Chapter One

  Jeanie sat facing her reflection in the mirror, looking for any tell-tale signs. Grey hairs? She searched her shoulder length brown hair and found no unwanted intruders. Wrinkles? She had known other women her age who had developed the odd wrinkle or grey hair; some even in their twenties.  She found nothing. She scrutinized her face more closely. Her eyes seemed a little puffy but that could have been from crying. Maybe it was just the fact that she had reached that age of 37. After all, he was only 23.

 Five days prior they had returned from a week away on an island resort in Fiji. Jeanie had planned it all, booked the flights, the accommodation, even paid for it all. She didn’t mind; she loved Justin. He was unemployed, and on welfare. It wasn’t his fault, Jeanie acknowledged; he wanted to work but just couldn’t find a job he liked.  He shared a small apartment with friends in order to share expenses. Jeannie never hesitated in paying for both of them when they went out to dinner or a club. She had an office job and was earning a reasonable salary. She wasn’t rich by any means, but was making enough for the both of them to enjoy doing things together. She had even helped him buy a used car so he could try and find employment. ‘Helped’ is an understatement. Jeannie actually paid for the car, and often gave him money to put fuel in the tank. They had gone to a used car dealer, and Jeanie saw one that was within her budget, but Justin wanted something a little sportier. The car he chose, a red MG, cost quite a bit more than she could afford and she paid 1/3 in cash and took out a loan for the balance. Justin promised he would start paying her back as soon as he found a job. She had bought him nice clothes, some of which she herself had chosen and surprised him with. Justin was her man and she would do anything for him, for his happiness and his acceptance of her.

  Jeannie thought back to that week away, trying to remember anything unusual in his manner, in his attitude, things he had said. But it was difficult to recall much in detail. The week was a whirlwind of romance and lovemaking and laughing and fun, wining, dining and dancing. It was almost dreamlike as she spent the whole time lost in Justin’s ambience and aura. She loved the attention he gave her. She felt safe and loved, and she loved him like she had loved no other man. The look in his eyes as he peered into the depths of her own gave her the reassurance that he loved her just as much, possibly more, although Jeanie knew that was impossible.

 The weather that week was beautiful, just what you would expect from a tropical island resort in early summer. How incredibly romantic it was to walk hand in hand along the deserted beach at dusk with the sound of the waves crashing and the orange sun dipping below the horizon. Jeanie couldn’t resist stopping occasionally to draw Justin to her and kiss him passionately, the smell of the salt air and the wet sand between her toes adding to the atmosphere. The absence of any other human beings, the screeching of seagulls and the sounds of the ocean created an illusion of being the only two people left on earth. Those moments stood out the most in Jeanie’s memory. Those along with the incredible lovemaking every night and every morning, running her hands over Justin’s rippled athletic body, lying in ecstasy as Justin explored her body, sending her to heaven and back multiple times and causing her to moan involuntarily and call out his name.

 The days were warm and they had swum in the crystal clear waters, frolicked and splashed as lovers do. She had screamed like a schoolgirl when Justin picked her up and carried her to the water to throw her in against her will. In reality she loved it, loved the attention. She imagined she was in a romantic movie and they had the lead roles. She recalled how his gaze moved to her nipples which had become erect from the cold water and were clearly visible through her wet, not-quite-see-through white bikini top. She loved to feel his gaze on her body. It made her feel beautiful, desired, special. She wanted him to sense her vulnerability, appreciate her femininity. She wanted him to appreciate her as a woman. Most of all she wanted him to want her. Whatever Justin asked of her, be it physical, emotional or financial, Jeanie happily and eagerly gave it to him.

 The flight home from Fiji was unremarkable. There seemed nothing to suggest any problem within their relationship. Justin slept a lot on the plane, but Jeanie saw nothing strange about that. He stayed at her place that night. They were too tired for lovemaking but they went to sleep in each other’s arms. When Jeanie woke the next morning he was gone. She expected him to call during the day but he didn’t. She tried calling him but went straight to voicemail. He didn’t return any of her calls. Worried out of her mind, she went to his apartment. She knocked on the door and Justin answered it.

“Justin! What’s wrong? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Justin shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

“Justin? What’s wrong?”

Justin averted his eyes. He looked everywhere except at Jeanie. He finally spoke. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Jeanie’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But…” she began.

“I’m sorry” he said, shaking his head and closing the door, leaving Jeanie standing alone in the hallway, shattered. Jeanie’s lips trembled, she felt dizzy as if she was about to pass out. She raised her hand to knock on the door again but turned instead and walked away. And just like that, it was over. She thought the week on the island would cement their relationship, but now she felt it had driven a wedge through the middle of it. But why? She had no clue, and Justin didn’t seem about to tell her.

