Those Mid-Life Blues

by Caroline Campbell

  ‘It’s OK, I just wondered that’s all, no need to explain, I don’t even know you anyway.’

  ‘Exactly and after my last experience with a woman I don’t know who to trust.’

  ‘Someone cheated on you. I know how that feels but you learn to trust and love again. How long has it been since you broke up?’

  ‘No, you don’t understand.’

  ‘I mean it could take anything up to a year but trust me on this you’ll find someone who deserves you.’

  ‘No, it’s not like that.’

  ‘Start dating again and don’t leave it too long either that’ll just make you bitter.’

  ‘Kelly, I don’t mean to be rude but that’s not the problem.’

  ‘It’s not … I’m sorry. I get so carried away with talking sometimes.’

  ‘No problem … listen, it’s nice seeing you again.’

  ‘Nice seeing you too.’ Then it happened again, their eyes locked together just as it did the first time they met at Lorenzo’s, then she walked away, but within minutes he heard the sound of her high heels clicking behind him.

  ‘Um, Mark I know you don’t know me but I’m OK. I’m a nice girl, with a really big heart … and … I also wanted to say I was sorry for blowing you out at Lorenzo’s. I suppose what

  I’m really trying to say is, I like you.’

  ‘You do.’ Mark was a little surprised.

  ‘Yeah, we could be friends.’ How many times had he heard that catchphrase before? It was the most annoying line women used when they wanted to say, ‘I fancy the bones on you but I’m with someone, so can we be friends?’ Although in most cases it was said to torment the man. Well, that was his thinking anyway.

  ‘You haven’t been diagnosed with a mental illness have you?’ he said.

  ‘Excuse me, no I haven’t.’

  ‘Have you ever stalked a man?’

  ‘That’s an odd question but the answer is also no.’

  ‘Good, friends it is then.’ He shook her hand, gave a warm smile and thought to himself, if thoughts could be heard she’d slap me in the face right now but sister, sister you got it going on, not only do you have a certain aura, you got a mighty fine spanking booty that makes a brother want to sing.

  For a moment he was mesmerised by her hazel eyes.

  ‘Maybe we can have lunch?’ she said.

  ‘I’d like that Kelly but would your boyfriend approve?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Listen, I’ve got enough problems and at the moment, I really do, so, I don’t need another crisis in my life like your man shooting my balls off if we go out for lunch.’

  ‘You’re right but really it’ll be fine.’

  ‘OK then, what about the base on New Road. Let’s have lunch there on Sunday?’

  ‘I thought you had enough problems,’ said Kelly.

  ‘Yeah, well if I get my balls blown off, they get blown off. I’ll take my chances, if that’s OK with you?’

  ‘It’ll be fine and nothing’s going to happen to you. Keith has his moments and he can get jealous at times but on the whole he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  Mark felt good about her and in those heels she looked slamming. ‘That’s a date then.’

  ‘Mark, what’s the base?’

  ‘It’s a Mexican restaurant and boy do they serve the most amazing tacos.’

  Kelly eyes lit up and she smiled. ‘Two o’clock on Sunday, that’s fine with me. I’ll meet you there then. Oh, I’ll need your phone number, you have mine?’

  Mark hesitated for a while but then reached in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and took out his business card. ‘Here we are.’

  ‘That’s a really nice card, Mark. It has a touch of scent to it. Is it Hugo Boss and a tinge of ginseng?’

  ‘Gosh, you’re the first person I know that’s spotted the fragrance – amazing and that’s without sniffing the card.’

  ‘It’s certainly different. I’ve never seen a business card like it.’

  ‘Why thank you Kelly.’

  ‘Freelance writer eh, that’s nice. Well, I suppose I’d better get going. See you on Sunday.’

  ‘Yeah Kelly, see you Sunday.’

  He watched as she turned her back, clicked her heels and bounced her round bottom down the road.

  Chapter 9- What have I done?

  Martin was waiting in the queue for the best part of an hour but he wasn’t in the slightest bit pleased.

