Seduced by Lies (9 page)

             
From this vantage point, the world seemed to stretch endlessly out before them. To the east and down the valley a little they could see back to the sprawling buildings of the College, and behind that lay the rest of the small town, the distant houses and shops seeming like a tiny toy town laid out for their amusement. Even further beyond that lay the distant, sparkling ocean, turned into a shimmering blanket of diamonds by the majestically setting sun, whose slowly sinking rays set the entire valley ablaze in a hypnotizing, golden hue.

             
Far to the west lay the many other neighboring miniature towns, the furthest of which - the minute little civilizations that lay on the very curve of the horizon, were already out of reach of the waning suns stretching fingertips and were cloaked in darkness. And so while the eastern horizon was aglow with the fierce burn of a sinking star, the western skyline shone with the hundreds of tiny, silver, pinpricks of unnatural light that leaked through the windows of homes and businesses alike. That enthralling panorama, along with the knee weakening effect of Jacks safe, strong arms sliding smoothly around her waist from behind, combined into a moment that Sienna was certain she would never forget.

“We don’t have much time.” Jack had whispered softly in her ear, tugging gently on her hand and leading her towards the back seat of his parked car.

The hill top breeze had tickled her skin and raised goose bumps along her arms and across her stomach as he’d unbuttoned her virtually see-through, purple blouse. Laying her down along the back seat, he leaned over and whispered ever so softly and unwaveringly in her ear, as he always did before they made love -

“I Love You, Sienna Selway.”

              Even now, as she sat on her bed reminiscing, Sienna could still feel the rough scratchiness of the car seats on her bare back, the feel of thick, chocolate brown hair running through her fingers, she could still smell her lovers sweat as he moved back and forth, quicker and quicker on top of her. The sun had long set by the time they had, sweating, shaking and satisfied, collapsed into each other's arms.

             
He had dropped her off, as usual, a few streets away from her house, just to be safe, and Sienna had happily made the five minute stroll, practically skipping through the warm evening breeze in her euphoric delight. She couldn’t have possibly predicted the drastic and world altering turn of events that lay just moments ahead of her, even as she pranced her way up the gravel driveway of her home, a fully formed, fabricated excuse as to her lateness ready and waiting on the tip of her tongue.

But Sienna never got to voice her excuse. She stepped in from the mild, carefree evening air and was instantly confronted by a thick wall of tension and grim anticipation.

“Mum?!” She called out into the silent house, practically able to smell the astriction in the air. She didn’t receive an answer. Her guts twisting, turning and tightening in fearful apprehension, Sienna slowly made her way down the laminated hall, towards the kitchen and the source of the palpable waves of tension.

             
“Mum?” She repeated tentatively as she rounded the doorway into kitchen. Sure enough there her mother was, leaning tipsily against the counter, her eyes red rimmed and puffy, a half empty bottle of cheap, supermarket vodka on the worktop next to her. She rolled her bloodshot, watery eyes up to look at her daughter.

“Baby. Tell me it isn’t true.” She croaked out, in a tone that sounded as if she were practically pleading with Sienna on bended knee. There was no need for Sienna to reply - the answer was written in capital letters across her burning red face.

              A white hot trickle of fear had slowly run down Sienna’s spine as time seemed to stretch and distort, the next few seconds lasting a seemingly impossible length of time. Much of that night, much of the next few weeks for that matter, were a blur of shock, disbelief, tears and screaming arguments. Her mother - the one person Sienna was supposed to be able to rely on, had been the first to turn on her.

             
At some point, after God only knows how many hours of screaming, slurring, crying, and throwing things, Sienna’s mother had tearfully finished the bottle of vodka and had promptly passed out.

Sienna had felt as if she were in some terrible soap opera. Her racing, terrified mind couldn’t quite process that this was all actually happening to her, and so while her leaden insides pulled her down into the depths of misery, she also felt an odd, floaty kind of detachment, as if this were someone else's life that she was living. Somehow, through the fog and raging confusion in her mind, not to mention through the swelling rivers of tears that refused to stop pouring from her eyelids, she’d managed to tap Jacks mobile number into her phone, which she desperately tried ringing over and over again, her hysteria increasing as, time and time again, she was met with nothing but a flat, beeping tone.

