She was very amused at a comment and her laughter cascaded through the store. She is
lovely. Natural and unguarded. I tried to guess her age but couldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to
guess my age either. I stole a look at her hands. There was no wedding ring. No rings at all.
I’d been divorced about 2 years and I’m enjoying being a SMAM (single-middle-aged-man).
I have some middle-aged lady friends but I’m not serious about any of them.
For the next two days all I could hear was her cascading laughter. All I could see was her
smile. So I wrote this note.
Hello, I have to say that writing a note to someone when I don’t even know their name or
anything about them is not something I’m in the habit of doing! But if I don’t write I’ll
never know! Nor will you!
I’ve noticed you at work a few times but 3 days ago, as I stood in the queue, one of your
work mates said something to you which made you laugh. It was like champagne. I don’t
know why but I was completely captivated. I went home and wrote you a note. I went
back to the post office about two hours later to hand you my note. Unfortunately you
were all very busy and I left. I told myself to stop acting like a shy teenager and give up
any hope of meeting you and threw away the note.
So that’s the background to this note which I wrote again! I hope you’re amused! I
would love to meet you for coffee or a glass of wine. I actually want to hear you laugh
again!
I hope you will call me to say “ thanks, but no thanks” or something! My name is John
0402 927... and now you know I’m serious and harmless because you’ll see me when I
hand you this note over the counter. If you don’t call I understand and I promise I won’t
visit your post office again.
Early one evening about a month later I sat with her in a beachside bar. She was very
near to me. How long was it that I’d been wanting to put my arms around her? Months?
Well two weeks perhaps. She was close enough for me to see the pale down on her arms.
And those green eyes flecked with hazel. She was waiting for me to make a move? I’m
waiting for me to make that move. I didn’t.
Was it my imagination or was she leaning toward me. Her brown shoulder with her bra
strap just showing. Was this an invitation? We’d spent hours talking. Music. Clothes.
People. The crowd around us. Movies. We really could talk about anything. Can we talk
about the distance between us? The space. Just lean in and kiss her shoulder. Do it
slowly. But fast. Give her an inquiring glance afterwards. I didn’t move.
“I think I should be going,” she said. It is too late to make a move. I’m making a mess of
this.
“Don’t go just yet”, I said.
Beach traffic around us. Surf and gulls. Almost a silent movie. Our eyes would roam then
meet. She dared me to make a move. I didn’t.
“Doing anything interesting on the weekend?” I said.
An air of boredom in her. Too bored to answer. Her shoulder dipped a fraction lower. Now
was the moment. Inertia. I looked away but saw nothing. Did nothing. Another sip of wine.
My hand drifted towards her arm. I watched it as it moved across the space and I let it
touch her fingers lightly. She didn’t move. Nothing. She kept looking away. Didn’t speak. I
drew my fingers back but only an inch or two. She didn’t move her fingers at all. There is a
panic in my chest. A riot.
“I really like you”, I said.
“That’s nice”, she said.
Nice. I’ll hate that word for the rest of my life. I kept my eyes locked on her but she looked
away. Boldness taunted me and I persisted.
“Turn to me”, I asked. My thumping, jumping heart. She kind of giggled. An uncertain smile
but turn she did. I leaned into her, my head angled and without pause I placed my lips on
hers. She responded but no angels were singing. Violins were silent. Our lips slowly and
carefully opened and lingered but...the kiss did not take. I fell off a cliff. She said not a
word. Hours passed. Maybe thirty seconds later the lightest touch of her fingers on my
chest told me that it was all over. Gently. So gently, she pushed me back to finish the kiss.
Finish everything.
She looked away. I looked the other way. Trying to create a nonchalant cool while my
heart turned to granite. I turned to glance at her and she, almost sorrowfully, half smiled.
“I’m going to go “, she said.
I nodded. Didn’t watch her go. I sat there until all that had been around us faded. I sat
there for hours and months and years.
I’ve never seen her since.
I’ve never been in that post office again.
I’ve never forgotten her laughter but never heard it again.
I’ve never forgotten her.
Perhaps Kafka was right.
Some of this story actually occurred and some of it is pure fiction. You are never to
discover the “true story”.
John A Wilson, Gold Coast, March 2016
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