The invitation said eight o'clock, so
he decided that thirty minutes after that was time enough to make his
appearance. On arrival at the apartment he was greeted by the host
and the usual pleasantries were exchanged. It was a small apartment,
located on the ground floor, there was only one bedroom judging by
the number of doors that were visible from the hallway. He entered
the living room, which consisted of two small sofas, a television, a
small house plant in one of the corners, a sparsely filled bookcase
and a dining table. There were no chairs around the table, probably
cleared away to make more standing room. On the table there was the
an array of food that could be found at events such as this, as he
looked around there were fewer people then he expected, perhaps
leaving it another thirty minutes would have helped. A quick look
around at the faces confirmed she hadn't arrived yet. The host
emerged with the drink that was promised on his arrival and then
introduced him to the couple standing near-by. For once he was happy
to be involved in the customary small talk.
It was over an hour later before she
arrived, there was a natural tendency to look at the door as each
guest arrived and therefore he saw her enter, her attire was casual
and this surprised him but he wasn't sure why. It was over five years
ago when they first met, it seemed longer. They exchanged smiles and
she mouthed the word hello to him. He moved into the kitchen and
joined in a conversation about horse racing. He was content to stay
were he was, and was putting in his time so that his departure
wouldn't be cause for that much unwanted attention. It was just after
midnight when he left, slightly later then he had wanted but he did
manage to slip away without too many people noticing. He had spent
the last ten minutes or so in the living room, and apart from
catching her eye a couple of times, there was no other contact. Even
when he was going there was no more then a nod from both parties.
The rain came down while he was walking
home but it wasn't heavy and he quickened his pace to get home that
little bit sooner. Upon arriving home, he took off his coat and
turned on the television, there was nothing of interest on. The phone
rang, and he took it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen to
confirm who it was, then switched it to silent and rested it on the
arm of the sofa. It was still a distraction as the room was dark and
the phones light was making shapes on the ceiling. He never used the
message minder on the phone, so it could ring for a long time, and it
did. When it did stop it was followed by a text alert a moment later.
Even his basic curiosity didn't encourage him to look at it. After
another ten minutes or so it rang again, this time he didn't silent
the ringing but let it ring out loud. It rang for maybe two minutes,
he picked up the phone, answered it. The conversation lasted an hour,
after that he went to bed.
The next morning was warmer and
brighter then it had been all week, he awoke naturally at about ten,
and, as was his routine made some coffee. The nice weather encouraged
him to go for a walk, and this took up the rest of the morning. Back
at home he had lunch and decided to go into town for the afternoon,
more out of boredom then any other reason.
As he passed the Shelbounre hotel en
route to Grafton street he noticed her walking about 80 yards ahead.
She was on her own. When she got to the art gallery window on the
corner of Dawson street she paused to look in, if he wanted a
opportunity to avoid her now was his chance. Instead he walked up
behind her and placed his hand on her back while saying her name. The
painting in the window had taken her away some place else, and she
was startled to be brought back so suddenly. They laughed and then
talked, they were both going in the same direction so it was only
natural they should walk together. They stopped at various windows
along the way, sometimes to make fun of what was being offered, or
sometimes to suggest the other would look magnificent in whatever
clothes or accessories were being displayed. They got to the top of
Grafton street and continued walking towards Trinity collage, neither
saying where their final destination was and neither volunteering
that information. When they got to Nassau street he suggested they go
for a coffee, she looked at her watch, and then agreed. They
continued walking until they found a quite coffee shop, he ordered
two coffees and they sat down and made themselves comfortable.
It was five o'clock before they got
ready to leave, too much coffee was drunk but neither was willing or
wanting the meeting to end. They walked outside and both seemed to
welcome the fresh air again, it was still relatively warm for that
time of the evening. She went to say goodbye, but he pre-empted that
by insisting on walking her to her car. She didn't need to be
persuaded. As they final said goodbye he walked back to his car, his
mind still going over the events of the afternoon, the highlights of
the conversation being replayed. He smiled and even laughed a number
of times on the way to the car. He couldn't help but notice with most
people, conversations were about things that had happened to them,
reminiscing, regrets, tales of past glories. With her it was
different, it was about the future, what it had in store, what
adventures awaited and what harvest current plans would reap. She was
different. That was the problem. It wasn't so much how he felt when
he was with her, it was how he felt when he wasn't with her.