              Jack lived a few towns over, some 30 miles away, and while a part of Sienna longed to head back out into the dark night streets, to pound the pavement and hitch her way until she found her love, another, more realistic part of her knew that he would already be gone. In a town like this, gossip was a main source of entertainment, and a juicy story like this would be on the tip of everyone’s tongues by the time the sun set the next day. Jack would be ruined. His marriage would be over, his career would be over, and his reputation would be in tatters - of course he’d had to leave, he’d have been a fool not to. Upon this realization, it was Sienna’s turn to pass out, crumpling like a stack of cards to the cold, unyielding parquet.

             
Sienna had been broken from that moment, that much was obvious. She remembered very little of the following weeks, other than being enveloped in a surreal bubble that distorted the sounds, images and events of the real world around her, making them seem distant and unconnected. She felt surprisingly little, her feelings numb as if her brain had constructed an impenetrable barrier against her emotions, for fear of what would happen if it did let that endless tidal wave of anguish and loss wash over her. It had been a different, much harder life for Sienna from then on. And still her mother did not relent in her snide, callous digs and comments, as if she got some kind of sick enjoyment out of metaphorically pouring salt and lemon juice into Sienna’s still open, still fresh wounds. Sienna smiled emptily, her face a mask of cold cunning as her plan came fully together in her mind.

             
If her mother wanted something to bitch about and dig at, Sienna would give her that something - she was most certainly going to rebel against this cold, cruel, backhanded slap her mother had dealt her.  It was a long, tricky and patient game that Sienna would have to play, but it would all be worth it just to see her mother's face when it all came pouring out again - when history was revisited. Sienna was simply going to swap one accomplished, older, intelligent English lecturer for another - She was going to expand on this opportunistic contact with Lewis Stowell, she would take her time and build an online relationship with this likeness of her beloved Jack and at the peak of her heated rebellion, married or not, she would do her best to seduce him over facebook - See how her mother would deal with yet another affair with an older, accomplished man of high reputation.

While a part of her balked at taking this deceitful and devious road, already feeling automatically guilty at the thought of betraying her love for Jack, the new, calm voice in Sienna's head reasoned with her, explaining that it couldn’t possibly be considered a betrayal if she and Lewis had never actually met. And also that, in a way, her rebellions victorious culmination (a.k.a rubbing it in her bitch of a mothers face), would be a combined triumph for both her and her Jack - a kind of metaphor for the fact that you could tear them away from each other and try to grind them down, but the pure, true love that she and Jack had shared would always conquer.

              Opting for a roll up instead of a joint (best save the little she had left, but out of reach of her mother), Sienna flicked her laptop open, pulling her legs up underneath her on the bed and taking a few moments to centre herself before travelling down a path that, once trodden, she could not turn back from. Her facebook page loaded and Sienna realized that she still had three pending notifications, completely forgotten about in the light of more pressing matters. One was from Melissa Harvey - a podgy woman that Sienna vaguely remembered from her ‘friends’ list, who had ‘liked’ the Rilke quote, and the other two (her stomach gave an excited little flutter) were from none other than Lewis Stowell. He too had ‘liked’ her quote, and had also commented on it, the link to which Sienna clicked furiously in anticipation. His comment was as simple and as captivating as his message had been. He had written only –

“To write is to create. To create is beauty.”

Followed by his own choice of quote from the bewitching Rainer Maria Rilke, which proved to be a rather optimistic contrast to her somewhat gloomy post  -

“See how in their veins all becomes spirit:

into each other they mature and grow.

Like axles, their forms tremblingly orbit,

round which it whirls, bewitching and aglow.

Thirsters, and they receive drink,

watchers, and see: they receive sight.

Let them into one another sink

so as to endure each other outright.”

Sienna was thrown by the beauty of her favorite poets words, finding herself a little breathless from the resounding effect they had on her - despite her only real life encounter with love ending in a sudden, terrible disaster, the words still managed to instill some kind of hope in Sienna's mostly cold heart. Perhaps this plan of hers was an even better idea than she’d initially thought - whoever he was, Lewis Stowell was not only deep in an emotionally mature sense, but also clearly deeply intelligent, so how
could getting closer she such a remarkable seeming man be a bad idea? Sienna grew more and more smug and pleased with herself with each moment that passed, but her fingers still shook slightly as they ‘liked’ his comment. And now the moment had come - the moment she’d been nervously avoiding (though Sienna preferred to call it ‘preparing for’) for the entire day - the point of no return. Not allowing herself to think too much about what she was doing, for fear that her trepidations mind would throw up some reason or other to not go through with her plan, Sienna opened up her inbox and set her fingers to quickly and robotically typing the reply she had been practicing and developing in her head since that morning.

