The Right Time

by Dianne Blacklock

  ‘But I had something on.’

  ‘Well, bad luck,’ said Ellen. ‘These are the sacrifices we have to make when we’re parents. You have seventy-five percent of the time to do whatever the hell you want, is it so hard for you to give them twenty-five percent?’

  He looked chastened. ‘I guess not.’

  Ellen sighed. She hoped she had finally got that through his thick head, though she had to wonder. ‘Now, how are you going to proceed?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The new girlfriend,’ Ellen said plainly. ‘Is it serious, do you want the kids to meet her?’

  He shrugged. ‘What do you mean by serious? I’m not thinking of marrying her or anything.’

  ‘But it’s a steady relationship?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘I have been thinking it’s time they met her.’

  Ellen thought about it. ‘Okay, I’m going to be honest – it’s weird for me not knowing who she is, when my kids are potentially going to have a lot to do with her. I mean, I never let them stay the night at a friend’s place before I meet the parents.’

  ‘Do you want to meet her first?’ he suggested.

  ‘No, that’d be weirder.’ Ellen tried not to grimace. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.’ She paused, thinking. ‘I suppose I should know the basics, where she lives, what she does for work. Her name for a start.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ he said. ‘Well, her name’s Therése – you know, with the accent. Not Thereez, she hates that. She lives in the city . . . Oh, and you don’t have to worry, she’s got plenty of money,’ he nodded, his eyes widening. Ellen wasn’t sure why that was her worry. ‘And, um, well, she’s very accomplished, she’s travelled the world, even lived overseas for a while. She has a law degree, but she isn’t a lawyer, she’s some kind of consultant, very well regarded. She’s on boards and stuff like that.’

  Ellen was beginning to wonder what this superwoman saw in Tim.

  ‘But . . .’ He was frowning.

  ‘But what?’

  He looked uneasy. ‘Well, she’s pretty amazing, really accomplished . . .’

  ‘Yeah, you said.’

  ‘But she’s . . . well, she’s . . . she’s not exactly . . .’

  Ellen was waiting.

  ‘She’s not that attractive.’

  ‘You should have said, “Well, lightning’s not going to strike twice.”’

  Ellen looked at Finn, not understanding.

  ‘You know, that he can’t expect to find someone as attractive as you again . . .’

  She smiled then, maybe even blushed a little. But it was nice of him to say that, to make her feel better. Finn had a knack of saying the right thing at the right time, which was probably what had drawn her over here after she left Tim at the café. Kate was going back to her father’s sometime today, so Ellen would be going home to an empty house, and she just had to debrief after her meeting with Tim or her brain was likely to implode. Back in the car, she had flipped open her phone, contemplating who she could call as she scrolled past Emma, then Evie . . . no, Liz was the best person . . . but then she’d come to Finn. She’d pressed Call before she’d thought about what she was doing. When he answered she made some excuse about paying her account, and he said to come on over.

  ‘I just can’t believe Tim would say something like that,’ Ellen went on. ‘I mean, what kind of messages is he sending the kids, telling them his girlfriend’s not all that attractive?’

  ‘Do you think he actually said that to them?’ Finn asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him. He seems to have no idea of what’s appropriate for a father to say to his children, let alone for a man to say to his estranged wife. You know what he told me, in all innocence? He said he’d joined a couple of internet dating sites before we separated, and he’d made lists all ready to go, but he swore to me that he never actually contacted anyone until after we were separated.’ Ellen shook her head. ‘He’s such a . . . a nong. How did I put up with him for so long?’

  ‘Got me,’ Finn shrugged.

  ‘And the ego,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘He said he didn’t want to upset me, that’s why he didn’t tell me about the girlfriend.’

  ‘Well, you do seem kind of upset . . .’

  ‘No, I’m upset that he thinks I’d get upset! And he didn’t stop there. He kept telling me I should go on the internet myself, that he understands how hard it is to put yourself out there but that I just have to be brave. How dare he start giving me dating advice? Like he’s suddenly some kind of guru, when all he’s done is snare himself a rich, “not very attractive” woman and is sitting back, hitching a ride on her coat tails. What’s he done that’s so “brave”?’

