“You’re just too fussy,” he told her.
She smiled and thought about his statement. She lived in a one-bedroom apartment, five minutes’ walk away. She was happy being single, but longed to have someone to be close to. She sipped the last bit of lager from her glass and realised she was feeling just a little bit tipsy.
“Right,’ she began; “I’m off! If you fancy it, I’ll do you some tea and I got a bottle of vodka waiting to be cracked open.” Her inhibitions were gone and her usual defence mechanism had been lowered. She hadn’t planned saying it. It was just a result of the unexpected pleasant evening and the effect of the alcohol assisting her. Her heart was racing, hoping he wouldn’t reject her and leave her feeling a fool.
Matt wanted to; he didn’t want to go home tonight, but he liked Marcia, as a friend and he knew she had a crush on him and he didn’t want her hanging around him all the time. Marcia noticed his expression change and she guessed what he was thinking. She was just about to speak again but Matt stopped her.
“Would love to Marcia, but I don’t want to lead you on, you know what happened last time,” he said. He turned to face her and saw that she was smiling.
“Don’t flatter yourself Matthew Connor. I’m not asking you on a date or anything, not even sure if I like you anymore,” she giggled and put her mouth close to his ear before whispering; “I’m just in need of a good fucking and I bet you are too!” She now knew it was the alcohol talking, for she would never have said those words sober.
Taking her by the hand, Matt led her out through the bar door. “How can I possibly refuse an offer like that?” he whispered to her.
* * *
“Wake up sleepyhead!”
As he stirred for a moment, Matt wondered where he was, until he sat up and saw Marcia sat up there, in bed, beside him; her ample breasts nearly resting on the bed. She had a big smile on her face that looked as if it could open many doors.
“I made you some coffee and there’s some Paracetamol there, if you need them!” she added. She herself had needed the pain killers and guessed Matt may need them too. Matt leaned over to the bedside table and took a sip of his coffee. It was just as he liked it, strong and sweet.
“You’re a doll Marcia. I feel okay actually,” he told her. He put his mug down and turned to face her. She still had a big smile on her face as she pulled the sheet off her revealing her voluptuous curves.
“You might fancy a bit more of this then?” she said. “Nice things come in big packages!” Matt certainly did and took what was on offer and, of course, she was right.
Matt declined the offer of a shower. His house was only a fifteen minute walk away and he could not see the point of showering at hers when he could go home, shower and change. Matt pecked her on the cheek as he was about to leave, Marcia drew him to her and stuck her tongue down his throat, Matt responded with his.
“You’re not shagging me and then just pecking me on the cheek, “she told him. Matt burst out laughing.
“You okay with what just happened?” he asked.
Marcia thought about it for just a few seconds. They were both single, they’d had fun; no one was hurt, so what was there to regret?
“Matt we had a damn, good shag. That was all it was sweetheart. It was fun. We were just fuck-buddies.” She laughed, and that was how she wanted it to be.
“Is that what we are, fuck-buddies?”
“Well, as long as you’re single and I’m single and we both fancy shagging; why not? The moment we meet someone, it stops, okay?”
Matt pecked her on the lips. “I had a wonderful time, it was lovely,”
“When, last night or this morning?” she asked with a glint in her eyes.
“Both!”
“Me too!”
He walked toward his home, thankful that it was August the 9th.
* * *
Matt Conner’s divorce was more than amicable. There was no need for expensive lawyers. His wife was a very respectable lawyer herself and had her own wealth, not that she used that to her advantage. The marriage just dissolved; no lawsuits, no unreasonable claims, just absolution. Matt had been left the large early 20th century house they had lived in, by his parents, who died shortly after their daughter was born; both his parents dying in the space of three months. He was left the house and a considerable sum of money. He worked twenty hours a week at the Garden Centre situated just four miles from his home. Gardening was his passion, along with reading. He had penned some poetry and short stories, but his real desire was to write a novel. He would get around to it one day; he knew that. He just never knew when that one day would be.
He still loved his ex-wife, Hayleigh. Yes, the divorce was amicable but at the time Matt just went along with it mindlessly. His attention was purely focused on his daughter’s illness. He missed his wife tremendously, but did not regard that alone as an indication of love. They had shared a pain and then she had left him alone to deal with that pain. In some ways, to Matt, it wasn’t only him she was hurting; she was hurting their daughter as well. They should have shared the pain long after Aimee had died.
He still loved his ex-wife, yet at the same time hating her for leaving him alone with just a bottle of pills. The illness of their daughter put too much strain on their marriage. Both knew it should not have done. They were always there for their daughter, so much so, that they forgot to be there for each other.
