The Younger Man

by Foster, Zoe

  ‘YOU’RE the one who looks like she’s been marathon training – you’re bones in a meat suit, Chels!’

  ‘No shit, it looks horrible, I know. I’m eating again, though. That’s what happens when your boyfriend pulls off the blindfold and reveals his ready-made family, I guess.’

  Abby and Chelsea had texted and spoken on the phone, but hadn’t been able to coordinate a catch up since Jeremy had dropped his bomb. It was clearly still in the depths of reconstruction, if Chelsea’s bitterness and doll-sized body was anything to go by.

  The two women started walking at a brisk pace, the wind whipping at their legs and flicking their hair.

  ‘How is it all going, Chels?’

  ‘Okay I guess. I’m being very good to him. We’ve caught up a few times, I don’t know what the fuck for, but I’m still not sure what to do. He’s not chasing me half as hard as he should be.’

  ‘You asked for space, though, right? Wouldn’t that be why you haven’t seen him?’

  ‘Well YES, but that doesn’t mean he’s not meant to chase me and make me realise what a huge mistake I would be making to never be with him again!’

  Abby couldn’t help smiling. Chelsea was up to her old tricks, telling a guy one thing while hoping he’d gallantly disobey her requests the moment she turned her back, and it was strangely calming. With all of the girls’ romantic dramas the past couple of months, it was nice to see Chelsea was still absolutely insane when it came to men.

  ‘Okay, so just to be clear, you want him to contact you? You’ve decided he’s worth it? Even despite little Olly and hidden wife?’

  A sigh. ‘I don’t know, I mean, when I let him explain the whole situation it was kind of heartbreaking, you know? And I believe him that his ex is no longer in his life, and that they’ll get a divorce. She’s already got a live-in boyfriend, can you believe? Apparently he has a kid too, wife died of cancer or something, so they’re all living together.’

  ‘Well that’s a happy-sad little situation, then, isn’t it? She hardly sounds like the kind of woman you need to feel threatened by, taking in widowed men with young children like that.’

  ‘Whose side are you on?’

  ‘And how are you feeling about the instant family?’

  ‘It’s so weird. Like, three months ago I was planning to travel most of this year and do that yoga teacher course in Switzerland, and now I have this guy, and this kid, and this whole thing to work through.’

  ‘Just on travel, you know I leave next week, right? Okay, back to you now.’

  ‘I’m so jealous. Is that fake French girl you hired going to be able to handle it?’

  ‘Chels, she is phenomenal. She’s been doing all the night work and hasn’t complained once. And it’s complainable stuff, let me tell you. Half the girls can’t understand the website, or are too lazy to try, and so insist on calling through for their jobs like before, the other half are so terrified they’ll do something wrong or “break” their account, they call through for confirmation of everything, and the other half are—’

  ‘That’s three halves, Einstein.’

  ‘The other lot are so thrilled with their newfound freedom that they forget to actually show up for their shifts. Okay, I need to finish this Jeremy conversation please.’

  ‘There’s not much else to say, it’s a “we’ll see”.’

  Abby was puffing trying to keep up with Chelsea’s manic pace.

  ‘When will you admit to him that you love him and want to be with him?

  ‘Do I? It’s all so hard. Why can’t I ever find an easy man, with no issues or secrets? I mean; can you really see me playing step-mummy on the weekends? Me?’ Chelsea turned to look at Abby, her face etched with an ‘as if’ expression.

  ‘I’m sure he doesn’t expect you to leap in with a Wiggles CD and start playing with Oliver straightaway, he’ll be terrified of scaring you off again.’

  ‘All I think about is the future, like, we’ll never be just “us”. Oliver will always be part of the equation, and the wife, too.’

  ‘You have baggage too; everyone does at our age. Who knows, a life with Jeremy and Olly might be intensely fulfilling! Perhaps you can channel some of that excessive love you have for toy-sized dogs towards a toy-sized human instead.’

  ‘I don’t want children, remember? It’s a life choice, not a flavour of the month. Speaking of children, how’s Marcus? Dumped him yet?’

  ‘No, no. I was actually thinking that maybe I could, you know, just kind of fade it out while I’m over there, instead of playing executioner before I go.’ Abby spoke reflectively as the two of them sped along the walking track.

