The Switch Ch. 09

Val pulled into his driveway and put the car into park. He made no move to get out. He liked the song that was playing, and he was no rush to go inside, anyway. There was no one to greet him. No one to be excited that he was coming home.

Maybe he should get a dog. Would a dog be happy to share a home with six cats? And an owner who was now travelling more and more for work? Gavin hadn't done much travelling when he was a lowly store manager, but the senior executives in his company had taken a newfound shine to Val, and were sending him here, there and everywhere.

The song ended, and he turned off the ignition. He glanced at the passenger seat and saw his speeding ticket and license still sitting there. He'd ignored them for the past ten days, but today was pay day, so he should probably pay the fine while he was still somewhat flush with cash. He was making an effort to save money this year. He hadn't touched a cent of his raise, but it got tempting to dip into the extra money when unexpected bills arose.

Muffin snuck out from under a bush and wound herself around Val's leg as he tried to make his way to the front door. He cursed the stupid animal under his breath as he unlocked the front door and walked inside.

He glanced at the speeding ticket to see what he owed. Only wait, it wasn't a speeding ticket, it was just a handwritten note.

Aimee will be at Miles' house this coming Saturday. She still talks about you a lot. It might be worth coming along.

p.s. slow down arsehole. You'll kill someone sooner or later

The note had been written ten days ago. The party had already come and gone. Val swore under his breath. Goddamnit. Why had he not looked at the paper Oliver had given him? He could have just shown up to Mile's house, 'accidentally' run into Aimee, and possibly explained himself to her. Apologised. Asked her to forgive him for treating her like she was nothing more than a potential mother for his baby.

Val pulled out his personal phone - the screen was still smashed - and texted Oliver. He apologised for not showing up on Saturday.

Oliver's response came quickly. He must've been awake and off duty.

Val, there's no polite way to say this, and I'd rather you hear it from me. I thought you weren't interested in her. I took her home on Saturday night. Sorry mate.

Took her home for what? Sex? Games? Val took a deep breath. He resisted the urge to peg his phone at the wall. It was a small community. Incestuous was a good way to describe it. Everyone slept with everyone else. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary to have a friend sleep with an ex-partner.

He frowned. The bigger question was; what was Aimee doing at Miles' house? Why had she gone there on her own? Val picked up his phone and asked Oliver that very question.

She wanted to know what it was about

Val put the phone down and walked away. He couldn't deal with that. Not when he'd put so much effort into keeping her ignorant, in the - stupid - belief that she wouldn't be interested. He'd been so scared of frightening her off that he hadn't given any thought as to what she might want.

He kicked his shoes off, went to the bedroom and climbed into bed. Depression was a bitch of a thing to deal with, but it taught him this; he could do a hell of a lot of sleeping if he wanted, and sleep was a bloody good way to avoid dealing with life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aimee parked her car and checked her make-up. She didn't normally wear make-up during the week, but she was wearing it this afternoon. Why? Because irrespective of the fact that they'd broken up several months ago, she wanted to be pretty for Val.

'Excuse me!'

The voice rang out as Aimee was getting out of her car. She locked the door and turned to face the woman who was calling out.

'Did you want me?' Aimee asked.

The woman nodded. She carried a plastic bag. She looked angry. Aimee looked around, wondering what the hell was going on.

'Here,' the woman said, shoving the bag into Aimee's arms. 'Give your goddamn boyfriend his goddamn cat.'

Aimee looked in the bag. She shouldn't have. Pink Panther lay unnaturally still in the bag. There was vomit around his mouth. Aimee gently placed the bag on the ground and felt the feline's soft fur.

'He's already dead,' the woman said. 'The rest will follow.'

The woman stalked back across the street. Aimee wanted to get in her car and run the stupid cow down. How dare she? How fucking dare she?

Without thinking, Aimee picked up a rock and threw it at the woman. The rock connected with her head, and she fell forward. Aimee waited to see if the woman was badly injured. She wasn't. She was, however, furious.

'No, don't you start on me you stupid fucking mole,' Aimee yelled. 'You stay over there, and you keep away from the cats. You come over here, or you touch one of those animals, and I'll fucking kill you. I don't care what birds they kill. I don't care where they shit. If you touch one more goddamn cat, I'll fucking kill you.'

The woman stood, stock still, and stared.

'Fuck you, bitch,' Aimee swore. 'Turn around right now, or I'll call the police.'