  Ellen stopped, noticing Finn’s slightly startled expression. ‘I’m sorry, I’m getting worked up. And I’m holding you up.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve got nothing better to do. Do you want a drink?’

  ‘Yes please,’ she sighed. ‘That’s only if you were going to have one?’

  He nodded. ‘But I’ve only got beer.’

  ‘I don’t care, as long as it’s alcohol!’

  He ducked out the back and came back with two bottles, passing one to Ellen. He clinked his against hers. ‘To better days.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’ She took a sip and grimaced, swallowing it down.

  Finn smiled, watching her. ‘I’ve got something that might help.’ He disappeared out the back again.

  ‘I’m not sure I’d like lemonade,’ she called after him, ‘it might be a bit sickly.’

  He reappeared holding a couple of wedges of lemon. ‘Not lemonade, the real thing. There’s a lemon tree growing over the back fence,’ he explained as he took her bottle and proceeded to push one wedge down into the neck. ‘I pick up whatever drops on the ground. Or looks like it’s going to,’ he added with a grin.

  Ellen was watching him. ‘I’ve seen this, does it really make much difference?’

  ‘The trick is,’ he said, pressing the flat of his palm over the top of her bottle, ‘to mix it right through.’ He turned the bottle upside down and the lemon rose right up into the base and bobbed around. ‘That ought to do it,’ he said, turning it upright again and passing it back to her.

  ‘Thanks.’ Ellen took a tentative sip. ‘Hmm, that’s not bad.’ She took a couple more swigs while Finn did the lemon trick to his own bottle. She started to feel a little buzz, and a sense that the tight coil of righteous indignation inside her was starting to unwind.

  ‘Have you ever tried the internet?’ she asked Finn.

  ‘What, dating?’ He shook his head. ‘Nuh.’

  ‘You are single?’

  ‘Don’t you think I would have mentioned it before now if I wasn’t?’

  She wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

  ‘How long have you been single?’ she persisted, leaning her elbow on the counter and propping her chin in her hand.

  ‘Depends how you calculate it. I haven’t been in a long-term relationship for a while.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He gave her a slightly quizzical smile. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve got commitment issues or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.’

  ‘No, no, I’m just saying, you’re a good-looking man, you’ve got a full head of hair, you’re in the prime demographic, and it’s a buyer’s market. I’m surprised you haven’t been snapped up.’

  ‘What can I say?’ he shrugged. ‘You don’t meet many girls in my line of work.’

  ‘What about customers?’

  ‘Most of them are married.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ she said. ‘I mean, I’m not. Well, actually, officially I am, but not really, you know?’

  ‘I know.’

  She took a long swig of her beer and sighed deeply. ‘Can I ask you something, as a man?’

  ‘But you’re not a man.’

  Ellen frowned. ‘Will you answer me as a man, I mean?’

  ‘Well, I can’
t very well answer you any other way.’

  She pulled a face. ‘I want a man’s perspective on something, an honest perspective.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘What’s it like having sex with someone for the first time?’

  He sputtered a little on his beer. ‘Wow, I didn’t see that coming.’

  ‘I’m sorry, am I being too personal?’

  ‘Well, I don’t think you could get much more personal, but it’s okay.’

  ‘’Cause I was just wondering, that’s all, how a man feels “putting himself out there”,’ said Ellen. ‘Everyone keeps saying that’s what I have to do – put myself out there. What does that even mean? And how do you do it? It’s terrifying.’

  ‘It can be terrifying for men, as well,’ said Finn. ‘You know, all the approaching has to be done by us, we’re the ones who have to risk rejection.’

  ‘I guess, but women are only rejecting a lot of the time because they’re so terrified.’ She drank down another mouthful of beer. ‘I know I am.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Not of meeting guys, or talking to them . . .’

