She left him alone in the apartment again. Didn't she know he was lost without her? No, she didn't know because he never explained it to her. It would be too much like opening up. He couldn't. Yet every time she left him in the apartment the absence in the room was so intense and he could feel the loneliness plaguing his entire existence like a hollow mothball.
The mess she left. The crumpled bedspread, the unwashed dishes stained with her morning English breakfast of sausages and beans, the dirty towels she's left on the bathroom floor. These details made him desire a profound sense of order and yet made her absence a lot more bearable. Maybe he could immerse himself with tidying it all up. Maybe that could take his mind off her.
He always did have a heightened sense of hygiene. He knew that as he progressed to washing up the dirty towels she left behind. He felt obsessively immersed in her dirt. He was nauseated but he needed it. It was a reminder she was there. The absence begins to feel a lot more bearable as he immerses himself with her chores. Scrubbing up the breakfast-stained dishes. He touches the saucy breakfast stain she's left upon the plate and he licks it. He's aware he has a secret. He's aware there is something he's not told her. His desire for intimacy. He could not fill this void without her.
The clang of metal keys as she opens the lock:
'Calum?' She says. 'Calum, what have you done here?'
The room possesses a heightened sense of order and cleanliness. He's tidied up. The television's off and the room is so quiet, it would seem like nobody's there. The clothes neatly stacked inside the cupboards, the polished floor, the neatly vacuumed rug in the middle, the whitened window ledges. It was all so... clean. Maybe too clean.
Calum's neatly seated by the side of her bed:
'I am lonely,' he says.
He notices as she casually dumps her light brown bag on the floor besides his bed. In two more strides she is sitting on her bed besides him. She shakes off her brown stiletto shoes and comfortingly places her hand upon his shoulder. He can't tell her. He can never tell her. The room disappears and the only thing he is conscious of is her presence beside him. He can feel the bed. It's the only thing he can feel besides her presence. He stiffly moves a cold, robotic arm and slowly brushes a lock of her black hair away from her pink face. This is the moment now. This is where he desires emotion, where he wants her to feel. He closes his eyes as he begins caressing her lips lightly with his own. If she moans, it's a good sign. it would mean she's feeling. However, she doesn't moan. Is she not feeling? She's not feeling. That's the problem. Cold kisses lacking emotion. She abruptly pushes him away. Gradually, he begins to recall her name...
'Marissa,' he says.
She detaches herself from him. She says she needs to use the bathroom. He removes himself from her single bed and takes to lying down on his own bed. No, they do not sleep together. They sleep separately. With his back upon the bed he stares up at the scrubbed-clean cream ceiling. No longer hollow. No longer absent. No longer lonely.
She carefully washes her face in the bathroom. Her breathing is steady. She glares at her pale reflection in the mirror in front above the basin. Droplets of water running down her face. She picks up a towel and dries it, keeping her gaze on the mirror steady. Why does she feel like there's something he's holding back? Why does that feeling never go away? She wants to confront him. There is so much she wants to say but the words never come out when he's there. She's rehearsed it in her mind so many times.
She can't have been in the bathroom too long, yet when she comes out, he's already napping. Take today, for instance. The way he reacted was like he never knew she goes to work every day. It was like he needed reminding again. It was like everything she had to say needed repeating.. again.. and again.. and again.
She glances at him as he naps away peacefully. Angel.. she thinks. The deep understanding she feels for him. His naivety. Yet the quiet that pervades the room is his silence. It's his choice not to open the television in the room or to break that absence. It's the reason he sat there so long appearing not to know when she was returning. Her 9-5 job at the office. She gets home at around six o'clock every week day. It was no different today. Yet the way he sat there waiting in oblivion to the schedule. This man was a perfect specimen. He had no schedule.
She picks up the remote control and turns on the television breaking the quietness. Although the sound is on low, Calum stirs. Marissa looks at him waiting for him to open his eyes. He doesn't.
Her attention turns to the TV screen. The daily news. A woman is refused abortion by the doctors because her decision is based solely on the baby's gender (not revealed). Recent advances in science makes it possible to form the first ever android babies. A discussion on cloning.
Marissa has opinions on these stories. She wants to tell Calum about them. It was difficult having to keep to herself about everything. And that was because he was so quiet. It was because he wouldn't open up. Those gorgeous blue eyes. What were they hiding?
As Calum napped, the light noise of the open television fills his subconscious. It was her. It felt warm. The sound of the news chatters over some of his light dreaming. The dreams floating in front of him like butterflies. He sees a vision of himself naked in the middle of a cold, misty valley:
'I'm not the same, I'm different,' he starts chanting. There's no one there. His chants get louder. Then he dreams of an army of cyborgs fighting in a battle:
'It's my conflict,' he shouts. A vision of an old man appears in front of him:
'Father,' he calls. The old man raises a compassionate hand and touches his face. 'I'm not the same, I'm different,' he says.
