Those Mid-Life Blues

by Caroline Campbell

  She felt a lump in her throat and her mouth was dry. For a moment there was silence.‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Now, Joan, I’m not asking you to marry me, not at the moment. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to marry you because I do. I can’t get you out of my head. When I wake up I breathe you and when I go to bed, it’s the same.’

  She smiled back at him. ‘Martin, we’re so different, it wouldn’t work out and—’

  He placed his fingers on her lips. ‘Sssh, I know what you’re going to say, we’re different and yeah I know it’s not even the black and white, mixed race malarkey thing. It’s the fact that

  I’m not a practising Christian, right?’

  She nodded in agreement. ‘I can change.’

  Joan shook her head. ‘You can’t change Martin.’

  ‘I can change. I want to change. I’ve spent most of my life moving from one woman to the next, afraid to give myself, afraid to love, afraid to trust but things are different now. I’m forty-three and I’m ready to settle down because I’ve found you Joan. You’re the missing link in my life.’

  ‘Martin, listen to me, please.’

  ‘Do you know, it’s been at least five minutes since you laughed?’ And then she chuckled.

  ‘That’s better Joan, I love it when you laugh. Look, I’m nervous; I’ve never really dropped a bombshell like that on anyone before.’

  ‘Martin, I don’t think it would work.’

  ‘Now Joan, will you stop interrupting me, I’m trying to get my thoughts out.’

  She released his hand from hers. ‘Martin, this is really difficult for me but there’s something that I need to say.’

  ‘OK, I’m all ears.’

  ‘Now I know you care about me, you care about me a lot, and it sounds as though you’re in love with me – is that what you’re saying because if that’s what you’re telling me then we really need to be honest with each other.’

  ‘Absolutely honest, one hundred per cent honesty but—’

  ‘Now Martin, may I continue?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ He tried to hold her hand again but she pulled away. He looked at her with desperate eyes. It seemed like the evening had been spent pulling this way and that way, when the only thing he wanted was to pull her heart.

  ‘Now, I think I know you pretty well, right?’

  ‘Yes you do.’

  ‘And you’re pretty open and honest with me, right?’

  ‘Yes. Joan.’ He wondered what she was driving at.

  ‘I think that you’re lonely, right?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘I think that you’re forty-three and you have this urge that’s telling you, you need a woman to settle down with because you’re getting old, right?’

  ‘Not quite.’

  ‘I think you like me a lot – no maybe you do love me, but as a friend and you’re simply confusing the two.’

  ‘Wrong woman!’

  ‘Martin, it wasn’t so long ago, when you told me you were experiencing a mid-life crisis, well, I think you’re still experiencing it.’

  ‘Wrong again, you’re not very good at this. If I was having a case of the classical mid-life crisis which I’ve been through before then I wouldn’t be here with you, pouring my heart and soul out to you; placing myself in a vulnerable position, knowing I could face rejection when I could be out there pulling anything in a skirt.’ He paused. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been there, done that and got the very expensive T-shirt to show for it. Yes, I have moments when I’m experiencing a mid- life crisis but woman, I’m in love with you. ’

  This was all a bit too much for her. She sat back in the settee and placed a cushion under her arm.

  ‘Have you heard a word I’ve been saying Joan?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve listened, but the issue here is that you’re jeopardising our friendship because you think you’re in love with me when you know fully well we can’t have a relationship.’

  ‘Arh, I've got you, we can’t, you said we can’t, you didn’t say you don’t want to.’

  ‘OK, I don’t want to have a relationship with you because I can’t.’

  For the next five minutes there was silence. Joan stood up and walked over to the gas fire and much to the relief of Martin she turned it off. He stood up and paced the room with timely steps.

  They avoided any eye contact until finally he walked over to her.

  ‘I think I’d better go now.’ There was no reply from Joan.

  ‘Joan, I’m sorry, I really am sorry.’

  ‘I’ll see you out Martin.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why, why are you sorry?’ retorted Joan.

  ‘I’m sorry about this.’

