Good Vibration

by S M Mala

  ‘I don’t want to quarrel,’ Sylvie replied, closing the bathroom door. ‘I just want to spend a nice day and night with you.’

  ‘I’ve just told you something really shitty and look at you! It’s as if you don’t care!’

  ‘That’s not true,’ she replied, knowing it was all going to go wrong. ‘You know that’s not true, so don’t say it because you’re being unfair.’

  He turned and walked away.

  She watched how he was stomping off and her heart sank for a moment as she didn’t want to be his punch bag, not today. Her hands started to shake and Sylvie tried so hard not to break down, hide she was hurting and scared, but she couldn’t control what she was feeling, and it all came spiralling out as she broke down in tears.

  Before she could turn to open the bathroom door and hide, he came hurtling towards her and grabbed her in his arms as she started to sob.

  The pain was awful and she tried so hard to control it, but Finlay wasn’t letting go, which made her feel worse, knowing she didn’t want him to go anywhere with the threat he would never come back.

  ‘Hey, hey,’ she heard him say, while leading her into the living room. ‘I don’t want my shitty mood to rub off on you. I didn’t mean what I said, I’m just fucking confused.’

  All the time she didn’t want to pull away, so he could see her tear stained face. She leaned forward when he placed her on the sofa and buried her head in her hands as he tried to shove tissues underneath. Sylvie took a bunch and turned her head away from his view, as she wiped her face and blew her nose before swallowing hard.

  Composing her breath slowly, she coughed a little and felt his arm firmly wrapped around her shoulders.

  ‘It’s just hard,’ she gulped for a moment, realising he was resting his forehead against her head. ‘I’ve never been a bit on the side, well I have, but not as a mother and widow. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know what I can’t say but everything else is so … upsetting.’ Sylvie pulled herself together and sat up straight before turning to look him straight in the eye, feeling something bubble in her chest. ‘I’m being pathetic.’

  Finlay pushed out his bottom lip before being lost in thought.

  ‘I know I’m honest sometimes and it can come across as-.’

  ‘Very blunt?’ she replied and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘At least you’re not softening it, you know. I understand perfectly where I fit and where I don’t. It’s not a surprise you’d rather be with your wife and mother of your, soon to be, son and heir. I get it, I’m not that thick!’

  ‘I never said you were,’ he smirked, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

  ‘You didn’t disagree when I said I was pathetic?’

  ‘Let’s start the day again, okay? It’s coming up to two and so far, I’ve not made it a good welcome for you.’

  ‘And I’m not allowed to say I miss you, when I don’t see you. I can’t tell you I wish you were with me when I’m on my own. I can’t say anything because I have to keep it light so you can easily fuck off and feel less guilty when you dump my sorry old arse and walk away!’ she blurted out seeing the shock on his face. ‘I can’t say anything, you see! I’m a grown woman and I can’t tell you that!’

  ‘Sly,’ he said gently, and she could see he was concerned. ‘I never said you couldn’t-.’

  ‘Yes you did, you did!’

  Sylvie got to her feet and swallowed hard.

  She wasn’t upset she was now angry.

  ‘I had a husband whose family hated me, well his mother! I feel sorry for Juliette knowing your family hates her and I’m sure she’s nice. If she wasn’t then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with her. I don’t think she’s awful because she told you the truth about her screw, she didn’t lie.’ Sylvie turned and looked down at his half open mouth. ‘That woman could have reeled you in and then given you the shock of your life the day that child was born, but she didn’t. You have to cut her some slack for that and you know what?’

  ‘What?’ Finlay said anxiously.

  ‘I’m falling for you and I don’t care if you know! I hope you feel fucking guilty for making a woman, nearly fifty, feel like this, knowing full well it’s to make you feel better and me to feel worse! And I don’t want to go through the pain of losing someone again but I know I will and that’s the thing I’m trying to get my head around.’

  She didn’t want to see his face as she walked out of the living room and into the bedroom, slamming the door shut just so she could stand on his bed and jump up and down on it before kicking the duvet and the pillows off.