Matt had been a loving husband and father and he had doted on his daughter Aimee. His own childhood had been a strange one. As an only child he found his parents to be very strict and had strange rituals. His mother was very religious and would often speak to him about God and insist he would pray at least four times a day. If he was found to not have prayed or had committed some ‘sin’, like not making his bed as soon as he got out of it, or not asking to leave the table after every meal, he would be locked under the stairs and told to ask God for forgiveness. Sometimes he would rebel and just sit there screaming that he didn’t believe in God, only to hear his mother scream with anguish and call him ‘the devil’s child’. He was never let out from under the stairs, until he asked for God’s forgiveness. The longest he stayed there was fifteen hours, until he finally relented and prayed.
At the age of fifteen, his mother had caught him masturbating in his bedroom over a pornographic magazine. Like some possessed woman she had led him, by his penis, to the space under the stairs, where he had to pray for forgiveness. She told him a man’s penis was evil and never to be touched in the manner he was touching it. He was taught that sex was a sin and was for producing children and not for pleasure. His father neither went along nor tried to prevent his wife’s behaviour, usually leaving the room when Matt was placed under the stairs.
It was while Matt was under the stairs and to try to drown out his mother’s preaching he would allow himself to drift off into another world. He would enter a ‘dreamlike’ state and dream about all the things his mother had told him were evil. He would dream of sex and violence and committing more sins than his mother would ever have thought possible. This gave him an escape and turned him into the person he now was. He rebelled when he was seventeen refusing his mother’s demands to pray. He had, by then, grown into a big, strong, handsome man and he would just cover himself with his hands as his mother rained blows down on him when he would not comply. He finally left home at eighteen, moving into a bedsit in the centre of Doncaster. From there he would experience the many forbidden things his mother had told him were evil. He still visited his parents once a week, for dinner, always asking permission to leave the table after his meal was eaten. God or the beatings was never mentioned again, but the child who had grown up a loner, had never forgotten the events that had changed him.
His daughter Aimee came along after he had found the woman of his dreams and married her. Life seemed to take on a new meaning and for a while all those childhood memories had disappeared and that changed him and taught him to be a better man. He was never going to b
rainwash his own child. He was going to allow her to make her own decisions and choices. That was, until her life was cut tragically short. His mourning over her loss was long and difficult, but now the little lad had been let out from the cupboard under the stairs once more, only he didn’t realise it yet.
Matt was a handsome, rugged man who used to work out a lot. He had not been to the gym for over three years now, but his natural build remained and the sometimes heavy work at the Garden Centre, lifting eighty kilogram bags of compost, sort of kept him in trim. He kept meaning to re-start his membership of the gym, but it was always tomorrow and tomorrow just never seemed to come.
He hadn’t dated at all and had only two sexual encounters since his divorce. One was almost three years ago, the other was very recent and both were with Marcia. He hadn’t been bothered with the opposite sex, just living life, one day at a time, drinking most of it away, not wanting a relationship but knowing, deep down, sometime in the future he would want to date again, maybe even settle down and maybe even have children. All that seemed a long way away, but for no reason that he could think off, something had changed this 8th of August. It was like something was telling him to move on with his life, to be the man that he was; or even better, be the man that he wanted to be. A dark cloud had been lifted from above him and he had no idea who to thank for that.
As he showered after leaving the bed of Marcia, he realised he really didn’t want to wash the sex off his body. He had enjoyed it more than he thought he would and he was looking forward to the next time. So much so, he was thinking of asking her around tonight to return the meal, and of course sex. He was feeling quite buoyant even as he walked up the stairs and brushed the photographs, there was not that usual tinge of sadness. It was as if his daughter was telling him to enjoy life. He thought it was about time he did. He stepped out of the shower and caught himself naked in the mirror again, he looked down to what Marcia had paid so much attention to and laughed, bet you’re glad you seen some action at last.
It was time for another pill, he took the bottle out of the medicine cabinet, looked at the label that told him to take three a day. He wondered how many times he had forgotten and were they really making a difference. It had been two months since he had seen his doctor and he couldn’t remember the last time he saw his counsellor. Maybe they’ve done their job he thought and tossed the half-full bottle of pills in the bin.
He applied his after-shave and changed into clean T- shirt and jeans. He wanted to go into town and buy himself some new clothes. He hadn’t bought any for years and now if he was back on the scene, he wanted to look his best. He also wanted to pick up some flowers for Marcia, as a way of saying thank you for helping him through a difficult day. He could have got them from the garden centre he worked at, but it was his day off and he had no intention of going there on his day off, even though the flowers would be considerably cheaper. He hoped she wouldn’t get the wrong idea, but by the look of it, she just wanted to use him for sex until she found herself a regular boyfriend. That was just fine with him, as she was really hot in the sack, he had thought. He wanted to think of today as the day the new Matt Connor was re-born.
He skipped down the stairs two at a time and opened the patio doors in the kitchen to leave; he was taken aback by who was standing there, about to knock. It was Hayleigh his ex-wife. She was stood there smiling.
