‘Oh Tony,’ she whispered. ‘I wish you’d come back to me.’ She leaned forward and kissed him softly on his cheek, opened his dressing gown and stroked his chest. He stirred a little and her hands found their way to his scrotum. She caressed his balls and took charge of his penis.
She took her time and stroked him gently; sensuously until his manhood came alive in her hands and then she smiled and kissed the tip. His eyes were still tightly closed but he stirred as she glided his hands through her hair and he guided her every motion. Then without any warning his penis, which had grown to a full erection, went down. She felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment, raised her head up high and flicked her hair back.
‘Mary.’
‘Ssshh my sweet, don’t say a word.’ She kissed him on his lips and he pulled her close to his chest but she pulled away and stood up.
She picked the tray up and placed it on the bed. ‘Anyway I’ve brought you up some dinner, you must be hungry.’ He saw the sadness in her eyes. She turned around and Tony noticed her hands move towards her face as she wiped the tears away. ‘Now, I’ll be cross with you if you don’t eat it all.’ She turned around and smiled with tears still in her eyes. ‘Do you hear me, Mr Manning, you’re to eat every bit of that dinner.’
‘Mary, you’re crying.’
She walked back over to him and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I know, I understand, really I do. Tony, these things take time, right?’
He held her chin and looked into her eyes. ‘Mary, I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘I know honey; it’s just that I’m scared. Anyway, let’s not talk about that. Tell me, did Carlos give you a good massage?’
‘It was great.’ But then Tony looked away and stared out of the window.
‘Darling, are you OK?’
‘Do you know what I’m thinking; I’m thinking, you deserve someone that can satisfy you, I’m thinking that I’ve failed you and our children. I’m thinking—’ and then the phone rang.
‘I’d better get it,’ said Mary. She stretched over the bed to pick up the phone but he held her hand.
‘Forget the phone.’
‘Tony, I can’t, I'm expecting a very important call.’
He sat on the edge of the bed and took a good long look at Mary and he didn’t utter another word. She was so special to him and he didn’t quite get understand why she loved him so.
Mary suddenly remembered: the choir leader of the Holly Oaks Gospel Choir had promised to return her call. She had tried contacting them earlier but they were unavailable so she left an urgent message on their answering machine with instructions to phone ASAP.
‘Hello … Yes … Yes … No … That will be all … Yes, I’ll see you then … Thank you so much.’ Everything was now falling into place and she was so relieved.
‘Tony.’
‘I’m in the bathroom.’
‘Listen we’ll talk when I get back,’ she shouted.
‘Where are you going?’ he shouted back.
‘I won’t be long,’ she closed the door and then opened it again.
‘Please eat your dinner.’ There was no reply. ‘I know you can hear me.’
She closed the door and made her way down the stairs, into the living room. Although things were falling into place there was still some loose ends to tie up. Things would get better but right now she had a party to arrange. She fiddled through her address book which was safely hidden behind her collection of cooking books. She sat down in her soft cream settee to phone their local vicar then wondered to herself whether she was placing more importance on getting everything right for herself than for Tony. They would talk later, she thought, and things would work out, one way or the other but for now she had a surprise birthday to arrange.
Chapter 7- Crisis
‘Mr Truman, there's a call for you. It’s Mr Manning. Do you wish to take the call, Mr Truman?’ Martin was engrossed in a pile of paperwork that lay scattered all over his desk.
‘Hmm, hmmm,’ Jackie coughed and then continued, ‘Do you wish to take the call Mr Truman?’
‘Sorry, did you say something?’
‘Mr Manning is on line one. Do you wish to take the call?’
‘Yes, I’ll take the call, thank you.’
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Manning, putting you through now.’ Martin looked at her for a moment and thought to himself, if you smiled occasionally, Ms Bennett, you could be quite attractive.
‘Tony, buddy. How’s it going? Long-time no see but I’m so glad you called. I was going to phone, only I thought I’d give you some space. I didn’t want to push things.’
