Educating Jaime

"Oh, force of habit, I suppose. I bought a good I-pod because -"

"Because Mara didn't want to listen to your music?"

"Yes," he said. "Well?"

"No," she said. "Well, yes. Heavy metal or house..."

"I haven't got either," he said. "Alright."

He put an old Dolly Parton sampler in the CDplayer. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I do like this at times."

"So do I," Molly said. She leant back in her chair and poured herself a generous measure of whisky. "I'm afraid I will have finished your bottle before long."

"You'd better buy another one on Monday," he said.

"I will. Cheers!"

They listened to the music in silence – "Apple Jack", "Two Doors Down", "Jolene", then "Bargain Store"...

Oh dear, Molly thought, this comes a little too close. She looked at Jaime and saw he was crying. She walked over to him, sat down on the armrest of his chair and put an arm round his shoulder.

"Jaime - this is not the end of the world. You're better off without Mara anyway, and now you've split you can make a new start."

He swallowed hard. "It's just - it's just that all I've tried to achieve, all I've tried to offer - it was never accepted... I really did my best..."

She just held him and let him cry. She had to admit to herself that she rather liked holding him; he was a good sort, and she liked his presence a lot. When he stopped crying she said, "It seems to me Mara wanted you for the wrong reasons. She simply pursued some dream in which your usefulness ended too soon - I'm not sure you can blame her for that, but her treatment of you once your best before date expired is beastly. You really should stop finding any of the blame for that in yourself. Some people are impossible to please; Mara appears to be one of them."

She ruffled his hair, got up, found a new CD and poured some more whisky.

"You'll turn me into an alcoholic yet," she said with a grin, as the Dixie Chicks blasted into their first track.

"Mara hated this."

"I love it," Molly said.

The next day Jaime was a good deal better again. He was back on normal food, he spent a part of the afternoon in the living room, had dinner in bed and got up again for some time that evening.

"Was Mara your first?" she asked.

No, he said, there had been one girl before her, but that had been a rather platonic sort of thing. And he had danced with another girl at a party of a classmate who had invited his entire class. He smiled, looking back at it. That had been the first time he had felt a girl's breasts pressed against him. They'd played a couple of slow songs over and over again, the Bee Gees and the Brothers Four. He grinned.

"Which songs?" she asked.

" "Holiday" and er, "Come To My Bedside" or something," he said. "It seems a very long time ago. I thought it was really good; I had a crush on that girl and I used to sit next to her. I never saw her again after I left school."

He got up, turned on the CD player and found the Bee Gees. "Funny lyrics," he said, "but the song's nice."

He sat down with the remote, consulted the track list and pressed play.

Molly listened for a moment. Then she got up and said, "Come. Let's dance." Jaime put an arm round her back, and she put her hands on his shoulders. They slowly moved around to the music and Molly felt her nipples stiffen. She really enjoyed the feeling of Jaime's body against hers and she liked his smell. To her regret the song did not last long.

They sat down again. "Yes," Jaime said. "That was nice." He smiled at her. "Do you think I could try a little whisky, too?"

"It's probably alright if you feel like it," she said as she got up to get another glass.

Jaime enjoyed his drink. Then he started to feel very drowsy.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good company," he said, "but I'd really better turn in."

"Very good," Molly said. "Want any more help?"

"It's alright, I think I can manage."

"Ok then. Goodnight."

He got up and went to her. "Goodnight," he said and kissed her awkwardly on the cheek. "You're a real friend."

"Thanks," she said as he disappeared into the hall.

She sat thinking about him for a long time. She took his exercise book and reread the first, happy poems and tried to envisage how he must have felt when Mara even refused to look at them. She'd have loved it if anyone had written poetry for her. She shook her head. People are funny, she thought. She would have known what to with him; he was really nice. He had an intelligent, kind face and she had loved that little bit of physical contact...

She didn't feel like listening to any more music. Better go to bed, too, she thought. She brushed her teeth and crept into her sleeping bag, and found the sensations of that day were too vivid to get to sleep at once. Molly, she thought, don't let the situation run away with you. Even so, she slipped a hand into her panties to give way to the feeling that had been building within her for the last few hours. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

That Sunday Jaime's temperature was almost back to normal. They breakfasted together at the kitchen table and Jaime asked Molly to tell him something about her life.

