Love Byte

by David Atkinson

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Back home, Pauline received my news calmly and positively, saying that Amy would benefit from me being around more and a new job – a new beginning – might be a good thing for me too. I changed my reason for going out that night to meeting a few of the condemned souls for some drinks after work. I was of course meeting Amanda, and that distracted me somewhat from the new reality of being nearly unemployed.

  Amy was staying at Pauline’s. Another ‘overnighter’ in case I arrived home ‘worse for wear’, as she described it. I told Pauline that I really appreciated her watching Amy over the last few weeks as I had been going out more than usual. Pauline knew that I’d hardly been out at all since Lindsay’s death, but she played along with me.

  ‘It’s fine Andy. I understand that you need to get out and about a bit, especially after what happened to you today, just don’t overdo it, OK?’

  I caught a bus into town and watched the streets get busier as the city centre approached. To say I was nervous was something of an understatement. I had sweaty palms and butterflies in my tummy. Even the pain of the dental abscess had eased completely, probably as a result of the adrenalin coursing through my nervous system. Once I was seated in The Nine Brothers bar, I ordered myself a large glass of Valpolicella in the hope that I would feel less like a cat on a hot tin roof. I was more nervous tonight than on any of the other dates, probably because it felt like there was a lot riding on it. Lindsay had described in her email the lack of chemistry between some men she’d thought she would like, and that you only really knew if there was chemistry when you met them. I wondered what it would feel like to meet Amanda. I wasn’t completely comfortable with the whole dating thing and still wished there was an easier way to meet someone.

  The bar was busier than I expected but thankfully it wasn’t packed. I considered sitting at a table outside again, but the sun was beginning to go down and long shadows were converging on the outside tables, meaning at this time of year it would get chilly quickly. Amanda probably had the Brazilian Rainforest setting on her thermostat too so I would need to stay inside in the warm.

  I noticed a few pretty girls distributed throughout the pub. Most of them were seated near the door as if strategically placed there by the management to attract in single or not-so-single males from the street. On the large screen television a snooker match was in session; a young fat chap was trying to manoeuvre his ample belly across one of the pockets without disturbing the green. The audience seemed enraptured, and I wondered about our national psyche that they seemed happy to sit in a stuffy auditorium watching un-athletic men poke at coloured balls with sticks on a warm late-summer evening.

  I glanced across the bar and caught my reflection in the mirror. I’d made a real effort tonight, putting on my favourite shirt, shaving again (I can’t remember the last time I shaved twice in one day), and applied the expensive aftershave that my wife bought me on our honeymoon. I checked my watch again, she was late.

  I carried my drink to a vacant nearby table and took a large gulp of the wine which was delicious, surprising given that it was pub wine. I tried to relax. My mind was naturally drawn back to my previous attempts at Internet dating and I shuddered.

  Then I noticed Amanda making her way towards me. She was wearing a light-green summer dress, low-cut at the front with the hem ending just above her knee. Her red hair was long and straight and curled under ever so slightly at the ends. She looked stunning. Most of the guys she passed managed to tear their eyes away from the snooker and watched her walk past, which was always a good sign. I read once, probably on a Google search, that red-hair was caused by some kind of rogue mutated gene. If Amanda was the result, then we should campaign for more rogue genes. Maybe I’d start one.

  My stomach churned with nerves when she noticed me and smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. She had a large canvas bag slung over her shoulder and looked relaxed. I felt a sudden grumbling in my bowels and felt an urgent need to fart. I concentrated hard and managed to suppress it. That would not have been the best beginning, especially if she thought it was my aftershave.

  There was no uncertainty this time. Amanda leaned over and gave me a wonderful hug and kissed me. Our lips lingered briefly, and she held my hand as she sat on the chair next to me. She smelled of peaches, which I assumed was either her shampoo or soap.