  She walked him to the door. Now he felt cold shiver go through his body as Joan quietly closed the door. There had been no mention of I'll call you, or I’ll see you next week, next year or never in this lifetime and he felt like crap.

  When he arrived home his reliable feline friend was in her usual comfy position, curled up like a ball of wool on the bed. She purred away happily, content that the bed was warm.

  She licked his face and then curled herself underneath his arm and purred some more. He felt foolish, stupid, pathetic, angry with himself yet at the same time relieved. He desperately wanted to call her and apologise again. He wanted to tell her it was all a joke but that would be a lie. He’d give it a few days so she could calm down and then he’d call her. But now it was time to have a talk with his reflection as he walked into the bathroom. In standard fashion, he spoke to his reflection in the mirror.

  ‘She’ll think I’m going crazy or something and then she’ll feel sorry for me and preach me happy; yep I can see it.’

  He could hear her voice as though she were right there in the room with him.

  ‘Now Martin, the lustful spirit in you has risen up again and we have to help you put that lusty spirit under control.’

  ‘Then again maybe she’d never speak to me again. Maybe she was right, hey, I could be experiencing those mid-life blues again but I know what my heart feels.’

  His little feline friend followed him into the bathroom and rubbed herself against his leg. He picked her up, stroked her then placed her back down.

  ‘Suzy, all I want is to settle down with her. I'll become a Christian, I'll do anything, but she's the one.’ Suzy purred as if she understood and then hurried to the kitchen to locate her bowl of milk.

  Later on that evening Martin did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He knelt down by the side of his bed and prayed.

  Hi God, it’s me but then again, you know it’s me because you know everything. I know I haven’t prayed in a while – actually it’s been a few months or so. I love Joan. I love her with all my heart and not as a friend.

  I want to marry her. I know we’re different but I do believe we’re made for each other. If you work it out that’s great but if for some reason you choose not to, I’ll still believe in you because deep down I know you exist. Oh and thanks for everything.

  A few days passed by and he anxiously waited for Joan to call. He was like a bear with a sore head, especially at work; however, since his outburst to Jackie months ago they had developed a certain understanding. He valued her opinion so when he spoke to her about Joan she was honest and frank. She questioned him on every aspect of his friendship with Joan until he convinced her he was truly in love. She encouraged him to stay positive. If he was meant to be with Joan, fate would conquer his fear.

  When Joan called again, Jackie answered the phone and gave Martin a reassuring smile. ‘I’m putting you through Ms

  Anderson.’

  Martin held the phone to his ear but his hand was shaking.

  ‘Hello Joan.’

  ‘Hello Martin, how are you?’

  ‘I’m fine Joan, how about you?’

  ‘I can’t complain, but I feel a lot happier now I’ve heard your voice.’

  ‘We need to talk Martin.’
Her tone was quite sharp.

  ‘OK, that’s fine.’

  ‘Can I see you tomorrow?’

  ‘Sure … um … no … can’t make it tomorrow – it’s Tony’s surprise birthday party.’

  ‘We really do need to talk.’

  He thought quickly. ‘I’ll leave the party early. It shouldn’t be a problem so I’ll pick you up at 5.30 pm.’

  ‘No, I’ll come over to your place for 6.00 pm. You can cook me one of your specialities.’

  ‘That’s a deal, ok, so I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  He wasn’t sure what would come from their meeting but as long as they remained good friends, at this point in time, that was all that mattered.

  Chapter 10- It’s a good game

  Mark was late for their game of golf and Martin made no qualms about his displeasure with Mark’s timekeeping.

  ‘This is typical Tony, Mark’s always late. We’re supposed to tee off at 2.30pm but that’s Mark Richards for you.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong there Martin, take a look behind you.’

  There was Mark, struggling in the distance with his golf bag half humped over his shoulder.

  ‘You’re late,’ Yelled Martin at the top of his voice.

  ‘What by a minute?’ Mark yelled back. ‘It’s 2.32, Martin.’

  ‘Like I said before, you’re late.’

  A few moments later and Mark arrived at the tee-off spot.

  He hugged Tony and grunted at Martin.

  ‘Tony my main man, how are you man?’