‘Martin, you don’t need to explain and you don’t need to be careful with what you say either. I won’t break, you know.’
Martin looked up at the wall clock. It was 1.15 pm, lunchtime.
‘Tony, I’m going to put you on hold for a moment. Just give me a sec. Urh, Jackie you can go for lunch now.’ Without any hesitation, she pulled out her handbag from underneath her desk. Out came the cheese and pickle sandwich, a bar of Milky Way, a can of diet coke, followed by a packet of cheese and onion crisps, an apple and a banana and a yoghurt.
Martin looked at her in absolute astonishment and wondered how on earth one person could eat all that food in one sitting and still look that slim.
‘Tony-’
‘I’m here.’
‘Yeah, how’s it going?’
‘I had my fifth session with Tara.’
‘Tara?’
‘Tara Johnson, Mark's friend, the counsellor, remember?’
‘Yeah ... Mark's friend, that’s right. Great, that’s great Tony, really good news, so how was it?’
‘It’s OK; I think it’s helping, although I still have my off days, as you know.’
‘That a boy Tony. Trust me, you’re on the road to recovery.’
‘So, what’s she like? Come on now Tony, give me figures.
34, 26, 36.’
‘The only figures I’ve been counting is the hourly rate.’
‘Yeah I bet, so buddy when are we all meeting up?’
‘Next weekend is good for me. Look, I’m sorry I’ve been out of sync the last couple of months. You know, not meeting up with you guys. Things have been difficult and I haven’t been the best company.’
‘Hey, what are friends for? I understand and besides it’ll be great to catch up.’
‘How’s Mark doing?’
‘Mark’s having a bad time.’
‘He is?’
‘Really! He had a one night stand with some girl called Beverley. It turns out the girl is some kind of fruitcake. What can I say, she’s stalking him or so he thinks.’
‘I’m sure something similar happened to him before with another girl. You might remember her? you know the one with the crooked eye, what was her name again? Monica, yeah it was Monica.’
‘It was Monica but she was into the whole bondage thing, that’s different.’
‘And I thought I was the only one with problems,’ sighed Tony.
‘Pretty heavy wouldn’t you say? He’s got himself into a right pickle this time.’
‘Has he told the police?’
‘What’s he going to say? “Oh officer, Beverley the fruit loop posts her freshly scented underwear through my letterbox every day. Come on, Tony, the police aren’t going to take it seriously; even if she’s a fruit loop.’
‘What can I say, poor Mark. Anyway let’s meet up next weekend, which reminds me, you really need to answer your mobile, it goes straight to voicemail all the while.’
‘Yeah, that’ll be great, what about a game of golf, it’s been a long time since we’ve all played together and I owe it to Mark.’
‘Seriously Martin! Are you saying that you haven’t played golf since we met at Lorenzo's?’
‘I’m afraid not buddy.’
‘But that’s been a while. I thought you guys played once a week since you joine
d the club.’
‘Let’s just say a few things cropped up.’
‘Oh, it’s like that is it Martin? You’ll have to fill me in but just to let you know, I’m a bit rusty on my swing. It’s been a couple of months since I played.’
‘Rusty, come on Tony, you’re better than me and Mark.’
‘Well, I don’t like to brag.’
‘You sound well, Tony, you sound like the old Tony I know.’
‘I have my moments but I’m less tense. Like I said, I think the counselling might be helping me. Anyway Martin, I’m about to do a commercial now, so talk to you later.’
‘Next Sunday?’
‘Yep, Sunday’s fine.’
‘OK, I’ll tell Mark and I’ll phone you to let you know what time we tee off.’
‘Great.’
‘Don’t let me down Tony.’
‘How could I?’
