The Night Caller15:18 Mar 24 2005
Times Read: 1,128
The Night Caller
Earlier that day he had wandered into the small study that they once shared and stood in the middle
of the room, turning slowly, surveying the several small heaps of salvage littered around.
Stuffed between one stack of her books and the skirting board he found a small red hardback book, with the word ‘DIARY’ embossed in gold on the front.
Dusting the months of dust front the small book, he had crouched down to read it, with the spine resting on the palm of his right hand, his fingers holding the cover.
And as he looked at where the book had fallen open, his eye’s caught a line of text …
‘…and he just touched the back of my hand. It was at that moment I knew that he and I would …’
He could read no-more, as his eye’s had slowly filled with tears at the sweet memory of the short years that they had spent together.
He had been her first, she had told when they had met that fine summer in Cornwall …
They had met on the beach, as the sun had slowly set.
His shirt was loose, he had shorts on and was carrying three cans from a six pack.
Walking toward him, a girl with copper hair, sarong skirt, small blue bikini top and a decidedly tacky pair of Dame Edna style sunglasses.
“Give us a go …” she had said smiling, as he had opened the can.
‘She is all of seventeen, or perhaps eighteen,’ he had said to himself.
He had thought long and hard before giving his answer, all of ten seconds ‘and gorgeous,’ he had thought, passing her the opened can.
“Thanks,” she had said smiling brightly.
She had drunk heartily, then handed him the can, saying, “Thanks, I’m Charmaine Masters. I’m here for two weeks …with my mum and dad.”
“This is my second week,” he had said, noting the freckles across the bridge of her pert nose and covering her shoulders.
He then recalls the sunset and how they had sat in the sand dunes, sand in their toes, watching it slowly set. And, with his eyes misting over, he slowly closes the book.
She had moved to study Humanities at the local University and their relationship had blossomed.
And, it had seemed sensible for her to move in with him, to save money.
She had been his life and world and just knowing Charmaine had given his life meaning; her kisses made even his bad day’s good.
Then, one day he had got back from work to find that she had gone, leaving just a note, saying …
Don’t be bitter !
I had to.
Take care,
Charmaine
Suddenly, the flat they had shared seemed empty and the future he had planned for them was gone.
Yet he had his job and that gave him a reason to get up in the morning … and that was enough, just.
Then, with tears rolling down his cheeks he places the book back on the shelf, to join the many dust-covered volumes already there, wishing that he could close the book on their relationship, as he had the diary and her description of that first meeting with him.
He had sat with the radio before him, crackling into life once or twice through the hours, as the night-driver had called through his response to the jobs given out.
There had been one or two base fare’s, mainly stragglers from the Casino, closing at three o’clock.
‘Other than that, it was a quiet night,’ the young man mused, as he sat in his usual seat, in his usual bar, dwelling on the events of the previous night, sipping on his early morning whiskey, that he hoped might help him sleep.
Absorbed with thoughts of work, he did not notice the changeover of bar staff take place.
As he looks up to ask for a refill he is momentarily taken aback by the face of the young blonde before him. “Don’t I ... know you face?” he asks, aware how lame this sounds.
The blonde smiles, brushing at a loose strand of hair with her right hand, whilst twitching her pert nose.
“I don’t think so ... ” she says, a little doubtfully, then says brightly, “What can I get for you sir?”
“Er ... a whiskey.” He answer’s. ‘Her face is very definitely familiar,’ he decides.
The young man turns and finds a seat at a small table opposite the bar, to nurse yet another ‘bedtime whiskey.’
Granted, he thinks, it’s a bad habit, but it does help me to get to sleep.
He looks over to the barmaid again, musing, I can’t be wrong, I know her face, I’m sure of it.
He left the bar after ten minutes, very tired, still feeling that he knew the girl … certain of it.
It had a week before he had had seen the barmaid again, as he hadn’t returned to ‘his bar’ since, in fear of further embarrassment.
He had been working nights for four weeks and his body-clock still hadn’t returned to his accepted norm and was totally out of synch, hence the early morning drink, ‘to help him sleep.’