  Chelsea laughed knowingly. ‘You don’t want to break up with him, is the issue here. You’ve been jammed in each other’s pockets for the past few months and now you don’t want to end things with him. Why are you breaking it off again?’

  ‘Because when I’m ready to get married and relax, he’ll be twenty-five and just starting to realise what an enormous, glorious world exists out there.’

  ‘So basically you’re worried he’ll want to run off and screw everyone he meets. Where did this all come from, this weird, over-the-top insecurity? It’s not like you, Abs, you usually don’t give a shit.’

  ‘Remember what we were like in our early twenties? When I became single I went nuts; felt like I had to make up for lost time … There’s no way you can guess how you’re going to feel at twenty-five or twenty-nine when you’re twenty-two. You just can’t. I even look at how I am this year compared to this time last year and I feel like a different person.’

  ‘This time last year I was bouncing around with Dominic. Disgust.’

  ‘Noooo. He was a peach! I love the way he talked to his ex-girlfriends on speakerphone when you two were driving. And how he cheated on you when you just started going out but told you that you were overreacting and it was just a “party fuck”.’

  ‘I’d actually erased that from my memory.’ Chelsea looked like she may have just done a small vomit in her throat.

  Abby laughed boisterously. ‘And, you know, that’s just Marcus; how will I feel in a few years? Will all his charm have worn off? Will I hunger for a man? Someone who’ll teach me things? A well-travelled bon vivant?’

  ‘You’re being very judgemental.’

  ‘I caught it from you. No, you know what? I stand by this, these are valid concerns.’ Abby’s voice had become strong and defiant the more reasons she verbalised for not being with Marcus.

  Both girls heads swivelled as a young shirtless prince ran past, earphones in his ears, sweat glimmering on his toned chest.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re gonna give up sex with a man who looks like that …’

  ‘And you don’t think I’ll find a rebound or sixteen in Italy?’

  ‘It will temporarily close the hole in your heart and crotch, but I reckon you’ll be Skype-shagging Marcus within two weeks of being away.’

  ‘And I think you’ll get back with Jeremy. Maybe even move in.’

  ‘Jesus, you’re optimistic. Hey, have you spoken to Mads today?’

  ‘No, but I had a missed call I forgot to return, actually … maybe—’

  ‘Not preg,’ Chelsea said matter-of-factly.

  ‘Fuck. My heart really is breaking for those two …’ Abby nibbled her lip, upset and sad and frustrated on behalf of her friend.

  The two women were sombre as they regained their Proper Fat Burning walking speed, until Chelsea could no longer help herself and checked the screen of her BlackBerry.

  29

  ‘Mads, our silly old cougar has decided to break it off with the kid, did you know that?’ Chelsea said, flicking through one of Mads’s fancy architect/home décor magazines.

  Abby rubbed her eyes; she’d had around three minutes of sleep last night. Not only was she utterly not ready for her trip, a new client had booked twenty girls for a lucrative gig on the same night she had fifteen girls already working for a regular, much lower pay
ing client, which was causing a moral and logistical stroke, and her brain was fidgety with stress about the upcoming ‘breakup chat’ looming between her and Marcus. The thought of Marcus despising her was impossible for Abby to comprehend. She felt atrocious, both physically and emotionally. But she knew it was the right thing. As a fun exercise in torture, she’d decided to quickly workshop it with the girls before actually doing it.

  ‘I have a friend, Katrina, who married a chap eight years younger than her, and they’ve been contentedly married with kids for a thousand years now,’ Mads said, incredibly unhelpfully.

  ‘And how old was she when they got married?’

  ‘Ummm, like, thirty-five?’

  Abby paused to do the numbers. ‘Yeah, twenty-seven is a leeeetle bit older than twenty-two, Mads. You have your shit together, or at least are starting to by then. At twenty-two you can barely tie your own laces.’

  ‘See, that’s the issue right there,’ said Chelsea, whose tone indicated she had Arrived at a Conclusion. ‘You’ve got it so in your head that he’s a kid that even though his actions have proved otherwise, because you wouldn’t have been with him for this long if they didn’t, obviously, you can’t view him as anything else. It’s like he’s a blue t-shirt and even though he is doing everything to show you he’s a red t-shirt, you can still only see the blue.’