She smiled at him, and told him about her youth in London, about her father's move to the provinces and how she'd initially hated that, about her little sister, who was born with Down's Syndrome, and who consequently demanded most of her parents' attention, and about the way in which her mother ensured that she did get some time with her after all.

After secondary school she'd done some secretarial studies, and so she'd found a job as a part-time secretary - and she still worked there. She'd had a couple of really nice boyfriends. Unfortunately one of them emigrated to Australia when his parents did, and she stayed behind to look after her ailing mother, her father having died far too young. The other relationship had slowly drifted apart. She still met Bill now and then; he was married and lived in the Midlands. He had a couple of children...

Didn't she wish she'd kept up that relationship?

"No," she said. "We would have got on each other's nerves eventually. Now I like seeing him occasionally. We have a lot of fun when we do. Much better, really."

Jaime nodded. He knew what she meant alright. "And your sister?" he asked.

"Well, she is in a special community that tries to get the best out of disadvantaged people. She actually has a boyfriend, and she's very happy in her own world. I don't go there very often but it's really nice to see her then." She nodded and saw her little sister in her mind's eye. "Yes," she added. "She's a real personality, handicap and all."

Then she got up, cleared the table and put the kettle on. "Coffee time," she said.

They had their coffee in the living room and Jaime said he thought he was quite up to facing life again. Would she mind to stay till evening?

"Well," she said, "that's Ok - then I'll leave after dinner. Have you really got Mara out of your system?"

"I think so," he said. "You helped me lay her ghost no end."

She nodded. "You do play chess, don't you? Shall we try and play?"

He didn't answer but got up to get the set. "You can have white," he said.

They played slowly, and talked a little too much for the sake of the game. Molly soon found he was the better player, but she kept defending her position well, and the game lasted a long time.

They spent the afternoon with some violin sonatas and talking some more, and then they cooked together.

After dinner they put the kitchen back into shape. Mara had already packed her things and when they had finished she left.

Jaime held both her hands while he thanked her profusely; then he kissed her on the mouth and drew away from her blushing. She smiled at him.

"Look," he said. "Would you like to come over on Friday? Then I can cook dinner and show you whether I can be a host of sorts."

"Deal," she said. "Gladly." She gave a wave of her hand and rushed down the stairs, determined not to show that she had tears in her eyes.

Damn and blast, she thought, that's what you get from getting too involved.

The first half of Molly's week passed uneventfully enough. Her old friends apparently were not in league with Mara, and the vultures didn't speak to her any more. Fine, she thought.

Then on Wednesday evening the doorbell rang. Molly opened the door and found Mara standing there.

"We need to talk," she said through clenched teeth.

"You'd better come in," Molly said. Mara marched into the living room, waited for Molly to arrive, turned her way and embarked on a tirade that seemed interminable. Molly was a slut and a whore, she'd spent all weekend fucking her poor, misguided husband, she was a family wrecker, she -" Molly only heard half of what she said. She was livid. She felt her anger build up inside until she thought she would burst - and then she suddenly grew calm. She bided her time until there was a hitch in Mara's words and then she butted in and proceeded to give Mara a piece of her mind. In slow, measured, curt, even tones she told her exactly where she got off, entirely emotionless. To her great satisfaction she saw Mara's face change colour until all the blood drained from her face. Eventually Molly produced her cell phone. She told Mara to go and get lost if she didn't want to be removed by the police. Mara opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, like a fish on dry land. She muttered, "You dirty slut," but the performance lacked heart. Then she turned on her heels and fled from the room.

Molly stood back and leant against the doorpost, panting. Phew, she thought, that really felt good.

Her cell phone rang almost as she thought so. She answered it curtly.

"Hi there," a familiar voice said. "Nothing wrong, I hope?"

"Oh, hello Bill," she answered. "No, everything's fine. Don't worry."

"Oh, well, you see, Gwen found some Facebook stuff that had your name in it, and she thought you'd might be in trouble - chick called Mara -"

"Hmph, I just took her down a couple of steps."