He sat, nursing his second glass, dreading returning to his flat, that was so cold and empty now.
The blonde catches him staring and smiles, quite automatically.
That smile, he thinks, I know that smile.
And he recalls the weekend previous and the stormy night, when a soaked and shivering base fare had pushed open the door to the taxi-office …
The building was located near the middle of town, so attracted a lot of club-goers on their homeward journey’s, whether on their own, or with the respective partner they had met that night.
She had found the middle of the three chairs, opposite the perspex box that Kevin Foster sat inside, where he sat on an old swivel chair, a single-bar electric heater inches away from his feet, with the crackling radio and two telephone’s on the counter before him.
She had a pale complexion, a small face with high cheekbones, slight freckles over a pert nose and piercing slate blue eyes. She has her hair centre-parted, drawn behind the ears into a foot long, bushy pony-tail and two errant wisps of hair fall down her cheeks, which she toys with, as she speaks.
“Wanna go home …”
“Okay love, I’ll get you a car,” he says, then asks, “So where’s it going?”
She tells him and then was gone.
Then day’s later, as the as the last of the basefare’s had been picked up, there she was again and she was the same blonde and she was very drunk … and she even sat in the same seat.
“I can’t go home and face my parents, not in this state …” she had said, placing her hands to her face. And, he thought, she looks so forlorn, then finds himself thinking of the motherless young deer Bambi, from the Disney film of the same name.
Then the young woman had started crying, softly at first, then louder, as she sobbed from the heart.
He immediately found himself feeling protective toward the young woman, perhaps in her late teens;
with tears in her eye’s, her thin rouged lips quivering.
She had looked small and vulnerable, as she sat, all hunched up, cold and wet; and, he wanted to take her in his arms and say, “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.”
He arose from his seat and walked toward the girl saying, “How about I make us a coffee and you can talk to me?” then adds, “if you wish, that is …”
She had looking up at the mention of coffee and smiled.
As the blonde looks up at the sound of his voice, Kevin looks at the young woman’s face and she wipes at her tears, saying to him, “Thanks, that’d be nice of you ...”
He had gone to make the coffee, leaving the night driver with the address 10 Rossington; the last job that was left outstanding, from a list of three, each person being quoted with a time of ‘within ten to fifteen minutes.’
The young man walks across the room and turns to the hall, just off the waiting area, where there is a sink opposite the back door; and, at the end of the passageway, what some … in humour … call a toilet … and Kevin fills the kettle, switching the power on at the wall, noticing the blonde twirl at her hair quite unconsciously and he smiles, appreciating her ‘little girl lost’ look.
Rinsing out two mugs, he asks, “one sugar, or two ?”
She looks directly at him, through tear-filled, piercing blue eyes and replies, “Just one please, I’m … ”
‘I know …’ he says to himself, the very moment before she says each word, ‘I’ve got to look after my figure.’
He turns the kettle on, wondering, how she can wear a dress so short, on a night as cold and drizzly as this ?
“You don’t gave to worry about your weight,” he says … embarrassed when she says through a sniff or two, “Pardon ?”
“I’d said that you didn’t have to worry about your weight,” he told her nervously, putting a good heaped teaspoon of a good instant coffee into the two cleaned two mugs that he had found and gives the young woman the un-chipped mug.
As he stirs the coffee Kevin, hears wracking sobs coming from the blonde. He walks across the waiting area, to where she sits, asking, “C’mon love. What’s the mattter ?”
She has her face in her hands and pressed to the chest, sobbing loudly, “C’mon love, it can’t be that bad. Just talk … it might help … ”
The blonde drops her hands a moment and looks squarely at Kevin, through tear-filled eyes and asks,
“And what would you know ?”
“Well you’re right, I don’t know what you’re problem is,” he begins, “but, I figure I know enough to guess that it’s a man … ”
“It is,” she replies, sniffling into a moist hanky, “how’d you guess ?”
