Conversations 09

Tried something a little different; looking at one of those conversations from a woman's point of view. Women readers feel free to roast me. I'm just a man. Whose intentions are good. Oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.

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"Celia, he's back again," said Julie, from over by the window. I glanced across, with my eyebrows raised.

"Really?" I said, not knowing how to feel about that.

"I'll call security," she offered.

"No!" I said, perhaps a little too urgently. "I'll sort it out."

I didn't want to get my company involved in my personal life.

'Seriously? Now you don't want your work to get involved? A little ironic, wouldn't you say?'

The voice in my head sounded remarkably like my mother.

I ignored it. I stood up, took off the earphones blaring out some vintage Jethro Tull, and dropped them on the desk next to the keyboard.

"I won't be long," I said, hoping that was true. I didn't know if I could take another disappointing conversation like the last one we'd had.

Julie moved to my side. "Who is he? If he's some kind of stalker I can get my boyfriend to gather up some of his friends and warn him off. At least then I'd get some use out of the idle sod. He's useless normally."

She looked at me and then lowered one eyelid. "Apart from in the bedroom; he's handy in there -- as long as it's vanilla flavour and only one scoop. So, not great there even, when I think about it."

'Not just guys who get handy in the bedroom though -- is it?'

The voice in my head wouldn't go away.

I smiled, fighting the urgency to push her down on a chair and race away.

"That's guys for you," I said, trying not to sound false and flat. "Thanks for the offer, but no. It's not a stalker.

"So who is he?" she asked in a whisper. There was just the two of us working in this office, but I think she was trying to create a sense of intimacy so I would let on all the juicy details. I didn't want to, but had to give her something. Otherwise she'd be on my case non-stop.

"It's my ex," I said, hoping it would be enough, but knowing that she would demand more. Nicely, of course. She'd be pleasant, but still demanding.

Her expression showed sympathy and understanding. "Ex-boyfriends are the pits. If it's not them phoning to try and get me to put out just one more time for them, it's me phoning them when I'm really pissed to cry about not being with them. They're the absolute pits! There should be a law that says when you split up, your ex has to move at least 50 miles away from you."

"My ex went ten thousand miles away," I remarked.

'Honesty? That's new.'

The voice could get really nasty at times.

To show how honest I could be, I continued, "And he's actually my ex-husband. He went to live in South Africa for a while; assistant manager on some mine there."

She stared at me for a moment, and I actually saw her pupils dilate with interest. Chatham and Sons was a good place to work; it paid well, and the benefits were good, but it was pretty boring - and I had just opened up a whole new well of gossip material. Ah well, I'd always known I couldn't remain completely anonymous within the company. I'd actually thought that someone within HR would see my file and be the first to drop that juicy little morsel into the talking pot at some stage. My saying it just beat them to the punch.

"I didn't know you'd been married," she said, managing to turn a statement into a question just with her tone of voice.

"Yeah, three years."

"That's not a long time," she remarked, continuing my interrogation. I knew what she was doing -- of course I did. I'm a woman. We all learned that black art at our mother's knee.

'Are you going to be honest? Are you actually going to stay with that policy? Because that would be different. Ooh, I can't wait! I never thought you would pull that one.'

"No, we parted ways."

'Oh come on. You're divorced. So of course you parted ways -- you're dissembling. How many couples do you know who stay together after they're divorced? Until they're officially split apart, sure -- but afterwards? I knew you couldn't stay honest.'

"It didn't end well," I added after a moment.

Julie's eyes cleared a little -- she knew the girl code. "I get it; guys and their dicks. It's always the same. They get the scent of some loose pussy and they're in there like a dog needing to bury a bone. They just keep digging away."

She giggled and nudged me. "See what I did there? Burying their bone."

"Yeah, I got it," I said sadly. Then, after the silence grew stultifying, continued, "There was cheating. But it wasn't him."

'Wow! Owning up to your own mistakes! There's a first. Alert the press! Clear the front page!'