“Dear Mr. Stowell,

Thank you for your kind message, and please do fret over being a little bold - for what is the written word but love? And what is love but boldness? I was very happy to learn of the enjoyment my simple little quote brought to your day, and am always glad to make acquaintance with fellow Rainer Maria Rilke fans (as you said yourself - we are few and far between in this day and age)! I am also glad that you have discovered the joys of the British Poetry Centre page, and hope to see more of you on there in the future.

As for Rilke’s book ‘Letters to a Young Poet’, I’m afraid that I have not experienced the joys within its pages, but I will be sure to pursue them just as soon as I can - thank you for the recommendation.

I hope we cross paths again soon, but in the meantime -

‘
All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love. - Salvador Dali.
’

Best Wishes

Sienna.”

She toyed with idea of placing a few small x’s, as kisses after her name. She had, after all, just been talking of the necessity of boldness. But she figured that there would be plenty of time for that later, it was still early days yet and she was worried that, in the eyes of this mature, intelligent man, her kisses might seem like the pathetic, flirtatious attempts of an adolescent. And the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin this game before it had even begun.
She quickly and firmly clicked send, laying back on her bed and smiling - her lips a triumphantly smug red curve that stretched along the bottom of her face. “And so it begins...” She whispered softly to herself, a tingle of earnest anticipation running satisfyingly down her spine.

CHAPTER 7 - A GOLDEN TICKET

             
Sam felt triumphant. No, he felt better than that - He felt glorious! It had been a tough week - he had forced himself to stay completely away from Sienna, to focus his efforts and energies on getting Lewis Stowell’s facebook page up to scratch, while trying his best to keep up appearances with his friends (it would all be ruined if anyone found out what he was up to). Patience wasn’t exactly one of Sam's fortes, but this was one situation that was worth the effort, and as he read Sienna's reply for what must have been the twentieth time, he knew he would do it all again a thousand times over if he had to.

             
It had been a week since this brilliant plan of his had seeded in his mind, and it had been a week of meticulous thought and attention to detail as he’d constructed Lewis Stowell's fool proof fake profile. It had taken more time than he’d expected, having to come up with a flawless back story, trawl through all the pages and groups that his character would likely be involved with or interested in, send out hopeful friend requests to people who were linked to or members of those pages (he needed at least a few names on his ‘friends’ list for the profile to be at all credible), and so on and so forth. The photos and pictures had been a particularly tricky part of the process - again an essential element towards the credibility of the profile and of Lewis Stowell himself, Sam struggled over what images would best represent this fictitious, mature, intellectual mask that he had created for himself. After all, it would be unadvisable for Sam to use images of real people to portray Lewis - that was far too risky and would have practically been a giant neon sign pointing out Sam's deceit, begging for him to get caught. And so, after attentive though, he chose to use the same tactic as Sienna - to hide his appearance behind poignant, artsy photographs.

             
Sam was no photographer himself, not by a long shot, but his father had dabbled, picking it up as a hobby every now and then and (just like most things his father had tried his hand at) he had been a pretty sterling photographer. As much as he hated to dredge up memories of his father, Sam was fully committed to this path he was on, and so, shutting off any thoughts and feelings about his father as firmly as he could, Sam then spent the best part of a day rummaging through the dusty, damp, molding old boxes of his father's belongings (which, despite the betrayal and swift abandonment, his drunken mother simply refused to get rid of), in search of some suitable snapshots to upload. After all, this ‘Lewis Stowell’ character was, in a way, loosely based around his father - the only ‘accomplished’, ‘mature’, ‘intellectual’ adult that Sam really knew, which had been the type of company Sienna had stated she preferred.

             
His efforts in the attic paid off, and Sam happily climbed back down the ladder out of the dusty, dingy hole in the ceiling with a good few albums worth of images clutched in his hands and tucked carefully into his pockets. Plunking himself back in front of his computer with a huff, Sam shook the cobwebs from his mind, his thick, chocolate brown hair (which was seriously in need of a trim) bouncing around his face as he did so, fairly pleased with his haul from the attic.

