Through the Glass

by Lisa J. Hobman

  He glanced around the gallery. Its walls were adorned with the most amazing and striking pieces of modern art. There were some more traditional pieces, too, but they seemed out of place. Just like Jim. He could quite easily liken himself to the more traditional works.

  Thankfully, the music chosen for the evening’s festivities was eclectic just like his own taste. Debussy’s Claire De Lune began to play over the P.A. system as Flick walked toward him, her hips swaying. Everyone in the room could have disappeared, he wouldn’t have noticed.

  “Hello, handsome, look at you all sexy.” She slipped her arm around his neck and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear and making him shiver with desire.

  He returned the favour. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, darlin’.”

  She blushed. Her hair was now shoulder-length and straightened within an inch of its life with her newly purchased, ceramic hair straighteners. It looked very sleek. Her fitted black shift dress accentuated her womanly curves in all the right places and the teardrop shaped cut out showed just the right amount of cleavage to send Jim’s mind racing whilst remaining classy for this, her first work function.

  ~~~~~

  They arrived home after what had been deemed a very successful launch of Flick’s career with the very highly regarded Nilsson-Perkins. Once inside the door, Jim grabbed her and pressed her against the wall, her hands found his hair releasing the band that held it back and he kissed her neck just under her ear. She groaned and ran her hands down his back to his buttocks. He pressed his now prominent arousal into her and inhaled sharply.

  “God I want you…right now…in this dress.” He grabbed her bottom and lifted her so that her legs wrapped around his body. He ground his pelvis into hers and it was her turn to gasp. With one hand he unzipped his fly and released himself. Then pulling aside the black lace panties, which were his only barrier to what he desired, he sank himself deep in to her.

  “Flick, you feel so good… I’ve wanted this all night.”

  “Oh…me too.” She gasped as his thrusts drove her wild.

  He felt his emotions winning the battle to escape. “I don’t want to lose you… I’m scared.” He gasped as he kissed her neck.

  “What? Not…going…to…happen!” She climaxed around him urging his orgasm. As always, he called her name. This time his voice was tinged with desperation.

  Once he had lowered her to the floor, he stood with his face buried in her neck, one hand in her hair, holding on for dear life, and the other wrapped around her torso, cradling her to him.

  “Hey…Jim, sweetie, what’s wrong? Look at me, Jim,” she urged. He raised his face. Her eyes mirrored the sadness he knew his must show.

  “Flick…I’m…I’m so scared,” he admitted.

  She frowned. “Of what? I don’t understand.” She stroked his face and kissed him gently.

  “You have this new job…. You’ll be jetting off all over the world. How will I keep up? Will I still be enough for you?”

  Suddenly, she looked perturbed. Not in the least bit compassionate. “What kind of question is that? I don’t know where all this is coming from. When have I given you such an idea that you won’t be? I thought you’d be happy for me, Jim.”

  He realised she hadn’t answered his question.

  “I am happy for you. I am so proud of you. I really am. I’m just worried that I won’t fit into your new life anymore. That you’ll get tired of me…a lowly book salesman.” He smiled as he rested his forehead on hers, hoping for reassurance.

  It never came.

  “Jim, this is beyond ridiculous.” She snorted, freeing herself from his grip. “I’m going to take a shower. Open a bottle of champers, please. There’s one chilling in the fridge,” she called back to him as she made her way up the stairs.

  Jim’s heart sank.

  ~~~~~

  February 2007 — Two Years Before the Break-up

  Flick had worked quite a few late nights since beginning her new job a month earlier. Jim had done his best to just ride it, not to get stressed and certainly not to lay a guilt trip on her.

  He wanted her to be happy and this job seemed to go some way to fulfilling her creative side. Although he had noticed that she painted less and less, a fact that concerned him somewhat. Painting was a part of who she was. It had always been her passion. Her job, however, seemed to take her away from the one thing that sparked her desire to study art in the first place.

