Synopsis: Something that is smooth and stable, spiralling
towards a slippery situation
Since he was no good with soft words or gentle phrases
He seduced her with soft margarine
“Don’t talk soft!”
(She had once made it clear)
Sarah was skimming the skin off the saucepan – it had
solidified
“I use body lotion to keep my skin
supple” she had once stated - it was
true - her skin looked like Vaseline
She was looking at the glossy black wallet he held firmly
in his hand
“Is that real crocodile skin?”
He nervously glossed over the subject with some fake
excuse
“It’s fake” he mumbled
Sarah began to pierce the sausage –
“If you are using link-sausages, prick
the skins well with a fork”
She said, glazing over the instructions
He paused until she had finished - then passed her a
plastic bag with skins and hash inside
He looked at her dainty hands whilst she skinned up a
thick sausage
Her hair hung in glossy black sausage curls
“Silly sausage” he teased
“Cook gently until the sauce is smooth”
Sarah smiled as she stirred with an ugly swollen spatula,
he insisted on using
His voice was infuriatingly smooth she thought:
A lovely, smooth, very fruity wine
He smoothed out the newspaper and coughed somewhat
A wisp of smoke spiralled upwards
“The economy is spiralling downwards”
she said rather sternly
“Oh it’s not that bad these doctrinal disputes are always smoothed over” Hogan replied
Hogan was a smooth, confident Foreign Office man, but he
was much like a walnut - under his glossy hard exterior –
shiny shell - there was a soft inside
“Pour the mixture into the lined tin
and smooth the surface”
Sarah said
The course of true love never did run smooth Hogan
thought to himself:
Under the surface it was she who had cut smoothly
towards him with her strong arms
Sure, his arms were sculpted but he was a weak swimmer
and with such strong current affairs he needed her
He recalled an incident prior to their first date:
Soaking wet, they had all squeezed into Steve’s van
Sarah had deliberately squeezed herself into her tightest pair of jeans that morning
“Specially designed and very stable”
(Steve had assured them)
Sarah squeezed his hand affectionately
Shocked he had squeezed his plastic bottle and sent a jet
of liquid spurting out of it
Hogan remembered sweating profusely during the whole
ordeal
He thought about when cheese is stored at room
temperature and how it quickly begins to sweat
“Sweat the celery and onions with
olive oil and seasoning” Sarah said
I’ve sweated over this for months – He thought - the resources that have gone into this! I’ll let her sweat a little - I’ve sweated enough over my mistakes!
“What?”
He was lost in slippery sweaty thoughts
“She’s obviously under a lot of stress”
He hadn’t a clue what she was talking about
“You know with all the stresses and strains of public
life”
“Oh right”
Normally, the stress falls on the first syllable
But in French, the last syllable is usually stressed
It’s just a sentence - and sentences are formed
of words, and a word can have many shades of meaning
so it’s important to let conversation flow
“She stresses the need for reform but
She’s full of shit!”
He tried to change the subject; he could see it was
making her stressed -
He thought doing the sun salutation might alleviate some pressure and point this whole situation forward
“This type of workout stresses the
shoulder and knee joints but relieves
tension afterwards”
She glared at him disapprovingly
“I think I can smell something burning?”
She had always been able to smell trouble long before it
got serious
It was true - there was a smell of burning in the air -
combined with lingering kitchen smells
He attempted to distract her:
“Have a smell of this”
Sarah took a deep whiff and inhaled his perfume - he
looked smug
His Jean Paul Gautier cologne stung her nostrils; it was
a highly seductive scent
They removed the concoction from the oven and looked out
on the lawn below – they watched - as the dogs smelt
eachother in the rain
There was a fine sense of comic timing about the whole
situation
Sarah was much like a prune - she wore her feelings on
her sleeves - but was tough to the core - she was full of
fiber but wouldn’t take any shit!
She felt a sense of guilt:
“I just can’t see the sense in leaving
all the work to you”
She could sense her father’s anger rising in her like how
an optical fibre senses a current flowing in a conductor
Hogan jotted something down in his spiral notebook
“Flooding caused by tidal surges -
There’s something you can’t control”
He said - slamming the newspaper down (more softly than
he had hoped)
Hogan usually knew how best to diffuse tense situations
but he’d really put his foot in it this time
Sarah stared at him with a cold expression – the low
murmur swelled to a roar – then she suddenly screamed:
‘THE ENCROUCHING DARK IS A SIGNAL FOR
PEOPLE TO EMERGE TO DUMP THEIR TRASH”
She felt a sickness in her stomach - It was coiled,
helical, helix-shaped, corkscrew, curling, winding,
twisting down towards her gut looking for an exit
She gestured outside - knocking the saucepan of stew -
which splashed on the splashback of their slick white
wipe-down kitchen
Hogan’s crisp shirt was
drenched in sausage sauce
Sarah was in a right stew about all of this mess, so was
Hogan - he tried not let his emotions show as per usual
They cleared up the mess
Then they ate something
The sky was black and swollen with rain
They shared a wry look, something between amusement and regret
There was a feeling in the air they both had to swallow -
“My head hurts something terrible” Sarah said
Sarah knew the situation between her and Hogan had come
to a head but she couldn’t think - whenever she looked up
at Hogan she felt as if she was being sucked helplessly
into his sand
Sarah knew she was responsible for his spiritual welfare
and without her - he was nothing but an empty shell
They were fading in the sun of reality
They were stuck in a spiralling structure
Hogan remembered the first time they hooked up - he was
wearing shades and a string vest (her elegant pink and
black ensemble would put most outfits in the shade)
- But just as the light rain began falling and the shades of evening drew on she whispered to him softly:
“Draw the shades and chill the wine”
It was through Sarah he was able to confront the shade of
his lost love
Sam Meredith, 2017