  Sylvie felt angry with him but mainly at herself knowing she was acting like a teenager but she didn’t care.

  Then she stopped jumping and stared at the wall, at the head of the bed, before something made her jump and nearly stumble backwards.

  Finlay had stepped up on the bed and was standing behind her, his hand on her hips, as he turned her around.

  ‘I don’t care what you have to say, Finlay, you can shout and tell me what’s what. Call me pathetic or whatever honest observation you’ve made, I can take it. I’m not going to cry, I’ve done something on the list I said I would never do, actually two things so let rip. I’m ready,’ she said defiantly as he raised his eyebrows at her and gave her one of his ‘oh dear what’s wrong with you,’ looks.

  Then he tugged her closer and leaned down.

  ‘You don’t make it easy do you?’ he muttered before kissing her with so much passion as he pushed her down onto the bed.

  His hands were all over the place and she realised he was on a mission, probably to shut her up, as Sylvie just held him as close as possible, making sure she remembered everything about his weight, size and feel. Pulling her head away she sniffed his neck, the lovely odour of soap and some aftershave she never asked what it was, before feeling his face where he’d shaved that morning.

  Then he stopped and looked at her for a moment before kissing her gently on the lips and heading straight for her neck.

  Quickly they undressed each other and lay naked in the room with the blinds open as their kissing got longer. Then he wrapped her legs around his back, pulling off her socks.

  ‘No!’ she said, not wanting him to look at her feet. ‘I can’t expose my foot. Give me back my socks! Finlay, I’m not joking!’

  ‘Jesus, you’re serious, aren’t you?’ he said with a grin. ‘I’m not going to look.’

  ‘Or touch!’

  ‘You’re odd, you know that.’

  ‘Don’t you mean old?’ she said, looking down at her breasts. ‘But these don’t hang too much so that’s a good thing.’ Sylvie glanced at the window. ‘I think you better close the blinds.’

  He ignored her as he started to kiss her neck slowly, moving his hand up and down her body. The light streaming into the room made her glance at her own skin with the dark cream silvery stretch marks and cellulite on her thighs against his taught pale limbs. It took a matter of minutes to find herself completely absorbed in his touch, responding to everything he was doing to turn her on.

  As he kissed her, she realised he was smiling and this made her wonder if he thought it was amusing that a nearly fifty something could feel deep and wonderful feelings towards a man still holding onto this fourth decade. The sun through the window was heating their bodies and she felt exposed and vulnerable. No clothes, no socks and a beautiful naked man on top of her, who didn’t love her the same way she loved him.

  ‘Sly,’ he groaned as she felt him push his way inside, kissing her neck while she held on to the moment. ‘Oh Sly.’

  Finlay pulled away a little, all the time moving slowly as she pushed her knees up, feeling how deep he was going in, grinding all the way then he grabbed her hands and intertwined his finger with hers. She leaned up and kissed his face, as he closed his eyes.

  Again something stirred in her gut that she’d only experienced with her late husband.

  It was the way he was looking at her, she cou
ldn’t figure out.

  As if he was hoping she’d understand that he didn’t love her and not to get upset.

  The sad expression as his mouth opened for a moment then shut.

  Sylvie just grabbed him as tightly as she could, knowing she didn’t have long with her young lover and hoped, that in time, he’d not think it too funny that an old woman fell in love with him.

  Finlay watched her sleep. It was after four in the morning and he’d been both restless and happy. They’d had a good afternoon, evening and night. He knew she was putting on a brave face and did everything she could to avoid any deep and meaningful conversations.

  And he counted how many times he wanted to tell her he loved her, and bit his lip to prevent anything coming out.

  He’d stopped when it got into the twenties.

  Finlay knew if he said anything it would confuse the situation further and he needed to keep a clear head and heart about dealing with his next problem. The thing which worried him was he didn’t want to let Sylvie go. He’d simply fallen in love and didn’t know how to cope because he still loved Juliette.

