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I called Simon first thing this morning but he was in the middle of yoga so he said he would call me back.
It gave me time to write down what I wanted to say. My first impulse was to demand to know who that woman was, but Simon is so not into possessiveness. I don't even know if we're exclusive or not. He is for me, but that's probably because I haven't been able to get a boyfriend for a while.
He is always talking about how suburban I am so I don't want to blow this by throwing out accusations. I also don't want him to think I was spying on him, which I wasn't. I had a tiny bit too much to drink and went for a drive and since I don't drink and drive, or drive at all I took a cab. It's quite innocent.
They were only laughing and as far as I know that's not a crime and he got into her car which is also not a crime. There are no crimes, so I shouldn't be upset. He'll probably tell me all about it and I'll feel stupid for being so suspicious.
Simon didn't call me back yesterday. I know he was in because I called and hung up a few times. (I am so glad he doesn't have call display). How long does yoga take?
OK I'm not going to panic. I'll put it out of my mind.
Simon says jealousy reveals a person's lack of esteem and I agree. That's why I'm not jealous, I'm worried about him that's all.
I'm a very secure person.
I finally spoke to him! I called yesterday to see if I left my hair clip there he said he would look for it and that he'd call me back if he found it.
He sounded OK and I'm feeling better already.
Damn. He said he'd call me back if he found it. I should have said "call me one way or the other"
Simon called to tell me he found the hair clip. That is very weird because I didn't leave one there, I just used it as an excuse to call.
I told him, great that I'd like to get it off him and he said that he would drop by later this evening.
That is such a relief.
Who owns the hair clip?
What do I do now? Simon came over at about ten. I was nervous but he seemed to be fine. He gave me this god awful hair clip in the shape of a butterfly which I would not be caught dead in and then he started to tell me about the show.
Although he hasn't said so, I am his muse so I listened and feigned interest in his rehearsal stories. Frankly the whole show sounds stupid to me. It's designed by the school board to help children practice safety. His clown character is always getting in trouble and needs to be told not to eat rat poison or jump from a moving train or whatever. Simon feels the role has deeper meaning and he talked about eggs and symbolism until I thought I was going to scream.
Finally I asked him about the cast, very casually. He blabbed on for a while about the different actors and their roles. I knew all of the people he was talking about so they were of absolutely no interest to me. Then he mentioned two new additions: a guy called David who plays Gordon the Gorilla and a new girl in the group who plays Sally Safety called Sheila.
According to Simon Sheila is:
I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't that. His face started to glow when he talked about her.
I laughed and said kiddingly "Wow, she sounds like quite a gal." He agreed and then talked about her for the next twenty minutes.
I wanted to cry, to scream to do anything but sit there and have him praise another girl but Simon is an artist and it would be a sure-fire way of scaring him off.
I couldn't bear to lose Simon. He is the love of my life.
I've got to think of something.
I haven't heard from Simon for two days. Oh, God, why does love have to hurt so much? I see other couples in love and they don't hurt. Julie and Christine, they're in love with their husbands—at least I think they are although I can't see why—but they're not going through anguish and heartbreak.
I guess that's where being artistic makes a difference. I see things better, I hear things clearer and I feel things more deeply. I have a sensitivity that runs deep within me.
My stupid mother keeps telling me about her stupid wedding plans. As if I care. She asked me if I was bringing "the clown", (I wish I hadn't told her about Simon's art—his gift is wasted on the bourgeoisie) and I burst into tears.
I called Simon to ask him if knows of any good Thai takeaways in my area. I don't like Thai food but he does, so it was a good excuse to call.
I don't get it. He was fine on the phone. We were laughing and joking, he asked if I've done any more writing, I asked about his rehearsals. It was like there was nothing wrong. I hinted that I was free tonight, tomorrow and the day after, but he didn't pick up on it.
I ordered a pizza, drank a 2 litre bottle of coke and ate half a cheesecake.
I feel sick. Being heartbroken is starting to affect my stomach.
I couldn't even look at food today at work. My mother offered to pick me up a bagel at lunchtime but I waved her away very wanly. A normal unselfish mother would be frightened that I would waste away to nothing but not mine. She shrugged and said it wouldn't hurt for me to skip a few meals.
I stapled together four pages of her Wedding Planner when she was gone.
I've been Simon-less for a week now. I can't stand it! I've got to do something.
I couldn't believe it when I saw Sheila up close. She is absolutely no competition for me in the looks department at all. Sure, she looks better in clothes than I do, but men want an attractive face. Especially an artist like Simon.
It was quite awkward just showing up after rehearsal but I had to do it to satisfy my curiousity. Simon looked pleased to see me and I felt reassured until Sheila tottered out stinking of gum and gave him a bag to hold.
She's about my height and about ten pounds thinner. She has highlighted blonde hair, wears lots of makeup and seems to favour pink. I was so relieved when I saw her! She looked like a suburban hooker and there is no way Simon could be interested in that.
I looked so hip compared to her!
As we talked outside the theatre I examined Sheila from head to toe. French manicure, cashmere sweater, tight jeans, high heels, little tiny earrings one ear longer than the other and Simon suggested we grab a coffee.
The rest of the cast demurred so it was just me Sheila and Simon.
We settled in the café and they talked about the director and his narrow vision, or whatever, as I watched. She has the annoying habit of sticking stuff in her mouth. Her finger, a pen, a stir stick—it as if she's afraid her brains will leak out if she doesn't keep it plugged.
I looked to see Simon's reaction and he was lapping it up. How could this be?
The crowning glory for me was when Simon picked a fleck of lint off Sheila's shoulder. The way he did it was so...so intimate. I panicked and poured coffee on my shirt. He tossed me his napkin and went on listening to Sheila burble as if she were giving the Sermon on the Mount.
I slapped a bill on the table and said "Well, I'm going" and Simon merely glanced at me and said "See you".
Oh, God I am heartbroken.
I don't understand!
Excerpt from Jayde: An Extraordinary Woman in Ordinary Times
An Unathorized Autobiography By Jenna Thompson
Special Agent Terence McEwan kicked the door to the abandoned orphanage open. He looked around rapidly, left then right then right then left but there was no one around. He glanced up and saw a door ajar. He took the stairs two at a time and arrived at the manager's office twice as fast as he would have had he taken them one at a time. He peered in the doorway. Papers were strewn everywhere. Files were tossed on the floor and the dust was seriously disturbed. Special Agent McEwen walked over to the desk when he suddenly stopped. There was an unmistakable scent in the air. It was a mixture of tuberose and freesia with a hint of musk.
Terence lifted his nose and sniffed. "Jayde" he said with an air of triumph mixed with regret.
He had missed her by mere hours.
Jayde rode the elevator cross-town and entered Jacob Matlin's office without knocking.
"Did you think we wouldn't find out?" She hissed through perfectly formed teeth and narrowed eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Jacob said alarmedly. He got up and rushed toward the door. Swift as a jungle cat Jayde stopped him.
"I don't think you want to go. Not yet" She produced the evidence; a sheath of papers 6 inches high by 8 inches long by 10 inches wide and threw it on the desk.
Jacob went back to his desk and slumped in his chair.
"We trusted you. You were my father's friend!" Jayde's accusatory yet sexy tone filled Jacob with remorse and he cradled his head in his hands.
"Jayde, you don't understand, this is bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than all of us. Let it lie, take the losses and get on with your life. You must-- otherwise your life is in danger!"
"Who else is involved?" Jayde demanded her voice bouncing off the walls like it was a racquetball court and her voice was a sexy ball.
Jacob got up slowly, walked to the window and jumped out.
*****Continued next week Last week