“Had to be … that’s all. So go on, what’s the matter ?”
“What’s your name ?”” the young woman asks, slurring her words a little.
“Kevin … Kevin Foster,” he had told her.
“Well Kevin,” she had begun, sitting up a little, to show how little of her the bugundy slip dress she wore hardly covered, “take it from me,” and she made an expansive gesture with her left hand in the air, to emphasise her words, “never, never go out with an ex …”
“Why ?” he asked knowing that was the question that he was supposed to ask.
“ ’Coz they tell everyone that you’ve together again and just ‘coz you dress to look nice they spend the whole night pawing you and …” she has finally runs out of words, until she sniffs again, looks up and adds, “I don’t often drink like that, but it wasn’t a good night … and he …”
“And what’s your name ?” he asks the young woman, smiling gently.
“Jane ….” She replies and sniffs again.
He stands, finds his small backpack and locates a small bag of kitchen roll sheets, “Here,” he says to her, “take what you need.” And he offers her the bag.
The blonde takes a tissue blows her nose, wipes her face with a second, then looks at Kevin with wide eyes and says to him, “You’re nice, you know ?”
She smiles a little and reaches out to gently stroke his left cheek.
“And you’re drunk,” he replies, blushing a little in embarrassment.
“Let me get you that taxi …” he had said, standing and walking to the small booth he worked from.
Kevin had picked up the set’s mike, keyed it and spoke, “Zero Seven .. Les?”
Seven Les was in his fifties, a big man with a kind manner, that endeared him to many of the punters.
‘And,’ Kevin thought, ‘if you were to need an Uncle figure at a given moment like this one, then who better?
There is a crackling of static from the speakers, then his drivers voice, “Seven … go on Kevin?”
“Les, that last job, it brings you near to the base …”
It didn’t, they both knew it didn’t, but the two had worked together long enough to realise that if a favour were being asked, then there had to be a valid reason.
“Er … yes. So what do you want Kevin?”
“Seven, Les?”
“Yes?”
“Will you put it on the door for me … and take a young lady home?”
“Certainly …” he had said, then added, “couple of minutes, no more.”
And pleased that the young woman would get home, Kevin smiles and says, “Cheers Les …”
The next day he had gone to the pub, as had become his custom … and he had sat trying not to stare … and, failing miserably. Then, taking his glass back to the bar, the young man notices a loose strand of hair fall from the bang hanging in front of her left ear.
He places his glass down and says, ‘thank you,’ then almost as an afterthought, he leans forward and then brushes the loose strands back behind her ear.
The blonde steps back towards the stand of optics behind herself, saying indignantly, “Excuse me …”
He blushes madly and replies fast, “I’m sorry, I’m … I didn’t mean to annoy you … I just saw the loose hairs … and …” He stops talking , realising how foolish he sounds and looks at the blonde, who is now smiling and says to him, “Don’t worry none. I’ve known far worse, believe me … ”
And embarrassed, by his own forthright behaviour, Kevin leaves the bar, to return to his empty flat.
He felt a little foolish, but still, in his heart he knew that he knew her.
He was sure of it: it was a simple as that, he thought to himself and so, did not sleep for hours, as he tried to recall the girl’s name.
Kevin played music, counted sheep, even did both, though he was sure that it would work … and the ‘leccy would run out: but he did not need to worry, as he stayed awake to turn his sounds off … just before he set off for work.
That night, his mind very weary and needing sleep … he had sent four bookings out an hour early … those from the second page in the bookings book … and totally ignored any that might have been on the first page.
‘And what is her name ?’ he had even wanted to bellow into the mike, but he hadn’t.
He hadn’t visited his usual haunt once he finished work, as he couldn’t face her again. But, once home a myriad thoughts had whirled through Kevin’s mind … the majority of which centre on his dislike for his own bad memory. He lies back on his bed, with his hands behind his head, mising, “Sheesh, … I should remember her name … pretty face, nice legs and, she was no plain Jane …”
And Kevin opens the thick curtains to his bedroom, allowing light to flood in … he looks at the clock and notes that it is two thirty; she will be working.
