You’ve been dreading this moment for weeks. You have to face his mother. She's going to judge you and you know it. Your skirt is too short, maybe your hair is too messy. But that messy bun of dark curls looks good on the top of your head. You gulp and go inside.
The worst day of your life kept getting worse. Everything went wrong, your sectary called in sick at the last minute, the photocopier ran out of paper, the heel broke off you favorite pair of shoes which canceled out lunch to get another pair and then you lost your favorite lipstick.
Hence you’ve retreated to your favorite Café. Your luck must be returning as your usual table is free.
The waitress knows you well and brings over an ashtray with the offer of a cappuccino.
“Yes thank you Rachel”, you say reaching for your cigarettes.
A very attractive man walks in, about your age, well dressed with dark hair that somehow emphasizes his deep brown eyes.
He motions Rachel for an ashtray raising his lighter.
You cringe thinking how you must look, starring like a schoolgirl with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You cross your legs and tilt your head back as you reach for your lighter, trying to regain some sophistication.
Rachel arrives with your cappuccino. Your lighter has disappeared, another horrid event of the day.
Rachel doesn’t smoke but she suggests with a smile the “charming gentleman” by the door has one you could borrow.
Rolling your eyes you stand up, cigarette in hand and your sophisticated face on. As you stand up you nudge the table and the cappuccino topples over covering your cream skirt in a stain you’ll never get out.
It had been such a horrid day you could have cried. You dab away the cappuccino with the towel Rachel rushed to you and take the pins out of your hair. You shake your head a little letting your hair fall about your shoulders and head for his table.
“Nasty one”, he says as you approach.
You smile “May I borrow your cigarette lighter please?”
“Share my ashtray too”, he suggests pushing it towards you,” Brian, Brian Shellford.”
“I’d be glad to Mr. Shellford, I’m Miss O’Brian, Crystal.”
You sit down, hiding the hideous stain under the white table cloth. Sighing you mutter morbid words.
“Bad day?” he asks.
Small talk flows, the office, the lost lipstick and so on. He’s a doctor, single and he has a spider tattooed on his ankle. Only you and your father would call that small talk but it was. Somehow that small talk goes on until eight o’clock, closing time in the Café.
“so much for a late lunch,” you say standing ,”this is dinner time”.
“Where shall we go?” Brian asks.
“We?”
“Oh excuse me. Would you like to join me?” he asks.
“Certainly”, you reply.
You enjoy a fabulous meal at a French restaurant. He pays of course and he leaves you his phone number as he walks you to your car.
Arriving home to an empty apartment you wonder why you met this man by such chance on such a bad day. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all.
You float through breakfast the next morning and arrive at work smiling or “shinning” as you sectary suggests.
You tell her about Brian in your lunch break which came around faster than usual.
“So today would be a good day to ask for a raise?” she jokes.
You laugh as you head back to your office.
Arriving home you find a message on your answering machine from Brian.
“I found your number in the phone book. Can we do lunch tomorrow? Meet me at the Café at twelve? Brian.”
Almost excited you ring your mother.
“Well ring him back and confirm dear,” she says.
“I think I’ll let him sweat”, you reply.
“You will go though wont you hun?”
It’s funny how you are automatically hun or dear when your mother knows you’ve met a man.
Lunch at the Café went very well. He looked almost surprised to see you.
“I thought I’d have to send out a search party,” he said as you showed up late.
“Dinner on Friday?”
“At the Courthouse, eight o’clock”, you confirm.
You toss and turn in your sleep. You’re dreaming. You’re running through an alley, it’s dark, you’re out of breath. You turn and he’s coming. He’s catching up. You run frantically only to find it’s a dead end. You stop, panting you back up to the wire fence. His shadow looms around the corner and you wake up.
You get up and walk out into the lounge, wrapped in your favorite satin robe. There’s a knock at the door.
There’s a delivery boy there holding a huge bunch of red roses.
“I know why he sent them to you”, he says with a wink.
You sign his clipboard, pull your robe tighter around yourself and return to the lounge with the roses.
“Have a lovely day. Looking forward to dinner tomorrow night. Brian,” the card read. You smile.
That night you dream you’re at the mall with your mother. You’re telling her about Brian. She seems impressed. You go into the toilets and upon returning you find she’s gone, just disappeared. You look around the mall for a long time but she’s nowhere to be found. You sit down to have a cigarette. You shiver, a weird feeling comes over you, like you’re being watched. Then you wake up.
Friday finally arrives. You think you look pretty good. You’re wearing a long black skirt and a maroon top with a black rose on the front. Make-up is done, shoes on and you’re ready to go.
Everything went well that night at dinner. In fact everything went well over the next six months that you spent with Brian.
He sent you roses at least once a week, he rang you every day when he didn’t see you. He was sweet and never rose his voice. You went to the theater, the museum, concerts, movies, parks, picnics, lunches, dinners, breakfasts, everywhere! He always offered to pay, he was always on time. What more could you want?
“Move in with me,” he said one night.
“You don’t think it’s too soon?” you ask.
“No.”
“You sure know what you want huh.”
“I certainly do,” he replies leaning over to kiss you.
“I’ll think about it,” you say smiling.
“You just don’t want to go without the roses do you?” he teased.
You laugh, knowing that moving in with him would indeed mean no more roses or phone calls.
