Two minutes later, Freddie and Mary walked back into the flat.  I decided to make myself scarce; I ran upstairs.  On one hand, these two needed a little space.  But more personally, I wanted to postpone Freddie's wrath for as long as I was able.  I'd heard frightful rumors of his temper; even he said it was monstrous.  And from that withering look I'd received moments ago, I had effortlessly invoked it.  Lucky me.

First things first, I discarded my scandalous towel and put on the most chaste outfit I could find.  My heart ached in embarrassment enough for both Freddie and me.  Why would she just barge in like that? I thought.  No knock, no call-ahead, no nothing.  Just a key into the hole, click-clack, and she was in.  What if he'd been in a, um, tricky position?  How would he explain that? 

Maybe Mary's just a creature of habit.  I bet she used to live with him here.  I know they were close, right to the end.  My body numbed and prickled.  Good grief, I hope I haven't ruined their friendship! 

I put my contacts into my eyes and saw myself clearly for the first time that morning.  I sighed in relief.  Since I am loath to remove my mascara at night, charcoal smudges of Maybelline and regular fatigue circled my eyes.  I looked wan, even my lips a whiter shade of pale.  And my hair, still wet, was beginning to frizz as it dried unevenly.  Nah.  Mary had nothing to worry about.  I was having a bad face day.

Still, I hoped this wouldn't drive a rift between them.  After piecing my looks back together, I silently went to my bedroom where I left the door cracked.  I knelt down and strained my ears to catch anything they said.  But they both spoke at the same level and temperature- calm and tepid, like a stagnant lake.  There wasn't anything frosty uttered, there wasn't much warmth; neither voice rose in passion, or sank in tears.  And so they continued for another easy thirty minutes.  As eavesdropping goes, I grew rather bored with the whole thing before too long.

Still, all that time I was crouched beside the door, writing furiously in my log:

Day 5: I'm in trouble.  Freddie's girlfriend (former? current? who can say?) Mary dropped in after I'd just gotten out of the shower, and found me in a towel.  She assumed the worst.  And Freddie's trying to cover his tracks.  Not sure how successfully.  Either way, I may be getting a notice of eviction fairly soon.  I'm trying not to let that worry me, but my stomach feels like a hornet's nest.  It's odd, considering what she put up with him doing all his life, that she should be so moved by this.  Oh, well.  Again, she's a different girl.  We change as we get older. 

NFOs: Freddie seems very calm with her, but not necessarily in a good way.  Gray area type stuff.  I didn't know he was capable of it.  Gray areas are scary.  Hard to read.  He certainly doesn't go gray with me.  Wonder what that implies. 

I heard the word "goodbye."  The front door opened; Mary was leaving.  I closed my eyes and breathed.  I might as well just get this over with.

I tiptoed down the stairs- harder to do in wedges.  Quietly I waited till Freddie leaned in to kiss her goodbye (That's good, she believes him, mostly, or else I bet she wouldn't let him do that) and he closed the door. 

Freddie turned to face me.  His real expression, clearer now by contacts, unnerved me more than his first fuzzy one.  I dug my feet into the floor, nervously twirling the tracker round my finger.  I clenched my journal tightly in the other hand and bit my lip.  Here it came.

"Thanks, Eve," he snapped.  "Thanks for making my life twice as difficult.  Thanks a f---ing million."

I pretended not to understand anything that had just taken place.  I figured if plausible deniability had worked thus far, it wouldn't falter now.  "What happened?  Is she okay?"

"I don't know.  Why do you care?"

"She seemed nice."

Freddie shrugged.  "She's a very dear friend to me.  I think she understood."

"Wonderful.  I don't want her to be upset."

He scoffed, "Well, isn't that sweet.  Pardon me while I applaud your virtue.  What little there is."

"Hey, look, I wasn't the one with the flip lip.  You did more damage than I!  What did I do, anyway?"

"Oh, you mean besides tripping about my flat half-naked with only a slight bit of terrycloth obscuring your nether parts?  Besides that?"

I wanted to slap him, but I remained outwardly reasonable.  "I'd just got out of the shower!  And I was tired, I forgot to take clothes in there with me."

"You know, for someone as proud of your privacy as you are, you certainly don't mind running around undressed where someone could see you."

"Oh, for crying out loud-"

"And words are words.  Images are quite another."

My whole being fought against the wish to call out this bald-faced hypocrisy.  "Freddie, you were asleep.  You were flat on your stomach, asleep.  And I didn't know people just walked in and out of your apartment like it's some public restroom.  I thought I was safe."

His eyebrows shot up.  "Flat on my stomach?" he said.  I covered my mouth, but it was too late.

The black eyes narrowed to serpent slits, and his voice became disgustingly oily.  "And, my dear, pray tell me, how would you know so much about the way I sleep?"

"I- uh-  Wild guess?"

"Bullshit.  You went into my room.  And that-" he seized a lock of my damp hair "-explains the cool spot on my pillow."