"Oh," said Julie. "Right. Well, most people make mistakes sooner or later. Unless your ex wasn't doing what he was supposed to, of course? Then it's kinda understandable."

The girl code deciphered that as, 'yeah, if your ex was a dead-weight in the bedroom, then you had every right to look for some strange dick. We all got needs!'

"No, he did everything he was supposed to. He looked after me like I was made of spun glass, at home and everywhere else. Honestly? He was very good in the bedroom - and in the kitchen. He cooks like a chef."

'But you wanted more!"

The voice sounded a little fainter.

"But I wanted more." I couldn't help but agree with the voice. I had wanted more. More than Mickey was prepared to allow me, to give me. But it was my right!

Julie interpreted that through the girl code and nodded. "Wouldn't go down on you, huh? I get it. You'd think sucking their dicks would clue them in as to some need for fair reciprocity. But no -- they never get it! Morons, every one of them. My current boyfriend is a complete loser when it comes to my needs, and I've decided I'm dumping him as soon as I get home."

I couldn't help laughing at the irony of that, although tears threatened. "God no. Mickey is brilliant at that and always more than happy to reciprocate. He always took his time and made sure I got more than I needed. Often I would have to force him off."

"Oh, really?"

There was a long pause as we both thought of that -- her imagining and me remembering.

"So..." she prompted.

'Now comes the good bit, If you don't just fall back into your old ways, as I fully expect you will."

I decided to gamble on Julie's goodwill. She had implicitly made herself my confidant, so I would hopefully be able to impress on her the need not to spread every detail.

"You know..." I started. "You know that feeling you get sometimes, when you meet a guy, I mean. Sometimes you get to feeling that you want to be thrown over a shoulder and just carried off and fucked - hard. Like he doesn't give a shit about how good it feels for you, it's all about him. So he just ploughs your furrow. I met that someone."

She stared at me.

"I was in a bar; a guy came up and asked me to dance. Mickey said he didn't mind if I wanted to, so I got up ... and the next ten minutes were amazing."

"He could really dance, huh?"

"No, it wasn't the dancing. Mickey was the dancer in our family. This was more a shuffle while he pressed himself against me."

'The truth! Tell the whole truth!"

It was an order.

"Well, while he pressed his hard-on up against me." I swallowed. There seemed to be a lump in my throat.

"That big?"

"No, not really. No bigger than I was used to, or any other I've had. It was just, he didn't ask, he just took."

Julie showed understanding. "I bet Mickey had a fit and laid into you. Been there, got the bruises."

"No, of course not. He was royally pissed off and laid down the letter of the law after he dragged me away from Neanderthal man. But he would never hurt me. He just reminded me that while I had free choice, every action has a consequence."

"So what was the consequence for you dry-humping Neanderthal man?"

"I wasn't... To be honest, I guess I was. Things got very frosty around the house for a few days, and Mickey even lost his temper badly and threw my clothes out into the garden at one stage. But then he helped me bring them back and even washed them for me."

"He does laundry?"

"Not every time! I always did nearly half the washing in our house. Even then he slept in the spare room. I had to go all out to show him how sorry I was for slutting around on the dance floor, as he put it."

"But..?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, but ... you weren't really sorry," she said. "Let's face it, no one gets divorced for strumming one off against a guy's leg while you're dancing, no matter how pissed off your man might be. So there must have been more."

"I'd given the guy my work number."

"You gave him Chatham and Sons' number?"

"No, my previous company. I know how utterly dumb it was, but I wasn't thinking at the time."

"Not with your brain, that's for sure," Julie said, not sounding as friendly as she had been.

'Thinking with your cunt!"

The voice in my head was definitely fainter now, as if it was speeding away. I was glad. I hated that voice.

"Neanderthal man..." I continued. I had to call him that -- I never did get his name. "Neanderthal man somehow traced my work number to a name and was waiting outside one afternoon when I left work. He grabbed me, told me he had cooked it on the dance floor and was now all ready to eat it. I felt like I was dazed and he was pressing me up against him again, and so I just followed him to his car and let him drive me to a hotel. I'm not sure I said a single word."