It was dark when he got home, he had
stopped to get something to eat on the way. He sat down and turned on
the television, after a quick scan he settled on a film that had just
started. He watched it but when it ended he honestly couldn't recall
what it was about, his mind was elsewhere. The house needed some
tidying up before he would retire for the evening. It was done at a
slower pace then usual. He wondered if he would sleep that night, but
already knew the answer. When the last task was completed he picked
up the phone, her's was the last number on it from the time she
called the previous night. He called her, the phone rang out but no
answer, he didn't bother leaving a message. It rang five minutes
later, now was the time, he was going to tell her, they spoke for
about an hour and a half. The call ended with a goodnight. He didn't
tell her. He would tell her tomorrow. That seemed like a much better
time to do it, today wasn't right, tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow
would be perfect. He would tell her tomorrow.
The next day was a work day, he had to
drive a lot for his job which suited him in lots of ways. Sitting in
an office all day didn't appeal to him and the variety of his day was
great. Also it allowed a certain flexibility to what he could do
during the day. This particular day was busy, but he was glad of
that, he welcomed having work consume most of his thoughts and
energy. A busy day made for a long day and it was after eight when he
eventually opened his front door. He liked cooking so even after a
hectic day, making dinner was not a chore. After, he read for a while
and then went for a walk. He liked walking late in the evening and
got to know a few of the neighbours that way, most of them were out
because they had dogs that needed to be attended too. When he came
back he felt tired, so got ready for bed and it didn't take long
before he fell asleep. This was the pattern for rest of week, apart
from calling into friends one evening it was a fairly uneventful,
even a boring week. There was also nothing in his diary for the
weekend, which he convinced himself was a good thing, a chance to
take it easy. So Friday night came around as it inevitable does, and
the evening was spent watching television and then early to bed, the
logic being that he would wake up early and squeeze more out of the
weekend.
The weekend begin properly at eight the
next morning, he awoke feeling the better for the early night. Later
a text message came through advising him of a night out that evening.
It was only a few friends and it was local, so it suited his needs
perfectly. He replied to say he would be there and was already
looking forward to it before the message was sent. In theory a
weekend doing nothing sounds lovely, but in practice, its always nice
to get out. The day was uneventful, it was spent grocery shopping,
cleaning and other domestic duties. He arrived in the pub early, such
was his desire to get out of the house. He ordered and choose a seat,
there was a newspaper that someone had left behind so he began to
browse through it. He enjoyed this down time. Over the next hour he
was joined by his friends, and they had invited more people so it
turned out to be a larger gathering then was promised. This was a
welcome surprise and he found himself throughly enjoying the evening.
He got talking to a woman called Rebecca and embraced her sense of
humour immediately, he loved the stuff of nonsense and the ridiculous
scenario's been painted by her musings. He never noticed that people
had broken off into there own little pockets of conversations and it
was just him and her left laughing at themselves. It was late now,
and some people were talking of moving on to a late bar, he would
have been happy to stay where they were all night but it was past
closing time. They were asked if they wanted to join the others in
the search for a new venue but she declined the offer and he took
this as an opportunity to offer himself as an escort to the nearest
taxi rank. When they walked the short distance there was plenty of
taxi's waiting but they chatted for a while, eventually he asked for
her number and as he held the door of the taxi open he made a
commitment to call her.
Most of the next day was spent thinking
of the night before. He had her number and couldn't wait to call her,
but, when his thoughts started racing too far ahead he reminded
himself that a great night doesn't necessarily mean a definite date.
He stayed up late that night, and the phone rang just as he turned
off the television, he didn't answer it, it was late enough to make
the caller think he could be in bed.
On Monday, after work, he called
Rebecca. The conversation on the phone was slightly formal and
stinted but such was the way of these calls. They agreed to go out
the following evening, a walk and few drinks were on the agenda. The
following day he met her at the appointed place and they went for a
walk in the nearby park. He felt at ease from the start and he was
glad that the laughter and conversation flowed just as steadily in
sobriety as it had done the first night they talked. Later that
evening, outside her house, they kissed their goodbyes. This was the
start of his relationship with Rebecca, they would eventually move in
together. They would be together for just over three years.
In the early stages of the relationship
the late night calls still occurred, and if he was to be honest he
liked them coming and often instigated them. He told her everything
about his romance, every detail and she listened, there was no reason
to hide or hold back anything. Sometimes he would feel he was going
on too much, but only because the conversation was about him and what
he was doing, he would change the subject, allow her to talk about
what was happening in her life. They rarely met during this time,
occasionally their paths would cross by chance or at some social
event.