 Jeanie thought about those days on the beach. Was that it? Was it her body? Was it changing with her age? Jeanie undressed and scrutinized her body in the mirror from head to toe. Her breasts seemed to droop a little and point downward- at least that’s what it seemed to her. Thinking back to her early twenties she recalls being quite perky. She wasn’t blind to the fact that age tends to creep up on a woman and before she realises it, she is becoming unattractive to the opposite sex, to young men like Justin who are reaching their peak physical condition. He looked after himself. He went to the gym regularly and Jeanie had paid for his membership and protein supplements. She considered it well worth the cost, knowing the enjoyment he received from training, and she herself reaping the benefits of feeling his hard muscular body against hers. But Jeanie had never had an interest in fitness training. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps her body was now showing the signs of neglect. Had Justin become ashamed of being seen with her? Was he ashamed to be seen in public with a short 37 year old frumpy woman who obviously doesn’t share his interest in fitness and body sculpting? She studied her body more closely in the mirror. Imperfections were now becoming clearer to her. Obvious imperfections, or so it seemed to her. There appeared to be a small bulge developing around her mid-section. The ratio of her waist to her hips had changed and there didn’t seem to be as much difference now in circumference. Her eyes moved down over her slight paunch, downwards to where the tops of her legs met. But now it seemed to her to look different than she remembered. Would it really be alluring to a young man? She had never taken much notice before, and Justin had never given any indication that he found it anything but sexy, but doubts were now forming in her mind. The top of her legs seemed to be thickening a little and her thigh-gap had all but disappeared. They were things she had never noticed until now; now that it was too late. There seemed to be some kind of blemish appearing on her left cheek. She drew back her lips and studied her teeth for any yellowing. They seemed ok. She had always taken good care of her teeth.

 Jeanie thought for a few moments. She went to the drawer and found the bikini she was wearing on that holiday, and she put it on. She frowned when she turned to check her bum  in the mirror. That’s not the bum she remembered having just a couple of years before. And  her bikini top did nothing to support her now drooping breasts. She had felt so beautiful on the beach with Justin. His hungry eyes sparkled and seemed to devour her beauty, but now that it was over she was looking at the reflection of a woman in her late-thirties; 5ft 2 inches with average looks and untoned shapeless body.

 But surely Justin isn’t that shallow. Surely he loved her for her mind and her personality, for the way she cared for him. She worshipped him, worshipped his body and his mind, gave him pleasure in any and every way he wanted, she gave herself to him completely as any woman in love would give themselves to her man.

 Jeanie had always considered herself to be reasonably intelligent. She had studied business principles at university, but had not really advanced much career-wise. She was an office worker with a large insurance company, and wasn’t sure if she had the inclination or drive to further herself. Justin had no career and no job, no income except government welfare, but they seemed to be on the same level, socially and intellectually. Why had he left? What reason did she give him to suddenly walk away from their relationship, and not look back? Jeanie tried to recall conversations they had had. Perhaps they weren’t really on the same wavelength after all. Can a woman of 37 and a man of 23 actually be on the same wave length? Can they really have the same interests? Was she becoming boring and uninteresting to him? Had she been fooling herself, falsely believing he would find her thoughts and opinions interesting and worldly?

 

 Recurring visions and sensations kept returning to Jeanie’s mind. The lovemaking. Feeling Justin's mouth on hers, the tingling sensation down her back as his warm breath caressed her neck. The memories of nibbling his ear, whispering her declaration of  love for him.

 Something niggled in her mind. Can she remember Justin ever returning that declaration of  love? Jeanie tried to think back through their seven month relationship. Had he ever told her that he loved her? She can’t remember ever hearing the words. Surely she would remember something like that, something so important for a woman to hear. Was she so absorbed in her love for him that she had never noticed? Had she been so engrossed in her own feelings that she had never even noticed his lack of emotional commitment?

 Jeanie swapped her bikini for her pyjama pants and shirt and lay on the bed, a stray tear trickling down her cheek onto the pillow. How beautiful and full her life, her world had seemed before. How cold and empty it was now. Where there was once romance and love all around, even in the simplest things; birds singing, rainy days, even the sound of city traffic; there was now nothing but a cold emptiness that chilled her to the bone. She felt rejected by an indifferent world, a world that didn’t care. A world that would continue revolving even though her own private world had been knocked from its axis and was now hurtling uncontrollably through the cold, dark vacuum of nothingness.

 Jeanie tried to go to sleep. She was exhausted. She hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since Justin had left. She lay there, tossing and turning until finally, in frustration, she climbed out of bed and put the kettle on to make coffee. She searched through her wardrobe and chose the pink skirt and button-up white top that Justin told her she looked so beautiful in. She sipped on her coffee as she tried to pull herself together emotionally, applying makeup to conceal her puffy eyes and the faintly emerging blemish on her cheek. She left her apartment and walked out onto the street.

