He sat at the desk and conversed out loud, to himself. ‘That could be me. I’m going to end up like these desperate people, only it’ll be worse for me. I’ve never been married or had a real stable relationship. Life's passing me by, I’m 43. OK, so I’m not the settling down type but come on at 43 I should be more mature, settle down, find a wife, have a couple of kids. But I’ll end up with no one, no wife, no children, no one to visit me when they put me in an old people’s home. There’s no one to leave my assets to when I die. Joan isn’t going to want me. Face the facts – who am I fooling?’ Jackie crept up on him and he jumped.
‘Who are you talking to, Mr Truman, and why are you sitting at my desk with my draw pulled out and my magazine in your hand?’
‘I answered the phone on your desk. Actually I was trying to work out how to put the answering machine on and I was looking for a napkin to wipe up the mess I made because I accidentally spilled your coffee.’
‘Is that so, Mr Truman?’ She didn’t believe him.
Martin placed the magazine back where he found it underneath a pile of letters and magazine. He made his way over to his desk, then sat down.
‘Are you doing anything interesting tonight?’
‘Excuse me, Mr Truman. I think that’s rather a personal question.’
‘I was just trying to make conversation.’
‘Well, if it’s all the same to you Mr Truman I’d like it if we could be professional at all times.’ And then out of nowhere came an explosion from Martin.
‘OK, Jackie, I was trying to be nice. Do you know what that word means?’
Jackie was nervous. She’d never heard him raise his voice to anyone, not even to the trainee graphics designer who recently broke the £1,700 printer.
‘Ms Casey, how long have you worked for the company?’ ‘Three years.’ Again she avoided any eye contact.
‘OK, three years. Well I’ve known you for two years and in those two years, you’ve never been nice to me. You avoid any eye contact with me. Now don’t get me wrong you’re a great assistant but you’re a bit of a snob. I know you’re lonely, I know you look through those lonely hearts magazines, but for goodness sake there’s no need to walk around as though someone’s died.’
Jackie was absolutely mortified. ‘Mr Truman—’
‘I know what you’re going to say Jackie. You may think I was rummaging through your draw. It wasn’t intentional, believe me; like I said before, I was looking for a napkin or something to clean up the mess that I’d made on your desk but there it was, the lonely-hearts magazine.’ It was a lie but he had to say something convincing. ‘There’s no need to hide any more, Ms Casey, there’s no need to be ashamed anymore.’
This time her eyes remained fixed on his. ‘Mr Truman—’
‘Anyway, Jackie, I apologise if I’ve embarrassed you.’
‘Embarrassing me, oh no, Mr Truman you are mistaken. The lonely-hearts magazine is mine but I put an ad in there for my brother. His wife died two years ago. He’s very shy and finds it extremely difficult to meet people with the same interests.’
Martin leaned back in his chair. Feeling stupid, he apologised again. Jackie was smiling. It was the first time in two years he’d seen her crack a smile.
‘I thought you were lonely and frustrated that’s why you’re so miserable.’
‘Miserable?’
‘I’ve done it again haven’t I? Damn it, I’ve put my foot in it.’
‘Mr Truman, although it’s none of your business, I would like to inform you of the following.’
‘Jackie, err, there’s no need.’
‘I would like to inform you that I’m not at all miserable. I’m a serious person but if you think I’m miserable then what can I say? You’re wrong. You’re entitled to your opinion of course but I’m not lonely or frustrated or miserable. I’ve been married for 21 years. I have one son and I’m quite happy and in case you’re wondering because you probably are wondering, I’ve got a fantastic love life.’
Martin’s jaw dropped. How wrong he was, Jackie wasn’t a lonely heart after all and she actually enjoyed sex.
Martin opened his draw, pulled out a photo and handed it to Jackie.
‘What’s this, Mr Truman?’
‘That is a photo of my ex-girlfriend Ella. Isn’t she something?’ Jackie took the photo and quickly glanced at it but was more interested in the mahogany frame it was encased in than the actual picture.
‘Yes, she's quite pretty, Mr Truman.’
