snarled, before continuing on his way.
Carla stood on the sidewalk, doubled over and gasping for breath. Made it. She'd made it. She was out! She straightened up and stretched her shoulders, reaching her arms out either side. Oh, did that feel good.
Above her, the enormous hotel building she'd just been inside towered high into the sky, its tinted windows shining in the morning sun. The name of the building sat around half way up.
"Hotel Urag Iruno," she read aloud. "How odd." The words looked Japanese, but it was rare and strange to see an oriental owned hotel in this city. What could the name mean?
Hotel Urag Iruno.
As much as the memory of what happened here disgusted her, she thought she should keep the name in the back of her mind. Just in case. That towel boy was very kind.
Her view came down and settled on a billboard further up the street. There was a cartoon depiction of a man on it; a muscly, big chinned Super Hero wearing a green mask and matching uniform. He stood proudly, hands on hips, atop a pile of garbage, while the streets and buildings sparkled around him.
"Remember Kids!" the big, striking block letters announced. "Captain Nature says: Pick Up Your Trash, and Keep Our City Clean."
Captain Nature. The cities newest icon and environmental spokesperson. He was in every second TV ad, his powerful voice filled the radio airwaves. It was the governments last ditch effort to inspire today's youth to care for their planet. The money they made from merchandising on the side was just icing on the cake.
"Thanks for the advice, Captain Nature," Carla said, putting one hand on her chest and raising her purse hand in a salute. "I'll remember that."
Something fell from the purse and landed on the concrete with a clatter. She looked down, praying it wasn't another embarrassing women's item, and was relieved to see it was only the Platinum American Express. She quickly bent down and snatched it up before anyone else noticed.
"That right!" Carla said excitedly. "I've got unfinished business with you. Let's go shopping."
She clutched the card tightly in one hand, the purse in the other, and ran quickly down the street. Leaving the hotel as far behind as she could.
-----
Luckily for her, Gorilla man's signature was far from hard to forge. That, coupled with certain employee choices made by each business, meant her whirlwind shopping spree was quite profitable.
The first thing on the list had been, of course, a new bra. She immediately headed for the most expensive collections, and began to place them against her halter top.
"To frilly. Underwire to thick. To small."
Though she wasn't displaying it, inside, guilt was beginning to gnaw at her like a hungry animal. It had started in her stomach; stirring as if awakening from a long slumber. It had since climbed its way to the bottom of her rib cage, and was still clawing its way upward.
"Got to be perfect. Perfect and beautiful. He'll never suspect a thing. I'll make it up to him."
Carla searched for the lingerie she knew her boyfriend would like. Something that would make his face light up, make him forget all the worry he felt while waiting for her to come home last night. She eventually settled on a slightly see-through, soft pink bra. Not outrageously slutty, but more a subtle sexy that would look mesmerising during a strip tease. She tried it on in the change room and posed in front of the mirror, practising what she'd say when she got home.
"I'm so sorry, Ben... Benjamin... Benny. Baby. I wanted to call, but the girls, they wouldn't give me a minutes peace! Just one cocktail after another. Haha, I can't even remember what happened after the pineapple ones..."
She leaned forward and pouted, pushing the bra together at the same time. Oh yeah, Benny was going to love this. She ripped the tag with the barcode off the side, then put her halter top back on. He probably wouldn't even notice that it wasn't the same bra she was wearing when she left last night. Hopefully.
Leaving the change rooms, she headed over to the counter and handed the tag to the cashier.
"I'll buy that, thanks."
The clerk, a girl probably no older then sixteen, raised an eyebrow.
"Ummm... do you have the rest of the bra?"
"I'm wearing it," Carla replied. "Or would you like me to show you?"
The cashier rolled her eyes and put the barcode under the scanner.
-BEEP-
"$126.98" appeared in green digital writing on the till's screen.
"Jesus Chr-" Carla almost gasped, before putting a hand to her mouth. She really had gone to the most expensive section.
"Is that cash or credit?" the cashier asked, sounding bored.