  The confusion felt like turmoil in his gut.

  Sylvie moved closer to him as he wrapped his arms around her and felt her breathe on his chest. He smiled, loving the feeling of having her in his bed for the whole night and knowing she made him happy, which isn’t what he felt about Juliette.

  She was just perfect and that made him happy too but not in the same way as the woman in his arms.

  Her lips were on his chin, as he felt a small kiss. Finlay looked down and she was smiling, still half asleep.

  ‘Didn’t you sleep at all?’ she asked as he grinned, feeling a massive lurch in his heart for her. ‘Oh Finlay, you’re going to be so tired today.’

  Slowly he moved down so he could put his head in her neck, holding her gently as he didn’t want to talk. Her hands were stroking his back and he wanted to stay there, under the duvet, forever, with Sylvie in his arms and avoiding all the interruptions and complications of the outside world.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, as he poked his hard on into her thigh. ‘I see other parts of you are wide awake.’

  Finlay laughed, knowing they’d had quite a lot of sex and he was knackered. She slowly pushed him on his back and he felt her lips kiss all the way down and tease him, without actually putting it in her mouth, then he felt her lick his end before coming back up again, pulling the duvet over their heads as she straddled him.

  All he could feel was her very warm skin, against his, as she kissed his chest and neck. Slowly she eased her way down on his shaft, as he threw his head back, feeling the heat and soft wetness as she rode him, all the time pressing her breasts against his chest, her hot breath against his skin as he came very quickly and wanted to cry, feeling something stir so deep within his chest.

  He still refused to utter the words.

  ‘I want to drive you into work,’ he said, as they sat on the sofa, him still in his dressing gown and Sylvie fully dressed an hour later. ‘Come on.’

  ‘I’m leaving here at six so that gives me more than enough time to walk to the station and get into work,’ she sighed, stroking his thigh. ‘Plus you have to get to Heathrow and-.’

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘I don’t want you to,’ she replied as he tried not to feel too deflated. ‘Relax here and get to Switzerland safely, that’s all I ask.’

  He felt her hand in the back of his hair, which made him tingle for a few moments as he turned to look at her.

  ‘You know I’m worried about Saturday,’ she said quietly and it felt like a million years away in his head. ‘It’s very nerve wracking for me.’

  ‘You don’t have to feel nervous,’ he replied, putting an arm around her.

  ‘I don’t fit in.’

  ‘You will.’

  ‘It’s quite monumental,’ she whispered. ‘For me.’

  ‘You won’t let me down,’ he said gently.

  ‘Oh, I’m not worried about that,’ she said with a smirk. ‘It goes without saying a separated man taking his bit of old rough is going to let himself down.’ Sylvie laughed as he looked at her extremely beautiful face and smiled. ‘There are so many things I’ve not spoken to you about. I don’t want anyone to get mad at me for turning up.’

  ‘Who’s going to get mad?’ he asked as Sylvie shot him one of her challenging glances.

  ‘Dunno,’ she replied and stood up, taking his empty tea cup, walking to the kitchen and then stopped for a moment before turning. ‘You know you never ask about my husband, as you think I get the arse.’

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, seeing something was on her mind. ‘I hate to mention anything, and to be honest, I don’t want to know if he’s some saint or something.’

  ‘What sort of man do you think I’d marry? HGV Driver? Something manly?’

  The question had him stumped because he pieced together some of what she said but had never seen a physical picture or knew what he did for a living. He knew the other reason was he wasn’t around, so it didn’t matter.

  ‘He was seven years younger, English white guy who was taller than you and very good looking. Daisy obviously still adores her dad and you … you’re still in love with him but that goes without saying. The man was in love with you, as he should be, considering you were together for fifteen years. His mother hated you and she tried to hurt you, which I think would have made him very mad.’ Finlay let out a sigh. ‘Did you meet him at work?’