  It was Jim’s birthday. He didn’t really care that he was getting older. Age was just a number. What he did care about was the fact that he was more than likely going to spend his birthday without his wife. It was already seven in the evening and she wasn’t home. He hadn’t prepared dinner just on the off chance that Flick was taking him somewhere as a surprise. It was a long shot but he could hope.

  He had dozed off on the sofa when the door opened bringing a cold draft into the small lounge diner. Flick breezed in carrying a white plastic bag, Chinese food and a bottle of wine. She dumped them on the floor in the hall and shouted, “Take these to the kitchen sweetie!” to him as she ran back out to the car.

  When she returned, she insisted that he sit on the sofa with his eyes closed. A grin spread across his face. There was a surprise!

  He heard Flick walking in and whispering, “Shhh…shhh,” as she did.

  Was there going to be a surprise party? Had she brought him a surprise guest? The suspense was killing him. Flick’s knees cracked as she crouched down in front of him.

  “Open your eyes!” she said excitedly.

  He did as instructed and before him was a large white box with large holes punched in the lid. He slowly removed the lid and gazed inside.

  “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

  “Oooh.” He gasped. “Flick, he’s gorgeous. Thank you so much.”

  He scooped up the little black pup that wriggled and jiggled with excitement. Jim held the little bundle to his face and the pup licked him. The pup began to pee and Jim and Flick laughed as they ran to the kitchen trying to make it through to the back garden, but by the time they made it the pup had finished.

  “So what are you going to call him?” she asked as he tickled the small black Labrador pup’s belly.

  “Jasper. It suits him, don’t you think?”

  “I think it’s a lovely name.” She squeezed his shoulder.

  She began to serve out the Chinese take away she had brought home with her. It smelled divine, and he was ravenous. So was Jasper, judging by the way he sniffed the air. Flick produced a tin of dog food from the take away carrier and handed it to Jim.

  “I hope that’s for the dog and it’s not our appetiser.”” Jim winked.

  She chuckled. “Best feed him now, eh?”

  “Aw, Flick this is the best gift I’ve ever received. He’s just gorgeous. Thank you so much.” he kissed his wife lovingly before feeding his new little friend.

  ~~~~~

  February 2008 — A Year Before the Break-up

  Jim was waiting by the phone on Valentine’s Day, alone. Flick had been in New York on business for almost a week. She had telephoned a couple of times, but the conversations had been quick. Today, however, he was expecting a longer call. He missed her like crazy. At around nine, the phone finally rang.

  “Hey, Jim. We’ve just had the most amazing meeting with a phenomenal artist. It’s looking like we may get the UK rights to her work! Isn’t that fantastic?” Flick blurted without even saying hello.

  Jim’s knee bobbed up and down and his jaw clenched. Nice greeting from the wife I’m missing like crazy.

  He felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Hi, Flick… Oh hi, Jim… I miss you so much… Yes, I miss you too, Flick, and wish you were here.” He snorted sarcastically.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I’m just so excited. Anyway, I can’t talk long. We’re going sightseeing before dinner. Can you believe I’ve been here a week and I haven’t even been to Times Square yet?” She laughed.

  Jim did not.


  “Flick, I was hoping we could talk…you know…properly. I miss you so much it hurts,” he pleaded.

  “Oh, I’ll be home before you know it and then you’ll be sick of the sight of me! Anyway, I really must dash. I want to shower and change, and I’m running late already. Love you, sweetie, bye.”

  “Oh…so you really meant you couldn’t talk long then…okay…bye.” Jim hung up without reciprocating the breezy I love you. He was angry and hurt. He threw the handset onto the sofa and slumped down into the seat. Jasper came and placed his head on Jim’s lap. “At least you love me, eh, lad?” He scratched Jasper’s head.

  To top it off, it was going to be the first birthday he had had since they got together that he would be spending without her. Flick was due home two days after his birthday. At least, last year she was here. Late…but here. No, this year there would be no surprise gift in a box with holes in it, and instead of spending a romantic evening with his wife, he would be spending it with Charles. They were going to the Taj Mahal restaurant and then to the cinema to see In Bruges, which wasn’t really a film that appealed to Charles—he was into Film Noir—but it was either that or a chick flick, and Jim had to draw the line somewhere considering this birthday was already sad enough as it stood.