 It was 8.30 PM on Friday night. The streets of London were bustling with people of all types. There were couples walking hand in hand. People headed home after working late at the office. Streams of people spilled onto the street from the Underground train station as she walked by. Jeanie walked slowly along the street toward Grosvenor Park, where she occasionally took Justin for a picnic she had packed. It was a beautiful evening. The night sky was clear, and in the softly-lit park away from the city lights she could see the stars. As she looked to the heavens a shooting star appeared in her peripheral vision, but burnt out just as her eyes turned to it. Jeanie thought how the moon and stars are always associated with love. The thought occurred to her that the love between her and Justin was like that shooting star. A bright flash in the night sky that is suddenly extinguished without warning and disintegrates into oblivion as though it had never existed.

She walked down the wide central path and sat on an empty seat where she could watch the passers-by. She watched dreamily and longingly at the young couples strolling through the park, laughing and sharing those little intimate moments that only lovers appreciate, just as she and Justin used to. How well she knew the power of hand touching hand. The connection of two souls from one lover to another through joined hands and interlocking fingers. Jeanie could still feel her hand in Justin’s, the exchange of love passing from heart to heart like subtle electric pulses through a conductor.

She watched the couples as they were lost in their pointless and meaningless conversations that bind together the hearts and souls of a man and woman; small, seemingly insignificant moments in time that they will still recall vividly in 20 or 30 years if they cast their minds back; spontaneous flashes of intimacy that last a lifetime and beyond.

Jeanie sat for 20 minutes or so, then rose and strolled toward the river. She walked along the boardwalk watching the boats rocking, and listening to the lapping of the water against the boardwalk’s pylons. She had often taken walks along the river with Justin but the experience was different now. In her newfound loneliness the sounds of the water seemed to agitate her, as though the river was teasing her, reminding her of what she had lost. She headed back onto the main street and continued on, planning on returning to her apartment via a 3 kilometre circuit that would take her past familiar haunts that she had often visited with Justin. Pizza places with customers milling around outside waiting for their order. Restaurants, fish and chip shops, couples and groups waiting at bus stops.

Something suddenly caught her eye. Up ahead, almost obscured between two other parked cars was Justin’s red sports car, opposite the nightclub where she and Justin first met. She walked on to the club and looked through the front entrance. The club was busy that night and she couldn’t see Justin anywhere. She walked inside and weaved her way through the crowd looking left and right for Justin. She spotted him at a table in the corner. He was sitting alongside a woman aged in her early twenties. Blonde and attractive, she wore a low-cut dress that showed off her ample assets and elegant neck and shoulders. Jeanie remembered the table as the same one they sat at the first time they met. She looked around the room. There were no empty tables so she stood by the wall where she could watch Justin and his female companion; obviously Jeanie’s replacement in Justin’s life and bed.

Justin and the woman seemed lost in their own world as if no one else in the room existed. Jeanie watched as Justin related some amazingly interesting story and the young blonde looked at him adoringly, her eyes wandering over his face and studying his lips as he spoke. She wondered if they were the same stories he had told her the night they met. Jeanie knew that feeling of being swept up in Justin’s world, hanging off his every word, falling in love. She herself had sat at that very table seven months before. Jeanie had been waiting at the bar for her work colleague Amy, when a young man sat down beside her.

“Drinking alone?” he had asked.

“No ..I’m…waiting for…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.  Jeanie looked into the eyes of the young man and that was the end of life as she knew it. He bought drinks and they moved to the table in the corner; the same table that Justin was now sharing with another woman. Justin’s and Jeanie’s table.

Amy had never met up with her that night. She told Jeanie the next day that she did arrive but when she saw Jeanie at the table with the young man she thought she should leave them alone and so she went home.

 

As Jeanie stood against the wall she had to constantly move her head to the left and right, to see through the crowd of people that kept walking through her line of vision. When the young woman gently put her hand on Justin’s and he leaned in to give her a short kiss on the cheek, her anger and jealousy began to rise. Justin whispered something in her ear, which made the woman giggle. Jeanie’s normally placid nature gave way to seething jealousy and an overwhelming feeling of anger. It was a feeling totally foreign to her.

What had begun as an evening stroll to relax her and clear her head had now become something much more, something sinister. Jealousy and rage had taken over her thought process. She felt she was going somewhere she didn’t want to go, that she had lost all control and there was no way back. Jeanie was a spectator to her own actions, seemingly unable to prevent or control what was about to transpire. She felt disoriented and disassociated from her surroundings and her irrational actions.