So, lighting a cigarette, he rises from his bed and pads to the dinette, to make a coffee, or three … before he finally says aloud, “That’s it … I’ve got it.”
He walks to the bar with a degree of assurance that he hasn’t felt for awhile, not since …
Kevin asks for his whiskey and sits at his usual seat, pleased that at last he knows her name.
From where he sits, he has watched the bar on several occasions, trying to wrest memories from the back of his mind … but, not today though.
Today he sits at ease, his frustrated memory satisfied … and, he sips at his whiskey slowly, savouring the taste and revelling in his new found memory … while behind the bar, Jane stands confused, trying to recall the name of the tall, slim fair-haired young man at the table before her … and she thought, ‘I know him … I know I know him.’
Then, when Kevin finished his drink, he left the bar, smiling brightly, saying “Bye …”
and the blonde brushed at a stray hair, looking at him leaving, still somewhat perplexed.
It took him twenty minutes to walk home, and for some reason his empty flat didn’t feel quite so lonely … And finally he was able to sleep, for the first time, in such a long time …
Then, once more, as the as the last of the basefare’s had been picked up, she was there again, the same blonde and in the same seat.
But there was something different, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
This time she looked different and he couldn’t fathom out how … as she sat up straight and smiled brightly, straight at him. Gone was the little dress that covered little and left even less to the imagination. Instead, she was dressed in a white blouse, tight black jeans and black Doc Marten boots, with bright yellow laces.
She smiles again, then says to Kevin, “Hi, do you remember me?”
The blonde asks the question, one hand over her mouth as she giggles nervously.
Did he remember her? Of course he remembers her, he thinks.
I remember everything about you and how you twirl those strands of hair and how we spoke and …
“Yes, I do …” he answers, unable to put into words how he actually feels and how he would adore to spend more time in her company.
But all he adds is a very feeble, “You were a bit squiffy lass.”
“A bit squiffy, is that what you call it?” she says giggling once again.
Then she adds, “I didn’t remember that much about the night, but, I did remember talking to you and when you used my name the other day … I finally remembered where I’d met you. So here I am.”
“Er … why?” Kevin asks.
“You listened …”
“It was nothing.”
“Don’t say that … Kevin, “ she tells him, suddenly recalling his name; “because not enough people are prepared to listen …” she stands up and walks toward his both.
“but,” she says opening the door, “you did listen … I remember that, very well indeed.”
“Er … did you have a good night ?” he asks nervously, as the young woman walks toward him and runs gentle fingers down his cheek, saying, “I had a good evening … and, thank you for asking.”
“Er … do you want a taxi … Jane ?”
“So you do remember my name.”
“I couldn’t forget it, Jane. Or you,” he says automatically, then immediately regrets being quite so open, as it isn’t at all normal for him to do so, but he found there was something about her …
“Aw, that’s sweet, ” she says, running fingers through his hair.
“Do you want a taxi ?” he asks again, quite embarrassed now.
“No,” she tells him smiling, “I’ve got the car, so there was no drinking.”
“So why are you … ”
“… here ?”
“Er .. yes.”
“Ah, you are sweet,” she says, kissing his forehead, “I’m here because I wanted to be. Simple as …”
“Pardon ?” he replies, stunned at the woman’s forthright approach.
“I’ll try again,” she tells him slowly, “I’m here, because I wanted to know, what time
With wide open eyes, his mouth opens, as he asks, “So it you don’t want a taxi, why are you here ?”
Again she kisses his forehead saying, “You’re sweet.”
Once more she strokes his face, “Because I wanted to say thank you … and well, maybe we could go somewhere when you finish work … and have a coffee, or something to eat?”
She then adds quickly, “If you want to, that is … ?”
“Er … “ he gulps audibly, then says, “are you sure ?”
“I’m sure,” she tells him, smiling, “so how about it?”
“Er … where … when?”
“Like I said, after work, if you’d like. You could come straight to the bar, have a coffee and … chat.”
