Men and circumstances

Excerpt from a work-in-progress full-length novel manuscript by Marjatta Rogers.

I’m already in the pub when my mobile rings. 

“Sorry, I’m running late, I’ll be there in 20 minutes” and the phone cuts off. I nearly spill my drink when I see my ex walking in, alone.  His hair is gray at the temples, crow’s feet around his eyes and the beginning of a stomach. 

He is still well dressed and immaculately groomed, still handsome but appears less cocky.  He buys a drink and looks around; when he spots me he walks over to my table.  “Can I sit down?” he asks. 

“Please do” I answer wondering how things have become so formal between us, after all we were married for eight long years.  After the formalities of “How are yous?” and “What have you been up tos?” he notices my ringless finger. 

“You haven’t remarried?”                                                              

“No.”                                                                                                                                           

“Lover?”                                                                                                                                             

“Well, I’m seeing someone.” That knowledge doesn’t deter him because after a few more niceties he says “Let’s forget the past and go out to dinner together.” It sounds almost like an apology.
“I’m waiting for someone.”                               

“Your lover?”

“Yes,” and before he has time to ask inevitable “what does he do” question Adam bursts in out of breath.  “Sorry I’m late, there was an emergency and on the way back the traffic was horrendous. I got off two stops early and ran.” 

He sits next to me and gives a quick peck on my cheek. 

“Peter, this is Adam, Adam, my ex-husband Peter.” 

I notice Adam’s eyes narrow a fraction and his jaw muscle tightens slightly but he is full of boyish charm when he shakes Peter’s hand. 

Peter manages to stretch his jaw into a tight smile.                                                                                                 

“I’ll get us drinks,” Adam says. “What’ll you have, Peter?”     

“Not for me thanks,” Peter answers. “I have to be off.”

Once Adam is out of earshot Peter says “How could you, he must be at least 10 years younger than you.”

“18 years, actually.”

“What are you thinking of?”  

“What about your girls?”

“It’s different with men, they stay young much longer.”  I look at Peter and I’m not convinced. “He is only after your money,” he says after a short pause.

“I haven’t got any, you made sure of that.”

“I have no time to argue with you, just think what you’re doing.” Peter says finishing his drink.

“I’m thinking it all the time,” I say smiling and wink at him. I watch his back manoeuvre towards the door, he is angry.  Why, I don’t know.