Aimee won the stare-down. The other woman walked back to her house, muttering. Aimee watched her head inside and shut the door behind her.

Shaking with rage and adrenalin, Aimee walked up to Valery's door and knocked. His car was parked in the driveway, so she knew he must be home. He didn't answer. She tried knocking again. The result was the same; no answer.

Aimee knelt down at the door and opened the plastic bag. Pink Panther's body was still soft and warm, but there was definitely no heartbeat. How could anyone be so heartless? Pink Panther loved people. He loved killing birds, too, but Aimee had always forgiven him for that small sin.

The door swung open. Valery stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

'Val,' she said. 'The woman across the road poisoned Pink Panther.'

Valery look at Aimee, the cat, and the house across the road. He looked confused. Sleepy. He must have been having a nap when she knocked on the door.

He knelt down beside her and touched his cat. 'He's dead.'

She nodded. 'I know. The woman across the road said she poisoned him.'

He stroked the feline's fur reverently. The juxtaposition between his strong hands and the cat's delicate body made her heart skip a beat. She remembered the first time she laid eyes on him. She'd been so intimidated by him. Then he'd smiled, and invited her home, and the next thing she knew she'd fallen wildly in love with an outrageous man who cooked naked, had a horde of cats, and gave outstanding cunnilingus.

She'd loved his smile. Loved the way he smelt, the way he touched her, the way he made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Water dripped onto Pink Panther's orange fur. Aimee glanced up, and was shocked to see Valery crying. She'd thought maybe he'd storm across the road to confront the woman. Maybe yell and swear and threaten. She'd never expected him to cry.

'Sorry,' he muttered roughly, picking up the cat. 'It's not a good day. And I try to keep the stupid animals inside, but they always bolt out the door when I try and leave for work.'

She followed him inside his house. It smelt the way she remembered; cat, naphthalene and coffee mixed together. He put Pink Panther on the kitchen table, brushed his hands on his shirt, and asked what she was doing here.

'I wanted to give you the money to have your phone fixed. I'm sorry it's taken so long. Christmas was a nightmare, and I had a bit of time off having the hysterectomy... it was the hospital parking, and takeaway while I was recovering that really cost a lot, actually... sorry. Here it is.'

She reached into her purse, withdrew the cash and held it out. She'd rung a phone repair company a few weeks ago to find out the cost, and had cut every budgeting corner she could to come up with the money.

Valery shook his head. 'I don't want your money. The phone still works.'

'Please take it.'

'No.' He took the cash and shoved it in her handbag. 'Aimee, I know why you looked through my phone. I would have done the same thing. I wasn't angry with you, I was just angry that Linda's bullshit was still causing problems for me.'

She bit her lip. 'Are you sure?'

He nodded. 'Can I get you a coffee? Or do you need to be off?'

She hesitated. 'Okay,' she agreed. 'A coffee would be nice. I'm in no rush. Ben's going to some church thing with my Mum tonight. They're putting on an Easter egg hunt for the kids. They think it's a bit sacrilegious to do it on Easter Sunday.'

'Still not keen on religion?' he asked with a wry smile.

She smiled back. 'I'm starting to make peace with it.'

He made them both a cup of coffee. They stood in the kitchen and drank it, rather than sit at the kitchen table with Pink Panther's sad, limp, corpse. She smiled cautiously at him, and he smiled back. Why oh fucking why did she have to have had cancer? She would have happily had a child with him.

'You saved my life,' she said suddenly. 'I've been wanting to tell you that for months. Thank-you. Without you, I never would have gone to the doctor. Never would have had a pap smear. I would have died, and Ben would have been left without a mother.'

He shrugged. 'It wasn't anything to do with me. I just wanted to stop using condoms.'

'Actually, it had everything to do with you,' she replied. 'But I'm not here to argue.'

'What are you doing here?' he asked.

She took the money out of her handbag and tried to give it to him again. 'This. I wanted to give you this.'

'I don't want your money.' He put his coffee mug down and stared at her. 'When is Ben being dropped off?'

'Mum's taking him to the centre tomorrow on her way to work.'

'So you have the night off?'

She nodded.

'Good. I want you to make me dinner.'

She smiled at the ridiculousness of the request, and shook her head. 'No. I can't cook; you know that.'

'No, actually, I don't. You never once cooked for me. I want you to do it tonight.'