He thinks quickly, unused to a woman taking the lead like this, then after a few moments pause says to her, “Yes thanks, I’d like that.”
“Good,” she says to him opening the door to leave, then adds, “I’ll be expecting you then, okay?”
“Er … okay.” He says to the closing door as she leaves, his heart thumping so fast he wonders momentarily if it will burst.
* * *
Work finished at seven in the morning, when the other operator took over.
When he had been late coming in, Kevin’s heart sank.
He lit a cigarette, took a booking and looked at the door: still no-one.
“I’ll give it another five minutes, ‘an if there’s no-one here by then, well … I’m locking up, booking or no booking.” Kevin knew the at it had to be passed over, but he also knew that she might, just might actually be waiting and he had to find out, he just had to.
He found it difficult to believe that someone liked him, just for him and not for … what he could provide,
‘like some I’ve known,’ he thought quite cynically; remembering Debbie, who’d got the house; and Val, who’d got so much of his money.
He smiled thinking, ‘someone wants me … for me …’ as the door opened, drawing him from his reverie.
“Why haven’t you got your bag packed?” Mark, the day-operator asked, looking at him with a beaming smile on his ageing cherubic face.
“C’mon, outta my seat,” he said, running his right hand over his forehead, toward his remaining, greying curly hair, “and it’s warm outside, so you won’t want your coat on, okay?”
“Okay Mark … Thanks Mark … I’m gone.” Kevin said, packing his bag, with his tapes, pens and flask, then disappearing out of the front door.
Jane had told Kevin that she would meet him at the bar when he finished; but, that would be early.
‘Had she realised just how early he finished?’ Kevin wondered, as he knocked on a closed door, minutes after leaving work.
When the lock sounded and the door opened he was relieved to find that Jane was there, waiting for him, a smile on her face.
She is wearing a sleeveless white cotton blouse, tight-cut faded blue denim jeans, and on her feet she wears black suede zip-up boots, with pointed toes and a half-inch heel.
The blondes hair is tied, as usual, though worn a little more loose than is custom; and, she is wearing just enough make-up to emphasise her features, rather than detract from her natural beauty, he thinks.
And, though tired, Kevin finds himself feeling more alert, very quickly.
“Hi,” he says, in a small quiet voice.
She stands at the private side door to the bar, smiling.
“C’mon in, I can’t hold this open much longer.” Then she adds, “Anyway, the coffee’s on,”
And already he can smell the rich aroma of freshly brewed filter coffee wafting toward him.
“Thanks,” he says simply, still unused the mere idea of a woman making the running, like this.
But, he follows, as Jane leads him to a quiet alcove in the bar, where she already has a full jug of the steaming brew waiting for them, ‘with cream and sugar, if you want, he is told.
“Thanks,” he says again, feeling very self-conscious, as he sits on the cushioned corner bench seat behind the table.
The young blonde sits beside Kevin, to his right, smiles and saying, “ shall I be mother ?” pours the coffee.
As she pours their drinks, Kevin asks, “So, how come you’re here now ?”
“To see you,” she replies.
“Yeah, but …”
“Go on … why?”
She asks for him.
“Er … yes,” he responds, hesitantly.
“So we could talk … and, perhaps get to know each other …”
“Oh …”
“Is that it … ? Oh … ?”
“Well yes … I’m … well, surprised would be an understatement to say the very least …”
“Look Kevin,” she says slowly, “I got the keys to open up so we could talk, okay? Nothing complicated, alright?”
“So talk to me now …”
“Er … what about?” he asks, feeling very foolish.
“Anything,” she replies, teases him, smiling, then she adds, “… so okay, you’re a little tongue-tied. So, how about trying a little word association then …?”
And the blonde smiles a broad smile, that leaves him feeling quite breathless.
“Okay,” he replies, “now, that’s were you say something and I say something in reply, isn’t it?”
“Well, something like that.” she says, “I say something and you answer with the first thing that word makes you think of … For example, good, bad … Okay ?”