"Jesus! What were you thinking?" Julie's eyes were huge now. She had really pretty eyes, I realised absently. "So one of your work mates grassed you up? You must have been crazy to take that chance right outside your work."

"No, actually it was none of them. I don't drive, and unfortunately, Mickey had come to pick me up after work and saw us getting into a car across the car park. He recognised Neanderthal."

"Was that a regular thing, Mickey picking you up?"

"No, Mickey just picked me up whenever it rained."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, normally I'd take the bus. Except in winter. Mickey would always pick me up in winter. Or whenever it was cold."

"On his way home," she said, looking thoughtful.

"No, he worked on the other side of town."

"Jesus," she said again, restlessly brushing her dark hair back off her face. It didn't make any difference. It never did. Her hair, although shiny and long, was too thick and naturally curly to be controlled by anything less than a hair drier. Sometimes I envied her and wondered whether I should grow out my pageboy cut. Still, blondes have more fun, I reminded myself.

"Sounds like a shit-storm was about to go down though," she said finally.

I couldn't help a tear escaping as I remembered.

'Keep going!'

The voice had an urgency to it, although it was fainter than ever.

"Mickey managed to follow us to the hotel, so I could have a chance to give up the Neanderthal and get into our car, according to him. But by the time he got parked up we were already inside and Neanderthal man had got us a room, and we were heading upstairs. My husband had no chance of finding us, although apparently he looked in the bar, dining room and even the kitchen -- which left only the rooms unsearched."

Julie was riveted. "So he never found you."

"Not then. But he did wait until we came out again. I hadn't realised he'd seen and followed me, and was absolutely mortified when I saw him sitting on the boot of his car. I kept hoping that he hadn't sussed out what had happened, but I was in a complete mess, with a couple of seams on my skirt strained and a button on my blouse missing. And up until that moment, I'm sure I was glowing at being fucked just like I'd wanted. He knew exactly what had gone on."

"And that's when he walked away?"

"Yes. Well, no. First he punched Neanderthal, and while I was trying to the great lump to wake up and explain at the same time, Mickey just sort of slipped away through the crowd."

"Let me guess. The first words out of your mouth were 'it's not what it looks like'."

I sighed. "Yes. I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes."

She sniggered. "So many women try that one. It never works. I've always wondered if I'd say it automatically if I was ever in that situation."

"Have..." I let the girl code signal the rest.

She shook her head. "No. Never have. Never will. I'm not made that way. So I don't suppose I ever will find out."

I wished I hadn't been made that way. It had been a stupid thing to say. I should have fallen on my knees and begged for forgiveness and just left the ape-man lying on the ground. Some Neanderthal he was, when one punch laid him out. He was just big, not tough.

"I'm guessing Mickey wasn't very forgiving," she murmured.

"No, he wasn't," I said sadly. "When I got finally got home, having missed two busses, his cases were packed. I didn't know it, but he'd already contacted his lawyer, told him to negotiate as best he could with mine, but just get him out of the marriage. I was kinda hoping he'd shout and scream and get rid of some of his anger that way. But he was quiet and even polite. He just reminded me that every action has a consequence -- some good and some bad. In his view my actions had bad consequences and our marriage was now over.

"Oh, I cried and screamed and begged, of course. But he wasn't going to change his mind. Told me that it was better it had happened then, after just three years of marriage, rather than down the line when we had kids and pets and everything else that people gather around them in a marriage.

"And then he was gone. I heard later that he'd applied to mines in Chile, Russia and South Africa and the South Africans had snapped him up before the others could even respond. He was always good at his job and a great provider really."

I sighed as I finished. It was the first time I'd got the whole sorry mess off my chest, and it was only then that I realised how much weight I'd been carrying around in my guilt.

"And that good-looking guy outside, who's stood at those gates three times now, that's your ex?" Julie had a funny look on her face, as if I'd farted or something. I couldn't smell anything.