  ‘You do listen,’ she grinned and nodded. ‘I met him at work. He came in as one of those snotty graduates you have to put up with in television. The bright young things who come in to take over the industry. Where the steady sensible ones, like me, nod before shuddering at the thought they’re going to be our new bosses.’

  Sylvie walked out of the room and he heard her wash up from the kitchen.

  ‘Where did he study?’ he shouted, thinking it might be a local university and wondering what he should say if he didn’t recognise it.

  ‘Oxford, studied English or some bollocks like that which is pretty funny because he loved to read about celebrity gossip on the net and his spelling was atrocious. What a waste of a degree!’

  He was shocked.

  She walked back into the room and her face said it all.

  ‘Are you surprised an intelligent man who likes entertainment gossip fell in love with me?’ she said, before laughing out loudly as Finlay grinned, knowing he’d done the same thing. ‘I’ll let you into a secret, just because they’re academically smart doesn’t mean they’re streetwise and emotionally savvy, believe me. I can safely say my husband was as sweet and, sometimes, as fluffy as Toby.’

  ‘You don’t tell me much, do you?’

  ‘That’s because you, Finlay Chambers, are very good at making incorrect assumptions. Do you want to know something about the people who work for that sex company of ours, their stories? It might take your mind off what’s going on with you.’

  ‘I’d really prefer it if you’d just sit on the sofa so I can touch you up before you go,’ he smirked, watching her fold her arms before shaking her head.

  ‘Listen to what I have to say and when, in the future, you’re forced to sell the company, remember this.’

  ‘Go on,’ he groaned, opening up his dressing gown to flash her his bits as she rolled her eyes, unimpressed. ‘And make it fast.’

  ‘Wanda’s got no self-esteem, she was bullied at school. Marianne’s got a degree in business but her home life, as a child, was awful. Dan’s parents live in Poland, and he sends money home to them. Krzysztof’s wife is recovering from breast cancer. Matthew’s wife died of MS. Pria is gay and her Pakistani family have rejected her. Della, well you know about Della.’ He watched her flick her hair and knew she was jealous which made him smile. ‘Elizbieta has a disabled son. Gillian lost one of her brothers to a senseless knife crime. It was a gang initiation and he died in his mid-fifties by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stephen,
the wanker, lost his mother. Think that’s the only woman he’s ever really kissed.’

  Finlay started to laugh as Sylvie smirked.

  ‘Samina… well she’s a multi-millionaire on paper but the gay son has completely destroyed her. Most of her family no longer want to know and people also think, because all the husbands died, she’s a witch or evil spirit. We know one is true. And Toby…’

  ‘What about my brother?’

  ‘He wants to prove he’s good at something, very much like Piers. That place is their hope as they are doing something right. Rosalind? Think she needs something to focus on.’

  ‘And you? What about you?’ he asked as she walked towards him and sat down.

  He put her hand in his and kissed it.

  ‘I was heartbroken and, to avoid grieving, went to work in a company where I would, shockingly, fall in love with the last person I would ever have expected to.’

  Immediately he looked at her and swallowed hard.

  It was the first time she had said it and he wanted to say he felt the same but knew he couldn’t.

  ‘One day, he might just fall in love with me too. But I ain’t holding my breath.’

  Forty five

  The dress was royal blue, which she thought was completely appropriate considering it was one of the school’s colours.

  It was the day before the event and she’d not heard from Finlay, knowing he was probably concentrating on his wife. But all the time she was worried something was going to change and Sylvie knew this would break her.

  She saw the invitation hidden behind the kitchen radio and picked it up then remembered the envelope. Pondering for a moment, a cold shiver passed through her body wondering if Freya will be there and what she would say.

  Ripping it open, she saw the letter and felt sick. They were renaming the charity from ‘Give someone a chance’ to ‘The Rupert Harvey Memorial Foundation’.

  She stood there, wanting to throw up, when she saw his name in black and white then realised the letter was from Frank, asking for her to attend.

  It was as if it was final.

  Rupert was dead and that was it.