"Um... credit," Carla answered. She fumbled around in her purse, before finally fishing out the card. She handed it over to the service girl, only noticing at the last second that her hands were shaking slightly.
The cashier swiped the card, then gave it back to her. Carla stared with wide eyes. What luck! This under paid and probably over worked mid-schooler hadn't even bothered to check the name on the card. If she was lucky, she wouldn't check the signature either.
"Sign here," the check-out chick said, giving her the slip of paper. Carla took it and the pen offered, and bent down to sign it.
'Here we go,' she thought. She'd practised Gorilla man's signature in a phone booth before she'd come to the mall, but her hands were shaking a little more now. There was still a chance the clerk girl might remember her training and suddenly ask to check the name on the card. She had to be careful.
With one fluent motion, Carla signed the piece of paper and handed it back, a thin lipped smile on her face.
"Here you go!" she said, trying to sound cheerful and care-free.
"Thank you for your business," the cashier yawned, putting the paper slip in the till without even looking. "Have a nice day."
Carla left the store, a feeling of exhilaration pounding in her chest. It was a rush, it was a thrill. Why were the naughtiest things always so much fun? But this thought reminded her of the night before and her sultry, flirting bar crawl. The guilt beast devoured her excitement in an instant.
Benjamin was still at home, probably worried sick. She couldn't waste time with personal indulgence. She had a lot to make up for. There was also no telling when Gorilla man would wake up and cancel the card. All hell would break loose then; if she was using it at the time, she'd be questioned by the service person. The police would be into the accounts and tracing the cards last place of use. She had to move fast and dispose of it quickly.
"Come on, you," she said to the card. "We've got presents to buy."
She allowed the spree to last for another twenty minutes before nerves got the better of her and she could shop no longer. As it turned out, twenty minutes had been plenty long enough. No regular or experienced staff seemed to want to work on Saturdays, so nearly all the cashiers were struggling school or university students who cared as little for their job as they did homework. Only one questioned the fact that the name on the card was a man's name, and even he didn't ask twice when Carla said it belonged to her father.
Ah, it was wonderful how the master age of secure technology could be foiled simply by employing staff on a minimum wage.
In total, her bounty included:
A pair of earrings,
worth $500. Make-up and accessories totalling $350. New clothes from
various stores at a value close to $2000. And the final item, the one
she hoped would make Ben forgive and forget any misgivings he would
have; a silver Rolex, worth $4,799.
That final purchase had been the end of her. When the clerk had questioned about the man's name, she's almost fainted from the stress of it. But he hadn't pushed the matter - probably just glad to be making a sale - and she'd walked out of there, shaking but satisfied.
She'd done it. She had what she needed to make Ben as happy as she could. He would smile and kiss her, and everything would be alright. The guilt beast would settle back down to its long slumber, and they'd be able to continue their lives as if nothing had happened.
"Thanks for your help," she said, giving the card a kiss. "Wish me luck."
She dropped the card into a garbage can and walked confidently towards the mall exit, giving some chatting security guards a sweet smile as she went. Everything was going to be ok now.
-----
As it so often happens to those riding an adrenaline wave, the many complications present in her plan did not come to light until afterwards. She was almost home, walking casually along the street. Then she heard the phone call.
"... find it kinda funny... ... kind of sad... dreams... I'm dieing... best I've ever had..." came the muffled 'true-sound' ring tone in her purse. Carla had to put down half her paper shopping bags ("Captain Nature says: Use Recycled Paper, Kids! It's Safer For the Environment!) before she could finally pull the mobile out.
"Hello?" she said, before getting an earful of blasting song. "Damn, forgot to press the talk button."
"Hello?" she repeated, hoping she'd pressed it properly this time.
"Carla? That you?"
"Yes, it's me."
"Where the hell are you? It's half past nine; you're half an hour late for work. We've got customers lined out the door!"
A shiver shot down her spine. Dear god, it was her boss. She hadn't even bothered to check the number on the screen before answering.
