Excerpt from

A Curious State of Affairs

by Jan Marshall

 

Sixteen

Sometimes I steal a prisoner’s holiday, take a vacation from pain. I go back in my mind to happy hours that “J” and I spent together – before she knew, before I knew. My life seems divided in that way now – before and after we knew she was dying.
That second meeting after years of not seeing each other is a favourite destination. I can see it all so clearly as if we are there. They say that to live in the hearts of those you love is not to die, sometimes it feels like she’s actually here, I mean really here with me.
I arrived at 8pm just as she’d requested. I had parked around the corner – no point in broadcasting where I was – my car number plate is always a dead give away – I’m sure that’s why Lowis bought it for me. I bet most “cherished” registration plates fall into one of the two following categories: vanity or making the sleuthing of errant partners easier.
I literally ran to the front door clutching a bottle of champagne that was not only a favourite of “J” but suited her personality. “Perrier Jouet” has a logo that echoes our time together – “The majesty of our past brings promise for the future.”  They could have written it for us so appropriate is the wording. The bottle itself with its exquisite Art Nouveau design reflects a period in time that was beautiful, insouciant and whimsical, just like “J”.

 

 
As I approached the house I noticed the door was ajar so I stepped enthusiastically inside and dropped the latch quietly behind me. I wanted to surprise her – catch her in a moment of private domesticity. Watch her before she became aware I was there – be a voyeur of a life I knew little about. As I accustomed my eyes to the dimmer light I saw, lying on the hall floor, a sheet of white A4 paper with an arrow pointing up the stairs. Every other step had a pointer marker so I followed them up gathering them as I went. Another arrow indicated which bedroom to enter and a further arrow lay on the vacant side of her gorgeous Victorian brass bedstead. Propped up against a lacy ribboned Broderie Anglaise pillow was “J” reading a book entitled, “100 Ways to Please Your Man.” She was naked other than designer tortoise shell reading spectacles, that somehow added to the eroticism of the picture; she looked over the top of them and smiled as she patted the space beside her. I handed her the champagne which she began to open expertly while I scrambled and tugged at my clothes throwing them around the room like a man demented. We didn’t speak, there was no need but when I was almost completely naked, hopping across the room on one leg and stumbling whilst trying to pull off my last sock – she popped the cork and expertly filled the two slim glasses already placed by her bed, but not before spraying me and my erection with a wonderful cool shower of liquid