"I didn't have my contacts in.  I'm going to go make some tea now."

I turned for the kitchen but he caught my wrist, held me there.  "You got in bed with me."

"It was an accident, I swear-"

That smirk.  Damn that cold, lewd smirk.  "My God, you are some kind of closet call girl, aren't you?" 

"Speak for yourself," I scoffed.  My pride was taking a beating and my self-control was wearing thin. 

"Don't give me those high and mighty airs, Eve.  No wonder Mary thought what she thought.  Is that what you're here for after all?  A little action?  For your information, you're hardly my speed.  Just thought I'd tell you."

That one hurt.  I thrust my hand from his grasp. 

My lips curled, and the voice I heard escape my throat dripped with scorn. "Don't flatter yourself.  Believe me, had I had my wits about me, I would have gone anywhere but your bedroom.  If you think I want any piece of you, you're sorely mistaken."

"F--- off!" he shouted, eyes hard.  "You think I'm so beneath you, there's the f---ing door, you have my express permission to use it now."

He didn't have to tell me twice.  I followed his pointing finger out and slammed the door.

***************************************************************************************

Okay, I screwed this up, I told myself.  It was the fifty thousandth time I'd said it since I marched out of Freddie's flat that morning.  I had my journal and a few extra pounds miraculously wedged between the pages.  My backpack and everything else in the world I owned still sat quietly in my green bedroom- unless Freddie had been so righteously indignant as to throw all my stuff out in the garbage.  That would teach me to cross him!

Aloud I said, "I get it.  I royally screwed this up.  Can I go home now?"

"Sh!" someone hissed.  Rebuffed, I shrank back into my corner, silent.  Unlike at the university, you actually had to be quiet at Kensington Central Library. 

As soon as I closed the door, I had bolted down the street.  After a moment I slowed down, and halted.  My sanity gradually made a comeback, but a little too late.  I was two blocks away from his flat.  And his key.  Common sense tugged me back, but my ego pulled me further down the road. 

This is where my pride won, and betrayed me; common sense would do me the same favor later on. 

So began an aimless day consisting mostly of me walking the streets of London with nowhere to go and nothing to do.  It wasn't long before I started wishing I'd never seen Dr. K's ugly face and that I'd just accepted that those twenty points were gone forever and ever, amen. 

When the blisters on my heels became unbearable, and I needed a mouse hole to crawl into, I found a nice big library and made myself a quiet niche in the most boring, dry section of the building- right beside the technology manuals and electronic books and all.  No one would ever find me.

I'd overstepped myself. I knew that. But Freddie was being so cruel! How was I supposed to look the other way? How was I supposed to keep my mouth shut? I expected better from everyone, why shouldn't I expect the same from him? 

"Because he's different," I whispered aloud.  "He's special.  The laws of physics and the laws of nature don't apply to him.  He said so.  Ha ha.  God, I hate him so much right now.  I mean I don't, but I do."

I sighed, with a frightened little shudder.  I felt so alone.  I missed my old life.  I missed walking past Eminem lookalikes with backwards caps and hip-hop blaring out of some invisible speaker within their backpacks.  I missed not owing anybody except my parents anything.  I missed my job.  I missed my old quiet life of routine and familiarity and future plans.  Was that even my life?  Or had I imagined it all?  2017 seemed so far away after nearly five days of this British seventies' madness.  What, if anything, was real anymore? 

"Guys, come on," I groaned.  "Dr. K, didn't you leave some kind of backup plan in case of royal screw-ups?"

I flipped through the journal, turned to the back, but I found no Troubleshooting manual.  Sarcastically I wondered if one of those countless forms I had to complete included a clause that stated, "I hereby release the aforementioned proctors of this experiment from any and all responsibility, including but not limited to bringing me back in one piece from whatever hellish gulag to which they may accidentally ship me."

I don't ever swear, unless I'm feeling it.  You know what I mean.  And right then, I was feeling it.

"Damn it all, if my life isn't positively effed," I said under my breath (and yes, I said, "eff", I've never been very good at cursing).  I couldn't help but notice the involuntary bounce in my voice, placing emphasis on odd syllables the way the British do.  The way Freddie did.

Then I realized that while I was indeed pining away for home, a part of me also pined away for the only real stronghold I had here.  And that made no sense.  Freddie was unpredictable, and cheeky, and insinuating.  And that morning, he'd acted a perfect louse.  But I clung to him as something I could understand enough to deal with.  To a small extent, as painful as it was to admit, I needed him.

I put my head between my knees.  Someone please shoot me.

I heard someone humming out of tune to themselves in the aisle one over from me.  Go away, I said in my head.  Visiting time is over.  I'm moping.

The hummer strode nearer, until finally he rounded the corner, his deep set eyes on the catalog card in his hand.  Incidentally he looked up, and his eyes widened with recognition.

As did mine.  With a leap to my feet, and new hope in my heart, I whispered, "Oh, John, am I glad to see you!"