"M-m-mrs Icthyman!" she stammered. "I'm so sorry... I forgot to call. I'm... sick. Very sick. It wouldn't be good for me to come in and -"
"Don't give me that shit. You went out last night; I heard you girls talking about it at lunch. Let me remind you that 'hang over' is not a legitimate sickness in my book."
"I'm really sick!" Carla pleaded, adding a croaking to her words. "It's a nasty virus -cough- that Benny brought home. I'm afraid it'll spread to the food if I come in."
"Tell me your sob story some other day; I've got a business to run. Lucky for you, Marie was able to cover your shift. So go surfing, stay home and screw that boyfriend of yours. I don't care! But if you ever pull shit like this again, you'll be out on your arse faster then you can turn a trick."
There was a -blip-, and the phone went dead. Carla could only stand on the street, staring blankly with the mobile to her ear. She was breathing heavily, and a single tear ran down the side of her nose.
"Sh-hh-it," she sobbed. "M-m-maybe skipping work w-wasn't such a good idea."
She shakily picked up her bags and took a few more steps, before collapsing onto a nearby bench. What was she doing? She looked at all the new things she'd bought; the fancy clothes, the beautiful earrings. The Rolex. This wasn't right.
She worked in a Fish and Chip shop!
Ben would never believe it. On her wage, there was no way she could have saved enough money to buy these items. So where did she get them from? Family inheritance? Gift from the girls? No, he'd know in an instant that she'd either stolen them or used stolen money. This was a disaster.
Carla slumped on the bench, staring at all the gifts she now couldn't give. Inside her, the guilt beast shifted, and something new squeezed in beside. Despair, that evil harpy, was trying to claim her own place in Carla's heart as well. Two monsters, fighting for control over her emotions; it was all Carla could do to lean forward and focus on breathing.
Breathe... breathe...
The words worked to calm her. Breathe. There was a way out of this. She could still make it up to Ben. She'd just have to get rid of the expensive objects. Yes, that was it. Get rid of them.
She sat up and looked around. The sidewalk was relatively bare; nobody on these streets seemed to like getting up early on a weekend. On her side of the street was an endless line of box homes ("And they all live in little boxes, and they all look just the same"); boring, brick structures that looked like mournful faces in an evening light. Carla recalled many a time, walking home from work at night, when she had felt scared enough to call Ben to come and meet her because she was afraid to go by the houses alone.
On the other side of the street were some simple Mum-and-Pop home businesses: a small convenience store, a second hand book shop, and an electronics retailer that specialised in foreign imports. She'd walked by it many times and stopped to look at the television in the window. It was always playing some strange cartoons made overseas.
"New DVD Release!" the sign on the television usually read. "Manga now also available. Ask within."
Carla gazed wearily at the stores. It didn't look like any customers were inside them yet. Then she noticed it, inbetween the electronics store and the book shop: a dark alleyway with some dustbins lurking a short way down. She sat up on the bench, a pang of hope briefly pushing back the demons fighting inside her.
The street was almost deserted. No one would see her. She could just dump the stuff in the bins and head home like nothing ever happened. She could still fix things. Carla looked to her left and right, rechecking that the coast was clear. It was.
Cautiously, she picked up the paper bags and hurried across the road. She slowed down as she reached the convenience store, trying to walk naturally.
"Nothing going on," she whispered. "Just out for a Saturday morning stroll."
The convenience store owner didn't even glance up from his counter. Carla allowed herself to relax a little. All good so far. She passed the electronics store, glancing casually at the television as she went. It wasn't on yet. Just a blank screen.
Standing in front of the alley, she took one last look around. No one. She had to do it now, or risk losing the chance. Quickly, she ducked between the two stores, and ran to the dustbins. There were three in all; two old and dented, and a shiny new one. Carla took off the lids and looked inside. They were full of old VHS tapes and packaging foam. Not much room for anything else.
"Crap," she frowned. "Oh well, can't back out now."
She rammed the bags into the bins, pushing with all the force she had. The packaging foam compacted a fair amount, giving her some leeway, but there still wasn't much to work with. Holding the garbage down with one hand, she reached for the lids in turn and slammed each one in place, hard. Then she stood over them, breathing heavily and watching for movement.