‘I’m 43 now and I’m lonely Jackie.’
‘Mr Truman—’
‘No Jackie, I’d like you to listen for a moment. I know you’ve never talked to me before, not about personal things but I want to tell you something.’
‘Are you sure Mr Truman?’ The lonely-hearts magazine had awakened thoughts he had otherwise buried. She was actually beginning to feel sorry for him and so she listened.
‘She left me because I’d been unfaithful. I mean I can understand it. It was my own fault, after all there’s no sense crying over spilt milk, right?’ Jackie nodded.
‘Exactly, anyway that was seven years ago.’
‘Mr Truman—’ Jackie wasn’t quite sure what to say.
‘You see Jackie, I’ve been through a mid-life crisis before and I handled it before, only I think I’m going through it again.’
‘Mr Truman—’ Jackie still couldn’t get a word in.
‘I know I’m sounding a little crazy.’
‘Mr Truman—’
‘Yes, I know you’re probably finding this a little strange but there I was thinking that it was you who was the lonely frustrated one but you’re not lonely. You’re happily married.’
‘Mr Truman—’
‘Yes, I know that men don’t talk about their feelings, but I want you to know that I’m not like all the other men in the world.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Well, maybe I am. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?’
‘Mr Truman, really I—’
‘Jackie, I’ve just got to get my act together.’
‘Mr Truman.’ Jackie raised her voice. ‘Will you shut up?’
Taken aback, Martin lowered his head like a little boy who’d been told off.
‘Mr Truman, you make it sound as if there’s no hope, but you’ve got to think, what it is you want from life?’
Martin thought about the question and looked up at her. ‘Jackie, what does everyone want? Happiness.’
‘That’s not what I asked, what do you want?’
‘I want to feel loved and I want to give that love right back to someone special. It’s just that some days I wake up and I think: Is this it, Martin? Is this what the rest of your life’s going to be like, lonely?’
‘You’re feeling sorry for yourself, Mr Truman, and that’s not going to get you anywhere.’ She touched his arm. ‘Mr Truman, you can change your life. If you’re lonely then change it. If you have regrets let them go and embrace what you have now. Don’t be afraid to love, embrace it and make the change.’ Jackie smiled. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Mr Truman?’
‘I think so.’ The words ‘embrace’ and ‘make the change’ touched his spirit and he understood. For such a long time he denied those feelings of loneliness; instead he held unto feelings of regret and fear, but now his biggest fear was that he was in love with Joan and he could face ultimate rejection if she didn’t love him back.
‘Now, Mr Truman, I think we’ve got work to do.’
‘Jackie.’
‘Yes, Mr Truman?’
‘Thank you and I apologise for judging you wrongly.’
‘Mr Truman, if more men in this world opened up in the way you did today then the world would be a better place. Mr Truman, I think we’re going to have a great working relationship.’
Martin smiled and for the rest of the afternoon he wafted through his designs. Jackie typed away but occasionally they looked at each other and smiled.
It was 5.15 pm when he left the office,
Jackie was still there finishing off the filing and processing orders. He was keen to get home, shower, unwind for a while and then get ready to pick up Joan for eight o’clock.
On his way home he reflected on his conversation with Jackie. He wondered why she was always so serious when she had the most incredible smile. She’d told him some home truths he needed to hear. Embrace what you have now and then, only then, will you be able to breathe again. He wondered if he was able to let go of fear or whether tonight fear would let go of him.
Chapter 8- Keeping it real
It was 8.30 am before Mark stirred from a deep sleep. He felt groggy and his head felt heavy. The TV was still on and Eamonn Holmes from GMTV was staring back at him and looking far more alert than he felt.
Yet again, he’d fallen asleep on the couch with his laptop perched on his stomach. He’d been up until 4.30 pm finishing an article for the Daily Mirror and an article for Vicky. She’d given him an assignment following their meeting a week ago and today was supposed to be his final meeting.