  The sales assistant was obviously new because she kept getting everything wrong and the scan machine that tilled in the items wasn’t working. So she tilled the items in manually. The dizzy young woman made a blunder and forgot to give one lady her change and she overcharged the next customer.

  Finally after fifteen minutes of waiting, he placed his items on the counter and waited for the dippy sales assistant to scan his goodies of mint mouthwash, bandages and an electric shaver. She was so slow and took great effort to till in his few purchases. He suspected she needed glasses because her eyes were all screwed up as she keyed in £29.99 for the shaver. Martin was not impressed and it showed. The sales assistant smiled at him nervously but he was in no mood to return the gesture. As far as he was concerned he was having a rotten day.

  The assistant told him to have a good day as she handed him his Visa card and till receipt but Martin didn’t reply. He wasn’t in the mood for being polite.

  As he made his way through the doors a traffic warden walked by and he felt his blood pressure rising. He hated traffic wardens; they were like vultures preying on innocent people and finding somewhere to park in Hammersmith town centre was a nightmare. He power walked towards his car which was parked a little distance from the chemist and prayed for a miracle. He prayed there wasn’t a yellow ticket underneath his windscreen wipers. Those traffic wardens were so good at placing those tickets; they did so with so much precision and accuracy and probably excitement. He was sure there was a technique to it. Standing in front of his car was another traffic warden who carefully placed that dreaded ticket on his car. He shouted at the short stumpy-looking warden.

  ‘Blast, why do I always get a ticket?’

  ‘That’s what happens when you park on a double yellow line,’ muttered the warden.

  ‘It was only five minutes,’ shouted Martin, but the traffic warden paid no attention. Her eyes were fixed on another car across the road.

  ‘Exactly as I thought, you’re like vultures, I can’t stand you lot,’ he shouted. ‘Do you hear me, you old crow bag!’

  But she was so focused on booking another car she didn’t respond.

  In frustration Martin thumped the bonnet of the car. ‘Damn you.’

  It had been one of those days when everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. In the morning his electric shaver wouldn’t work which irritated him so he had to resort to using a razor but accidentally cut himself five times. On his way out to work he stepped in some dog pooh. Some lame dog took the liberty of crapping on his doorstep and some smart aleck punctured one of his new tyres.

  He opened the car door, sat in the car, slammed the door and shouted. ‘Someone's got to it in for me, I’m convinced. What have I ever done to anyone?’ He looked at himself in the rear view mirror and frowned.

  ‘What have I done to anyone; why is this happening to me?’ He knocked his head against the steering wheel and cursed the sales assistant in the chemist and the traffic warden and this lousy feeling he had in his stomach. After ten minutes or so he decided that it was no good feeling sorry for himself, it wasn’t going to change anything, after all, what else could possibly go wrong? He turned the radio on and fiddled with the dial until he located a decent radio station that played his kind of music.

  He smiled when he heard Tom Jones but his smile quickly disappeared when he realised there was traffic ahead. He wasn’t impressed. The last thing he needed was to be stuck in traffic, especially today. After weeks of trying he finally managed to arrange another date with Joan. This t
ime she’d be home alone. Her brother Dennis lived with her but was in the States attending a church convention which was an absolute God send for Martin.

  ‘Come on, you morons, get a shift on.’ He tooted his horn at the person in front of him. They were crawling on the road like snails, so he tooted again.

  ‘Come on, you stupid cow, I’ve got a woman I need to see.’

  Typical woman driver, he thought. He was shocked to see that the driver in front was not a woman but a man and not just a normal man but an iron man, an uglier version of the undertaker from WWW wrestling. His right sleeve was rolled up and a tattoo of a naked woman adorned his arm. He stepped out of the car and walked over to Martin’s Fiesta. Martin cursed himself for being impatient and tooting his horn and his heart was now beating like rock and roll.

  ‘Please Lord, don’t let me die now.’

  ‘You’re tooting,’ said the tall figure of a man. He then put his head close to the window.

  ‘Um, I—’ Martin tried to look calm but his hands were trembling.

  ‘There’s no point horning at me, I can’t move because the person in front of me can’t move. We are in a traffic jam, do you understand?’