The lids didn't pop off. The bins didn't explode and spew foam and expensive products all the way up the alley. The deed was done. She was free of her problems... for now.
"Thank god," she sighed, leaning against the alley wall. She was just bending to pick up her purse, when a voice blared in her eardrums, nearly scaring her half to death.
"RAAA-EEE-YAA RA-RA-E-YO-RA, SOra ni migoto na kinoko no kumo," it screamed. Carla nearly had a heart attack, and even when the volume was adjusted she found it hard to stay steady.
"Holy shit!" she gasped. She hurried down the alley way and onto the street, before skidding to a sudden and frightening stop. The television was on, and someone was watching it. A young man, dressed in a business suit.
'Oh no...' she thought. Had he seen her? Had he been coming to stop her and got distracted by that blaring voice as well? His face was pressed so close to the glass she couldn't see it; he was completely focused on the screen. Carla took one step back, then another. The man didn't move.
The cartoon on the screen showed multiple laughing characters. Its theme song; an erratic, crazy-happy tune, blared from some speakers sitting above the door. Being so near the music, the man probably couldn't hear her footsteps.
"Raa-eee-yaa ra-ra-e yo-ra, Komichi de e wo hamu kotori no gogo wa," the eerie voice continued to sing; the words hanging in the still, windless air.
"Awesome," Carla heard the man breathe quietly. He definitely hadn't seen her.
'Count your blessings later,' a voice in her own head screamed. Carla promptly obeyed, and fled the scene as fast as her legs could carry her.
-----
The front door squeaked as she tried to open it. 'Dammit', she thought. She'd hoped get in without waking Ben. Carla held her breath and waited. After a few seconds of silence, she pushed the door open enough to look into the hallway.
The lights were off. Ben always slept in on Saturdays, and her watch said it was only '9:45'. If she was lucky, she could just sneak into the bedroom and lie down next to him. He'd be none the wiser. Taking her shoes off, she silently tip-toed down the hallway, glancing in the lounge room as she passed.
Ben was sitting on the sofa.
Carla froze. He was just sitting, staring at the television. It was on, but there was no sound. He must have had it on mute. She could see the dark rings under his eyes, and the pale wane of his skin.
"B-Benny?" she called softly.
His head swung her way, and he looked at her with bloodshot eyes. Then his whole face lit up in a smile.
"Oh! You're back! I didn't hear you come in. Must have been some party."
Carla couldn't stop the tears as they instantly welled up.
"Oh, Benny," she bawled. She ran across the room and almost tackled him on the sofa, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey now," Benjamin said, surprised. "It's ok. I knew you'd be alright; I was only a little worried."
"But you stayed up all night!' she sobbed. "You waited for me, and I didn't even call. I just feel awful... the girls wouldn't let me go, and they gave me too many cocktails and I got sick, and I didn't wake up in time for work this morning and Mrs. Icthyman rang and abused me..."
The words came out in an endless stream, only interrupted by hic's and chokes from the crying. With each lie, the guilt beast climbed higher in her chest, squeezing and clawing. She buried her head in Ben's chest and kept on sobbing, trying to stop the pain.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
Ben didn't say anything, just put a hand softly on her hair and began to stroke it. This made Carla cry even more.
"You're really upset about this, aren't you?" he said after a few minutes. "Why?"
"Why?!" she asked, looking up from his shirt. She could feel puffiness under eyes and the warmth in her cheeks. She must have looked a wreck again. "Aren't you angry?"
"Well," he said thoughtfully, still stroking her hair, "I can't say I approve of you staying out all night, drinking. And yes, you didn't call me. But, in truth that's not what matters to me."
"It's... not?" Carla whimpered.
"No. What matters is that you're back here and your safe," he smiled, moving to wipe away some of her tears. "I don't care what happened as long as you were safe."
Carla felt the guilt beast take one final, viscous lunge at her heart, and then begin to fall away. All the worry, all the stress she had felt since awakening in that strange hotel room was beginning to disappear. Ben had soothed her with just a few loving words.
