I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Seventy

Alex spent the rest of the break painting a new picture of me, which required my lying around draped in a cloth. I liked posing for her—she looked at me as if I was beautiful and after a while I came to believe it might be true. A few years before I wouldn't have dreamt of swimming starkers in broad daylight (or any other time, either) and now I was walking around bollocks naked and complaining that I didn't see the point in being draped in the sheet. She made everything all right, all right.

When term began I had to again readjust to not having her around every day. Though I couldn't recall the attack—and I didn't want to admit it—it'd had an effect on me. At first I hadn't noticed, I suppose I'd wanted to remain myself—I wanted to show people that it hadn't changed me—but in small ways it began to manifest itself. One way was that I wanted to be around Alex at all times, or at least be able to find her at a moments notice. Some women who have been raped begin carrying their handbags from room to room with them even in their own house. I had never been the handbag sort, but I wanted to know where Alex was all the time. Whether it was because I felt she would protect me from everything or because I wanted to be certain she wasn't in harm's way I couldn't say, but not being able to see her or talk to her by simply raising my voice created a very real fear. I remedied that by emailing her five times a day and having her install one of those messenger services on her computer at work so during lunch we could chat. Our typical exchanges went:

ImPerfect (8.35.15am): Hi.

ProfMikhail (8.35.35am): Hello, there.

ImPerfect (8.36.12am): What are you doing?

ProfMikhail (8.36.50am): Working.

ImPerfect (8.37.15am): Ok.

ImPerfect (12.12.22pm): What're you doing now?

ProfMikhail (12.22.35pm): Having lunch.

ImPerfect (12.22.48pm): Ooooooh. What're you having? *looks*

ProfMikhail (12.23.30pm): *laughs* You made it!

ImPerfect (12.23.57pm): *grins cutely* I know, I was just making conversation.

So, not the most intellectual of exchanges, but she was patient with me.

Alex had coped in her way, as well. Besides the redecoration of the house and her initial unease over intimacy she'd become more protective in regard to the press. Before the attack she had felt that I should give a little to them—that it was part of being a minor celebrity. But after the way they'd treated us she thought the entire lot were vultures and one evening after Simon had asked me to do a television interview she'd scoffed, 'The only thing journalists are good for is target practice.'

I remarked, 'That's very...Hedda Gabler.'

During the first week of term whilst Alex was at work Gina rang.

'Hello, dear.'

'Hello, Alex isn't in.'

She laughed, 'I wasn't calling to speak to Alexandra. I was wondering if you'd like to come for supper at the weekend.'

'Oh...well...Can Alex come along?'

She laughed again, 'Of course, dear child. I'm inviting the both of you.'

'Oh...okay...I don't know...I mean, I'd like to, but...'

'Do you have a prior engagement?'

'No...am I supposed to ask her? No one has ever invited the both of us out through me before. I'm new at this.' I was embarrassed about not knowing something like that.