  I stared at her for a few seconds before I pulled myself together and offered to buy her a drink. She refused and insisted on getting her own. I watched her lovely bottom wiggle as she walked over to the bar. I took another large sip of wine.

  She returned with two glasses of wine, having bought me another one.

  ‘You didn’t need to do that,’ I said, embarrassed. ‘We probably should have bought a bottle, it would have been cheaper.’

  She smiled. ‘Maybe, but I’ve got the car so I can only really have one anyway.’

  I loved her accent, so soft, so sensual. I could have listened to her talk forever. I felt like there could be real chemistry this time, as long as I remembered not to ask about her sister and she didn’t prove to be a psycho. I had an idea of what Lindsay was talking about.

  We talked about unimportant stuff initially then the conversation moved on to her family which was large and extended.

  ‘I think it must be reassuring to be part of something like that,’ I said, carefully avoiding any request to see photos of family members.

  ‘It can be,’ she explained. ‘But there is a lot of pressure too; so many people to remember to include in everything important, and to remember to buy presents for.’

  Our conversation flowed freely and after a short time I had finished my first glass of wine, and was working my way nicely through the second one when I noticed Amanda looking at me strangely.

  ‘You’re drunk,’ she said accusingly. ‘How much did you have before I got here?’

  ‘Zis is my slechond glass,’ I heard a voice utter. It sounded like mine but I wasn’t sure. What was wrong with me?

  ‘I don’t believe you, a glass and a half of wine wouldn’t do that.’ She sighed, I assumed with disappointment. ‘I can’t stand drunks, there’s been enough of that in my family over the years and I really don’t want that. I’m sorry Andy, but I’m leaving, it’s a real shame as well because I really liked you.’

  I tried to think of something to say but my brain was fuzzy. She touched my arm briefly before picking up her bag. As she walked out the bar I felt terrible. The wine must have been bad or something. I staggered out after her, lurched from side to side and almost fell headlong through the open door onto the street in my anxiety to catch up with her. I spotted her walking briskly along the pavement and staggered after her shouting ‘Manda’ as I went. After that everything was hazy. I could vaguely remember someone helping me into a car and then nothing.

  The next thing I was aware of was opening my eyes, but only being able to make out shadows and the outlines of things. I slowly realized I was at home in my bed. My head was thumping and I felt nauseous. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I decided that the whole thing must have been a bad dream and felt relieved. Perhaps everything had been a dream, the emails from Lindsay, the Internet dating. Maybe Lindsay was still alive. The whole of the last year might have been a very bad dream like that whole series of Dallas in the eighties.

  I realized I had only my boxer shorts on. Normally I slept in boxer shorts and a T-shirt, so that wasn’t right. Suddenly I was conscious of a presence in the bed beside me. I daren’t look. Could it be true, could the whole of the last year have been nothing but a long nightmare? What else would explain the female presence in my bed? I could smell it was female. It must be Lindsay.

  I slowly moved my head to the left but it hurt too much to even do that. My brain registered the red hair spread over the pillow and I experienced a tidal wave of emotions: despair that it was not Lindsay, bewilderment, realization and humiliat
ion. Amanda must have brought me home and put me to bed and then climbed in beside me.

  I wasn’t sure how anything happened. My last recollection was running out of the pub and shouting after her. Now here I was in my bed and. . . . I tried to look at my watch but it wasn’t on my wrist. I gave up. I was too tired to think anymore and I allowed my head to return to its original position and fell back into a dark dreamless sleep.

  The next time I woke, the bed beside me was empty. I discovered that I could move my head without the world spinning so I bravely sat up. I could hear the radio playing softly in the kitchen and gingerly climbed out of bed. I slipped my dressing gown on before padding across the hall into the open-plan kitchen. Amanda was there, buttering toast and brewing coffee.

  She smiled, which surprised me as I was expecting some kind of chastisement.

  ‘Good morning, Andy. You really shouldn’t drink on top of antibiotics you know, especially the ones that say in large bold black letters – DO NOT DRINK ALCOHOL.’