‘Drat, I’ve missed the meeting, my necks on the chopping block, I’m a dead man,’ said Mark as he came back to consciousness. There were six missed calls on his mobile and five messages on his answering machine. Hesitantly he played back the messages.
Beep … ‘Where are you Mark Richards, this is Vicky Hendricks and you’d better have a good excuse for not being at this meeting.’
Beep … ‘Hi, I spoke to Tony yesterday, we’re having a round of golf on Sunday, tee off at 1.00 pm and don’t be late.’
Beep ... ‘Hi sexxxxy. This is Beverley, remember me, I know you’ll never forget me, you told me your mum’s dead but I can make it all better baby. I can take the pain away and give you pleasure, forever.’
Beep … ‘Hi Mark, it’s Tony, I don’t know if Martin’s been able to reach you about Sunday, give me a call.’
Beep … ‘Hi Mark, it’s me again. I love you, Mark. You said you loved me, I know you’re there, Mark, I know you’re there. You can’t hide from me. I’m coming to get you, Mark.’
Beep … ‘Mark … Mark … I love you. I love you, Mark.’
‘Oh no … what the hell is that psycho trying to do to me?’ So many thoughts filled his head. ‘OK Mark, don’t panic, think, and think real quick. What am I going to do about this psycho? Tell the police as soon as you have a stiff drink to steady your nerves.’
Mark poured himself a large tumbler of whisky and downed it in one go but the drink made no impact on settling his jagged nerves.
‘Police please … I’ll hold … My name is Mark Richards … address … 27 Water Field Drive, Hammersmith NW1 PQJ. Yes I’d like to report a stalker; she’s stalking me, yes … it was a one-night stand … I slept with her a while back … she phones every day and she posts me her underwear … No, not exactly! She hasn’t threatened me directly but she left a message on my phone. She said I’m coming to get you. Yes, that’s right! My name is Mark … No … Yes … No … She’s a psycho … No, not that I’m aware of. A guy at the strip club told me she has a multiple personality order. Her name is Beverley King and no I don’t have her date of birth. You’ll look into it, you’re kidding me right? … There’s nothing you can do? … I need to contact BT and have my phone number changed? … Do you mean you’re going to wait until she physically hurts me or worse still tries to kill me before you do anything? Calm down? How can I calm down? You’re not standing in my shoes are you! I’d like to see someone about this. OK … OK … Thank you … bye!!’
Mark hung up the phone and for the rest of the morning he sat on his living room floor in a daze until he mustered up enough mental and physical energy to get up, have a shower and get dressed.
So he didn’t complete all the things he set out to do on his to do list until a week after he wrote it. He became waylaid with thoughts of success after his first meeting with Vicky Hendricks. He had a big contract that entailed writing for a certain political party and he had the golden opportunity to live in Los Angeles for six months. The sheer excitement of what lay ahead clouded his thinking. He needed a change of scene and Los Angeles was just what the doctor ordered only now he was worried that he’d possibly blown his chance.
He cursed himself for listening to Martin on contacting the police weeks ago. He should have followed his to do list: ‘Contact the police, have the alarm repaired, have HIV test done, send bouquet of flowers to Veronica, and call Veronica.’
He played the following thoughts in his mind. Why do I do this? An opportunity comes my way and everything else gets put to the side. OK, I could cope with the knickers. It was crazy but I could handle that but now the calls are becoming a little scary. He told himself it was punishment for being a player.
‘Why, Mark, why do you consistently screw up?’ Answering the questions he posed to himself was easy.
‘Because you’re a fool, Mark, an idiot, a jerk, no you’re a stupid jerk.’
He spent most of the morning trying to figure out how he could redeem himself. What could he possibly say to convince Vicki Hendricks he was still the man for the job in hand?
I could tell her my dying mother was on her last legs, no she was too smart for that. Sorry God, sorry mum. I’ll never use that line again. I could say I tripped and broke my ankle. No that would be too extreme. Had a different date in my diary actually no, that would show her I was unorganised and a dim twit. OK, you’re human, Mark, it happens, you’ve been working hard lately, and you were tired and overslept. For once in your life tell the truth.