"Th-thank you," she said, sitting up on the sofa and rubbing her eyes. "I thought you would be so mad at me."
"I'm alright. You didn't do anything wro-"
His sentence was cut off as she took hold of his shoulders and kissed him firmly. She just wanted to forget the whole morning - the whole, horrible morning - and be lost with him now. Ben was surprised, but relaxed after a few seconds.
"Wow," he breathed when she finally pulled away. "Someone's feeling better."
Carla didn't answer, but moved up the sofa instead, giving him a secret smile. He watched as she slowly reached down to the hem of her halter top and began to pull it over her head. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he approved of the new bra.
"Wow," he repeated. "Someone's feeling much better."
Carla took hold of his hand, still smiling that sly smile, and began to lead him towards the bedroom.
-
"I love you so much," Ben said, kissing her lightly on the shoulder. They lay together in bed, spooning, arms entwined.
"I love you too," Carla replied. But to her own ears, the words sounded hollow. There was no conviction, no sincerity. She guessed it was because, inside, she knew she was lying.
Now she was home and safe with Ben, it felt like all the day's dramas had melted away. But that didn't mean she wasn't problem free. The main issues, the ones that had been gnawing at her for weeks now, still lurked, waiting to come to the surface. Like the reason why she had betrayed her relationship yet again last night.
For more then a month, Carla had slowly felt her attraction to Ben dieing. There was no tangible reason why; he was still every bit as handsome as the day they met. He hadn't let the romance slip, and would always choose doing something with her over going out with his buddies.
He was so nice. So incredibly... unusually nice. She could never recall having a real fight with him, or hearing him raise his voice. Ben was one of those Sensitive New Age Guys that all the girls swooned over, and even some men. It was a modern world, after all.
But lately Carla had found herself wishing that, just once, he'd get angry. Rage, cry, scream... break something! Show her that he had a broader spectrum of emotions. Though she was terrified at the time, now she almost regretted that he hadn't gotten upset about her late return. He was so perfect it was like he wasn't human; more like making love to a positive energy... robot!
Heaven knows she'd broken down numerous times in the past, and he'd managed to pull her through it. She wanted to do that for him; feel like she was an important part of the relationship. She just wanted some passion.
All this was the reason why she kept trying to spice up their love life by buying those embarrassing toys. The reason she kept going out every weekend and flirting with strangers. The reason that, unless she was thinking about another man, Carla could no longer climax when making love to Ben.
This time, it had been the towel boy.
The guilt monster gave her innards a sharp twist, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying. Ben felt her tense up in his arms.
"Honey? Something wrong?"
"No," she said, gripping his fingers in hers. "I'm alright. Just worried about work."
"Everything will be fine. I'll talk to that old trout, Icthyman, if it comes down to it. But if all else fails, you've plenty of talent. You'll have no problem finding another job."
"Hmmm, yeah," she smiled, snuggling closer.
The truth was: even if she was no longer attracted to him, life without Ben was unimaginable. The security his presence offered, the self confidence he gave her. They'd been together so long, she couldn't remember what it was like to be alone. She didn't know if she'd be able to cope.
But she knew she couldn't go on repeating what she'd done last night either.
"I'm going to get some sleep," Ben said, releasing her and rolling over, "I only dozed on the sofa. You should too. You look exhausted. Probably still a little hung over, huh?"
"Yeah, a little," Carla agreed. "Sleep sounds good."
Ben was snoring softly only minutes later. Carla lay awake a lot longer.
-----
"So what do we need?" Ben asked, leaning into the fridge. "We're running pretty low on everything, actually."
It was late afternoon. Carla felt better after the sleep, and was eager to go about her daily life. Now she was standing on the other side of the kitchen bench, going through one of Ben's girlie magazines. She let him buy them since the girls were always modelled in good taste (and were rarely prettier then her). Plus, the articles really were interesting.
"We need milk," she answered. "And bread. Oh, and can you get some of those crumbed pork riblets?"
"Again?" Ben smirked. "I don't know... they're pretty expensive."