  ‘Obviously not.’

  ‘Or even going out for dinner . . . but having sex?’ She shuddered. ‘Can I tell you something?’

  ‘I have a feeling you’re going to anyway.’

  ‘I haven’t had sex with anyone but my husband. How pathetic is that?’

  ‘Well, you were only young when you got married,’ he pointed out.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘You told me your daughter’s nearly nineteen, right? You must have been very young. Maybe twelve?’

  Ellen smiled then. ‘Resorting to flattery, eh?’

  ‘I just think you’re worrying about nothing – guys aren’t as fussy as you think.’

  ‘I liked it more when you were being flattering.’

  ‘I knew that wasn’t going to come out right,’ Finn said with a rueful smile. ‘What I’m trying to say is that men love women, and men love sex, and if they get some, mostly they’re just grateful. They don’t call it getting lucky for nothing.’

  ‘I’m still terrified,’ she muttered.

  ‘You’ve got to face your fears sometime.’

  ‘But facing your fears doesn’t usually involve getting naked,’ she pointed out, taking another swig of beer.

  He smiled. ‘What do I keep telling you? A guy would consider himself lucky.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ‘You should.’

  ‘But look, I’m going to be frank now.’

  ‘You haven’t been frank so far?’

  ‘Tim and I didn’t have a great sex life, even before our marriage went down the gurgler,’ she said. ‘I’m just so out of practice.’

  ‘You know what they say, it’s like riding a bike.’

  ‘What? Sweaty and uncomfortable? Leaves you a little sore in the saddle?’

  He laughed then, a big laugh, throwing back his head. ‘You crack me up.’

  Ellen couldn’t remember anyone saying that about her. But then, life hadn’t given her much to be funny about for quite a while. She drained her beer and set it back on the counter.

  ‘That seemed to go down easily enough.’ Finn said. ‘Do you want another?’

  It was tempting. She was having a nice time, and she was feeling quite a buzz, from one beer. That was probably because she hadn’t eaten anything all day, she just realised, she’d been so worked up about Tim. But that had all gone away, talking to Finn. He was so easy to talk to . . . maybe a little too easy, the things she’d just said . . . She really should have something to eat before she drank any more. Maybe it was better to bid a dignified retreat while she still could.

  ‘No, I’ve held you up long enough,’ she said, picking up her bag. ‘Thanks for listening, really Finn. I appreciate it.’

  ‘Any time,’ he said.

  She walked towards the door.

  ‘Hey Ellen?’

  She turned around.

  ‘If I can ever be of any assistance . . .’

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You know, if you want to get some practice in.’

  He was grinning that big cheeky grin of his.

  ‘I’m just saying . . . you let me service your car . . .’

  ‘Bye Finn,’ she said with a smile, walking out the door.

  All the way home Ellen couldn’t stop thinking about what Finn had said. And she couldn’t stop imagining him without a shirt on. And once she was home, she couldn’t stop imagining him without a shirt on, saying what he’d said, and then making mad passionate love to her on the floor of his office. Feeling flushed and lightheaded – because she hadn’t eaten, that’s what it had to be – she made herself a toasted sandwich, and then she made herself eat it before she opened a bottle of wine. She drank down a glass too quickly and refilled it straightaway. Then she happened to glance at the time on the stove. God, it was barely five o’clock. This was not good. She was about to tip the glass into the sink when she thought better of it. She’d save it for later, and right now she’d have a shower, clear her head, get dressed into her most unsexy flannel pyjamas, and settle down to watch a very unsexy DVD. Damn, she hadn’t even thought to stop at the video store on the way home. Ellen went to check their own collection of DVDs. She had to find something that would take her mind off . . . well, Finn. She couldn’t believe the things that had come out of her mouth today; if a man had spoken to her the way she had spoken to him, she would think he was sleazy, taken it as a come-on and given him short shrift. But Finn hadn’t given her short shrift at all. He had offered her another beer, he had offered her his services . . .