  ‘Oooh, better not pop him in the wash with my whites, then.’ Abby said sarcastically.

  Mads sighed and looked at her friend, whose freshly-highlighted hair was messy and whose eyes were rimmed with red, and whose heart was breaking because she had elected for it to break now, in order to prevent it breaking down the track. It seemed very much like false economy.

  ‘Can’t you think about it while you’re overseas? Clear your head, have your holiday and then take it up with him when you get back?’ Mads’s voice was soothing and gentle.

  ‘Yeah, you’re only away for, like, five weeks,’ said Chels, whose head was back in the magazine she was flicking through. ‘You could easily make it through that, right?… Oh!’ Her face suddenly lit up. ‘But what if you meet some gorge over there? Is that why you’re doing this?’ She peered at Abby suspiciously.

  ‘I wish it were a reason that simple.’

  ‘Are you feeling like it’s the wrong thing, Abs?’ Mads was looking at her friend, her voice soft. God she’d be a terrific mum, Abby thought, momentarily channelling her anger and grumpiness to the fertility Gods for being so stingy.

  ‘I don’t know … I feel rotten, to be honest. I know I’ll miss him, but, I just— I can’t see any point in prolonging the inevitable.’

  Mads walked over and sat next to Abby at the kitchen bench, and rubbed her shoulder. As usual she had notes scribbled on the part of her hand where the palm met the wrist. She’d done it for as long as Abby could remember, and it had ruined many an outfit.

  ‘Darling heart, maybe this is one of those situations where you have to risk a lot and stand to gain a lot.’ Mads looked at Abby with a ‘time-to-suck-it-up’ smile.

  Sensing she was safe, Mads went on. ‘When you met Marcus, one of the things you said you liked about him was the fact he had no emotional luggage trailing around with him. He lived in the now, didn’t have any issues with your independence, or confidence, or that you earned more than him – any of the things that have made other guys – your own age or older – so frustrating.’

  ‘Also he gave great head,’ Chels piped up, slapping the magazine closed and placing it on the coffee table.

  Abby exhaled. ‘You’re right, Mads. You’re totally right.’

  ‘Well, I gotta go, I’m meeting Jez so he can apologise again.’ Chels had stood up and was putting her beautiful tan sandals back on, delicately snaking the leather ribbons around her shapely, tanned calves.

  ‘Is that code for a date?’ Abby asked, genuinely fascinated by what might fall from Chelsea’s mouth.

  Chels sighed. ‘Yep, it’ll be a good one, too. He’s all about winning me over again. I fucking love having that power.’

  ‘You’re a sicko,’ Abs said, wiping her mascara from under her bleary eyes.

  ‘I think you two are actually back on and you’re not telling your two best friends in the whole world the full story. Which is both offensive and delightful.’

  ‘You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you, Chels?’ Abby said, excitedly, as Chelsea walked down the hall.

  ‘Can’t hear you, no reception! Good luck, Abs, bye!’ Chelsea called before closing the door behind her.

  ‘They’re definitely bonking,’ Mads said.

  ‘Probably. Hey, you know, I better shove off too,’ said Abby, looking at the time on her phone and taking a deep breath. ‘Got to do this thing, I guess.’

  ‘So much love to you my little button. And don’t go through with it if it feels wrong! Silly idea. Terrible. Follow your heart, feel it in your toes, listen to your elbows. Now, I’ll see you before you go, right?’

  ‘Yes, of course: pizza and wine at mine as I pack tomorrow night? Is that fun?’

  ‘Fun squared. Let me know how it goes tonight, okay? I’m extremely free for ice-cream and debriefing afterwards if you need me.’

  Abby sighed as she collected her phone and keys and stood up. She pecked Mads on the cheek and set off into the afternoon.

  30

  Abby began to fret. They were in her car – Marcus was driving, he loved her car, said it made him feel like a gentleman, and insisted on taking the wheel whenever possible – and she was left to sit in the passenger seat and quietly ruminate on how she was going to approach The Chat as he warbled about some new iPhone app that had changed his life, taking his tally of life-changing iPhone apps to 45,280.