Martin placed the phone down and turned up the radio. Heart FM played a Whitney Houston track from the early 1990’s – good times, good stuff. He reminisced about the time he met Tony and Mark in 1992. It was actually at a football event hosted by the BBC. Tony was an up-and-coming interior designer. He’d just finished a series of House Beautiful. Mark was an up-and-coming reporter and writer and Martin was in the process of setting up a graphic design business. They were introduced to each other by producer Angela Watts, a sexy blonde whom he later went on to bed. Each had an interest in golf and that was that. They met up for a game and had been friends ever since.
He thought of Joan. He missed her terribly. What was it about her that made him so content to be in her presence? They didn’t really talk about God as such. Certainly he believed in God, he just wasn’t into following the whole Ten Commandments and abstaining from sex was impossible although strangely he didn’t have the urge for sex with anyone because the only person he thought about all the time was Joan. He could call Candice and she’d do the honours every time but he was done with that. He wanted stability; he wanted love. Something he’d been running away from all his life and then he remembered his dream, floating on air with Joan beside him and that’s how he felt every time he spoke to her or whenever he was in her company, he was floating on air.
This time he’d cook for her. He’d take her back to his place and they’d talk for hours and hours. She’d confess her love to him and he’d confess his love to her and then they’d end up in bed together. No, that part’s wrong, Martin, he told himself. You’re being stupid. It’ll be a nice evening and that’s that.
She was too special and he respected her too much to make his moves on her, even if his genitals said otherwise.
He’d just have to strap his balls down in his tight leopard skin thong.
It wasn’t long before Jackie returned from her lunch break. She sat back down at her desk but then Women’s Weekly fell out of her hands. She bent down to pick it up, giving Martin the ideal opportunity to examine her backside from his desk. He noticed it was flat and came to the conclusion that despite all the food she ate, it obviously wasn’t getting to her ass. A woman's gotta have a great backside – after all a man’s got to have something to hold unto, work with and shebang. That’s how it ought to be, he thought. He compared her backside to Joan’s and despite all those long skirts draped around her; the outline of Joan’s figure could drive a man wild. Now she had a bottom, a lovely, curvy, round, big bottom. Jennifer Lopez’s bottom wasn’t a pitch on Joan’s. Joan had a bottom he could get lost in, if given half the chance.
‘Mr Truman, something's wrong with your face.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s that disgusting smile on your face. It looks quite awful.’
‘Well Jackie, if you tried smiling occasionally, you wouldn’t be so bothered by, as you put it, by my disgusting smile. Do you know something Jackie?’ He paused for a moment. ‘I wouldn’t mind giving you something to smile about.’
‘I’ll have you for sexual harassment.’ said Jackie as she left the office. Martin laughed to himself and couldn’t help but think of his friends Mark and Tony. Tony wanted it, sex, but couldn't get it up. Jackie his secretary wanted it – well, he supposed she did but doubted whether her husband wanted to give it to her; simply because she never smiled and her ass was way too flat. Mark was being stalked by a sex-crazed psycho with a multiple personality disorder and he was falling in love with a Christ-loving virgin whose only commitment was to the Lord and none other.
He laughed to himself and shouted. ‘We all need, help!’
Just then the phone rang. Jackie had forgotten to turn the answering machine on again. Martin walked over to her desk and pressed no 9 on the phone to record all messages. Just as the recorded message kicked in, Joan’s voice was heard. In a scuffle he quickly picked up the phone and spilt Jackie’s half-finished cup of coffee.
‘That’s great, absolutely great.’ He was lest best pleased with himself.
‘Hello Martin, how are you?’
‘I’m better now; I mean I’m happier now that I’ve heard your voice.’
‘Why thank you.’
‘So Joan, when did you get back?’
‘Last night.’
‘How’s your aunty?’
‘You mean my grandmother.’
‘Yep, I meant your grandmother.’
‘She’s on the mend.’
‘That’s good to know Joan. I missed you, did you miss me?’
But Joan’s response was to fire at him with a question. ‘How’s business?’