  Ellen shook her head to clear it. What was the matter with her? Sex deprivation, that’s what it was. How long can someone go without sex before they start to see everybody as a prospect?

  Finally she spotted the perfect distraction – To Kill A Mockingbird. She would not be having any lurid fantasies involving sex on the floor of a service station while Atticus Finch was championing civil rights. That would be unseemly.

  Showered and pyjamaed, Ellen curled up on the sofa with her glass of wine and started the DVD. She’d loved this movie ever since the first time she’d seen it as a little girl. When she got a little older, she developed a crush on Gregory Peck, but it was one of those very chaste crushes, like the ones you have for priests. Watching him now, he reminded her of Finn, somehow. They were nothing alike . . . well, they were both tall with dark hair, but that was where the resemblance ended. There was something though . . . the mannerisms? Maybe it was the essential kindness of the man. Finn had always been very kind to her, she reflected rather wistfully as she drained her glass. She tottered off to the fridge and brought the bottle of wine back with her, filling her glass again. She may as well leave the bottle here, it didn’t need to be completely chilled on a cool night like tonight.

  She settled back on the sofa and sipped her wine. Maybe it was the voice? Ellen liked a deep voice on a man. Well, who didn’t? But it was the depth of the deepness . . . she didn’t mean Barry White deep, but like Gregory Atticus here. Depth with gravity, with kindness, with understanding. Just like Finn’s. Ellen drained another glass and refilled it absently, staring at the screen. Their builds were different, Finn was more . . . built, was that the expression? She started to wonder what Atticus Finn would look like without a shirt.

  Okay, that was quite enough. She snatched up the remote and stopped the DVD. What was going on with her? When she and Tim had separated, the last thing on her mind had been finding another man. She had had quite enough of married life by that stage, and the thought of settling down into another rut held no appeal in the slightest. She had been so lonely in the marriage, she couldn’t imagine that life without a partner could be any lonelier. But it was a different kind of loneliness now. It had probably been short-sighted of her, but while Ellen had been relieved to move on and not be somebody’s – namely Tim�
�s – wife any more, she hadn’t really thought about the fact that she wouldn’t be a mother full-time any more, that her family life would become fragmented, divided up into allotted portions. As her marriage had died off, her kids had filled the void. They were her life. What was she supposed to do with herself when they weren’t around?

  Ellen drained her glass and stared at the bottle. That’s what she did with herself – she sat around on a Saturday night alone, in her pyjamas, drinking too much and feeling sorry for herself.

  Her mind drifted back to Finn, and what he’d said. Was he serious? Was he actually interested in her? He said she was attractive, several times; they had gone out for a drink together only yesterday. Did that count as a date? What was that remark he’d made today . . . her head was getting a bit fuzzy . . . when she’d asked him if he was married? He’d said that he would have told her by now. Why would he have had to tell her if he was married? Surely he was indicating that there was something developing . . . possibly . . .

  Oh, how was she supposed to know? Ellen had never really dated before. There had been a couple of boys in high school, a pash at a dance, and then she’d met Tim. She tried to remember what had attracted her to him; it was so hard sometimes to see past the man he had become. But he was a boy then. A nice, considerate, gentle sort of boy, who didn’t scare her like a lot of boys did. She didn’t know why boys should scare her, she could hardly be described as timid. But she knew nothing about boys, she hadn’t even seen one naked until Eddie was born. She could remember how they had all been so fascinated by his anatomy, standing around ogling at nappy change time, giggling when the poor kid would get a prepubescent erection in the morning – it was a wonder he hadn’t grown up with some major issues.

  And so Tim became her boyfriend. It felt safe to be somebody’s girlfriend. It gave you an identity, and you weren’t there for the taking any more. After they were going out for about a year they tried sex, with rather clumsy results, but again, it was a bit of a relief to get that out of the way with someone who was safe. Tim hardly knew what he was doing either, but they fumbled through, and being teenagers with the requisite raging hormones, they got the hang of it well enough. Well enough for her to get pregnant.