Soft Focus

10Jul08

A horror story: Sarah’s idea of doctoring her cheating lover’s contact lenses so he can see her rival as she really is doesn’t go to plan.  Originally published in Unhinged.

 

Soft Focus

Sarah put the radio on so that she didn’t have to focus on her own thoughts.  She cursed, regreting telling Nick about ‘Project Fun’.  She wasn’t even sure why she’d bothered.  Nick didn’t understand the science, even though it seemed baby-ish simple to her: a form of hallucinogen was smeared over the lens to recreate hallucinogenic visions without the user taking drugs.  It was just one facet of a multifaceted approach of some government initiative to look into the drugs problem as statistics he’d been gathering showed that in 2005 drug taking amongst the middle classes had soared and drug users wanted every more sophisticated ways of getting high without the negative side effects of increasing doses.
        But the fact she’d used one of her formula-rich monologues and had lost him somewhere in her opening sentence might save her yet.
        Sarah wondered what excuse Nick would give this time for being late, for not cooking her the dinner he’d promised.  She knew he was with that slag opposite, the one who only wore low cut dresses that clung to her generous figure, who was always in make-up at 7:30 am even though she didn’t work.  Sarah looked down at her fraying lab coat over her tee shirt and jeans that hung on her bones.  Her dishwater blonde hair was still scraped back in the careless pony-tail.  Sarah’s make-up only came out on those scarce special occasions.
        Nick described her as having a ballerina figure once: not a piece of excess fat anywhere.  But her long hours were taking their toll: she could look in a mirror and count her ribs.  Perhaps it was no great mystery as to why Nick preferred to spend time with voluptous Laura.
        The sound of a key in the flat door lock interrupted Sarah’s thoughts.  The key was being wriggled as if the person trying to open the door had already had one too many.
        “Sarah!  You’re early!” he sounded a little too pleased to see her as she switched off the radio.  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t phone.  I got hauled in for a meeting at a moment’s notice and I couldn’t get away.”
        Her cold blue eyes looked him over as if trying to detect a flaw in his story.
        “I’ll go and get a take out,” he suggested.  “Your usual vegetarian curry?”
        Sarah nodded and turned towards the kitchen.
        Nick scurried out.
        By the time he returned Sarah had laid out plates and cutlery on the kitchen table.  Nick shared out the contents from the foil cartons on to the plates.  They ate in silence.  Sarah spooning forkfuls of curry and rice into her mouth and nibbling rodent-like until she’d created enough space for the next forkful.  Nick gathered up bite-sized piles of food and chewed slowly.
        “I think I’ll turn in,” began Sarah, when she’d finished eating.  “We’ve a new project to work on and, as usual, haven’t the resources to research or develop it properly within the time scale given.  Sometimes I think we need a PR consultant to explain to the accountants what exactly R and D is for in the optics industry.”
        Nick nodded.  Absent-mindedly he rubbed his eye.  His contact lenses irritated when he felt tired.  They were new self-cleaning lenses Sarah had worked on for her company.
        Two hours later, Sarah was disturbed by Nick’s weight falling into bed.  As usual he lay with his back to her, his breathing as relaxed as a baby’s.
        Sarah got up and wandered through into their lounge, intending to go to the kitchen for a glass of water.  However, she couldn’t resist looking across to the house opposite.
        Laura’s lights were on but curtains were open, despite the net lining the windows, Sarah had a perfect view.  Laura was in a lavender-coloured dress.  Not that the lavender dress was about to stay on her for long.  A tall dark haired man kissed her and ran his fingers through her rich, chestnut-coloured hair.  Laura loosened his tie and begun unbuttoning his shirt.  Her dress dropped to the floor, revealing her lightly tanned skin, her softly curved hips and generous breasts, their nipples already erect.  Her visitor pushed her down onto the deep pile rug.
        Sarah sighed and went to the kitchen.  She decided to have a calming herbal tea instead of water.  As she crossed the lounge to return to the bedroom, Laura and her visitor were still coupling.  And Nick wanted to be with this slag.
        Sarah looked down at her empty hands as if expecting to see something she could throw, something to hurl against Laura’s windows and tell her the game was up.  She was not going to walk off with Nick.  Sarah would make sure of that.