She'd forgotten how intense his gaze was, and how forceful he could be. The way he made it abundantly clear that when he wanted something, he intended to get it.

Aimee placed her coffee down on the bench. It was slowly coming back to her. His instructions. Her protests. Their little play fights that ensued when he pushed her too far, fights which always culminated in one of them claiming dominance and, ergo, an odd sort of victory.

'Please,' he added, glancing at the kitchen table. 'I need to go out the back and bury Pink Panther. I don't want to be alone tonight. Take my mind off it.'

She nodded. 'Okay.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wept as he dug a hole for Pink Panther. The other cats came out to watch him, and to judge for themselves whether or not their brother was truly gone.

Valery was not oblivious to the oddity of the scene; a tall, creepy looking Russian man crying as he buried a dead animal, while five felines looked on with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. The light was fading, and the mosquitoes were out in force. He slapped at a large Scotch Grey that landed on his arm, and grimaced at the smear of blood that sprung from it's corpse.

Aimee approached. She carried an old blue polar fleece blanket, and she carefully wrapped up Pink Panther and kissed the top of his ginger head. She offered the bundle to Valery. He laughed at his own idiocy as he stroked the animal's fur for the last time. Poor kitty. He'd loved the stupid animal so much.

It was dark by the time Pink Panther was interred, and Valery was covered with mosquito bites. Aimee, too, was scratching at her arms. He looked at her and felt nothing but love. How could a man not love a woman who didn't laugh at him for crying over a cat?

'Come inside,' she said, taking his arm. 'The pasta's probably finished cooking.'

'What did you make?'

'Spaghetti bolognaise. I used a jar of the sauce you have in your freezer.'

Valery mentally calculated how long they'd been outside. It had to have been at least ten minutes. The only pasta he had was fresh egg pasta, which would have only taken a couple of minutes to cook.

'We should probably take the cats inside, too,' she said, eyeing up the assortment of moggies.

That was a good idea. It wasn't as if the pasta was going to be salvageable, so they may as well get the cats inside. Together, they chased, grabbed and bribed the felines inside. With two people, it was a quicker than usual process. Or, maybe, the cats had just sensed that Pink Panther's death was no accident.

They went inside and Aimee checked on dinner. The pasta, when she inspected it, was as gluggy as he'd anticipated.

'Sorry,' she apologised, poking at it. 'I thought it'd be like regular pasta.'

'It's okay. The bolognaise will be fine, just make up some more.'

He poured them each a glass of wine and set the table while she cooked up a second batch of pasta. It seemed so surreal to be having dinner with her, and yet it felt so right. It had taken them no time at all to fall into their familiar patterns.

'You should probably check on the spaghetti,' he suggested, eyeing off the pot.

She got a fork and tried to remove a strand, but it kept slipping from her grip. He reached into the boiling water, plucked out a piece and chewed it.

'It's ready,' he said.

She looked at him incredulously. 'Didn't that hurt?'

He shrugged. 'You get used to it.'

Aimee shook her head at him as she drained the spaghetti and heaped it onto two plates. Valery rummaged through his drawers, found some weed, and rolled two joints.

'You want?' he asked her.

She hesitated. 'I don't like driving stoned. You know that.'

'So stay the night.'

She turned away, and concentrated on heaping bolognaise onto the plates. 'I can't have kids,' she said quietly. 'I had a hysterectomy, remember?'

'I know,' he agreed. 'I'm sorry. I, ah, Aimee... Aimee, I love you. Please stay.'

She spun around and stared at him. He shrugged defensively. He probably shouldn't have blurted that out, but it was something he'd wanted to get off his chest.

'What about all those children you wanted to have?' she asked.

He smiled thinly. 'I decided a few months ago I needed to be happy with what I have. Can you remember that night when Bella found out we were a couple and got angry?'

She nodded.

'Until that night I never really considered that she might actually see me as her father. I just assumed I was some odd male who wanted to be part of her life. I got a promotion a few months ago. I've been putting aside the extra money, and I've spoken to her mother. She's coming to Russia with me at the end of the year. I thought it might be nice for her to learn a bit about her heritage.'

'Wow,' she remarked. 'That sounds really cool.'

He smiled, more genuinely this time. 'I hope so. I'm really looking forward to it.'

'You're an amazing father, you know that?'

'No,' he replied. 'You're a far better mother than I am father.'

