It is a cold Saturday lunchtime and I am sitting in her crappy car, watching them in the rear-view mirror as she flinches and moves away from him. All things being equal, I’d rather be at the pub, I think I’m done with this.
She hands him the manila envelope. He is distracted as he leans in again. I can see his confusion and her anger. She moves away from him, her head twisting to one side. ‘No’ she is saying as plainly as she can without words.
He stands there, motionless, head down. However he thought this day was going to unfold, I can see this is not it. Her long hair, usually scraped back into a tight ponytail is now hanging freely, hiding the majority of her face from me as they talk. I can feel myself staring, so I look away as my cheeks burn with vicarious embarrassment and without focus, I stare into the oncoming traffic.
He looks in my direction? Does he know? Has she introduced me as a friend of the family, a platonic confidant, as we had quietly talked about on the way here? It was important to her that we didn’t use my real name because, she argued, should a mutual friend use my real name in some future conversation, this man, her ‘ex’, might put two and two together and somehow arrive at the number four.
“This is our last good-bye.” She had said on the drive down. “I don’t want a scene. If he thinks we’re together I don’t know how he’ll react.” She looked across at me. “Thanks for driving, I’m not sure I could have done this without you.”
I said little on the drive here this morning, pretending to concentrate on the traffic, secretly seething inside. She put her hand on mine as it rested on the wheel and smiled at me. She could be incredibly sweet when she wanted.
This awful, beaten up car had been bought with money he had loaned her, and now he was demanding it back.
“It’s only fair.” She had said the previous evening through her tears. She had looked awful, having just finished a horrible conversation over the phone. “He did lend me the cash.” She sniffed. I handed her a paper napkin and then took a drink.
“Sure,” I said after a while, carefully putting my glass back onto the table between us, “but from what you’ve told me, wasn’t it a gift?”
She looked at me, a painful look etched into her face. “Thank you for helping me out.”
“It’s only money,” I said eventually, a lead ball settling in my stomach. “he’s a piece of work for putting you in this position.” I looked at her. “What’s he going to do? Send the boys round?”
“You don’t know what he’s like.” She said quietly.
We had just finished dinner at a nice cafe I knew, taking advantage of the last of the Autumn sun, by eating outside. I was thinking about whether to have another drink, when her phone had erupted into life. I had noticed that she’d been on edge all evening, constantly looking at her watch, so I wasn’t surprised when she jumped as the phone rang. Her face seemed to relax for an instant and then the skin around her eyes hardened.
She accepted the call and jammed the phone to her ear. As she stood up and said “Hello?” she raised a finger, signalling that I should wait, or be quiet, or whatever. Her gaze focused on a spot about three feet in the air in front of her and she slowly walked away from the table, turning her back on me.
“What?” I heard her say in a terse whisper. “No. No way I can do it by tomorrow. I can’t get my hands on that sort of cash.” Her shoulders collapsed after a few seconds of listening to the other side of the conversation. “You can’t have it, it’s all I have to get around.”
‘The car’. I thought to myself, looking around to see if anyone else was paying attention. ‘He wants the car. Like some sleazy loan shark, collecting on his delinquent debtors. What an asshole.’ I wanted to help her, but this was not what I signed up for.
She came back to the table with her eyes red and glistening, her nose raw where she had rubbed it. I swallowed my anger with another mouthful of beer. She smiled and all I could think of was that we’d just have to put off our holiday.
We’d come up with the idea of taking a short trip together only a week before when we had met for lunch and a drink in my local pub. She had suddenly stopped reading the paper, folded it in front of her and looked across at me.
“We should go away.” She had said abruptly, pulling one leg up and tucking it underneath the opposite knee. “A mini-break, a long weekend, a jaunt to the sun.”
I turned to look at her. “It’s a bit soon, isn’t it? I thought we were taking it steady?” I could feel myself frowning, but tried to make light of it all. “The owner’s manual says that you should be going out for at least a month before you go away together.”
“God, I forget how old you are sometimes.” She laughed. “Some of my friends go away the morning after the night before.”
“Well, that’s as maybe, but you probably leave your clothes all over the place and only brush your teeth every other day. I’m not sure if I’m ready to know about that.”
“You don’t think we’re ready?” She pouted and I was suddenly very conscious of the fifteen or so years that separated us.