             
He’d managed to scavenge a fair few, captivating landscapes of misty mountains and valleys, rocky sea cliffs and majestic sun sets, as well as a handful of artsy, time lapsed photographs, and some melancholy, well framed, black and white shots of seemingly endless trees and woodland. Sam grinned as he clicked his computers scanner to life, certain that the attention to detail and the sheer beauty that emanated from each and every one of his carefully chosen pictures would surely impress Sienna. That wasn’t to mention the prosperous career (another little detail inspired by his father), or the impressive PHD.

             
During his weeks' worth of effort, Sam had been forced to take a couple of days off College, otherwise he simply wouldn’t have finished the profile in time, and he’d already pushed his patience to its limits. His mum had been a slight annoyance at first - while she had been particularly taken by his small gesture of breakfast the other day, it hadn’t resounded with her quite enough for her to slow or falter in her drinking habits, like Sam had initially hoped. As a result, on the first day he had chosen to stay home, for the best part of the morning, his malodorous, slurring, stumbling mother would clatter noisily into Sam's bedroom, attempting to make conversation through her incoherent mumbles, clearly trying to replicate that sweet, tender, mother and son moment that they had shared over a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. But there was only so much that Sam could concentrate on at once, and for the time being his alcoholic, over emotional mother was not one of them. He promised himself he would pick up where he had left off with his mother, once his Lewis Stowell plan had fully played out and Sienna finally understood that they should be together. After all, once Sam’s life was back on track, he would be much more capable of helping his mother sort her life out, and so he figured that in the long run it was best for all of them if he focused his entire energies on his project. And so he threw himself into his work, barking at his mother every time she disturbed him and reassuring himself that he was just being cruel to be kind.

             
He felt he was slipping slightly with his friends as well. He’d been trying his very best to keep up as always, flashing his well practiced smile, shouting boisterously when prompted and generally dressing and acting as he usually did. But his mind refused to sit still, and time and time again his focus and his thoughts drifted back to the glowing screen of his PC, pouring over every tiny detail that he had created so far and travelling down every possible tangent, ensuring he hadn’t missed a single thing - his work had to be flawless. And besides, since Sienna had mentioned it, he had begun to realize and agree that his friends and their noisy, in your face habits were actually rather pathetic, childish and, quite frankly, beneath his intellectual level. So far, none of the boys, not even mouthy Lee, had commented on Sam’s distracted state, hadn’t even questioned the days he’d been absent, but he was sure they could all see it in his eyes and it was just a matter of time before he was either forced to ditch them entirely, or they would discover his secret second life and turn on him. But he found that, now Sienna was within his sights, he no longer really felt any connection to these adolescent monkeys that he had once so clung to and relied on, and so the thought of losing them came as no great loss to Sam. He had experienced true loss, and in the grand scheme of his plan he would be gaining the greatest gift life could offer, so a few simple, ignorant lads did not amount to much at all.

“It we all be worth it in the end.” He kept repeating what was rapidly turning into something of a catchphrase for him. A catchphrase he was now living by.

But as he gazed, once again, at his girls eloquent and enticing reply, his heart soaring with wings of its very own, his face sliced in two by his gleaming grin, he already felt as if it had all been worth it. The ball was barely rolling, and Sam was already reaping the rewards.

He thrilled over one particular line she had written to him
–

“...please do fret over being a little bold - for what is the written word but love? And what is love but boldness?”

Was it just Sam or was there underlying tones of flirtation to those confidently written words? She was encouraging him to be bold, as if she were subliminally goading and enticing him into making the next move. She wanted boldness? Well then boldness is what his lady would get! The index finger of his right hand was mere millimeters away tapping down onto the mouse button and sending a friend request to Sienna, when the newly taught patience that he had painstakingly developed over the past week spoke up in the back of his head, once again reminding him of the almost fatal results of his previous impulsive actions. No, this plan was too good to ruin - he would wait until she, inevitably drawn to him, chose to add him as a friend. His mind was made up, yet Sam's index finger still trembled with the effort of restraint as it hovered above the mouse. Sam had to practically grit his teeth in the battle against his impatience, his joy and pride and his initial success going to his head and egging him on, but before his will gave out, and unexpected thing happened.