  Martin nodded and nodded and nodded. ‘You can stop nodding your head, just be cool and in a little while the traffic will die down, OK!’ The tall figure of a man was firm but polite. He walked back to his car and waved. Martin was relieved, he had visions of the iron man dragging him out of the car and beating him to a pulp.

  Twenty minutes later he pulled up next to Joan’s car. As he got out of the car he noticed that Dennis’s car was parked on the other side.

  ‘Oh no, no, please God no, please don’t tell me he didn’t go.’ He stood by his car for a few seconds then started walking. He walked up the road then down the road and contemplated if he should call it a day and just go home. He couldn’t face Dennis today, not after the day he had. All he wanted to do was sit next to Joan, hold her hand and talk to her.

  Joan stood by the gate and watched Martin as he walked passed her house for the sixth time.

  ‘Mr Truman.’ Martin jumped and Joan smiled.

  ‘You scared the living daylights out of me.’

  ‘I’ve watched you pacing up and down this road for the last ten minutes. What exactly are you doing?’

  ‘Um, I, um, I—’ He leaned against the gate and held his stomach.

  ‘Martin you look pale.’

  ‘Pale, um, yeah pale, that’s right. I’ve got a dickey belly, thought I’d walk it off.’

  ‘You poor thing, come inside.’ She was rubbing his shoulders reassuringly. And he welcomed her gesture by looking at her with sad eyes.

  ‘It’s OK Joan, I can see you’ve got company, I’ll just go home.’

  ‘Company ... nobody's here.’

  ‘You’re on your own but I thought Dennis was here.’ He looked over at Dennis’s car and Joan laughed.

  ‘Dennis always leaves his car parked outside when he goes away.’ Then suddenly Martin stood up straight.

  ‘I am stupid.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ve got a stomach ache because you’ve made a miraculous recovery.’

  ‘Well, the good lord is a healer, isn’t that right, Joan!’

  ‘Martin Truman, if you’re up to any low down dirty tricks then you may as well just go on home, right now.’

  ‘Seriously my stomach is hurting but seeing you makes it all better. You’re like Pipto Bismal.’

  He noticed she was wearing a mini-skirt, well maybe not a mini, her skirt was knee length but it was the shortest thing he’d ever seen her wear and it revealed her legs which looked ravishingly attractive, especially as she wasn’t wearing any tights.

  Maybe it’s not such a bad day after all, thought Martin.

  ‘Umm, I think I’ll have a cup of that mint tea you sometimes make and do you have any of that bread with raisins.’

  ‘You mean West Indian bun, it’s like sweet bread.’

  ‘Yeah, bun.’

  ‘Well, I suppose you better come in, Mr Truman.’

  Suddenly the perils of the day disappeared. He was safe and in one peace sitting on Joan’s sofa, drinking mint tea and eating West Indian bun with some cheese thrown in for pleasure. What could be better? He thought. He came up with one thought but it was the kind of thought Dennis would rebuke right away.

  He remembered Joan telling him, Dennis was a discerner. That meant he could sometimes tell anyone what they’d done, or what someone may be experiencing. It made him nervous. He didn’t want Dennis knowing what he was thinking or what he wanted to do to his sister, if given half the chance.

  ‘I really enjoyed the church festival the other day.’

  ‘I knew you would, actually my mum’s taken a shine to you.’

  ‘I’m not surprised Joan, I mean, I’m a really nice guy. Anyway you have a nice home, its cosy, real cosy.’

  She sat down next to him and crossed her legs. ‘I’m glad you’re comfortable.’

  ‘Anyway how’s the play coming on?’

  ‘Fine, the kids have learnt their lines and I’m happy with everything. I need to make a few costumes but other than that I’d say we’re rearing to go.’

  ‘Sounds like fun.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if I’d call it fun but I enjoy working with the kids … um, I’m a bit cold are you?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Martin but Joan was ready to turn the gas fire on, at full blast, even though Martin wasn’t cold, he was actually sweating at the brow. But he wasn’t sure if he was sweating because Joan’s legs turned him.