"That's ok, I'll pay. There's some money in my purse." Carla flipped through the pages casually. 'The Man Who Ate His Own Face'. Creepy.
"Well, allow me to covet that from you," Ben chuckled. He picked up her purse from beside the sofa and opened it.
Too late, Carla remembered exactly how much money was in there.
"Ben, wait -"
He hadn't moved. He was staring into the purse, with expression that looked both curious and confused.
"Carla..." he said. "There's a lot of money in here."
Carla bit her lip. She'd thrown away the card and the expensive presents, but she'd forgotten all about the stolen notes. There wasn't even a story to explain them! She had to think quickly.
"Yes, um. I... took it out of my bank," she stammered.
"Carla, there's like, two grand in here!" Ben pulled some scrunched notes out and displayed them. "What kind of night out where you planning?"
"No, no!" she cried. "It wasn't for that. I was going to open a... joint account for us."
Ben raised an eyebrow.
"A joint account? One we share, you mean?"
"Yes. You know, in case we ever get in trouble and our own bank accounts aren't available. I just thought it would be a good emergency plan."
Something in the way Ben looked at her told her he didn't believe it. He was trying, but it just didn't sound plausible. 'This is it,' she thought, 'maybe he'll crack this time.'
"That sounds... like a pretty good idea actually," Ben smiled. He put most of the money back in the purse and kept one note in his hand. "Hah! Who said you don't think ahead?"
Carla allowed a nervous smile as he came over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"I'm taking this, and I'm going to get us some of the best pork riblets we can get!" he said. He moved to the hallway and waved goodbye. "See you soon!"
Carla waited until she heard the door slam, then the let out a whoosh of held air. That had been close. But still, she found she felt irritated by the fact that he just took her word for gospel all the time.
He didn't believe her. She saw it on his face. He knew she was lying. And yet he didn't question her or probe any further. Just assumed her intentions were pure and went shopping for groceries like a good boyfriend would. She was relieved and infuriated at the same time.
Picking up the magazine, she ran and did a small jump on the sofa, bouncing lightly. The remote sat on the coffee table close by. She reached over and pushed the red "ON' button.
"-ew Captain Nature animated series, coming this Monday at 8am, only to this network!" the TV hollered.
'Great,' Carla thought. 'More Captain Nature.'
She went back to reading the magazine as the advertisement switched over to one of the Captain's many environmental protection announcements. It was that damn ocean one again, Carla saw.
"Just one plastic bag can kill a sea turtle or a family of Albatross," the Super Hero's powerful voice boomed.
"You tell 'em, Captain Nature," Carla said, not taking her eyes off the magazine. Loud instrumental music played as the ocean's mighty defender flew along, sucking up oil spills. She knew the ad off by heart.
"So remember, kids, keep our beaches and oceans clean! And rrrreeeeecycle!" -Tant-dadda-dum-
Carla flicked through a few more pages, admiring some particularly nice high heels one model was wearing. It took a minute, but she suddenly realised that the TV had gone silent. She looked up at it, wondering if it had muted somehow.
Captain Nature was still on the screen, standing atop his famous pile of garbage. His glorious, manly chin jutted out, his cartoon teeth were pearly white. That green cape flapped in the breeze.
"Odd..." Carla mumbled. "Network must have frozen." She reached over and pushed the channel button.
The TV flickered to the next station... and Captain Nature continued to beam at her. Carla pushed the channel button again, annoyed. Damn satellites. Had all the stations gone bung?
She kept flicking through, but when every channel proved to be the same she tossed the remote back on the coffee tabled, frustrated.
"Forget it. Stupid thing."
"Hey now, that's not a nice thing to say," the mighty voice of Captain Nature replied.
Carla paused mid page turn. She stared at the TV, blinking disbelievingly. The green costumed Super Hero grinned back.
"Ex... excuse me?" she whispered.
"You heard me. I said: that's not a nice thing to say."
Carla screamed and jumped up on the top of the sofa. Unable to get her balance, she promptly fell off and behind it in a tangle of flailing arms and legs.