‘OK,’ said Martin. ‘Actually business is great at the moment, I can’t complain about anything except there’s this miserable secretary I work with, she’s so miserable.’
‘Why, what’s wrong with her?’
‘The question is what’s right with her. Anyway forget her Joan, I want to talk about you. Did you meet any nice guys out there?’
‘I didn’t fly thousands of miles just to meet guys but as it happens, I met a few nice and extremely attractive men.’
Martin felt a surge of jealousy. ‘You did?’
‘Yeah I met this sweet guy called Derek, and of course there was Basil and I can’t forget Winston.’
‘Is that right?’
‘And do you know what I really liked about them, apart from the fact they were tall, dark and extremely handsome. All of them shared the same faith as me. It was refreshing, delightful actually.’
His heart hurt and he felt physically sick but he played it cool. ‘I see, spoilt for choice eh?’
‘Well I would be if they weren’t my cousins.’ And she let out a humongous laugh.
‘Did you say cousins?’
‘That’s right, you heard me Martin. Derek, Basil and Winston are my cousins, I fooled you Martin.’
‘More like you’re teasing me Joan.’ She was too busy laughing to sense the hurt in his voice.
‘I’m glad you think it’s funny Joan.’
‘Martin, you know how silly I can be. Anyway, I need to change the time of our dinner date.’
‘I wasn’t sure if we were still on for dinner, the last time we spoke you implied that our going out for dinner wasn’t such a good idea.’
‘Is that what I said Martin? OK so I changed my mind! Anyway, tonight at six o’clock, is that OK?’
‘I would like nothing more than to have dinner with you, Joan.’
‘Oops sorry, Martin, we’ll need to make it later than six, er shall we say eight o’clock; is that OK with you?’
‘That’s fine with me. Why the change though? Don’t tell me, choir rehearsal?’
‘No, there’s no choir rehearsal.’
‘Is it Bible study?’
‘No, it’s not bible study.’
‘Are you visiting the sick?’
‘Not today.’
‘Is there another man in your life?’
‘No, but if you count Jesus then yes.’
‘I give up.’
‘I’m co-ordinating a play.’
‘A
play – sounds ominous.’
‘It’s about Samson and Delilah.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, Martin.’
‘That's great. Actually that’s a perfect opportunity for us to work together. I’ll play Samson and you play Delilah, sounds great. I feel the back of my neck tingling already. You have your wicked way with me, cut my hair off and I'll lose my strength.’ Joan was laughing even louder. ‘Joan, don’t tell me you’re laughing, I’m being deadly serious.’
She always laughed. She once told him, when her aunty on her father’s side died, her first reaction was to laugh. Strange though it seemed, it was her way of coping with just about every situation.
‘Besides, I don’t have any hair, you know I’m teasing you. Anyways, I’ll see you at 8.00, I’ll pick you up.’
He was in a good mood. That’s what Joan did to him. She had that aura about her even over the phone.
In an attempt to clean up the spilt coffee, he opened the top drawer of Jackie’s desk in hope of finding some napkins, toilet roll, anything to clean up the mess he made. He rummaged through Jackie’s magazines and letters.
At the bottom of the pile there was a lonely-hearts magazine. Martin sat still and for a few moments his brain went into overdrive. Was she single? Did she wear a wedding band to hide the fact that she was a widow, divorced or separated and then, it suddenly all made sense! Jackie was lonely and it showed because she was so cold but then again maybe she’s so distant because she’s afraid I’ll fancy like her; she’d be so lucky, thought Martin. He was surmising but he felt pleased with his psychological analysis of her. It suddenly dawned on him that he could end up in her shoes, lonely and sad although she might have been happy years ago. Maybe she was once attractive.
He looked through the magazine, read the columns and became intrigued. ‘Middle-aged man who likes tennis and walking seeks middle-aged lady with similar interests, looking for love.’ There were several, some of which were humorous and desperately sad, other ads were pathetic.
Those Mid-Life Blues Page 11