"Jeez! That bad?"

"Worse."

"My God. It must have been something for you to go to such a length."

"Yes," she said. "It really was."

"So you don't want us to organise a rescue expedition?"

"No. Thanks for the offer, though. How's life at your end?"

"Oh, great. The children are doing fine and Gwen asked to say hello!"

"Give her my love. OK, have to go. Thanks for the call."

They laughed, greeted each other and rang off. Good old Bill, she thought.

Molly took her car keys. She first drove to the nearest off-licence and bought two bottles of whisky. Then she drove on to Laburnum Road. She took one of the bottles, climbed to Jaime's door and rang.

Jaime opened the door. His face broke into a big smile when he saw Molly on the doorstep. She had not seen him like that and she thought he looked great; rather sexy, in fact.

"Hello," he said. "Come in. What's up?"

"Mara came around," she said. "I got promoted and I told her off."

"Promoted?"

"Whore, this time. We spent all weekend fucking, remember? Huh, she's out of her mind."

"But - but how did you get rid of her?"

"I just told her what I thought of her." She grinned broadly remembering the result. "She fled. She ran for her life and sped off. I feel like celebrating; I feel like a drink - just one, though, have to go back -"

Jaime's face fell. "I'd hoped -" he started and then he checked himself. Molly thought she could just guess, but she was not going to make the first move, not yet. He'd been passive too long; she thought it was high time he asserted himself, and the least he should do was to say what he thought.

"Well?"

" I er - oh, let's just have that drink first..." He looked very nervous all at once. Molly wondered what he would do. If he wanted to make love to her, she certainly wasn't going to stop him.

Then he became even more distraught. "Oh blast," he said. "We finished the bottle when you were here. I'll have to go to town -"

"I brought a bottle, silly. Go and get it from my car."

"Yes," he said. "Yes, of course. Can I have your keys?"

"Jaime," she said and looked at him, "that's the wrong idea. When a woman orders you around, you don't have to jump to attention. We've got legs, too, and what you want is not less interesting or important than what I do; Mara seems to have trained you a little too well. Most women don't want a valet. They want a boyfriend with ideas of his own. Not a bully, not some awful macho, but definitely a person. Do you think you could try and become a real one again? I can see who you are in those poems, in your music, in your books, in your smile. Come on, get a life! I know it's an bloody cliché, but in your case it's really what you must do. Now you wait here. I'll get that bottle."

She ran down the stairs and bounced back to his living room. To her surprise he had already put two glasses ready, and he had put a CD in his stereo.

"Ok," he said apologetically, "er, I find this a little difficult, you know. But I loved it very much last time, and I would like to ask you if you might feel like dancing with me again? I could put it on repeat, as it's so short. But if you rather wouldn't..." He looked at her as if he feared she might up and go straight away or start shouting.

"That's a great idea," she said, and she meant it.

"Really?"

"Yes. Honestly. Shall I pour us a drink?"

She raised her glass and said, "Here's to your recovery!"

Jaime solemnly took a sip of his drink. Then he put down his glass. "Let's dance," he said.

She put her glass next to his. He stepped up to her, took her hand, and pressed the play-function on the remote. The slow song started, and they moved to the rhythm together, round and round. Jaime held her a little stiffly at first. Molly had put her hands on his shoulders, like the first time; when Jaime relaxed and lowered one hand to the small of her back she put her head on his shoulder. She pressed into him a little, and to her delight she felt his erection against her stomach. She smiled. Seemed like there was some life in the old devil still. Like the first time she felt her nipples harden. They got considerably stiffer, though. She wondered what he would be like in bed - timid, she . But that could be changed, perhaps. It would be a pleasure to give it a try.

"That was really nice," Jaime interrupted her thoughts. "Shall we sit down?"

She released him, nodded, and went to a chair.

"Had enough?" she said.

"Well, er -" He blushed.

She grinned at him. "I've felt an erection in someone dancing with me before," she said. "I don't mind if I don't dislike the man - I'm not a nun, you know."

"No, but..." he found it difficult to put into words what he felt. "Oh well," he said. "Cheers!"

