Room For One More Mike woke from a troubled sleep with the same phrase playing over and over in his mind: “Room for one more!” He stood in the shower, mentally preparing for his ten-thirty presentation, and yet still those four words ran through his head, breaking each thought into fragments and making it impossible to concentrate. The hot needles of smarting water rained upon his skull, stimulating hair follicles, blood cells and endorphins. He should feel good but for some reason he was perturbed. His dream came back to him with a jolt as he reached out for the shower gel. A big man with a round face leaning over the side of a boat. People below him all reaching out, desperate to get on the boat before…before what? Before they drowned in the icy waters, he supposed. Despite the heat from his water, Mike shuddered involuntarily and his sponge skimmed over the goose pimples that had broken out along his thigh. The rest of the week flew past in a blur of meetings and presentations; he made his monthly bonus and the sun shone. He was the golden child of Spencer, Spencer and Hartley and it seemed as though his life was charmed. On Friday night he met the gang in the pub. Mel felt good in his arms, and he was so proud of his clever girlfriend. There may have been girls in the pub that night who were more classically beautiful, but none could hold a candle to his Mel when it came to comfortable prettiness, quiet intelligence and bright personality. She was tiny and slim and she felt so small and vulnerable in the circle of his huge arms. Mike felt very protective towards her, which would have mortified Mel had she known. She may only be little but she considered herself a force to be reckoned with, and had a tidy temper on her. Mel had been blind since birth and God help anyone who tried to label her handicapped. She knew life no other way than the way it was and she coped just fine, “thank you very much.” It was decided that the next morning the six friends would get together for a day at the theme park just south of Shorehampton. The evening ended for Mike on a glow from a little too much lager and an oozy warm feeling that had to do with smooching round the dance floor with Mel. By lunchtime the next day, his voice was hoarse from describing all the colours and sights to Mel. “Oh, oh,” she would say, jumping up and down excitedly, “what does it look like? What does it look like Mike?” After six months of going steady with Mel, Mike’s powers of description had improved in leaps and bounds. “It’s big” just didn’t work. Mel would want to know how big. If he dared to say something was beautiful, lovely, pretty, hideous or disgusting, Mel would turn to him with a frown of disapproval and he had to go into lengthy observations of why he thought it so. Now he automatically described everything as they went along. In fact, this had got to the point of the ridiculous. One day he was in a meeting with his boss. He asked Mike casually what sort of day it was. “Well,” Mike began, “the sun is not yet completely risen, it’s resting just above the rooftops as though it’s taking a rest before going any further. The clouds are light and look as soft as a comfortable pillow, there’s not a hint of thunder, and the breeze is blowing the honeysuckle on its vine.” Mike had stopped here abruptly, as he became aware of his boss looking at him as though he’d sprouted a second head that spoke only Japanese. His colour had continued to rise as he hastily explained that his girlfriend was blind. Mel would have killed him for that. She hated people being warned in advance of meeting her, as she said they were already prepared to walk on eggshells round her. Mike smiled now at the memory of that day, before embarking on a description of the rapid ride. Of course the words meant little to Mel; she already had her four senses – though Mike disputed that point and argued five because of her uncanny perception. They gave her all the stimulation that she could have. In truth she just loved to hear Mike’s enthusiasm as he detailed their surroundings for her. She didn’t know what sunshine looked like, but she never tired of hearing Mike describe it for her. “Oh no Mel, not another roller-coaster. Please give a poor guy a break, I can’t take much more. It’s all right for you, you can’t see the world looming up at you at a million miles an hour, or the slightly green faces of the people getting off them” “Oh c’mon you big wuss, show me what you’re made of.” Mike lowered his voice and gripped her tightly round the waist. “When I get you home tonight Miss, you’ll be left in no doubt as to what I’m made of.” “Ooh, promises, promises”, she giggled. The others were making their way over to the ‘Pirate Ship’. “Come on you two love birds,” shouted