  Of course – I’d forgotten all about that, the pills for my abscess.

  ‘God, I forgot all about them. That’s why I was so drunk! How did you know?’

  ‘Oh I was all for leaving you lying on the pavement, but thought somebody might rob you or something, so I managed to get you into the back of my car. It took ten minutes but you eventually remembered where you lived, and it was whilst I was looking for your keys that I found the tablets, and the genius that I am worked it all out. You’re lucky I’m a Good Samaritan otherwise you might have ended up in a gaol cell or worse.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Amanda. I am so sorry, I just didn’t think. Did you sleep all right?’

  ‘Apart from your snoring, yes, I got a few hours.’

  ‘Sorry about that, you should have slept in Amy’s room or even the couch, rather than listen to me.’

  ‘I thought about it, but I was concerned in case you threw up and choked so decided to lie beside you until I was sure you’d be OK. I did move through to the couch about one o’clock I think, but once it got light it was hard to sleep. It’s so bright in here.’

  ‘We didn’t—’

  A laugh and snort of derision erupted from her. ‘You must be joking. You couldn’t even move your head. I’ve never felt safer sleeping in the same bed as a man in my life.’

  She smiled and I laughed briefly, but had to stop as it hurt.

  Amanda sipped from her coffee, walked over and gazed out one of the windows overlooking the sea. I picked up a piece of toast and joined her in admiring the view.

  ‘Quite a place you’ve got here,’ she said, without turning to look at me.

  ‘It suits me for the time being.’

  ‘You mean you might move?’

  I sighed and explained about losing my job, and the dilemma I had between staying here and ultimately finding a house with a garden for Amy.

  Amanda sympathized. ‘When I left Ireland to come over here I bought a little flat in Corstorphine, in the West End. My plan was to stay there a few years and move on, but now it’s fallen in value and I’m kind of stuck.’

  Her situation reminded me of Molly’s, but when I thought about it there must be hundreds if not thousands of people in the same situation.

  She turned to me. ‘Anyway I reckon I’ll have to stay put until I meet someone I think is marriage material then maybe make a move.’ She smiled as she said the last phrase, and put her coffee cup down on the unit. She moved away from the window. Her body moved so rhythmically, like a panther. I’d never seen anyone who actually seemed to shimmer when they walked. I wondered if that came with the rogue gene. I snapped out of it and noticed she had picked up her bag and coat.

  ‘Are you leaving?’ I asked disappointedly.

  Amanda nodded and checked her watch. ‘Yes, I’ve got things to do today and need to get a move on.’

  She paused and stared at me for a moment, weighing me up I thought. ‘OK Andy, I’ll probably regret this but let’s forget about last night and meet up again properly. This week isn’t good – I’m incredibly busy at work and have a conference to organize in London at the weekend – so let’s say a week on Saturday. How does that grab you?’

  I suddenly realized that I would like to meet up with Amanda again, even if it was only to listen to her voice. I said, ‘Two weeks, that’s an awfully long time.’

  Amanda nodded and some of her auburn hair tumbled in front of her eyes. She pushed it back behind her ear and I was mesmerized. She noticed and smiled. ‘Yeah I know. Sorry, but I’m worth the wait.’

  Again snapping out of my reverie I asked, ‘How about you come up here? I’ll cook something for dinner, and we can maybe have a proper chat?’

  ‘OK, Andy, I’ll go for that. I think you’re a nice guy. I’m not sure you’re marriage material, but a few dates will no doubt determine that for me.’

  She moved toward me and kissed me on the lips. ‘I think you better get some food inside you, and if I were you I’d stay clear of wine until you’ve finished those pills.’