  ‘So tell me Martin, what have you been up to?’ She sat back in the settee and crossed her legs again.

  Martin was feeling extremely hot. His trousers were clinging to his legs and the palms of his hands were clammy.

  ‘You really do have beautiful legs.’

  Joan smiled and Martin turned to face her but she stood up and walked away.

  ‘Err … where are you going? I don’t bite you know.’

  ‘Back in a little while – duty calls.’ He could hear her footsteps as she walked up the stairs and into the bathroom.

  Photographs of church members, family members and friends ordained her walls and on the mantle shelf there was a photograph of Joan’s graduation encased in a solid brass frame. He picked up the frame and stared long and hard at her picture, until Joan re-emerged.

  ‘Oh don’t look at that photo, I look awful.’

  ‘If it’s that awful Joan, why’s it on your mantelpiece? I’d like to keep it because I think, you look absolutely beautiful.’

  ‘Oh no, give me back that picture, Martin.’ Joan pulled on the picture but Martin pulled it back then Joan pulled at it again.

  ‘Give me it back,’ said Joan. She had a fierce grip on her.

  ‘No Joan.’

  ‘Please Martin, give it back.’ He held on to it tightly but she kept pulling at it until he decided to let go. She toppled into his arms and he caught her. It was the first time he’d ever been so close to her smooth brown skin. She pulled away and managed to stand to her feet but she was clearly embarrassed.

  ‘That wasn’t very nice.’

  ‘I thought it felt great,’ smiled Martin. He followed her every move as she made her way into the kitchen to put the kettle on again.

  ‘Are you always like this?’ ‘Like what?’ she snapped.

  ‘Why are you always moving around? You haven’t really sat down for any length of time so we can talk.’ His mind was like a time bomb waiting to explode. Joan had a knee-length skirt on and no tights. What was he supposed to do – just sit in her company and not imagine what he could be doing? OK, so she was a Christian but even Christians fell; well, maybe not this Christian, not Joan, and he knew from the look that she gave him, there was no way he could get too close to her again.

  ‘Do want another cup of tea Martin?’

  ‘Um, no thank you.’

  ‘How’s your friend?’

&n
bsp; ‘Tony?’

  ‘Yeah Tony, how is he?’

  ‘He’s still depressed.’

  ‘Is it the same problem as before?’

  ‘Yes and the fact that he’s approaching forty. His wife’s organising a surprise birthday party for him. I think it’s in the next week or so.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll appreciate a surprise birthday party?’

  ‘Not really. We met at the golf and country club a few weeks ago and had a few drinks. He told me he didn’t want a party.’

  ‘Wow, he must be really low. Who would have thought that a man like Tony with so much going for him would be so depressed? He probably needs a holiday. Oh and speaking of holidays I’ll be going to Jamaica in about six weeks’ time.’

  Martin sighed. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘It’s a holiday. I am entitled to a holiday Martin.’

  ‘You can’t go.’

  Joan laughed. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I need you.’ He wasn’t prepared for what came next. Joan let out a roar of laughter that was sure to make the roof cave in.

  ‘Joan, I’m telling you how I feel here and you’re laughing.’ But it was a nervous laugh.

  ‘You are so funny, that’s why I like you, because you’re so funny Martin.’ But he was serious and she could see from the expression on his face he wasn’t joking and then she composed herself.

  ‘Martin, you’re serious, aren’t you?’ He nodded. ‘OK, you need me Martin. Friends need each other, right?’ ‘Joan, it’s more than that and I think we both know it.’ Nervously Joan walked away.

  ‘Please don’t go anywhere, don’t go to the bathroom or to the kitchen. Please don’t go anywhere.’

  She sat back down but her hands were shaking. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Why can’t I be serious?’

  ‘Because you can’t, that’s why.’

  ‘Well, I am serious, you know how I feel.’ He held her hand gently and much to his surprise she didn’t pull away. ‘I need you Joan. I need to hear your voice and your laugh. I need you to make sure that I stay on track so that I’m not a naughty boy.’

  Joan smiled.

  ‘Woman, I need you.’ He looked deeply into her eyes. ‘I love you.’