“Yeah, okay …” he says to her hesitantly, “I’ll give it a go, so. Good … bad that sort of thing, eh?”
“Yes,” the blonde tells him patiently, “that’s right, now try …”
And Jane pauses a moment for effect, then says, “Light?”
“Er … dark ?”
“Okay Kevin, now you’ve got the idea, let’s try a few more …”
“Okay.”
“Oh c’mon, at least try and sound a little enthusiastic then …”
“Er … okay,” he says a second time, in a lighter, brighter tone of voice.
“Well, at least that sounded like you’re a little interested …”
“I am … I am …” Kevin tells her quickly, in his own defence.
“Okay then, she says smiling, “Sun ?”
“Er … Moon ?”
“By George,” she says, throwing her head back and laughing aloud, “I think he’s got it!”
“Er, Jane?” he asks quietly, in a serious voice.
“Yes Kevin?” she asks in similar tone.
“Are you taking the Michael ?”
“Me ?” the blonde exclaims in a tone of righteous indignation; after which she smiles and asks of him,
“Now would I do that ?” She smiles, then adds, “Now would I ?”
“I’m claiming the fifth amendment, on the grounds that it’s answer might cause me problems,”
Kevin says with a wide smile on his face.
“Uh-huh,” Jane says, “so, while we’ve got you talking, let’s try another one, eh ?”
“Yeah okay … go on !”
“Venus ?”
“Mars ?”
“Good one,” she commends, “so let’s try another then … love?”
“War ?”
“Okay … Blake?”
“Uh-huh … Avon !”
“Very good … so, what about, experience ?”
“Ha …” he exclaims, quite loudly, “I’ve got one for that … me and my ex … I’d say that was definitely an experience !”
And as she slowly pours two more coffee’s Jane says, “I guess that’s a lot like the others, really …”
“Huh, explain that one Jane, please … ?” Kevin inquires, his curiosity piqued.
“Well, I suppose that in a way, they all down to a matter of conflict – all life is about conflict and the many tensions created by conflict …”
“Explain that please Jane ?”
“Look,” she begins, “naturally most significant pairings revolve around the tensions of light and dark; the metaphysical, morality and immorality …”
“Huh ?”
“Good and bad, basically …”
“Oh well, if you’d used a few less big words, then I might of understood that.”
“Ouch …” she says, “sorry.”
She smile’s gently at him and touches the back of his right hand with feather light fingertips.
“And we’re talking now, aren’t we?”
“Er … yes ,” he answers, gulping a little in embarrassment at her touch … yet, still enjoying it nonetheless.
Then sensing his discomfiture, Jane withdraws her hand and sits back a little against the seat asking,
“Do you mind if I smoke
“Of course not,” he replies, “I smoke.”
“Okay …” she says to him, beginning to search in her black shoulder bag, emblazoned with white logo.
Jane withdraws from it a packet of twenty Regal King Size and a yellow clipper lighter.
“Want one?” she asks, offering the opened pack.
“No … er, yes …” he says, pausing before accepting a cigarette.
“I don’t usually smoke these …”
Immediately, Jane picks up on what Kevin has said and asks him, “So, tell me then, what do you normally smoke?”
“Er …” he begins, then says after a delay of a few seconds, “rollies …”
“Is that all ?” she asks, with an engaging smile on her face.
“Er, like I said earlier … I’m claiming the fifth …”
And at almost the same moment in time they both start laughing, at an openly shared secret.
He accepts the cigarette and places it between his lips.
The blonde flips at the wheel of the lighter, ignites it and lights her cigarette, then offers him the flame. Kevin leans toward her to light his cigarette from the small flame, smelling the light scent of vanilla as he nears the young woman.
Sitting back in his seat Kevin inhales on the acrid smoke, “You know … ?” he begins.
“What ?”
“This is …” and he smiles wistfully as he speaks, “one of the best ends to a day that I’ve had for awhile …”
“Thank you kind sir,” she says to him, “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Please do … please do …” Kevin tells her, looking straight into her eyes and smiling.
