lifestyle
Short Stories
In the first of our series of short stories, grab a cuppa and settle down to enjoy a quick read…
A First Date by PAULA WRIGHT It was over 35 years ago that Angela threw the party where she first saw Jerry Johnson sitting in the crowed smoky stairway of the house she shared with four other students. She had immediately slowed her descent downstairs and casually insert herself into a conversation with two students she vaguely recognised from one of her lectures. The students were having a heated debate about Marxism that Angela had heard a hundred times before, but she was not listening, focused on gaining the attention of the man a few steps below her. They soon begun to exchange glances and shy smiles, Angela’s trademark flirting technique, before Jerry had extracted himself from the conversation he was in and made his way towards her, setting her heart racing. They had spoken for less than an hour that night, but when he left her house, Angela had known they had plenty of time ahead of them.
grown and intensified over the years. She admitted that her husband spent most of his time at the office, even spending the night, and when he was home, they spoke to each other like polite strangers.
Tonight, Angela stands in front of the floor length mirror in the bedroom that she has shared with Jerry for the past thirty years, her heart thumping loudly and a knot in her stomach. The dress she is wearing is new and expensive. She had paid for it with cash so Jerry would not see the charge on the credit card bill. In the dim lights of the changing room the dress had made her feel daring and sexy, but in the late afternoon sunshine filtering through her bedroom windows the neckline suddenly feels indecently low. Angela pulls the lose skin under her chin taut and sucks in her belly, she holds the pose and admires her reflection before releasing her hand from her chin and relaxing her posture. She sighs. She remembers when she and Jerry first moved into this house and he would slide up behind her when she was doing her makeup at this mirror and kiss her. Angela carefully blots her lipstick and struggles to recall the last time Jerry had even held her hand.
From the bedroom Angela can hear the rapid tapping of Jerry typing in his office down the hallway. She checks her expression in the mirror and practises a casual smile at her reflection before making her way towards her husband’s office. She gives a sharp swift knock before slowly opening the door and popping her head into the room. Her husband sits behind his desk, his fingers poised over the computer keys, his face close to the screen, and a frown of concentration etched across his face.
It was Mia who had told her about the dating app. Mia, who always looked immaculate, from her perfectly accessorized outfits down to her permanently manicured nails, and who confidently and unashamedly shares her sexual exploits in graphic detail. They were sipping white wine outside a bar on the Thames, and Mia had just finished telling Angela about a particularly raucous evening involving a Chilean bartender, when Angela was horrified to find her laughter had transformed into soft sobs, and warm tears were flowing down her cheeks. It was a relief to finally admit aloud how unhappy she was. She told Mia of her loneliness since her sons had moved away, and the distance between her and Jerry that had
40 Life in... Orpington June 2020
They had ordered their third bottle of wine when Mia suggested Angela set up a profile on the app, and they were only halfway through the bottle before Angela agreed. Over the next few weeks Angela’s use of the dating app grew from the casual curiosity of messaging a small handful of men, to a consistent nightly correspondence with just one man. It quickly became her evening ritual to log on to the site as soon as Jerry went to bed. She would wait with giddy anticipation for Tom to come online, her heart pounding when his first message would inevitably appear on the screen.
“I’m off out then, I’ll see you tomorrow”, she says hoping she sounds breezy and unconcerned. “You look nice love, have fun with Mia”, he smiles before turning back to the computer. Angela pauses in the doorway and considers this man behind the desk, this man that she has chosen to spend the past thirty seven years of her life with, her husband. He is still handsome; a full head of dark grey hair, a strong jawline, and clear blue eyes. She watches him continue to work, engrossed in whatever financial conundrum he is solving on the screen in front of him, with no concern whether his wife may be about to embark on an evening with another man. She notices the deep furrow of his brow that indicates a particularly egregious problem that has his mind working overtime, and his forefinger tapping mechanically against the desk as he works through what is perplexing him. As she looks at him, she feels as if she is invisible, an apparition of herself that could dissolve into nothing, and after she disappeared, he would continue to work, and eat, and sleep, unaffected by her presence or absence. She has the urge to scream or throw something at him, but instead she slips lifeinmagazines.co.uk
