Short Stories

Short Stories lifestyle

In the first of our series of short stories, grab a cuppa and settle down to enjoy a quick read…

A First Date

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.

by PAULA WRIGHT

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. 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

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.

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.

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.

“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

back through the doorway and gently closes the door. Angela sits in her car outside the restaurant for five minutes, allowing her heartrate to slow. She had been relieved when Tom had suggested this local restaurant, not only because it was one of her favourites but also it was not too far to travel, but now she sees this was a colossal mistake. They should be meeting somewhere dark and far from where she lived, not somewhere she has spent birthdays and anniversaries with her family, and where she risks bumping into the neighbours. She puts the key back in the ignition intending to abandon the date and return home, when she is startled by a gentle tap on the window. She turns to look directly at a man she immediately recognizes as Tom. His face is kind and smiling, although he looks a decade older than the photo on his dating profile. Angela smiles back shyly. Before Angela is fully out of her car Tom extends his hand to her and she reflexively offers her own to shake. She involuntarily, yet visibly, shudders at how moist and clammy his hand is.

“It is so lovely to finally meet you”, Tom beams still shaking her hand. Angela smiles again and pulls her hand from his clasp, leaving her hand feeling cold and damp in the cool night air. She politely waits until he turns to walk towards the restaurant before wiping her hand on her coat. As walks ahead of her she is struck by how tall and thin he is. His arms hang long and swinging at his sides, his legs two long sticks striding ahead carrying his narrow torso forwards. In contrast to his lanky physique his head is disproportionately large, like a balloon on a string.

They sit at the bar and Angela furtively glances around terrified of seeing someone she knows. She is so distracted she does not notice Tom ordering their drinks and is shocked when two martinis arrive in front of them.

“I took the liberty of ordering the lady a drink. Dirty, I assumed?” Tom smirks, winks and takes a large sip of his drink.

Angela is taken aback and wonders what she had done to give this man the impression that she is the type of woman who would be amused by this attempt at innuendo.

“Well actually I’m driving so a glass of straight vodka probably isn’t wise”, Angela tells him, struggling to remain polite and not mentioning that she despises martini’s and finds it rude and patronising that he would be so presumptuous to order her drink without asking what she preferred. Tom is visibly disappointed, but his expression suddenly brightens. “You can park your car here overnight, I know the manager.” He takes a congratulatory gulp of his cocktail, almost finishing it, “I only live a short walk away”. He holds her gaze for a moment to apparently ensure she has understood his insinuation.

Angela’s gut clenches with fury at the audacity of this man, but rather than confront him with her rage she is embarrassed to feel her eyes well up with hot frustrated tears. Tom is completely oblivious to her obvious discomfort and is still rambling about his nearby property, which he apparently bought for ‘a steal’ and has ‘made a mint’ on. He gestures enthusiastically as he explains the fortuitous turn in the property market, and Angela is subjected to regular wafts of his nauseatingly pungent cologne, which only lifeinmagazines.co.uk

serves to make her eyes water more.

Angela is already standing before she has made the decision, her body apparently ahead of her mind in reacting to her situation.

“Please excuse me,” she says to Tom through a forced smile, “Ladies room.”

She notes the glimmer of irritation that passes over Tom’s expression before he rectifies himself and smiles.

“Don’t be long”, he says laughing but Angela senses the undertone of a command. She considers throwing her martini in his face but decides this is only something the heroine in a romantic film would do, and not an act that she, Angela Johnson, could successfully execute. Instead she walks towards the ladies room and continues out the front door into her car and drives home.

In the safety of her kitchen Angela beelines to the fridge to get a bottle of wine and pour herself a necessary glass but pauses noticing a note attached to the front of the fridge with a magnet.

Ang, I made enough pasta for two as I know the portions at Chapter One are small and thought you would be hungry. J.

As she is reading the note, she hears a familiar voice behind her. “You’re home”, Jerry says simply. He is standing in the doorway of the kitchen and seems uncertain whether to stay or leave.

Angela turns to face her husband and it feels like she has not seen him in months. His hair is disheveled from running his hands through it as he worked, and she notices it has got long around his ears and he needs a haircut. His t-shirt is tight over the bump of his belly and she remembers how it feels to rub her hand on his tummy and tease him. She looks into his eyes, which she has seen red and wretched but never seen cry, and for a moment they say nothing.

“I…” she starts to speak but is stopped by her own tears.

Jerry is instantly in front of her and pulls her into his arms. She allows herself to fold into him, her head falling onto his chest, and breathes him in, his scent so familiar and comforting. She feels his hand on the back of her neck, his thumb gently stroking her skin soothingly while he holds her tightly.

Eventually they pull apart and Angela dries her eyes. They turn out the lights of the house and climb into their bed. They do not talk that night, but Angela falls asleep and is not concerned, she knows they have plenty of time ahead of them.