“I appreciate your gifts and phone calls Brian but they don’t mean that much to me.”
He just drove off, leaving you standing in your driveway dumbfounded. His facial expressions were unreadable.
You’re woken the next morning by the delivery boy. “I’m getting sick of seeing you,” you say bluntly.
“Oh I suppose I deliver these roses just for the fun of it,” he snaps.
The card simply said “Can you answer last night’s question yet?”
It took you a minute to realize what it meant. You rang him in the afternoon to decline his offer again.
The next day more roses arrived with “I love you. Wrong decision I think,” on the card.
Brian had never told you he loved you although you knew he did it was strange to see it written down, it was so……………….definite.
He didn’t ring you at all that week but roses arrived every day with the same message.
You’re dreaming again. You open the door and there’s that horrid rose boy. You collect the roses and shut the door. You get that strange feeling again and re-open the door.
The rose boy is gone but there he is. Just down the hall. He’s watching you. Spying, stalking. It’s the first time in this succession of dreams you’ve seen him. Strangely you can’t remember his face when you wake up.
You pick up the phone Friday morning.
“Hello.”
“It’s me.”
“Brian how are you? You haven’t rung this week.”
“Did you get the roses?” he asked avoiding your comment.
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
“And?”
“And I still have to decline your offer.”
“If that’s the way you feel.”
He sounded annoyed, angry almost.
“Meet me at the Café tomorrow lunchtime?” you say trying to smooth things over.
In the past six months you had never heard that kind of aggression in his voice. It worried you.
He grunted and hung up. The beeping of the phone sent a shiver down your spine.
You tell yourself he respects you and he will respect your decision no matter how disappointed he is.
Your mother rang. She thought you were crazy not to move in with him. That wasn’t surprising.
You got to the Café before he did. You filled Rachael in on the weeks happenings. She too thought you were crazy.
He walked in and sat down. You smiled hello. He didn’t, simply signaling Rachael for a coffee.
“I can’t understand you Crystal,” he says.
“It’s not that I don’t have feelings for you Brian I’m just not ready yet.”
“Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said bullshit,” he replied coldly.
“Hello Brian are you alright?”
“No I’m bloody not.”
“If you’re going to speak to me like that we might as well call it off now.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Oh I’m stupid now?” you say, “Goodnight Brian.”
You got up to leave but he grabbed your wrist. It hurt. You pull back. There’s fear in your eyes. It’s as though he changed personality.
“I’m sorry Crystal. Please forgive me. Now let’s sit down and discuss this like adults.”
You sit down again, slowly.
“Up until your recent flare of aggression I thought I was in love with you Brian.”
“You still are aren’t you?” he asks.
You smile at him. He sighs.
“I’m truly sorry you know. I was just so scared of losing you.”
“Let’s keep fear and anger separate in future,” you reply.
“Certainly. Let’s go to the movies.”
The movie was good that night. Everything was forgotten until it was time to say goodnight.
Out in the car park he asked if you wanted him to follow you home, and stay.
You declined, politely of course.
He said rather rudely that he thought you’d got over all that “stupendous”.
“Brian!” you exclaimed.
“Oh just forget it,” he snapped.
“No Brian you can forget it,” you say trying to stay calm, “the whole damn thing”.
“Go on, run right off the rails again” he smears.
“You’re the one who’s losing it”, you reply.
“I’m beginning to think I’d be better off without you but I’m not going to let you get off that easy baby” he said.
“Oh that’s a shame. I’m gone,” you said slamming your car door and storming into an empty apartment.
He sped off in a huff.
At first it seemed sweet. He sent you roses every day with cute apologies but you being stubborn didn’t call him for a week.
“A week,” he screeched, “It took you a god dam week to call me.”
You hung up. The flowers kept coming. It irritated you so you asked the flower boy not to deliver them. He told you he would be fired.
“If it makes you feel better I hate delivering you flowers every day.”
”No it doesn’t make a difference.”
It had been a long week.
You secretary gave you a concerned look. “Forget him,” she said, only knowing that you’d broken up.
You explained the situation to her. She had no advice. You went to the Café after work. Rachael wanted you to ring him so he would stop harassing her.
“Has he really come in every day?” you asked.
“Uh-huh.” she said, ”He sits at your favorite table, has two coffees and about five cigarettes. He looks around constantly and gives me his number twice to give to you incase you’ve lost it. To be honest he’s freaking me out.”
You hated to admit it but he was freaking you out too.
Now, here you are, about to walk into a court room and face his mother.
You thought the worst was over when you picked up the phone and dialed for the police. Your mother was still convinces you were imagining it.
“He’s trying to get you back, that’s all.”
“Mum, you didn’t hear how he spoke to me.”
“Words can be forgotten.”
“Mum! It’s more than words. He follows me. He’s a stalker. God only knows when it would have stopped,” you replied.
“Sweetheart you rang the police to arrest a darling of a man who’s only crime was loving you.”
“He’s dangerous,” you snapped. You knew your mother would never change her mind.
But right now you have to concentrate on his mother, not yours. Her testimony would make or break your case. She would make him sound like an angel. Biased yes but still believable.
You had to try and convince them of the horror you had experienced.
You would start with the “too good to be true” story of the time you first met Brian.
It was a good plan, and a true story. They had to believe you. You gulp and enter the courtroom.
You and Him
