One Day in the Life of Ivanka the Bitch, A Novel, Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Lock Jaw

8.17 am — Bunch of Witch Doctors!

Join businesswoman Ivanka Tupolevka on the day she’s about to lose everything in the apocalyptic gulag of her divorce, with no HRT, Brexshit, and surrounded by ‘fuckers’, will she ever escape the psycho ex and save her daughter?

Still networking with the ladies…

‘Oh you’re off, are you? Gosh you are sensitive, aren’t you? I’m sure there’s a therapy for that! But then, no, that’s a blessing in your job, isn’t it? But weakness in my life! You have to understand you see I…’

Oh shit! Ow! My fucking jaw has locked! My ear is killing me! I hate it when this happens. I can’t turn my neck to see where she’s gone.

What is wrong with me? I just turned into my mother! Stop it!

I need a zapain, no two, here we go, and one last buck fizz. Chill, relax, drop your shoulders, free up your neck muscles. At least there are no shortages of codeine yet.

I need my hot bottle, the only thing that releases that trapped nerve, otherwise it’s going to be another almighty migraine. They won’t have a hot water bottle here, will they? Well, they might. The odd thing to ask for though… I’ll just put this coffee cup against it, that should do it. And breathe. Close eyes, block it all out, in for four, hold…

It’s no good, it’s not going to work, not hot enough and I look like a lunatic. No wonder no one’s taken this chair next to me. Well you’ve got to laugh, haven’t you? Not like I’m missing anything. Can’t take these people seriously. Bunch of witch doctors!

It was a punt. A desperate move if I’m honest, a distraction. I should go. Go and do some proper work Ivanka, you’re just kidding yourself here avoiding the inevitable onslaught of “can we pay for this today boss, so and so’s rung fourteen times today already.”

I know what will relax it, brandy. I’ll just swill it around for a bit, numb the area, like mum used to give me by the fire. It was worth faking toothache just for the cuddle. I won’t drink it. I knew I should have topped up my flask.

There’s still no one in the bar. Where’s the manager? Oh, it’s not open till midday? Fuck.

‘Janine! Hey yes, yes I’m the recycling lady from earlier. Yeah, you got any of that vodka liqueur left? These bucks fizz, I’ve got lockjaw and it’s just not… No, no it’s not rabies, you’re a maddun you are! It’s, I don’t have a name for it. It’s just a thing. Look it’s painful to talk! Vodka?’

Aw, bless she’s not only got a boot full of promotional miniatures, artisanal cherry vodka liqueur, ooh Spirit of Toad gin, very fitting but yes Penderyn whisky, my favorite!

Now see, this is a woman who understands. A lovely generous woman with a big heart. AND she can take reasoned discussion.

‘And I’m just playing devil’s advocate here, but if you are going to peddle remedies, beliefs, paradigms whatever, you should be able to have them examined, put to the test without stropping off. All I’m saying. It’s all a bit simple and trite isn’t, ‘Just let go of it!’ Ha!’

And swig and swill and hold the lovely whisky there. Now coffee on the jaw to warm it up. Still not working. I’m going to have to take another zapain. Might as well swallow too, the alcohol will speed up the effect of the codeine, it’s a virtuous circle. There are lots to do today, can’t afford a migraine.

‘And like I said, what if it’s not my problem to let go of? That’s what I keep coming back to. What if I feel stressed and knackered because my vital life energy is being depleted just repelling other people’s negative energy. Or, protecting my loved ones from other people’s even maybe yes, sometimes, understandably, my negative energy?’

‘Now, see, that’s what I’m saying. Maybe one person’s “controlling behaviour” is another person’s search for truth and peace and balance?’

Ooh and there’s the codeine kicking in, at last, nice.

Ah, Tit can handle herself and she does. She’ll be up there tonight, jetting across that lovely blue sky like I should have been at her age. Jetting far, far away from all the chaos, having a whale of a time. She’ll be back. This will all work out, don’t worry. It has to, otherwise what would all this crap we’ve been going through have been about?

But that’s what she says about her degree. Why did she do a fashion marketing degree just to work in a medical not-for-profit with me? No wonder she wants to work back with him. Where’s the glamour in my dusty cold warehouse?

Oh, better get another coffee, that bucks fizz must have been a bit stronger than I thought.

‘Thank you, my love, very kind of you.’ And yes warm enough on my jaw, I’ll just wander over to the window so I can hold it on there, no one will notice.

If we were doing this in Spain now, I could be releasing all this negative energy by openly enjoying a brandy or three with this coffee, dipping churritos in thick chocolate sauce, and letting my naked skin breathe in the sunlight. Ah! I think it’s working…

But I’m not likely to ever return now, am I? That’s all done now. Someone else is lying on the balcony under the grapevines, not a care in the world about how my grandfather struggled to build the house and the pool with his own two hands. His great big shovel-like hands.

Was it worth it in the end Pops? Someone else is enjoying the garden I broke my back planting with the kids. Someone else is sipping wine in the last rays of a glorious sunset.

Oh come on, where’s your attitude of gratitude? There are some good memories, I expect if you look hard enough.

Yes, someone else is skinny dipping in the moonlight never a thought given to the children whose footprints ‘wrecked’ the cement around the pool. Ha! There’s conditioning for you. I say ‘wrecked’ when what I really thought was it was cute, like marking their heights on the kitchen door frame.

But every trace of the child was an insult to you wasn’t it you selfish bastard. All they ever created for you was just stress and what you proudly coined ‘house-fuck’. So why are you fighting me over them now?

Just like I was not a human to you, just a function in your life, why would I expect you to treat them any differently? They’re just functioning in a different way now.

Oh, listen to yourself! Now you’re crying over self-inflicted triggers. Stop it! You silly cow! Your hormones are doing this to you, looking for excuses to play up. It will come back. Get a grip. I can’t afford to keep losing control. Controlling, pah! What the fuck does she know?

Oh God, I’m going to keep thinking about that every eight bloody minutes now aren’t I?

Some people just need to develop a sense of humour! That’s what a full life gives you, rounds off the edges so you don’t take yourself and this whole goddam shitfest of life so seriously. Only then should you go round dispensing ‘therapies’.

Get back into the fray. Don’t let them win, back to business! STOP BEING PATHETIC AND GET ANGRY!

OMG, why can’t I focus on these women? Damn, Andrea only just introduced her. The least they could do is keep their name badges on! But I did take my jacket off too to be fair. Offer her another business card and she’ll give you hers. Life coach? Seriously? Oh and she makes five figures a month with ‘virtual coach podcasts’.

What the…? But she’s, she’s got to be 18 stone at least! Seriously, what is she coaching them on? I mean, I mean, seriously… I’m going to have to google her website and see if her pics match up to the reality sat beside me.

Seriously… Five figures? Five figures monthly!

What could I podcast about? Divorce, betrayal, loss, batty mums, animal hoarding, teenage runaways? I could make a fortune. Does she have a virtual couch on which to virtually coach? What does virtual even mean? Can someone sue you if the results they achieve are just ‘virtual’? Could you like, always defend yourself in court arguing that they’re virtually there, at a virtual goal in an alternative virtual reality?

Forget it, it’s more Tit’s line. I’ll get her to look into it. She’d be great online. She’s soooo beautiful and she won’t even believe in herself. She should do more of it. Maybe I should let her go and do just that.

I’m boiling over, why didn’t I pack my fan, oh yeah, too big for the bag that goes with this top if you’re packing Waitrose mugs. No fool like a vain old fool.

Next Chapter 9…

To start from the beginning…

Copyright Alexis Behrend June 2021.