  After she left, I flopped down onto the couch and took stock. I’d had four disastrous dates so far (although the latest one had turned out OK in the end.) I wondered if my wife truly understood how poor I was at dating. If dating was a sport, I would not get onto anyone’s team and probably wouldn’t even have made the reserves.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I didn’t have time to relax for long, as a few moments after I’d parked my arse on the couch and switched on the TV my phone vibrated in my pocket. I flipped it open and glanced at the readout. It was from Lindsay and simply said:

  Hi sweetie, I’ve sent u another email, so read it when you get a chance.

  Linz xxx

  Her system hadn’t failed after all, but I still couldn’t work out how she had co-ordinated all this texting and emailing. I was excited and at the same time apprehensive about what this one would say. I muted the TV and moved gingerly to get my iPad. I made some more toast while it powered up. In reality I should have set up my email account on my phone, but I didn’t know how to do that, and couldn’t be arsed reading the one-squillion page instruction booklet to find out.

  I logged on to my email account and opened Lindsay’s email.

  Love Byte 3 - 20th October

  My gorgeous husband

  I hope you are looking after my little girl, and that you are both well and thriving. It’s the middle of the night and I’m up again taking more bloody pain killers. I’m not sure how much longer I can take this, but I put on a brave face for you and Amy – well, mainly for you, thankfully Amy isn’t really aware of what I’m going through and long may that continue.

  I know this will be difficult for you to read, but I feel I owe it to you to tell you how it is – or was by the time you read this – especially as you and Amy are sleeping and oblivious right at this point in time.

  I want you to know that when the time comes for me to go, it will be a relief. I’m only telling you this because I might be so doped up later that I might not make much, if any, sense. Hopefully though I’ve got a few weeks (fingers crossed months) left in me. By that time I should have finished messing with your life and I can leave you to get on with it, which I am sure will be a relief for you – but I’M NOT FINISHED YET.

  OK, so what have I achieved so far? Well by my reckoning I’ve set you up on a dating site, you’ve had some emails from potential suitors and you might even have met some of them by now, in fact you might be deeply in love and ignoring my further efforts here! (BUT I DOUBT IT.) You have to kiss a few princesses before you find your frog!

  The problem with you, Mr Hunter, is that you will be looking for the perfect person, and probably comparing them all to me – big mistake. By now I’ll have been

  dead for some time and I can do no wrong. I’m perfect because I’m in your memory and cannot blot
my copybook in any way. No woman can live up to that.

  I’m going to give you another week to sort yourself out. If you haven’t found another woman by then I have one more ace up my sleeve. I will play that card anyway, because even if you have found someone else it won’t do any harm, but if you haven’t then it might just be the perfect last throw of the dice for me.

  On another note I guess by now you will have realized that Jamie and Molly have had some problems. I don’t feel great about sending that email I have to say. . . .

  I hadn’t realized that my wife was capable of being so devious. The revelation didn’t actually shock me as I should have known Lindsay was behind it. It was a piece of unfinished business from her point of view. She was trying to help Molly. I’m not sure she had but there wasn’t much I could do about it now.

  . . . but I felt that Molly deserves better than your friend. I hope you don’t tell him or her it was me. It will only cause more problems and might make Molly feel so sorry for him that she takes him back. She’s a bit soppy like that. She might actually have forgiven him anyway which is very sad but if she has then so be it. I’ve done my best – or worst – whichever way you want to look at it.

  Back to me. I don’t know what will happen over the next few weeks. I know we’ve talked about me going into a hospice. I will try and resist that as long as I can but I reckon it is inevitable at some point. By then I will have finished this project. The good thing about this is that I can play with time. I can spend a few hours planning things here but in your world a week, a fortnight or a month can go by, which is weird and kind of hard to get your head around. It’s been a while since I’ve contacted you (in your time). I was deliberately letting you get on with it (or not, which is more likely!).

  Not everything I do will work but hopefully you are at least having some fun with what I’ve set up for you. No doubt other things will be going on in your life I can know nothing about but I don’t worry about that. I’m only concerned with the controllables!