Shortly after he split with Rebecca he
tried to make sense of the romance, the good times and the not so
good. One morning as he was stuck in traffic he wondered did he never
want things to work out with himself and Rebecca. Sabotage was too
big a word for it, but he never did allow them to grow or blossom.
Moving in with her just happened, as if by accident. They were
together for a year, he had to move from his rented apartment, her
house lease was up. People were asking what kind of place they were
looking for before they had even decided to move in together, it
seemed an obvious thing to do, if not a natural one. So it was, they
moved in and told each other they were happy. It was soon after she
told him she loved him and he replied by saying he loved her. He
enjoyed living with her, and they lived together for two years, he
even found it difficult to remember any arguments they had. Not that
they didn't have arguments, but there was no serious ones. He
supposed thats why when he eventually told her he was leaving it came
as such a shock to her, but he couldn't continuing living the way he
was, he wasn't happy, and never would be. He moved into a hotel for a
few days, to give her time to get her stuff together. He offered her
the apartment but she declined, saying she couldn't stay in it after
what happened. This made him even more guilty as he had no problem
staying there. She moved out on the Saturday and he moved back in on
the Sunday. Every trace of her was gone, it was clinical, she was
completely removed from his life, what took over three years to build
had disappeared without a trace in three days. Well, nearly without a
trace, there was a note left on the kitchen table, he took it in his
hand, read it, then folded the paper and put it in his wallet. A
month later they spoke for the last time, shortly after that he was
to learn she had moved to London for a new start. He hoped she got
it.
The apartment was lonely and eerily
quiet that first week after Rebecca had left, he didn't like it. He
never felt the need to talk things through with anyone, I suppose he
could be considered a private person but tonight he felt like
talking. Not so much talking about his current situation but to talk
about everything and anything. There was only one person to call,
they hadn't spoken in a couple of months, but he knew he could call.
Talking to her would be easy, he knew their thoughts would rhyme and
he missed that. The phone had barely rung when it was answered, she
seemed initially pleased to hear him and her voice was genuinely
excited but it didn't last long. It was as if she had been caught
unawares by his call and had allowed her giddy excitement to show
before taking on a more demure persona. The conversation was standard
for two people who needed to catch up after some time apart, he
didn't mention the split, not a good opening line, he would fit that
in a bit later. But, before this could happen, she said she had to
go, couldn't talk. She promised to call later, or maybe tomorrow, but
definitely by the end of the week, then they said goodbye. He knew
they hadn't spoken in a while but the hurried end to the call seemed
strange to him, if she couldn't talk now that was fine, but surely
she could call later that night. Maybe she would call later, but he
knew by her that was unlikely to happen. Lots of things went through
his head, the conversation was meant to have helped him, calm him,
but it turned out to make him anxious, worried. He was thinking of a
myriad of situations that prevented her from calling, none of which
he particularly liked. He needed to talk, the familiar desire of
wanting to tell her what was going on in his head, very quickly rose
to the surface of his being. It was consuming, urgent and a sense of
restlessness was enveloping him.
He called her several times over the
next few days but the calls where never answered or returned.
Eventually, late one evening, she did call. He answered and chose to
ignore that fact that she had taken so long to reply. Immediately he
asked if they could meet up, she was hesitant at first, but he
wouldn't let the call finish without a confirmed time and place for
them to talk in person. It was to be the next morning, and after the
arrangement was made, she hurried to get off the phone, suggesting
that they could talk about everything tomorrow. After, he felt
physically sick, maybe a couple of reasons for this. First of all, he
didn't like the way the call transpired, the conversation was
awkward, her reluctance to meet up and the way she wanted it to end
after only a few minutes. Secondly, he knew he had to tell her all
tomorrow, he had wasted so many years holding back. He had promised
himself a thousand times he would tell her, but never did. This time
it was for real, and he knew that, and that scared him like nothing
else ever had.
The met the next morning, she was ten
minutes late which didn't help his situation. He talked and she
listened. He had told her everything, she seemed surprised but not
shocked. He went to take her hand, but she withdrew it into herself.
It was her turn to talk, she told him how she felt and explained her
situation. After she was finished, she stood up, said goodbye and
wished him well. He sat and watched her walk away, she never looked
back. He went back to his house, went upstairs to the bedroom, closed
the door, locked it, and pushed a chair under the handle to prevent
the door being opened from the outside. It would give him enough time
on the off chance someone would come looking for him that morning.