It was a surreal feeling as Jeanie picked up an empty wine glass from a table and she walked toward them. She stood directly in front of Justin and his new woman, her sudden appearance interrupting their intimate conversation. The young woman’s eyes darted from Jeanie to Justin, silently asking if he knew this strange woman who was clearly nervous, but at the same time agitated and agressive. The normally meek and quietly spoken Jeanie smashed the glass on the edge of the table as Justin could only sit and stare in stunned silence and shock. To Jeanie it was as if someone else was in her place, someone other than herself had smashed the glass.

“What the Hell?!” shouted the woman and leaned back into her chair, out of Jeanie’s reach.

 Jeanie glared at the woman. “You’ll never love him like I do," she seethed. "You never could.” She began sobbing.

Her pleading eyes turned to Justin. “What did I do, Justin? Please tell me what I did.”

Justin’s lips twitched but he said nothing. No words would come to him.

The club bouncer had spotted the incident from the front entrance and began running toward them, pushing through the crowd. He came up behind Jeanie and put his huge forearm around her throat to subdue her while his other hand grabbed her wrist to prevent her from attacking with the broken glass.

“Drop it!” he shouted. Jeanie complied and the glass fell safely to the carpeted floor.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to the bouncer, suddenly realising what she had done. “I didn't...I wasn't... Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

A hush fell over the room as the patrons turned to watch the excitement unfolding. To some it was their night’s entertainment. Some heckled and whistled at the distraught and embarrassed woman who had become the centre of attention to the club full of patrons.

“Let’s go,” he said and forcefully turned her around, marching her to the front door with her arm twisted behind her back, forcing her to walk on her tiptoes.

"Please," she winced, "you're hurting me."

“Crazy bitch,” said Justin’s female companion. “Who is she anyway?”

“Some woman I used to date.”

“You used to date her? Isn’t she a bit old for you?”

Their voices faded into the rising murmur that was spreading around the room, the bar returning to normal after the little fracas the patrons had just witnessed.

‘Some woman?’ thought Jeanie. Was that all she was to him? She loved him more than life itself, but to Justin she was just ‘some woman.’

 The world was spinning as the bouncer unceremoniously threw her out onto the footpath and she fell to the concrete, grazing her knee.

“Come back here again and I’ll call the cops,” he said. He then resumed his position at the entrance, folding his arms and keeping a close eye on Jeanie.

Pedestrians made a wide berth around her as she pushed herself to a kneeling position. She sat back on her heels and began crying. “What did I do, Justin?” she sobbed quietly to herself.

‘Disgusting,” said a woman around Jeanie’s age to her male companion as they walked past. “Does she have no dignity?” but Jeanie was oblivious to the people around her.

She rose to her feet and brushed the dirt from her clothes. She took the shortest route home, which was back the way she came. Vaguely aware of her surroundings, she took no notice of people she passed, young men and women laughing and talking exuberantly on their way to some venue somewhere. She no longer looked longingly at couples, young and old as they walked hand in hand, arm in arm. She walked in a dull confusion, arriving home with no memory of the journey and only a vague recollection of the events at the club, like dissipating remnants of a dream after waking. She entered her small apartment and went to the kitchen drawer. She rummaged through the drawer until she found what she was looking for; the carving knife with the sharpest blade.

 Jeanie sat on the edge of her bed, surrounded by the prison of not just her silent, lonely apartment, but by the inescapable walls of her despair. She played with the knife, feeling the sharpness of the point and lightly running her thumb over the slightly serrated but razor-like edge of the blade, wincing when a drop of blood appeared. Her heart broken, her mind confused by lack of sleep, she leaned back against the bedhead. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She asked herself how, in seven short months, she had arrived at this point where there seemed only one way to escape; only one way to finally find peace.  A way to sleep once again; a sleep that she knew would ultimately be eternal.

Jeanie put the blade to her lower arm, lengthways along the artery. She had heard that it was the most successful method. She pressed the blade to her skin and blood appeared, accompanied by the stinging sensation of the slight nick in her skin. She couldn’t continue. Jeanie was a coward when it came to pain. What made it worse in her mind was the fact that she had known all along that she would fail to carry out her plan. She hung her head in defeat and embarrassment at the feeble symbolic gesture, the pathetic cry for help, the reaching out to no-one. She felt frustrated by the whole pointlessness of the exercise. If only she had the courage to do it. If only she wasn’t so weak. There seemed no escape from her torment. Her arm fell to her side and the knife dropped from her hand to the floor. She lay there, her body limp, her spirit broken, her world irreparable, and she curled up into the foetal position. Jeanie's lower lip trembled and she suddenly burst into tears, overwhelmed by the evening events, and she wept uncontrollably.

"Why Justin? Why?" she sobbed. "Please tell me..."

After several minutes she managed to gain some composure. She sat up, wiped her eyes and rose from her bed. She sat on her chair facing the mirror and again studied her now haggard reflection, gazing into the depths of her eyes as if that was where the answer lies. She began once again to search her mind for answers that would never come.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 11.02.2021

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