Sandra, “The queue’s not too long for this ride.” The six of them messed around, laughing and joking amongst themselves and with the people before and behind them in the queue. The day was fantastic and everybody on the planet seemed to be in good spirits. Soon they were at the head of the queue. Dave and Sandra, Sally and Jenn all walked the gangplank onto the big ship and seated themselves at the very back. There was only one space left on the ride, beside Sally. “C’mon Mel, get your sea-legs. I’ll tell you when to wave to Mike from the top.” Mel’s eyes shone with excitement; she was unaware how transparently feelings showed on her face and therefore she made no attempt to hide them. She hesitated. “Nah, you’re all right Sal, I’ll take a rain check on this one. See you when you get off.” “Oh for God’s sake Mel, Mike will survive two minutes without you, you know. His world isn’t going to collapse if you go on a ride without him.” “Go on you,” murmured Mike against her slightly moist neck, “I’ll be waiting to escort her ladyship off when it’s finished.” “Room for a little one” said the ride attendant. He looked down at Mel and she shook her head. Mike never failed to be impressed by her perception; she could always ‘feel’ when people were looking at her. Often she would blush crimson and say “Mike, you have been staring at me for five minutes. Stop it.” The man moved his gaze over the queue and announced in a louder voice, “Room for one more!” “Here Mate!” Mike drew his attention back. “My girlfriend’s changed her mind.” Mike gave Mel a gentle push in the small of her back, as Sally came forward to take her hand and guide her into the seat. Suddenly Mike froze. The man’s words had broken his dream. A feeling of mind-numbing foreboding spread from the tips of his toes to disperse throughout his body, before spilling out of his mouth in a gurgled, “Mel, no!” It was too late; the man had secured the safety gates and the ride was already beginning its slow progress into the swinging arc it would become. Gently, it moved in an easy swaying motion backwards and forwards. Each movement brought the ship out at a greater angle. Mike felt physically sick. He began to hyperventilate. He had to get out from the top of the queue of people; all those hot bodies pressing up against him. He had to get out. “Hey mate, you okay?” said his new-found friend with the ‘Super Stud’ T-shirt. Mike didn’t answer, he was already pushing his way against the crowd to ‘freedom’. Once he had barged his way through the claustrophobic barriers and back into the cooling breeze, he tried to regain some semblance of rationale. What was happening to him? “Hey big fella,” shouted a Neanderthal from behind him, “most people puke when they get off a ride, not before they’ve got on.” Mike heard the baboon laughing with his mates. Okay, come on now. Get a grip Mikey. It was only a stupid dream and had nothing to do with fair rides, it was about a shipwreck for Christ’s sake. He laughed at his overactive imagination and tried to forget the man of his dream and his striking resemblance to the ride attendant He took some strong deep draughts of soothing air and felt his diaphragm expanding with the healing oxygen. Gradually he heard his heartbeat slowing as it pounded less and less in his ears, and he began to feel better. He had promised to wave to Mel, so he looked up at the ship sailing through the air at an alarming height above him. It had almost reached its zenith and he watched as he saw Mel held tightly against the back of her seat by the G-force. She was laughing generously and looked as happy as he had ever seen her. Mike liked the way she ‘laughed big’; there was nothing mealy-mouthed about his Mel. He shouted loudly, smiling and waved like a lunatic but his voice was taken away on the wind and lost amongst the clouds. The ship was in its descent. He lip-read Mel mouthing his name and grinned as he saw her waving against gravity. He saw the sickening crunch as much as heard it. And he heard the horror etched on the faces of the riders. Those sounds and visions would come back to him daily for the rest of his life. Mel’s eyes were open wide and her mouth stretched in a scream that he felt both low down in his gut, and higher up in the left side of his chest. The ship lurched a second time, one of its huge girder arms coming loose from its mooring. Mike watched in stupefied horror as the boat discharged its passengers. He watched them disembark messily onto the concrete sixty feet below. So many broken bodies, but Mike only saw the one. Mike thought back five minutes to Sally’s words: “Mike’s world isn’t going to collapse if you go on the ride without him.” Mike watched silently as his world did just that.
Copyright © 2000 Sue (Sooz) Simpson |