THE LONELY WALK: CHAPTER 7

Jif was in front of the sliding glass doors again. The two guards stood behind him, out of the chamber. The door behind slid shut with a shuff. Enclosed in the glass chamber, he felt his eyes burning again as tears welled up in his eyes. He took a couple of sighs as he brought his grey suit sleeve to wipe away his tears as the motors started whirling above his head. The frosted glass pulled to the right, and the sound of traffic and quiet chatter flooded in. He could still feel the wetness on his eye sockets as the brightness hit him.
He stepped out into the plush lobby. Cold! The chauffeur's peaked cap was visible from behind one of the leather armchairs. Even though he was close to others again, the loneliness was still there. He paced a meter forward when the chauffeur suddenly leapt up. He turned and faced Jif, eye to eye, hands behind his back, formal.
"I'm ordered to take you back now, sir," he said informatively. Jif rotated his head, wondered how to reply.
"Yea," he finally said, sniffing through his blocked nose; it had started to run.
The chauffeur spun round and marched towards the rotating doors. Jif followed quickly, not wanting to be left behind. He staggered out of the embassy again and up to the limo, a broken man. The chauffeur opened the passenger door and stood to attention, waiting.
He climbed into the limo again. Iffy was still sitting behind the bar, upright, rigid, and staring into nothing. That was how he always was, connected and isolated at the same time. Only when Jif sat down on the seat did Iffy turn his head.
"Drink?" he questioned. Jif was feeling sick again, but anything to drown his sorrows would be good. He hadn't really drunk since his wedding.
"Is there any absinthe?" asked Jif. Iffy looked down and ducked behind the minibar before reemerging with a pear-shaped bottle of translucent green liquid. It had a paper card attached with string on the bottle's neck and the label on the front clearly stated "absinthe original" in Victoria letters. Jif leaned forward, stretching out his arms to take the bottle. Iffy leaned over the bar. The bodyguard's black fingers made contact with Jif's as he cupped the bottle with both hands. He felt a bite of ice-cold through Iffy's fingers. Leaning back, Jif ogled the bottle and noticed a stick on the base that read in red letters, "Imported by Lime.Inc for consumption of the British embassy only!"
Jif sighed. Of course. He was foolish to expect absinthe in America. It was banned! But the limo driver had already thought of it. It wasn't even Jif's favourite drink. He grasped the neck in his left hand and squeezed the bottle top with his right, turning it until the seal broke with several snaps. He spun it with his fingers and held it loosely, raising it off the mouth of the bottle before putting it to his own.
Air rushed through a tiny gap between his top lip and the glass as the green liquid bubbled its way into him. He swallowed. It tasted liquorish. The burning sensation in his mouth left a welcoming feeling. The mark of his scream in his throat was no longer there. He felt his heart rise again, and a small smile came to his lips. Bringing the bottle down to his seat, between his open legs, he suddenly recalled how at home he was in the car.
"You should try this seat, Iffy," jeered Jif. "It's so comfortable!" He grasped the bottle top and spun it counterclockwise in the mouth of the bottle until the liquid stopped spinning. His eyes felt heavy. He wanted to remember his wife.

September 15, 2003

When Yuzuyu first arrived in England, she greeted everything with excitement. Especially her new clothes. Clothes that Jif had bought; he got them on the cheap from eBay. Two days after arriving, and buying ten items of teenage girl's clothes, including knickers, Jif set about feeding her. Amazing, she had not asked for food or complained about being hungry since her arrival.
Jif gave her a tall glass of Coca-Cola, which she swallowed within a minute. Jif remembered that moment, when she handed back the glass back to him, and smiled. She liked the cola. It must have been her first drink, outside of a cryogenic freezer.
He was at the stove, making steak pie and boiled potatoes for him and her. She was wearing electric blue jeans and a pink T-shirt with a heart picture on the front, the cutest thing on the planet with her blonde hair. Jif kept on glancing at her as she sat at the kitchen table, drawing with pencils and paper.
"I'm drawing you, Jif," she called to him as he opened the oven.
"That's a nice idea, Yuzuyu," replied Jif, trying to sound encouraging. After checking on the pie, there was a piddle paddle sound coming in Yuzuyu's direction. When Jif turned around, Yuzuyu was stepping up from the chair. She turned to face Jif but looked down at herself, mouth in open in surprise, her drawing still in her right hand.
"I'm wet!" she exclaimed. The inside legs of her jeans were of a darker shade of blue than they had been before, all the way down to her ankles. Urine was in a small puddle on the chair behind her and under it as well.
"Didn't you feel that?" asked Jif, a little lost for words. Yuzuyu looked up at him.
"No!" she replied truthfully.
Jif spent the next ten minutes undressing Yuzuyu, cleaning her up and redressing her. She didn't complain or cry. She was more shocked than anything.
Jif decided to do a test. He gave her a drink yet again and timed with his watch how long before she needed the toilet. She never asked. She wet herself again in thirty minutes.
Jif decided that Yuzuyu was incontinent and began buying Pampers for her. And upon buying the first pack, lust got the better of him, and he decided this could be the best way to indulge in his voyeuristic fantasies.
He wanted to be her father figure, and he got his wish. He persuaded her to let him change her all the time. And she did so with trust. Jif loved to change Yuzuyu's diaper; he made her feel safe and warm, and he got to see her genitals and backside.
But he never touched her in a sexual way. He attempted at least twice, but every time, his heart raced, and he became sick.
He gave up his sexual exploits and became just a father figure to her. By now, she had become accustomed to wearing nappies or diapers and enjoyed Jif changing her.
"I'm too lazy to get out of diapers," she once said to him.
To be both motherly and fatherly, Jif turned to television for the answer. His role model soon became Lois Griffin from the animated TV show Family Guy. A doting wife and mother of three children, she showed utter care and consideration to her family and placed her feeling aside to the anchor of the husband and kids. She always showed a smile, never shouted, and helped out when she could. And Jif lapped this up perfectly, making a perfect little family of his own.