'I know, son,' says the old man. Suddenly Calum opens his eyes. Marissa's sitting by his bedside and her hand touches his face. She gazes into his open eyes as he stares back. She's so beautiful, he thinks. She slowly approaches him with her eyes closed and gives him a long lingering kiss on his lips. She's come back for him, he thinks. Her warmth.
'Mmmmm...,' she says. She's moaning. That's good. It means she's feeling. He moans back trying to make a better effort to seem involved in the kiss. He knows she's the only one in his life. He has no one else. He doesn't want no one else. He needs to show her the way he feels for her physically. He needs to give her more. He needs to give her a lot more. She's the only one who completes him, he thinks, as he tries to make his lingering kisses a lot more passionate. He tries to demonstrate a lot more urgency.
'Calum, that's soothing,' she says as his kisses begin to trail towards her neck. Her words give him a meaningful push to involve himself more in the action.
His lips trail from her neckline to her visage and then gradually back up to her lips. He immerses himself with trying to make his kisses longer and more sensual. He continues to need a reaction from her. Her reaction is his only indication but he doesn't know how to elicit it. The next fifteen minutes feels like an eternity, as the two are involved in deep passion, feeling hungry and needy. For those fifteen minutes, Marissa makes no sound. She is completely wrapped up in their passion together. Her lack of speech is no indication and he pushes her away.
'What's wrong?' She says.
'Were you.. um.. enjoying that?' He asks. She kisses him softly behind his ears.
'Of course,' she says, 'why wouldn't I?' She gazes at him adoringly and his sharp blue eyes stare back. Gradually, she narrows her eyes. Once again, it appears to her like he's holding back. Like there's something he's not saying.
'Do you want to stop?' She asks. He doesn't reply and she gets off of his bed to sit on her own. The television is still on. Whatever he needs to say, she won't force it out of him. She won't make him uncomfortable. A black-and-white movie is airing on screen and Marissa tries to absorb herself in the details of the film. As the pictures flicker Marissa realises she's not paying attention. There are still other things on her mind. Such as Calum. I need to get out of here, she thinks. The room was beginning to feel oppressive. She needed some space from this. From him.
'Calum, I'm going to take a walk outside,' she says. 'I'll bring us some pizza on the way back.' Calum says nothing.
Marissa wears her shoes and picks up her bulky brown bag as she makes her way out:
'OK, I'll be back soon, honey,' she says. She leaves.
Calum listens to the sound of the closing locks as she goes. Leaving him in a loss of her absence again. But she'll be back soon, he reassures himself. With pizza. Calum gets up and walks to the kitchen. He looks out of the kitchen window at the dull, gray day. He sees a bustle of people walking down the high street from the kitchen window of the apartment. He recalls how there are sometimes groups of protesters who would walk down these very roads holding signs up saying, 'ban government cloning.' It niggled at the very root of his existence and he shivered.
Momentarily, he was affected by a pang of amnesia and the absence in the room made him wonder where she had gone. He sat by the side of her bed and waited.
There was a knock on the door and Calum got up and opened it. A young girl wrapped in a scarf stood outside and her sweet voice called out to him:
'Can you sponsor my cause, Sir?' She says. He takes out some loose change from his trouser pockets and hands it to her.
'Thanks much, Sir,' she says.
Her gratitude compels him, but as he shuts the door on her, he says nothing. The buzz from the television is the only sound in the room. He leaves it on because it reminds him of her. It's how she's left it. How much longer will he have to wait before she came back?
'I'll be back soon, honey,' he recalled. It was... pizza. Ah, yes. Pizza. She was bringing pizza. That was something he could occupy himself with. Preparing the table before she came back. He occupied himself deeply in the act of setting up the forks and knifes and neatly preparing the dining room table. The napkins too. He lit up a wax candle and placed it at the centre of the table as well as a vase with a single red rose inside it. It made him feel passionate. The moments went by minute after minute. The room harboured a deep sense of absence and silence although with the TV on. The jangle of keys in the locks. Marissa was back. He almost forgot that she's... brought back pizza.
'Oh, you've set the table,' she says. As she looks at him he gradually realises.. he did. 'How romantic,' she exclaims, 'A candlelit dinner.' He blinks, gazing at the candlelight and at the rose.
'Darling, let's tuck in,' she says, kissing him on the lips. 'I'm hungry.'
How did she do that? He thought. How did she make this scene come so alive? The table. The candlelight. The rose. It was all her. He gazed at her noticing every part of her face as it moved. As she spoke to him:
'Peperami. You like peperami, right?'
'Yes..' he says.
The taste of the pizza. It was perfect. The way the hazel of her eyes sparkled as she spoke. He was in paradise.
Marissa notices the signs as he gazes at her while she speaks. A man of so few words. He continues gazing at her unashamedly and without a blink of an eye. Chewing on his meal very slowly. Mechanically. Those attractive blue eyes eyeing her up. Making her feel sexy. After a few glasses of wine she begins to get tipsy. She notices that he's had no wine. She feels like she wants him to make passionate love to her but she knows it's the alcohol speaking. Wasted. Calum was too respectful to do that. Bringing her napkin to her lips, she yawns tiredly:
'Darling, I think I might take to bed now,' she says flirtatiously.