  ‘Man,’ Marcus said as they waited for a very old and possibly drunk man to cross the road in front of them. ‘This guy is literally taking one step every five seconds. Look at him! If he went any slower he’d be busking.’

  Abby smiled wanly and made a distracted, ‘hmm’ noise that hinted at amusement, which Marcus immediately picked up on.

  ‘Garfield? Everything okay? You seem a bit rattled tonight.’

  Damn him and his super-attuned sensitivity, Abby thought. She thought back to days gone by when she’d wished for her boyfriends to be more emotionally aware and receptive. Now she had one who was as sensitive as a helicopter lever and she couldn’t deal with it.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, just, you know, brain’s full of stuff I need to get done before I leave.’

  ‘’Strue, you gotta pack all those bikinis and mini-skirts and high heels so those slimy, gorgeous Italian men lose their minds and steal you away from me.’

  Abby sighed. Partly because this was his latest and favourite game, and second because his ‘faux’ jealousy implied that her ensuing conversation was going to be even tougher.

  ‘I’ll be in Tuscany, remember? With old couples in Winnebagos touring wineries and art galleries. You make it sound like I’ll be soliciting in Roman nightclubs.’

  ‘Sexy transcends postcodes.’

  ‘You’re a dag,’ Abby said, shaking her head.

  She rifled through her brain, trying to recall if they’d ever discussed what their ‘situation’ would be when she was overseas. She knew she’d been careful to never mention how she’d miss him, or that she wished he would come, or that Skype would save them. It was self-preserving, she told herself, for both of them. How generous of her.

  Marcus pulled up alongside Abby’s place and performed an expert reverse park. After triumphantly wrenching on the hand-brake, he simulated smoking a cigarette and ditching it coolly out the window.

  Abby gave a weak, quiet laugh.

  ‘Okay. The ciggy ditch always gets a proper laugh. What’s up?’

  Abby felt sick, her stomach felt as though it had consumed a cask of wine and was now attempting gymnastics, and her palms were clammy with guilt sweat. She was horrible at any kind of confrontation. Much preferred the elegant Houdini. She looked over at Marcus who
was smiling back at her with that dopey, loving look he seemed to have permanently etched on his face when she was around. She wanted to wipe it off with a dirty dishrag; his delightfulness was making this a lot harder than it needed to be. It was perverse the amount of times she wished for him to be more of a prick – what did that say about her experience of men? Perhaps she nursed some deep, sick need to be treated badly. Nah, that stuff was reserved for weirdos like Chelsea.

  ‘Come up?’ she asked, the evil grandma offering candy to Hansel and Gretel.

  ‘Are you kidding? I’m not knocking back a chance to sleep with my girl on her second-last night before she abandons me for weeks and weeks.’

  Abby winced at the words ‘my girl’.

  As they closed car doors and walked up the stairs, Abby realised how much she needed to open a bottle of wine. She’d had a glass of merlot at dinner, but it was revolting and bitter and had done nothing for her nerves.

  ‘Do you feel like a glass of wine?’ Abby asked, as she dumped her handbag on the breakfast bar and made her way to the fridge.

  ‘Orrrr… how about I make us some Old-Fashioneds! You’ve still got those cherries and that sugar syrup, yes?’

  Abby turned to look at Marcus, who nodded enthusiastically as he walked around the bench towards her, his arms out, ready to hold her and kiss her. Abby turned quickly towards the pantry door and opened it before he could do either of those lovely things, things that made Abby doubt she was doing the right thing by pushing away a thoughtful, romantic, loving, intelligent man who adored her.

  ‘I’m pretty sure, yes, and you’ll need bitters too, yeah?’

  ‘Did you just brush me right there? You did! You brushed me! Abby, something’s up, and you’re rubbish at pretending it isn’t, so come on, out with it.’

  Abby slowly turned back to face Marcus, whose arms were now crossed, his head tilted on an angle. To her surprise, she felt tears spring to her eyes. This was all so unnecessary she scolded herself, they weren’t even boyfriend-and-girlfriend!

  ‘I just, I think,’ she gulped back stupid, irrational tears, ‘I think we need to talk about some things.’