             
The ‘friend’ icon that his cursor was hovering dangerously over suddenly turned from its usual blue color, to red, with a little number ‘1’ hovering above the icon to indicate that he (or rather Lewis Stowell) had just received a new friend request.

Sam's whole body twitched in surprise, sending his cursor flying to the other side of his computer screen and causing his heart to skip a shocked beat. A moment later he was scrabbling his mouse back over to the ‘friends’ icon, hoping, praying that Sienna’s name would appear when he clicked on the little red symbol.

And sure enough, one click later, his hopes were realized. The little, pixilated message stating that ‘Sienna Selway has sent you a friend request’ was perhaps the most beautiful sentence that Sam had ever read, and he gladly tapped on the ‘Accept’ option without a seconds hesitation. And then, as instantly and as unexpectedly as the friend request, a little red speech bubble popped into existence next to the ‘friend’ link - Sienna, in a fortuitous and pleasing display of eagerness, had sent Lewis another message -

“ Dear Mr. Stowell,

In the spirit of boldness I hope you do not mind or find it inappropriate if I add you as a friend. I enjoyed your message, and would very much like to remain in contact with you, if that is something you would be open to?

I hope to hear from you soon, and apologize if I have caused any offence.

Best Wishes

S.”

Sam leapt up, whooping and pumping his fists into the air. He had expected to have to endure weeks of patient waiting and sporadic, tentative messages - not to have a multitude of victories dropped into his lap all at once, as he just had. In one fell swoop he had lured Sienna in, if only slightly for now, and she had invited him to be a part of her world. He was well on his way to achieving everything his heart had longed for since the moment he had set eyes on the beautiful, blonde, back of Sienna’s head on that fateful first day back at College - everything he had lost on the dark, surreal night that his father had left.

             
No longer worried about boldness, in fact embracing it wholeheartedly, Sam stopped for a moment, waiting for his mind to provide the suitable words to begin his reply before he started tapping and typing away with boyish, smug excitement, his eyes wide and sparkling as he thrilled at the rush of feeling alive once more. He backspaced and hesitated and swapped his typed up words around until they formed a structure that Sam was pleased with - a structure that Sienna’s intellect and love of the well spun English language would be sure to appreciate.

“Sienna,

In a world that somewhat lacks boldness, I find yours refreshing and most certainly well received. And please, call me Lewis - ‘Mr. Stowell’ is what my students call me!

I am more than happy to accept your friend request, and feel privileged that you wish to stay in contact. I too would like to get to know you better Sienna, you are clearly a highly intelligent woman and it will be a sweet relief to finally be able to converse with a mature, intellectual, adult human being. Tell me - what genres or eras of poetry and literature (or any other form of art and creativity for that matter) interest you most? Who are your favorite and most highly ranked literary artists?

I look forward to your reply, and to all our future correspondence. Until then...

Goodnight,

Lewis.”

Sam toyed with the idea of placing a kiss or two at the end of his message, but quickly decided otherwise. Despite Sienna’s obvious initial attraction to the persona of Lewis Stowell, he did not want to push his luck too far. After all, Sam knew firsthand how suddenly Sienna's mood could be turned and how quickly the situation could could explode and crumble around him. No, he’d rather be safe than miserably sorry, and so the flirtatious undertones of their back and forth messaging would do for now - there would be plenty of time to take it further and progress to the next level.

              He confidently tapped send and leaned back on his bed, stretching his arms out above his head and sighing contentedly. Rolling his eyes up and towards the left, in the direction of his bedside table, Sam could just about make out the digits on his alarm clock, telling him it was 2:45 am. No wonder his eyelids were beginning to involuntarily droop. Stretching his foot out, Sam used his extended toe to expertly switch his computer off. The machines low, droning, hum slowed and clicked to a stop as the fluorescent light that had been the only illumination in the room also faded to black. In the sudden, dense darkness and utter, still silence, Sam’s triumphant thoughts sung loudly in his head. From somewhere outside his thoughts and beyond the confines of his bedroom, Sam just about heard the muffled clatter of his mother dropping yet more bottles downstairs, followed by her usual self-pitying whine. Sam rolled over and ignored the noise, not ready to emerge from his cocoon of light headed happiness.

Fairly sure he was unlikely to get any sleep that night, Sam settled down for a night of reliving his glorious plan and Sienna's amaros, coquettish messages, over and over until the sun rose and the day started anew.