"Yes. I told you that."

"So, after everything you put him through, he's trying to get back together with you?"

"No, not really," I admitted, wishing it were otherwise. "He says he just wants to catch a glimpse of me now and then to remind him of the happy days. He says it makes the memories brighter and hopefully that will be a positive thing for his next relationship -- whenever that happens. But he doesn't want to make new ones with me. He doesn't trust that they would be happy.

"Besides," I said more brightly. "I have a boyfriend now, and we're very happy."

Actually my boyfriend sounded alarmingly similar to Julie's, which was too depressing to think about.

"Shit, that reminds me," she whispered.

"What?" I asked.

"Hang on a minute. I was going to do this tonight, and this isn't the best way of doing it, but I have to do it now."

She hauled out her phone and dialled. I couldn't help but hear her side. I was standing right next to her, looking at Mickey standing near the gate. He was looking back at me and I gave a small wave. He didn't wave back.

"Anton!" Julie had her serious voice on. "I know this isn't the right way to do this, but it needs to be done. If you want to talk, we can talk later, but right now this is me breaking up with you... Yes, really. I'm sorry to do it over the phone, but we both know we weren't going anywhere...Don't whine... I like you. I don't love you, and I know you feel the same, so... Seriously? Okay, yes, you can have the Beyoncé CDs... What? No! Not the automatic coffee grinder, you tea leaf! I paid for that... Good idea, that way I can always reach you at your brother's place... Right then, so you'll pack and be out by tonight? Thanks. And don't nick any of my stuff, okay? I know where you'll be living... Okay, then... See you round... Bye."

She gave a sigh of relief as she terminated the call. "Good. That's out of the way."

"Face-to-face is always hard," I said.

"Naw, that had nothing to do with it. It just had to be done now. Right, I'm off to sort out your ex."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's a great-looking guy standing at the gate, unattached. He needs someone to take him in hand before he meets some more bad news."

"Julie..."

"What? He's your ex. I'm not stealing anything from you."

"But... Even so, what about the girl code," I asked, feeling injured and more than a little jealous.

"Girl code, shmirl code. Look, you tell me all about your ex: that he's faithful, very fond of eating at the Y, he treats you like some treasured goddess, he cooks, he does laundry, he dances, he goes miles out of his way just so that you don't have to take a bus, he has a job and is a great provider, and how he's been working in a mine in South Africa. You know what they mine there? Gold! Think about that. He's also romantic as fuck and he's ready to fight for his woman! And even when you slut around and cheat on him he doesn't beat the shit out of you which -- let's face it -- you deserved. And he's standing right there! Just... right there, pretending he's not the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I just want to get out there quickly and beat the stampede that's gonna take place when all that wonderful information gets out to the other bitches in this place.

"I mean, why would you screw around on a guy like that -- a man you loved and who loved you in return? Just for a monkey-fuck? When I bet your ex would have done that for you if you'd let him know. But you never mentioned saying that to him, did you?"

I shook my head, helpless to stop the tears now. Did she think I didn't know what I'd lost?

"Sweetheart, you know what I'm reminded of when I look at you now?" Julie asked. "An Aesop fable: the story of the monkey with two hands full of fruit that sees his reflection in a pond and decides to snatch that monkey's fruit as well. Of course, then he drops what he has and ends with wet hands and nothing else.

"You had it all, but had to have more than your share. Somehow you felt you were entitled to all you had, and more as well. I won't make the same mistake."

"I like you. I'm sad for you. I mourn your loss. But if you get in the way when I set off to talk to Mickey, I'll mow you down like a fucking weed!

And she was gone, leaving only the scent of her expensive perfume, and the memory of her very shapely figure above those long, long legs. Mickey had no chance -- he was on a winning wave with Julie, while I had lost it all through selfishness.

'And that's what I've been trying to tell you all along!'

The voice was barely more than a whisper on the wind.

Then there was the faintest popping sound and it disappeared forever.