 Nick heard the thud of mug on bedside table before realising Sarah was in the room.
        “You needn’t think I don’t know you’re awake,” he heard her saying in her sharp, squeaking voice.  “I’ll be off in a minute.  What time are you leaving?”
        Sarah watched him find some tissue to mop up the spilt tea while he thought of an answer.  She glanced at the alarm clock.  Seven-thirty already.  She folded her arms across her chest and resisted the temptation to tap her foot.  “Well?  I’ve not got all day, like some people seem to.”
        “I’m working at home today.  Result of last night’s meeting.  I’ve got to pull together some figures and produce a credible report to prove my boss’s theory.”
        “I might be late again,” was Sarah’s departing comment.

Nick watched her leave then lay back in bed.  He had no intention of drinking the tea Sarah had made him.  She’d never made a decent cup in the five years they’d been together.  Five years and he still couldn’t bring himself to tell her it was over.  Their relationship was like an old suit you wore as it looked good on you once and still wore as the new suit wasn’t comfortable yet.
        He swung himself out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and slipped on a pair of shoes.  Nick carried the mug of now cold tea out to the kitchen and emptied it down the sink, leaving the tap running for a few seconds to rinse away any trace of the tea.
        Then he went to the bathroom and stretched the neck of his tee shirt to roll deodorant under his armpits.  He shaved, then ran his fingers over his jawline to check he wouldn’t give Laura stubble-burn when she kissed him.  Generously he splashed aftershave on and washed his hands while the sting from the scent subsided.
        Nick looked for his contact lens case.  He was sure he’d put it next to his razor, but found it further along the shelf near the bottle of perfume he’d bought Sarah, although she’d never used it.  He shrugged.  Maybe his memory wasn’t what it used to be.  Nick put his lenses in.
        He looked at the bottle of perfume.  If Sarah had never used it, perhaps she wouldn’t miss it.  Nick picked it up and went back to the bedroom.  He used a piece of tissue to wipe the dust off the bottle.  Then opened the drawer in Sarah’s wardrobe.  She always lined the drawers with tissue paper.  It was a waste of time him trying to use wrapping paper to wrap the bottle.  Nick was in luck: Sarah had used pink tissue paper and pink was Laura’s favourite colour.
        Carefully carrying the perfume, Nick made his way to Laura’s.
        “For me?” her delight seemed as broad as her smile when she opened the door and saw the present Nick gave her.  “You’re spoiling me.”
        “Beautiful women deserve to be spoilt,” he responded.
        Nick rubbed his eye.  Laura looked as if she were in a soft focus photograph.  In fact her flat was taking on that appearance: edges of objects were blurring and fading into each other.  The white deep pile rug looked like a melting ice cube in a whisky-and-soda drink of amber carpet.
        “Perfume!  Nick, it’s lovely!”
        He could just about hear the enthusiasm in Laura’s voice.
        “Nick?”
        He tried to look towards her.  She held the perfume bottle in front of her.
        “Nick, are you OK?”
        Experimentally he slowly shut one eye, “Shifted contact lens,” he commented.
        He opened his eye and stifled a scream by clamping his hand across his mouth.
        A two-headed Laura moved towards him.
        “Nick?”
        Two mouths opened.  The tops of her heads bent back as if hinged at her ears.  Her lower jaws dropped and continued dropping until they reached the deep pile melted ice cube.  And her flesh seemed to expand, ballooning out beyond the perfume bottle that had shrunk to the size of a contact lens.
        “Nick?”

“What’s that stupid sod done now?” Sarah demanded as she reached Laura’s house.
        “Can’t you see?” even though she sounded as if she’d been crying, her eye-make up was still perfect.
        “Oh, my God!”  Sarah fell back against the entrance hall wall, but didn’t completely lose her balance.  Nick was lying face down at the bottom of the stairs, his neck horribly twisted and one leg clearly broken.  “Oh, my God!” Sarah echoed.
        “He said there was something in his lens, then fell.”
        Sarah heard Laura’s comment from somewhere behind her as she tried to steer herself outside although her legs didn’t want to cooperate.  With a hand against a street lamp for balance, Sarah leant over and vomited into the gutter.  “But, they’re self-cleaning,” she quietly told herself.
        “There’s an ambulance on its way, but I thought you’d like to know.”
        Sarah leant against the lamp post, turning her back on her vomit, but not turning to face Laura’s open front door and Nick’s body.  Vaguely she was aware of sirens in the background.  She looked at Laura who was checking her lipstick in a hall mirror.
        “I don’t feel too good,” Sarah uttered faintly.

Emma Lee

 

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