  ‘I’m a lot better, Mark, just taking one day at a time.’

  ‘You’re looking good. I love the whole golfing outfit and the shoes.’

  ‘Thank you Mark. Well buddy, why were you struggling to carry your golf bag?’

  ‘Don’t hate the player Tony, hate the game. No, seriously the handles broke.’

  ‘So Mr Schwarzenegger, get another golf bag. You cheapskate,’ bellowed Martin.

  ‘Listen, buying a new golf bag is the last thing on my mind.’

  ‘I hear you’ve been having a rough time,’ said Tony.

  ‘It’s just a blip, Tony, just a blip. It ain’t anything but a chicken wing.’

  ‘Mark will you stop it. I hate that awful American accent you put on.’

  ‘OK, Martin let me drop some Jamaica on you. All rite Martin..mi will lef de American accent alone, scene.’

  ‘Let’s just get on with the game. There’s another group waiting for us to start and Mark, may I say this? We arrived here a little earlier and practised at the driving range, OK, so we’re both good to go. Tony you’re first, then you Mark and then it’s me.’ Mark rolled his eyes at Martin and then proceeded to practise his shot.

  Tony had a good swing whereas Mark’s was all over the place and Martin held his form which was a definite improvement for his overall score and proof that those golf lessons he was having were beneficial to his game.

  Five hours elapsed and their much awaited game of golf had come to an end with Tony winning by 6 over par. They packed their golf clubs in the boot of their cars and made their way in the country club golf house for a drink.

  Martin patted Tony on the back. ‘I thought you were rusty?’

  ‘I told you before, I don’t like to brag but I am the better player.’

  ‘There’s no denying it Tony,’ said Martin. ‘Oh and Mark as I recall, I think it’s your turn to get the drinks in?’

  ‘I know, you’ve reminded me three times already.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes Martin, it was between the 15th hole and the 18th hole. OK, so what are you drinking Tony and let’s not forget we’re driving.’

  ‘I’ll have a small glass of white wine,’ said Tony.

  ‘Martin?’

  ‘I’ll have a beer please Mark.’

  ‘And I’ll be very sensible guys. I’ll have a diet coke.’

  Martin and Tony sat on the chairs outside the country club and took in the view of the golf course. It had been a good day, great weather and they laughed together, especially when Mark took a swing and lost his ball in the bushes because he’d hit a bad shot then he tried to hit it out of the bushes when he felt a piddle of wee on his hand from an elderly chap taking a leak. Piddling on the green was definitely a no, no!

  ‘Here we go, fellows. There’s a small glass of white wine for you Tony, and a beer for Martin.’

  ‘So fellows, we’re together again and may I say we had a good game of golf today.’

  ‘My back’s aching,’ said Martin.

  ‘I gathered you warmed up at the driving range, eh Martin?’

  ‘Thank you for the sarcasm Mark.’

  ‘Anyway what’s happening? Give me details Tony. What’s going on with Mary and the counselling, oh and how’s work?’

  ‘Not today Mark; no we’ll talk about you. What’s been going on with this girl that’s stalking you?’

  ‘That’s right, she’s stalking me. Isn’t that right, Martin?’

  ‘Possibly, it’s likely I suppose,’ was Martin’s disgruntled reply.

  ‘Ignore Martin; trust me Tony, she’s stalking me. I mean she’s been sending me her saturated underwear – you know, the sticky stuff that happens when you mow the lawn if you get my drift.’

  ‘Why you little rogue.’

  ‘Tony, the girl won’t leave me alone.’

  ‘Have you seen her recently?’

  ‘That’s the strangest thing, I haven’t seen her but every day she posts her underwear through my letterbox. She doesn’t knock the door or anything but she calls me every day.

  ‘Do you speak to her?’

  ‘No way, since this escapade the answering machine takes the messages.’

  Tony thought the whole thing was quite comical.

  ‘Have you called the police?’

  ‘I sure did and Martin here was right, weren’t you buddy because when I reported it to the police, they laughed it off like it was no big deal, like it was my fault for bringing her back to my place.’