I smiled. “OK, a short getaway.” I said, not sure how serious she was. “What did you have in mind?”
“Somewhere hot, somewhere that still has the sun, so I can lie on a beach and drink ridiculous cocktails.”
“Well, it’s the wrong time of year for anywhere near here.” I thought about it for a second or so. “But we could go out to Dubai for a long weekend?”
She squealed, a high pitch noise that stabbed at the edges of my hangover and caused a few people to look up from their roast beef dinners. She reached across the small table and grasped my hands in hers. “Dubai sounds awesome, I’ve never been, is it a long way? Can we have a drink? Are there beaches?”
“Yes, yes and yes.” I laughed, slightly embarrassed. “It’s a great place. Let me look into it and we’ll go soon.”
Her face fell, and she looked up at me through her eyelashes. “I don’t know how much it will be, but I’m not sure I can afford it.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said gently, “I’ll take care of it.” And then smiled to let her know it wasn’t a problem. It felt good to be able to do something incredible like this.
I remember that I had been stunned by how good she looked as she stepped into the street for our first date a few days before. It wasn’t how she was dressed, but rather how different she looked than when she worked in the little coffee shop. I thought she looked incredible, and I told her so.
“Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.” She replied, running a finger underneath the lapel of my jacket. “I can’t believe it took you so long to ask me out.” Her smile lit up the street around her. I felt like an impostor, a divorced, middle aged man, foolishly running around with this twenty something.
“Believe it or not,” I said, “asking you out was the last thing on my mind, and at the top of my list of things to do.” I stepped away from her and offered my arm. “How would you like some dinner?”
“I think I would like that very much.” She said with exaggerated politeness. Snaking her arm into mine we set off towards the centre of town.
We talked incessantly, I tried to hide my nervousness with complex stories, half of which failed to land. I ordered wine from the top of the wine list, we ate well and over indulged. I could see the sly glances we were getting from the other tables, and for once I didn’t care. ‘Let them look’, I thought to myself, ‘they don’t know me.’ And then returned my attention to the woman in front of me.
She told me about her ex; they been involved for a couple of years. Thinking back to that conversation, everything she said reinforced my view of him. The idea that he had been violent towards her started to form in my mind, and I could feel a burning sensation in my chest as she spoke. It was all I could do to stop myself from reacting. She didn’t describe any specifics, she was careful with her words, but I felt as if the details she left out of her stories was as important as those that she went into.
I tried to read between the words and began to form an idea that, without confirmation, solidified into an understanding of this man that made my blood boil.
Sensing the shift in my mood she looked up and smiled. “Don’t worry about me.” She said. “I’ll be alright. He’s gone now, he has no hold over me anymore.”
I walked her back that night and kissed her on the doorstep. I felt as if I weighed mere ounces as I made my way to the station to catch the train home. ‘Well, I haven’t been this giddy since, I don’t know when.’ I almost sang in my head.
And then, with a jolt, I am back in this crappy car, shaking from my reverie. Each memory of the last day, week, fortnight, leading me pleasantly to the next, gone.
‘Well,’ I think, ‘this will be over soon. She’ll be upset, but we can move on now.’
I look out, and the urge to confront this man starts to become more intense, she has asked me not to get involved and I will respect that. I see him smile, nod his head and turn away, walking back to what I suspect is his car. It is older than the one that I am sitting in with prominent rust patches over it. He starts the engine.
‘What an asshole.’ I think to myself.
She is walking back to the car. I watch in shock as she climbs into the passenger seat. Within a moment the car turns, picks up speed and is lost in traffic. I move to turn the key in the ignition, my hand passes through empty space, and I see that the keyring is missing, she has somehow taken it with her. I remember that she needed it to unlock the boot and get her coat.
Eyes wide, mouth dry, I pull my phone from my pocket. Even as I dial the number, I know that I am not going to get through. Sure enough, it goes straight to voice mail.
On this cold Saturday lunchtime, I watch her disappear.
I am confused and angry. ‘No’ I say to myself.
I climb out of the car. And stand there, motionless, head down. However I thought this day was going to unfold, this is not it. I imagine her long hair, usually scraped back into a tight ponytail, now hanging freely, hiding the laughter of how they have fooled this ridiculous, divorced, middle aged man. I can feel people staring, so I look away as my cheeks burn with embarrassment and without focus, step into the oncoming traffic.