She leaning against the back of the sofa, her heart pounding against her chest. What the hell was this? She put a hand up to her forehead. Was she asleep? Sick? Or losing her mind...? The TV can't talk to you!
Breathing as quietly as she could, Carla peaked over the back of the couch and looked nervously at the screen.
"I'm still here," it said.
"Aahh!" cried Carla, getting up and banging her back against the wall. "What are you? What do you want?"
"What am I? Why, I'm Captain Nature of course!" -Tant-dadda-dum-
"I know that," Carla yelled. "Why are you on my television screen talking to me?"
"You tell me! You're the one with issues here."
A chill went down Carla's spine. There was something wrong with this. Something eerily wrong.
"How do you know about that?" she asked.
"How? Why, because I'm Captain Nature of -"
"Stop saying that!" she screamed. She came around from behind the couch and pointed an accusing finger at the grinning big-chinned cartoon. "How do you know about what I've done?"
Captain Nature stood atop his pile of rubbish, hands on hips and chest muscles rippling mightily. The wind flapped his cape. But he didn't answer.
Carla waited, her lips quivering. Nothing to say? Was this in her head? With a sigh she went limp and flopped down on the couch. What was happening to her?
"He knows, you know."
Carla's eyes opened wide.
"What??"
"Ben knows. He knows you did something last night. He knows that money isn't yours. He loves you too much to say anything; he wants to trust you with all his heart. But he knows."
"No!" she screamed. "Shut up! Shut the hell up!" She grabbed a cushion off the sofa and hurled it at the TV. It bounced off the aerial, making the picture go fuzzy for a second. It soon cleared. Captain Nature was still there.
"-a ha ha hah," the TV chuckled. "Heh heh heh. You know it's true."
"You're just a hallucination," Carla sobbed, wide eyed and cradling her head in her hands. "I'm just suffering a break down. Too much guilt. You're not real. You're not real!"
Captain Nature went silent except for the gentle flaps of his cape in the breeze. Then he leaned towards the screen and winked.
"Better answer that phone," he said. -Tant-dadda-dum-
The TV gave a violent flicker, then returned to normal advertisements. Carla sat on the couch, shaking uncontrollably.
"God... oh god... what...?" she choked.
From the bedroom, there were some soft tinkles and a familiar tune began to play.
-
"... find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take. When people run in circles it's a very very..."
Carla stared at her mobile phone, singing and vibrating along her bedside table. It was ringing. Captain Nature had known. But how?
"...mad world... ... mad world..."
Carefully, she edged her way towards the table, more curious then scared. Was it Benny, asking what flavour toothpaste he should buy? Mrs. Icthyman, wanting to abuse her some more? She gulped and reached to pick up the phone. The LCD screen was glowing, displaying some words.
"Unknown Number," it read.
Carla bit her lip. Answer it? Let it ring out? There were only two choices to make, and she had to pick one quickly. The phone had already been ringing for a whole minute. Trembling, she pushed the 'talk' button, and held the phone to her ear.
"H-hello?"
"You," a distorted, electronic sounding voice said. "You stole from me."
Carla couldn't say anything. Her mouth wouldn't work.
"You stole money from me. You stole my card."
"I... I... I..." she stammered.
"They're coming for you. They're going to take you away. Lock you up. Now you'll know how it feels to be screwed over. I can't remember your face. I can't even remember the drunken, sweaty gropefest we shared last night. But soon..."
Carla put a hand over her mouth, stifling any noise.
"They'll find you soon."
"NNNNOOO!" she screamed. She threw the phone with all her strength against the wall. It bounced off and fell behind the bed, out of sight.
"I can't take! I can't take it!" she threw herself onto the bed and curled up in the foetal position. "It's too much. Too much... what is happening to me?"
Gorilla man. Mrs. Icthyman. Captain Nature. Their voices ran through her head; accusing, teasing, terrifying. Benny's voice was in there too, but his words of comfort were drowned out in the sea of abuse.
"Go away," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'll never do it again. I'll be good. I'll love Benny. Just please..."
Everything go away.