“Were you going out?” she asked.
In a moment everything came flooding back, all the hurt and the pain, the suffering she had caused him, the love that he still felt for her; the jealousy that she was able to move on and he hadn’t been. Then he suddenly remembered that today he had been re-born and he had to let all that hurt and feelings die.
“Nothing that can’t wait, is everything okay?” he showed a look of concern on his face,
“Its fine,” she smiled. “Can I come in? It won’t take long.”
Matt invited her in and they sat at the kitchen table, Hayleigh declined the offer of a drink; she was wearing tight jeans with a grey blouse, with the top buttons undone, showing just a little cleavage. Matt couldn’t help but look and briefly he imagined how special it was when they used to make love. He must have cuddled those breasts a thousand times. Her hair was dark and long and she wore spectacles; Matt always thought they made her sexier.
“I’ll came straight out with it,” she said, “I’m pregnant,”
Matt was quite taken aback. It was not what he was expecting. Though he guessed she had come for something, she had never been back to what was once the family home.
“Is it Dale’s?” he asked referring to her boyfriend.
Hayleigh let out a smirk. “Of course it is, cheeky.”
“Then I’m delighted for you,” and he was. He really meant it, or at least he thought he did, but his heart had suddenly gone into his mouth and his head was full of jealousy. He wanted her to move on and this was a great big step for her. She smiled and looked a little bit lost for a moment.
“He will make you very happy. He’s a good man and will make a good dad,” but there was a hint of cynicism in Matt’s voice.
“You know, I will never ever forget our Aimee, don’t you?” said Hayleigh. She felt her eyes water and she didn’t want to cry. This was supposed to be a happy time for her.
Matt saw the look on her face. That look of guilt and he understood that she was thinking; in some small way, she felt was letting their daughter down.
“Of course I do and it’s what Aimee would have wanted”. He leant across to give her a kiss on the cheek and was surprised when she offered him her lips to peck. Matt grabbed her and pulled her close to him. He squeezed the cheeks of her bum and put his tongue down her throat. Hayleigh struggled for a moment to comprehend what was happening until she found her tongue willingly meeting his, bringing back memories for both of them.
For that brief moment, for Hayleigh, it felt as if it was eight years earlier and the baby that was growing inside her was the man’s she was now with. Matt was the father, it was Aimee that she bore. She had gone back in time without realising it and was no longer in control of her emotions, and it was okay. For that moment everything was okay.
“Say goodbye to me properly, let me take you to my bed,” he whispered to Hayleigh. Matt took her by the hand and led her upstairs and they said goodbye in the only way they knew how, as they made love passionately, both knowing that they had finally moved on.
An hour later, Hayleigh left and after having another shower, Matt started his Lexus and pulled out onto the High Street towards Doncaster. I haven’t had a shag for almost three years, now I’ve had three in sixteen hours. He laughed out loud as he drove into town, feeling that somehow Marcia and Hayleigh had helped him to move on as well. He hoped he had returned the favour, but somehow, he didn’t think he had. There were always consequences for actions, and he didn’t think he would be the one who would have to pay.
His shopping spree in the indoor shopping centre went well; three pairs of jeans, two tops, two T-shirts and a new pair of trainers; all designer gear. Now, all he wanted was some flowers and bed-time reading. He bought the flowers from the mobile stall that was in the shopping mall and made his way to Waterstone’s Book Store.
He was delighted to see on display was Stephen King’s latest novel, ‘Finders Keepers’ and he immediately picked it up. King was his favourite author and he’d read everything he had ever published. The offer suggested, if you bought the hardback book, you could also purchase ‘Charlotte’s Dream’ by Carla Reid, in hardback, at a cut-price £4. He picked that up and read the blurb inside. It told him she was a Welsh author and this was her first novel. He thought how good that must feel, knowing how difficult it could be to get recognised. The blurb told him how delighted she was and she felt like she was living; ‘someone else’s dream.’ He liked that expression. It gave him an idea for when he wrote his own novel. The book was about a council-house kid made good; not his usual genre, but there was something about it tha
t drew him in. He looked at the photo of the author and thought she was very beautiful. He took both books to the counter and paid.
He loaded his stuff into the boot, paid for his ticket and drove home to Hatfield. When he got home he unloaded the car and took his stuff in the house and just dumped it on the settee. Grabbing the flowers, he took the short walk to the Bluebell Pub. He hoped Marcia was working the same hours today. If she was, she would just be finishing.
As he walked into the Bluebell Pub Marcia had just finished and she was sat there with a half of lager, a ritual she would always perform at the end of her shift, before going home. Her face lit up when Matt walked in and handed her the flowers. He didn’t say anything he went to the bar and got himself a beer and sat down beside her.
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