She snorted. 'I doubt that.'

'We'll have to agree to disagree.' He offered her the joint. 'So do you want to stay?'

She plucked it from his fingers, and took the lighter from the bench. 'Sure.'

They smoked in silence, and sat down at the table to eat the spaghetti she'd cooked. He'd eaten far worse from people who apparently had qualifications and experience. The pasta was perfect.

He just wished she'd responded to his 'I love you'. He wanted to know how she felt. Did she still have any sort of feelings for him? Or was she moving on? Did she like Oliver? Fuck, that was a horrendous thought. He could cope with her sleeping with him, but entering a relationship with him... it would kill him if he had to see them together.

'Are you seeing anyone?' he asked.

Aimee shook her head. 'No. You?'

'No.' Val dug into his spaghetti and tried to phrase his next statement as delicately as he could. 'I heard you went to Miles' get together on Saturday.'

Her eyes darted up. She knew what he was driving at. At the very least, she knew that he knew about Oliver.

'I decided to give it a whirl,' she said. 'I was always curious...'

'What did you think?'

Aimee paused. She frowned as she considered her answer. 'It was harder than I thought. It made me question how much he was saying he really meant, and how much was a game. He...' She paused. 'You know who I went with, don't you?'

'Oliver.' He confirmed. 'And by 'how much was a game', were you trying to establish whether or not he truly felt that way towards you or not?'

She nodded. 'That's what I struggled with. He asked me to stay afterwards. He tried to kiss me, but I couldn't do it. It was... it was too personal. I never understood why prostitutes don't kiss, but on Saturday night, I realised why. It's hard to reconcile a loving or intimate type of affection with that kind of brutality.'

Valery took a sip of wine. 'It's an outlet for him. Probably because he has two kids with special needs and a job that involves following procedures and processes, while letting assholes get away with screwing over the system. He needs an 'out'. That's his out.'

'Is that what it is to you?'

'No.' He put his glass of wine down and leant across the table. With each passing minute, concentrating on the conversation got more difficult. 'To me, it's a game. When I'm feeling aggressive, I like mock rape. I like my partner to struggle, to scream and kick and fight. Don't ask me why; I've spent more than enough time trying to analyse it. At the end of the day, the mind likes what it likes.'

'Is that what you wanted to do to me the first night I came over?'

'Sort of. I wanted to tie you down and force you into orgasm. I love watching you orgasm. You get wild.'

She flushed. 'Oh. I see. So, um, if you're feeling submissive...'

He shut his eyes. He was pleasantly buzzed. He thought about tying her up. Making love too her. Seeing her squirm. How would he tie her up? Rope? Leather cuffs? Or could he just get a nice, long length of thick ribbon and use that?

'Val,' she prompted.

'Sorry,' he apologised. 'I was drifting off there. What were we talking about?'

She giggled. 'You being um... were we up to the cross dressing, or the submissiveness? I can't remember. The, um, the weed is starting to do it's thing.'

He laughed. 'Yep.'

They sat across the table from one another and smiled stupidly. A more mature and adult-like couple would probably have sat down, sans marijuana and red wine, and calmly discussed their problems. Well, fuck it, they weren't that couple.

'Where did you get the grass from?' she asked. 'That lot kind of just crept up on me.'

'Mmm, me too.'

She looked at him and burst into laughter. 'Holy fuck, Val. You have no idea how much I loved you.'

He felt a slow smile creep across his face. 'Really?'

'Yes, really.'

'Can we try again?'

Aimee nodded. 'Sure. Do you want to?'

'Of course.'

She looked at him expectantly. It occurred to him that she was waiting for him to make the next move. She'd only ever seen him as the aggressor. The dominant one. Theoretically she may understand that he often took a different role, but it was still too much of a mental adjustment for her. Never mind; she'd get there. He'd see to that.

He got up and walked over to her side of the table and held out a hand. She took it, and rose.

'I think we should consummate our agreement,' he suggested.

Aimee giggled. 'You sound so proper.'

He swatted her on the bum. She yelped and glared at him.

'Don't give me that,' he reprimanded her. 'If you went with Oliver, you can cope with that.'

'No, actually, I think he went easy on me.'

Val grinned. 'I won't. Do you remember your words?'

'I do.'

'Good. Remember to fight me. I like force. Ready?'

She bit her lip. 'I actually need to use the bathroom first. Is that okay?'