It was 10.15 am when he mustered up the courage to call Vicky.
‘Vicky … hey, it’s Mark … Mark Richards … um … I just want to apologise about this morning, only I … you’re sorry … you changed the dates, you thought it was today but it’s the 26th of August … it’s no bother … no worries, these things happen. You’ll email me, OK … Have a good day, Vicky … Yeah lunch would be great … OK, I’ll wait for your call. Byeeeee.’
And there I was thinking I messed up. Now that’s what I’m talking about. Luck was on his side once again and while he felt elated he rang ‘Talking Pages’ located a local florist and ordered a bouquet of flowers to be sent directly to Veronica’s workplace. He’d play it cool and give it a day or so, then call her if she didn’t call.
Next was CCC, Cheerfully Cheap Colin. It was difficult pinning Colin down to do a job but once it was done, it was done properly so when Colin informed him the earliest he could repair the alarm was the following Friday, Mark agreed it was OK but a lot was riding on what the police were going to do to address his situation with mad Beverley.
He wanted to press charges against her for harassment but if they weren’t going to take him seriously he’d have no choice but to call the bigwigs in and no doubt pay a lot of money to have the alarm repaired pronto. He mulled the situation over in his mind. ‘OK, now all I have to do is go down to the police station, get some bread and milk, come back home, chill out and hope to God psycho Beverley doesn’t call. The HIV test will have to wait, then again, maybe not.’
Two hours later, Mark left the police station feeling as though he’d been under interrogation. The police officer repeatedly asked him why he had brought a strange woman back to his apartment if he knew she had a multiple personality disorder. He wanted to yell at the officer but when the sumo-like officer who stood tall at 6ft 11 inches towered over him he thought it best not to push it. The officer took a description of her. He said he would make some enquiries and he’d be in touch. Mark was none too impressed, and for half an hour he walked the streets scratching his head, thinking of a master plan to eradicate Beverley from his life.
‘I could make some enquiries but what the hell’s that going to do. She needs to be locked up. Who knows, there may be others who she’s stalked. Maybe they haven’t lived to tell the tale. I’m too young to die.’
‘Hi.’
Mark looked up. The face looked familiar.
‘Don’t you remember me? I met you
at Lorenzo’s.’ OK, give me more to work with, thought Mark.
‘I thought you were coming unto me and you weren’t.’
‘Yeah, I remember … wow.’
‘Yeah, it’s me.’
‘So what are you doing around here?’
‘I just moved in the area.’
‘You’re not stalking me are you?’
Kelly thought it was a strange question. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I’m sorry, it’s just that a lot of crazy stuff’s been happening to me but wow it’s good to see you.’
‘It’s good to see you too.’
‘So what brings you to this neck of the woods?’
‘My boyfriend lives on Davenport Road. We’ve been seeing each other for a while and he asked me to move in, so here I am.’
‘That’s literally on my doorstep, seriously, it’s right around the corner from my apartment.’
‘Is that so?’
‘I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.’
‘Well, you weren’t trying to hit on me, remember, so you didn’t ask, right?’
‘No and you weren’t interested in me. That’s why you left your number on top of my rucksack, right?’
‘I didn’t leave my number on top of your rucksack.’
‘Yeah ok … urh … Kelly, that’s your name right?’
‘Yes, that’s my name but seriously, I didn’t leave my number.’
‘That’s weird.’ Kelly was puzzled and then it clicked. ‘But I think I know who did. It must have been Ann … yes it would have been Ann, my friend. We worked the same shift that day. I remember her saying how cute you looked. She said we made a good-looking couple.’
Mark smirked. ‘How crazy is that?’
‘I agree Mark … stupid, real crazy. Anyway she probably left my phone number for you to call me.’
‘Smart friend you have there.’
‘More like a joker … umm … out of interest, did you call?’ asked Kelly.
‘Did I call you?’ Mark repeated the question.
‘Yeah, did you call?’
‘Actually no … it’s not that I didn’t want to.’
Those Mid-Life Blues Page 12
