Meghan Mallory's Diary

Chapter 5: January 19

Hi everyone, Here's this week's chapter. I hope you're all keeping well. Things are a little crazy busy at the moment but I'm trying to find time to keep a little on top of the writing. I hope you enjoy this week's catch-up with Meghan's diary. Feel free to keep in touch!

Everyone knew Mark Jenson. That's the first thing you should know.

And I was no exception. 

We didn't move in the same circles but like some strange Venn diagram our worlds crossed over and I was drawn into his life.

We were polar opposites. We had so little in common but it was a strange magnetic attraction that brought two such different people together.

It was November 1991.

****

"What's your idea of a perfect life then?" 

The words were shouted over EMF booming loud from speakers in the corner of the room. A pile of CDs littered the floor and people were taking it in turns to play DJ as the night progressed.

The colorful cocktail had loosened my tongue and I shot straight from the hip. "Whatever the future holds, my crystal ball tells me you won't be playing any part in it."

Those were the first words we spoke to each other. Little did I know back then how big a part Mark Jenson would play in the story of my life.

"You still haven't answered my question," he replied, taking my glass and heading to a makeshift bar at the back of the room. Before I could say anything, he'd replenished my drink and guided me outside to the porch.

I wrapped my arms tight around my midriff and cursed for not bringing that jumper I'd left lying on my bed.  

Mark must have seen me shiver. He moved to put his arm around me but I stepped aside a little too quickly.

In fact I moved so quickly I didn't see the loose plank sticking out and suddenly, to my horror,  tripped and fell hard

"Fuck!" My ass hit the floor and the cocktail spilled down my dress, leaving a dark stain. I wasn't hurt so much as totally embarrassed.

"Let me help you," he said, bending over and taking my hand in his. His fingers were long and slender but belied a strength which took me by surprise.

He used his jumper to dab at the stain and then draped it over my shoulder. It was big enough so that the arms dangled down my front, hiding the red splodge from the spilled drink. At this point the alcohol had taken the edge off my unease and I gave him the benefit of my doubt. After all, he hadn't laughed at my fall from grace outside and he was acting like the perfect gentleman.

The party was in full swing and we were confronted by a wall of noise as we walked back inside. Nobody noticed as we pushed our way through sweaty bodies. The laughter and raised voices provided the cloak of anonymity I wished for as Mark thread his fingers through mine and guided me away.

"Let's go back to your life. What do you want to do when we finish our time in LA?" he asked.

We were sat on a bed upstairs and the sound of music was filtering up from the room below. A poster of Paula Abdul was stuck to the wall, corners frayed, and I swear she was looking down on us as we talked.

"I'm thinking of heading off to Europe. I want to see so many things over there. What about you?" 

"I have plans."

I waited but nothing was forthcoming.

"What plans? You can't just leave that hanging in the air," I replied, suddenly eager to know more about what he was thinking.