When Molly had left Jaime sat in his chair for a long time, thinking about this amazing friend of his. Everything seemed natural when she was around, not at all like the past eighteen years or so - she seemed to like his suggestions, and she didn't tell him off all the time. And he liked her humour, and he felt extremely grateful for the praise she'd given his attempts at poetry... He thought of her smile and the dimples in her cheeks, and he tried to compare her to Mara but somehow Mara seemed much harder to picture now. When he thought of her face it seemed almost like a mask. Molly's face was alive. Then he thought of their dance and blushed. It wouldn't do to have her feel he got aroused - but then she had. She had been very nice about it, though...

Life was complicated. Mara was very complicated - she was completely unpredictable. Molly, on the other hand... She seemed outspoken enough on the things she didn't like; but those were not at all like the ones Mara made a fuss about. He couldn't imagine Molly worrying too much about the way someone put up a picture, or whether his shirt and pullover matched... She'd make a joke about it, he thought.

Eventually he roused himself, got up and found the DVD. He put it in the player and watched the lot. Beautiful, very nice. Perhaps, he thought...

Molly was really looking forward to Friday evening. She had enjoyed dancing with Jaime a lot, and she missed his quiet presence. Come on, girl, she said to herself, you're not supposed to fall in love with him - but it seemed she didn't want to listen. However, she firmly told herself to let Jaime find out what was what, and to break free from his engrained habits of servitude and passivity. She did not want to end up mothering a man a few years her senior; and she definitely didn't want to boss it over anyone in particular.

The weather was hot and she had put on a nice dress. She'd put on a little make-up, she'd carefully arranged her hair and selected her high heels - she owned just the one pair as she didn't really feel comfortable wearing them. They hurt when you had to stand in them long. But they complemented the dress much better than a pair of boots... she smiled a little to herself. She was woman enough, even though she had no time for Barbie-dolls.

Jaime had prepared a vegetable quiche, a rice dish with sweet corn, Edam and ham and a cucumber and tomato salad with goat's cheese and olives, and bought some good, Spanish red wine. He'd laid the kitchen table as nicely as the contents of his cupboard allowed, and he eagerly awaited her arrival. He hoped she would approve. Actually he thought she would; Mara would probably have found fault with all he'd done. Molly...

The doorbell! He opened the door and drank in the view. He'd never seen Molly in a dress before; he looked at her with big eyes. She was really beautiful, he thought. The dress displayed her figure to advantage, and he loved the way her jutting breasts were just a little visible over the dress, and the curve of her belly and...

"Hi there," Molly said. "Do you like what you see?"

Jaime started. He blushed and looked up to her face; to his relief she smiled at him the way he'd got used to.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Well, I'm not," she said with a grin. "It's not like you backed away in disgust." She entered and kissed him on the cheek.

Dinner was lovely. She lavished praise on his cooking and on the arrangements he'd made, and his face flushed with pleasure. He couldn't remember Mara ever having said anything similar. They animatedly talked about their experiences in the last few days, and Jaime reported on the progress made by his lawyer – very little as yet – and said he had had another letter from Mara. He refused to divulge the contents until after dinner.

"It would spoil our meal," he said.

"Huh," Molly said, "won't she ever stop? I haven't heard anything from her any more, and I'm not going to take any of her claptrap ever again. How do you feel under it?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Well, you know, it's still a little hard sometimes – but I tried to think of her face, and it didn't come out right, not completely, and I don't get the jitters any more when I think of her. The letter actually seems ridiculous – you've shown me that much."

She nodded. "Excellent," she said, and emptied her glass. "Can I have some more, please?"

After dinner Jaime said they'd better leave things on the table; he'd see to the debris when she'd left. She'd almost told him they'd better wash up but she checked herself and thought better of it. It was his party, after all; he didn't want a new Mara telling him what to do.

Coffee? Good idea. She went into the living room and saw the empty DVD cover lie next to Jaime's chair. Hmm, another improvement, she thought.

He came in with two cups. He sat down, too and then saw the cardboard square where he'd left it that Wednesday. He gave her a half-apologetic grin and then manned himself. "I watched the thing after all," he said. "I thought it was quite beautiful."