  ~~~~~

  Jim’s birthday arrived. He met Charles at the cinema. Charles insisted on buying the largest bucket of popcorn available along with chocolates, nachos, and jelly sweets. The majority of which were gone by the time the film started. Silly, really, considering they had a table booked at the Indian restaurant as soon as the film ended.

  The film turned out to be excellent. Dark, but very funny in places. And Jim had thought that Bruges looked like a place he would love to visit someday. The architecture was remarkable, despite the armed men running around killing people.

  They moved on to the Indian restaurant and once again Charles insisted on paying. “No, Jim. Put your bloody money away, old chap. My bloody treat. If a chap can’t treat his best bloody friend on his birthday, when can he?”

  “Best friend? Aw, Charles, mate.” Jim hugged his friend, feeling quite touched at his words. After the meal they headed to the Nags Head for a few beers. A few beers turned to many beers and Charles got quite tipsy. Jim found drunken Charles hilariously funny, although he was by no means sober himself. They stumbled out of the pub after being chatted up by too rather scary looking, overly made-up older women. As they waited for a taxi at the nearest rank they could stumble to, Charles made a confession.

  “My dear, Jim.” He sniggered at the fact that Charles remained posh even when inebriated. “Jimmy, Jimmy, Jim-Jim.” His snigger became a chuckle. “You are my beshtest friend…didjoooo know hathat?” Charles slurred.

  “I did not know that until earlier tonight, my old pal…but I dae now!”

  They swayed as they chatted in their nonsensical way, Jim’s Scottish accent thickening with the alcohol.

  “Ohhh yes. Beshtest friend in the whooole world. In fact…I am so best friends with you, I’m gonna tell you a sheecret.” Charles looked around conspiratorially and leaned on Jim for support. “I don’t like ladies, Jim…nononono.” He wagged his finger vehemently. “I like men. I am what one would call a hhhomosexshalll.” The revelation surprised Jim a little, although he had always wondered. “But don’t worry…nononono, don’t you worry…you’re not my type.” He patted Jim’s shoulder.

  Jim’s mouth fell open. He felt rather affronted. “Eh? Whaddya mean I’m not your type? What’s wrong wi me?” The brusque and rather offended Scotsman was speaking now. “I’m a good catch me you know,” he informed Charles.

  “Oh, yesss, yesss, I bloody know that old boy…don’t be hoffended. I just like you asafriend…thass all. Hafriend. And besides…I would be wasting my time because I know that you’re…erm…heter…hetrara…hetooosesh…you like girls. Especially on account of the fact being that you are married, as well too.” He nodded, rambling on.

