That peaks her attention.
'A dream?' she repeats to me.
I nod.
'Just before you came to pick me up for the party. I went to bed early because I couldn't concentrate.'
I've never seen her so focused.
She hangs on my every word as if I'm going to tell her the secret of life.
'Why couldn't you concentrate?'
Her question catches me off guard.
Shit, I thought I was going to tell my own version of the story.
My cheeks are slowly turning red.
Even though it's dark in my room, I know she sees it because she says, 'You could only think about him.'
I nod, glad I don't have to say it myself.
'In my dream,' I continue, 'he said'.
I become uncomfortably silent for a moment.
I don't know why but I suddenly feel very uncomfortable telling her what he said.
She squeezes my hand, encouraging me to continue.
'That I was his.'
I look at her and expect her to laugh at me.
What a weird statement.
Why did I find that so difficult to say?
But she's not smiling.
She looks dead serious at me.
Like she knows exactly what I'm talking about.
But she can't know, because I don't even know.
When she stays quiet, I go on.
'When he carried me upstairs, he whispered those same words in my ear.'
I fall silent again.
'I don't want her to think I'm joking, that I'm making it up.
Because I don't think I would have believed it myself.
' I swear it's true, he whispered: 'I told you you were mine'.'
I am waiting for her with anticipation.
Does she believe me?
'And you really don't know what that means?' she looks at me.
"Uh," I start to laugh uncomfortably.
'Do I know what that means? Does it mean anything then? Do you know what it means?'
Of all the ways she could have reacted, this is not what I expected.
Why am I the only one who doesn't understand what's going on?
She still looks at me suspiciously.
'What are you?' she then asks me.
Now I've really lost it.
Where on earth does she want to go with this.
'What I am... I'm not crazy.' I try.
She shakes her head.
'That is not what I mean. What are you?'
I'm a little relieved she's not kidding about it.
But at the same time I don't know what she means anymore.
'I'm a woman, I am Mara Highland.'
She shakes her head again but stops somewhere in the middle.
'Highland?' She repeated questioningly.
I nod, I didn't expect this to take us anywhere and look at her expectantly.
'Interesting, very interesting. But not what I mean. What are you, not who.'
What what what.
'I'm a daughter, a grandchild, a niece, I'm family.'
I pause for a moment. 'A nature lover, a human being.'
'Ha' she says 'bingo'.
'Bingo?' I repeat.
'Does it matter that I'm a nature lover?'
'Not that,' she giggles.
'You really don't know, hmm this could get interesting but I don't know if I should tell you. I think that's Divar's right.'
Now I couldn't take it anymore.
'You can't be like that, I'm burning with curiosity here, what are you talking about?'
I'm under my blanket that I've pulled up to my chin.
She is sitting on it cross-legged, thinking.
She rests with her elbows on her knees and with her chin resting on her hands.
'What do you mean Divar's right? Did you not just hear him call us whores?'
She pulls a face.
'I did, the dumb fuck.'
I am shocked with her words,
I mean I thought them.
But I would never say them out loud.
I regain my composure.
'So, why would you say he has any right in telling me something?'
She just grins, 'you will understand.'
She grabs my hand under the blanket.
'You know, he and I go way back.'
She pauses, but not long enough for me to ask what that is supposed to mean.
'I might just let you in a little on the secret.'
I see her eyes gleam in the dark, mischievous as always.
'I have to sleep on it though.'
She stands up but lingers a moment before straining her dress.
'Though if he ever pulls a trick like this again and scolds us for having fun, I will tell you.'
Even in the dark I can see her white teeth when she smiles at me.
'Please tell me what you know now.'
I know I shouldn't beg but do it anyway.
But she shakes her head.
'It would be better if Divar tells you himself.'
'Better for whom?' I throw back at her.
'Better for me' she answers honestly, only her head is still sticking through the door now.
'But you will sleep on it?'
'Good night love.' she says and then closes the door.
I climb out of my bed to lock it.
Once at the door I think of Divar, is he still awake?
Would he mind telling me what this is all about?
It frightens me somewhat, the idea of demanding something from him.
I am mad at him and I am a little afraid I might lash out.
Or yell at him.
Though that might be exactly what is needed to get some answers.
And I want an answer.
I'm now wearing my white nightgown, which I previously refused to take two steps up the hall to move to Victoria's room.
It's a thin fabric and it's a little see through but it covers my shoulders and hits my ankles.
I have never felt so brave as I do now with a few glasses of wine.
I take that as a sign that I must do now what I dare not tomorrow.
I sneak into the hallway, holding in a giggle at how foolish I really am, how foolish and brave at the same time.
I sneak up the stairs to the attic, I'm glad the stairs don't creak.
I knock softly on his door.
He opens and despite the alcohol that makes me less shy, I blush deep red.
He's standing in front of me, barely ten centimetres between us.
Without a shirt, in only underpants that I don't dare to let my eyes slide over for one millisecond.
I do dare to look at his muscular arms and upper body.
He has two mirrored tattoos on his chest.
They are the first tattoos I see in my life, and at the same time the sexiest I've ever seen.
I lower my eyes a little and see an almost shiny washboard shapes his muscles.
I didn't know people could look like this.
Perhaps the best thing about his abs is the seductive V-line.
Suddenly aware of myself I take a step back. 'S S sorry.'
And then I remember how angry I am at him.
Fuck Mara, you didn't come up here to streak his already gigantic ego.
I decided a little too late I don't trust myself around him in this state.
It is easier being repulsed by him from a distance.
Easier keeping my dignity.
Because looking at him like this only an hour after he called me a whore definitely isn't doing my dignity any good.
I turn and go down the stairs but then I feel his arm around my waist.
He pulls me into him.
He bows his head and I feel his nose in my hair.
He takes a deep breath and I feel him shiver.
My whole body tingles.
I don't understand why I react this way.
My arms make skin to skin contact and it is as if fireworks are being fired where he touches me.
'You don't have to say sorry for that, love.'
His low voice is warmer and fuller than wine.
The way he says it, how condescending it sounds.
It is the final straw.
'No you are right, you should be the one apologising.'
I pull myself from his arms and turn around.
I look at him with fire in my eyes.
He laughs, as if my anger just amuses him.
As if it doesn't mean anything and is just a funny sight.
I decide right there and then that I won't be falling for his tricks anymore.
I won't let him touch me again before he sincerely apologises.
And even then I might still not want any thing to do with him.