  ‘That’s terrible, so what do you do now?’ Mark shrugged his shoulders. ‘Wait for her to kill me. What else is there to do?’

  ‘Mark, you can’t hide behind the jokes any more. This isn’t funny,’ said Tony.

  ‘Don’t you think I know that and I’m not hiding behind my jokes! Believe me, that’s just the way I am, you know that, I fool around.’

  ‘Yeah well, look what fooling around got you into. It got you into a mess with psycho Beverly,’ said Martin.

  ‘OK, I messed up, but what am I supposed to do? I’m worried, of course I am. I mean we’re talking Fatal Attraction only without the rabbit but if the police aren’t taking me seriously then what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Change your phone number.’

  ‘Yeh Tony, and what good is that going to do? It doesn’t stop her putting her knickers through my letterbox, does it?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Well, if you’re that worried and the police aren’t going to do anything about it then why don’t you consider moving?’

  ‘No way – and be driven out of my apartment by a woman I’m not cohabiting with, are you crazy?’

  ‘OK, it was just a thought,’ said Tony. ‘On a brighter note, how’s work?’

  ‘What can I say? It’s on the up and up. I’ve not only reached the peak of my career, I’ve gone through the roof, or should I say I’m on my way there? Actually, guys, in six weeks I’m headed for Los Angeles. The view’s looking good from where I’m sitting and the salary looks even better. I’ll be up there with you Tony, in the spotlight.’

  ‘You’re just as much in the spotlight as me Mark. What about you Martin, how are things with you?’

  ‘Things are fine.’

  ‘OK, that’s not a good sign. Is that all you have to say, things are fine?’

  ‘Yep, everything’s fine.’

  ‘Come on Martin, don’t hide your feelings; come on let it all out. Put it on the table budd
y, do a home run.’ Mark chuckled.

  ‘Mark, will you shut it.’

  ‘O… K … I was just fooling around.’

  He turned his attention to Tony, ‘I’m in love.’

  ‘Martin … wow … wow … you’re in love, did I hear right, Mark? Martin’s in love.’

  ‘Yep Tony, and she’s all woman. Back, front, sideways, shebang.’

  ‘If you don’t shut it Mark, as much as I like you, I’ll take this glass and crack it over your big ass head.’

  ‘OK, I’m serious guys; I promise to be on my best behaviour.’

  ‘You’re in love – wow that really is something. Well, I’m happy for you, so who is the lucky lady?’

  Mark leaned over and whispered in Tony’s ear.

  ‘Brace yourself for this and hold in your laugh.’

  ‘Heh … don’t play Mark,’ said Martin.

  ‘Come on Martin, ignore Mark. So who is the lucky lady?’

  ‘It’s Joan.’

  ‘Who did you say?’

  ‘Joan Anderson.’

  ‘No, I can’t say I know who she is, do I know her?’

  ‘Yep, you’ve met her a few times. She’s been to a couple of charity events we attended.’

  ‘Is she that pretty Swedish blonde with the rather large you know?’

  ‘No Tony, let me say it for you, the rather large … shebang!’ said Mark.

  ‘I’m warning you Mark this is serious and no, that was Vanessa and she wasn’t Swedish, she was German.’

  ‘No offence Martin,’ Mark interjected. ‘Tony probably wouldn’t think you’d fall for someone like her.’

  ‘I’m not ashamed of her, Mark, I love her, OK! Anyway like I was saying: Joan is the black girl I was with at the last dinner party we all went to.’

  ‘Yeah, I think I remember, although it was such a long time ago. Isn’t that the one who looks like the eighties singer

  Joan Armatrading.’

  ‘Well she ain’t no Beyonce,’ laughed Mark.

  ‘Utter another word Mark, just try it. No Tony, she looks nothing like Joan Armatrading.’

  ‘Pretty face, big body, quite an infectious laugh, is that the one?’

  ‘You mean annoying.’

  ‘Mark, will you shut up!’ Martin’s patience was at its limit.

  ‘That’s her Tony, the one with the pretty face, curvaceous body and a wonderful laugh.’