  “Aye…that I do…that I am, my friend. Fair comment…fair comment. Well, one girl actually. But I think she’s going off me, Charles, and it makes me hurt in here.” Jim pointed to his chest. Hearing himself admit this openly made him suddenly feel quite sober and more than a little bit sad. The pair stood in silence after their session of openness and waited for a cab.

  ~~~~~

  Jim arrived home at just after midnight and saw the answering machine light flashing. He pressed the play button.

  “Hi Jim…it’s Flick. I’m sorry I didn’t ring earlier but I’ve been so busy. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve had a wonderful night out with Charles. I’m guessing you will be home around one in the morning so I will call you at one. Okay? Bye.”

  No ‘I love you’. Great. He went into the kitchen and drank a pint of water to try and fend off the hangover that would undoubtedly hit at some point in the not too distant future. He made a pot of fresh coffee and took it back into the lounge. He would stay up and wait for her call at one.

  He woke with a start and looked at the clock. Two forty five. She hadn’t called. With a heavy heart and a pounding head he took himself off to bed.

  Chapter 7

  January 2012 - Two Years and Eleven Months After the Break-up

  The sky looked heavy with snow and Jim had already lit the fire, even though it was only nine in the morning. It was Saturday which meant the coffee shack was scheduled to be open at ten. He sat by the fire with Jasper, eating his porridge and staring into the flames as they danced. Someone knocked at the door.

  “Blimey, Jasper, the postie’s early today. Must be getting it done before the snow comes, eh, lad?” He placed his porridge bowl on the coffee table and went to answer the door. On opening it, he pretty much got the second biggest shock of his life (the first being his wife’s request for a divorce…oddly enough she was involved in this shock, too).

  “What the hell are you doing here?” His greeting was far from cordial.

  Felicity stood shivering on the doorstep. “C-can I c-come in please, Jim, it’s important,” she pleaded.

  Reluctantly he stepped aside so the Ice Queen could enter his cosy little cottage. As she walked past him into the lounge, the cold, biting air from the outside followed her as if it emanated from her very being. He shuddered.

  “I have no idea why the hell you would be here. You’re miles away from home,” he spoke to himself really. “Do you…do you want a coffee?” he asked, still befuddled as to why his ex-wife had driven for almost ten hours to turn up on his door step without prior notification.

  “Y-yes, please. Brrrrrrr.”’ She shivered. “This is a sweet place, Jim.” She followed him into the kitchen.

  “Thanks. It’s small but perfectly formed, as they say.” He smiled. He poured freshly brewed, steaming coffee into a mug for Felicity. “So, I’m Jim again, am I?” he asked, confused.

  “It suits you better,” she stated with a sad smile.

  It’s taken her long enough to figure that out. He grumbled under his breath. They wandered back through to the lounge and sat before the fire, silently. Felicity was hunched as if the weight of the world was dragging her down. Finally, Jim could wait no longer.

  “So…to what do I owe the unexpected…erm…visit?” He would have said pleasure but considering he had spent almost the last three years getting over her it was not a word he could associate with Felicity any longer. She had caused him so much heartache. He couldn’t go there again.

  “I...I’m sorry to just turn up... I’m afraid I have some bad news, Jim, and I couldn’t tell you over the phone. I just couldn’t do that.” Her lip began to quiver and her eyes glistened with welling tears.

  “Hey…hey, what is it? What’s wrong Fli…Felicity?” Jim put his cup down and slid to the seat beside her on the sofa.

  “It’s Daddy, Jim… He passed away just before Christmas… He’d been ill but had kept it quiet.”

  The news hit Jim like a blow to the gut. He inhaled sharply and ran his hands through his hai
r.

  She twisted her fingers in her lap and glanced up briefly. “He had been receiving treatment for his illness but he didn’t want Mum fussing over him.” A sob broke free as the tears overflowed from her closed eyes and spilled down her face. “And he didn’t want to worry me.”

  “Why…how…I don’t…” Jim stood and leaned on the fire place. His stomach clenched into a knot and nausea washed over him. Edgar had been like a father to him. He had written several letters over the past year and had received light-hearted replies regaling Jim with details of the latest book he was working on. The last letter had been full of facts about George Leigh Mallory, the subject of his latest biography. It was the beginning of December when he had received the last letter. There was no mention of illness. None.

  Felicity stood. “I shouldn’t have come… I should’ve called you… I should’ve—”

  Jim swung around and took her in his arms. “Hey, hey, shhh…c’mon, it’s fine that you’re here. I just wish I could’ve helped…or at least been there for you.” He stroked her hair as she sobbed, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears.

  ~~~~~

  Felicity relaxed into Jim’s arms. It felt good to be there again. She had missed the feeling of being loved, really loved. Even though she knew that there was no way he could possibly love her now. Not after everything that had happened over the past few years.

  “Felicity…I just want to ask you something.” He pulled her away from his body and looked into her eyes, his only showing signs of regret and pain. She looked up at him, blinking through the blur of her tears. She had been doing a lot of crying lately, especially on the journey here. It probably showed. “Why wasn’t I invited to attend Edgar’s funeral?”