'OK, goodnight,' he says, failing to notice her suggestions. 'I'll clear up, don't you worry about it,' he says. It's been a long day for both of them and she has work tomorrow. He's right, she has to go to sleep, but if he'd tried, she would not have said no. Even while her head was spinning and his figure was looking so blurred in her vision, she was desiring him. She leans over the table and with her eyes half closed she gives Calum a light goodnight kiss on the lips.
'OK, I'll leave you to it,' she says stumbling over her own feet as she makes her way to bed.
It was his favourite part of the day. Just having her there sleeping while he clears away. Her presence. Reassuring him. No longer making him feel hollow. He knows she'll have to go away again tomorrow. He knows her absence will make him feel empty. But not now, because now she was here. Lightly breathing as she slept away. The soft tones of the night and the moonlight streaming in from the kitchen window. He looks out upon the high-street and notices there is nobody there. He places the plates in the sink, then he gets dressed for bed.
The moment he closes his eyes, some light dreams start to sail above him. It was like counting sheep. An old man materialises in from of him:
'You still haven't told her, have you, son?'
'No, father,' he says.
'Is she the one?' asks the man.
'Yes,' he says.
'Then you're going to have to tell her.' Calum knows the old man is right. It's going to have to come from him.
When Calum wakes up in the morning Marissa is sitting by the side of his bed. She's biting her lip and she's distracted.
'Calum, what happened last night? Why aren't the dishes washed up?' She asks. From her tone he realises that something's wrong. Something's really wrong. For a start she should be gone. But she wasn't. She was here:
'Why aren't you gone?' he asks.
'Gone?' She replies. Surely he means her 9-5 work at the office. Marissa bites her lip.
'Why aren't you gone?' Calum asks again.
'Calum, I'm pregnant,' she says.
'Pregnant?' He asks. He doesn't quite know what that means.
'Yes,' she says, 'I've just tested and it's positive.
It's impossible, he thinks, she can't be pregnant. He reaches out for her hand and holds it within the cold enclosures of his own.
'Marissa, I need to tell you..' he says.
'Yes..?' She asks.
'I was born half android,' he reveals. There's a pause and a moment where they're both staring at each other in silence. He looks at her for some reassurance.
'I mean the baby, I don't know how that could be.'
'Half android?' She asks, 'What does half android mean?'
'I mean the baby we're having together,' he says, 'It's the reason I told you. I had to.'
She doesn't let go of his hand and that's a good sign. In fact her grip tightens.
'You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to tell me that,' she breathes. She's relieved that he's told her but he's not. The truth begins to cut at the very core of his existence and for the first time he is identifying with the reality of what he's admitted and it doesn't feel pleasant. He searches her face for some consolation and although he feels the compassion in her words, there is no reassurance. For the first time for a very long time he desires that she is not there. He needs some alone time. One thousand different ways to tell her this seeps through his mind at the same time but none of it begins to be translated into words. He seems to have forgotten that he's going to have a baby and his mind is completely wrapped up solely on his one issue. The fact that he's told her. The fact that it is all now true. While previously he'd been able to deny it all. To fool himself to believing that he was actually normal. That he was not any different to her at all. Now everything had changed and he had no idea how he would cope.
'I want you to go. Please go.' He says. She fails to understand why he pushes her away. Not after she's announced they're going to have a baby. Her eyes swell up with the tears she quickly brushes away before he notices. She does as he requests and leaves the apartment. Although her boss has given her the day off, that's where she would be heading. To the office. The day's activities will take her mind off what's making Calum unhappy.
Calum sits solitary in the apartment but this time her absence is welcome. He needs much more time to himself. She'll be back soon today but he needs a lot more alone time than that. The unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink reminding him of last night's romantic dinner. So much has changed since then. Why aren't the dishes washed up? She had asked. The dishes. It was her. It was an unneeded reminder of what happened. An unpleasant memory of the truth. He can't face her now. He could probably never face her again.
Calum takes out a small suitcase. He empties all of his clothes from the side cupboard into the suitcase. He reaches out for a pen and scrawls a small note for Marissa leaving it somewhere she will see it. Calum exits the apartment. He's gone.
The keys jangle over the locks as Marissa enters the apartment room.
'Calum,' she calls, searching the rooms and the bathroom but it appears the apartment is empty. The previous night's dishes are washed. The beds are neatly made. The whole place is looking.. so clean. Marissa spots a single white note lain on the duvet of her bed. She picks the note up and reads:
I need some time to come to terms with these revelations. It reads. Won't be returning.
Her eyes swell up as the tears start streaming down her face. He's left her alone. To manage a baby. She couldn't. Not by herself. Marissa reaches out for the telephone and makes a call:
'Hello, doctor?' She says. 'I would like some information on abortion.' It was her and the baby but there would be no baby. Not while she's alone. Not while Calum's not there. She would manage her life perfectly well without him. She didn't need Calum. She doesn't need him.