With a small grin on her face, Jane replies, “Alright then, I will take it as one, if that’s how it was meant ?”
“Er …” he begins, “that’s how it was meant.”
“Then, I thank you Kevin.”
He looks at her, then downward, his face flushed, very embarrassed: he finds it difficult to take to women he finds, but this was all so fast … so different and unexpected, that the young man now found it it difficult to say anything more, let alone instigate further conversation.
She can sense his unease, which is also made apparent by his close body language, as he hunches his shoulders and clasps his hands in his lap, with his knees pressed tightly together …
There follows a long period of awkward silence between the couple, until Jane broke it by touching the back of his hands gently with her own and saying softly, “Kevin …”
He looks up at the sound of his name and Jane asks, “There’s a lot of pain still, isn’t there ?”
Looking down into his coffee Kevin answers, “Yeah, I guess …”
“Me too, sometimes,” she tells him, the smile lost from her face.
And, looking up and straight in the blondes bright blue eyes, he asks, “Why are you being so nice ?”
“Hmmmm …” she says, the smile on her face once more, “why am I being nice?”
Jane looks thoughtful a moment, then smiles; and, twirling her hair with her left hand, she tells him,
“Because you listened, when I needed someone to listen.”
Dumbfounded by the answer, Kevin opens his mouth a little, as he cannot think how to cope with the very simple honesty of her statement; she is being so open with him and he is unaware, after all this time.
Such honesty from a woman, for it is completely against all his current expectations.
Finally, he looks down at his caffeine again, then back to his companion and asks uncertainly,
“Do you like me?”
She sits back against the cushioned seats padding and claps her hands together laughing, “Kevin, are you slow, sweet, or stupid … ?”
Feeling a little deflated by her response to his question; he opens his mouth to answer, but finds once again, no words are forthcoming.
Jane leans forward, saying in a quiet, almost conspiratorial manner, “They’re going to open up soon.”
And, he looks at his watch and the time, wondering, ‘where on Earth has the time gone?’
He says quickly, “Please Jane, you didn’t answer my question ?”
“Maybe just sweet,” she says in response.
“Kevin,” she continues smiling, her fingertips on his, “let me explain this you slowly, I like you.”
Again his mouth opens and closes twice, as Jane clasps her hands together, saying, “C’mon, coffee-bars closed …” then she stands, standing to usher him to the door he had entered hours earlier; and she says,
“C’mon, they’ll be opening up soon.”
“He rises, saying, “But … but …”
“What is it?” Jane asks him, standing by the open door.
“You can’t do this …” Kevin tells her, dejectedly, as he stands in the doorway to the street.
Earlier, when he had arrived, the street had been empty, now it was already milling with people passing-by.
“I can’t do what ?” Jane teases.
He steps onto the street and looks back at her saying, “You can’t tell me you like me, then just …”
“Just what?” The blonde enquires, with a broad smile on her face, as she stands in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Well he continues, “just get rid of me like this …”
Kevin looks as dejected as he feels, until she giggles, twirling a loose strand of hair, saying …
“So you’re not coming for coffee tomorrow then ?”
He turns toward Jane and smiles, saying just, “Oh.”
Then after a pause Kevin adds, “So you do want to see me again … ?”
“Sweet … and stupid. Of course I want to see you …” Jane tells him, as he walks into a bright blue day, a broad grin on his face … and, he turns back toward her, saying confidently, “See you tomorrow !”
Kevin walks down the street, listening to the twittering bird-life, as he returns to his home and bed, still smiling; and wonders at whoever could have written this meeting for him and this beautiful blonde … not thinking of his own behaviour and attentive nature, that had attracted her … and looks at the sky above, mouthing quietly, “Thank you, whoever …”
Although physically tired, he felt more alive than he has for many years and walks home to his flat feeling good about himself, for the first time, in many months; struck by the fact that she had listened to him, in a way that no-one has previously.
… And he sleeps well, looking forward to seeing his new friend again.
* * *
A Beginning …
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