Chapter 3: Cor Blimey
Still May 28, 1978.
Still miserable.
Location: Home.
As I made my way home from Emma's, I felt my happiness from my workday dry up. Dreams of a relationship with James were my sustenance. My hope that somewhere in the future laid a life of love and joy and fulfillment, belonging completely to me, was the only reason I could live through being at home with Irving every night.
It's not that I don't appreciate his efforts. They're sweet, really they are, and sometimes I am overcome with guilt from my efforts to avoid him. But perhaps he should have tried this hard in the beginning of our relationship. I never used to let the thought of another man enter my mind. I used to be wholly content with the state of things. Now I can't trust Irving. Maybe it's a character flaw of mine that I'm unable to move past this, but I am inclined to agree with Mr. Darcy's sentiment that my good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.
Irving was cross when I got home. He sat at the dining room table poking lazily at his partially eaten portion of roast chicken, undoubtedly trying to keep it on his plate long enough for me to join him.
He frowned at me. "Where have you been?"
I sat down at the opposite end of the table from him, placing my things by my feet. "I was at Emma's," I said, beginning to eat. I avoided his eyes. I knew what was coming.
"Emma's," he said disdainfully. "You're always at Emma's."
"She is my best friend," I pointed out. "Besides, she's going through a rough time. You know that."
"Well, why can't she go to a therapist, or something? Doesn't she know you've got your own life?"
"You're being really insensitive."
"I only wish that you'd come straight home after work more often," he said. "I'd like to spend more time with you." He was obviously trying hard to be pleasant.
The rest of our dinner passed mostly in silence, with the exception of our usual inquiry to each other: how was your day?
I absolutely hated that question. The truthful answer was that it was arse-numbingly dull, if you don't count my conversation with my boss, who I adore, even though he's about eight years older than me and is with another woman, and he happens to make me happier than you ever have, just by being in the same room as me.
However, I assume that wouldn't go over too well. So I always tell him it was fine, and then I share a pointless anecdote from the day so that he doesn't feel like I never talk to him. And here's the kicker - he thinks I enjoy my job. He thinks I'm happy.
I really should stop talking about my predicament with Irving. It makes me feel more pathetic to see it written out on paper like this.
But I suppose I have to share with you this next part, what he did after dinner, because things like this are the reason I can never manage to break up with him. They make me think that one day, when I'm over my boss, Irving and I might have a great relationship.
"I bought these for you today," he said sheepishly, approaching me at the sink where I stood washing dishes. He brought out a bouquet of assorted flowers from behind his back, looking pleased with himself. I accepted them with a smile, reminding myself to hug him.
"Thanks, Irving. This was really thoughtful of you." I made sure to smell them as I hunted for a vase; after all, what else can you do with flowers?
"It was no trouble," he assured me. "The flower cart in front of my building was having a sale."
"Oh," I remarked. How romantic.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, standing behind me at the sink. I'd started washing dishes again. He rested his head on my shoulder. I closed my eyes, wanting him off. I was glad that he couldn't see my face.
"Why don't you sleep in my bed tonight?" he said, trying to sound sexy.
I forgot to mention: Irving and I have separate beds, like Lucy and Ricky Ricardo. I told him that I didn't want to sleep with anyone before I get married. I haven't actually decided if this is what I want to do, but it's been working for me. Most of the time I don't even sleep in the same room with him, especially when he tries to get me into his bed. I always invent some chore that I must do, and afterwards I go to the living room where I watch the telly until I fall asleep on the couch.
I pretended to act disappointed. "Oh, gosh, Irving, I can't. I have to take a shower and then I have to read this book Laney made me take home. It's for a project that's coming up, I think."
I hated lying to him. I rarely told him an outright lie.
"Oh, come on," he pressed. "You can read it tomorrow."
I shook my head. "Nope. Impossible. She told me it had to be done tonight."
He let go of my waist, accepting his defeat. "All right," he said. "I'll be in the bedroom if you need me."
I never did. As a strict rule, I never entered our bedroom after refusing him sex. I shudder to think of what goes on in there when he's alone.
- - -
May 29, 1978.
Location: Work
Just got into work. I'm on the desk in the children's department, waiting for Sherry to arrive for a chat. She said she'd be over at 8:00, so barring any unforeseen tragedies, she should turn up in about five minutes. I'll shelve some books while I wait.
When Sherry turned up, she was a few minutes late. She was carrying a large cardboard box.
"Sorry," she said, dropping the box on the desktop. It sounded heavy. "Caroline called me into the back to give me this. It's for you to deliver to Mr. Potter."
A pleasant tingle went through my body.
"She's such a cow," Sherry went on. "She could have delivered it herself."
"I don't mind," I said quickly.
Sherry raised her eyebrows. "Since when? You hate Caroline's chores."
"Well, er, I'm just...in a good mood today, I guess," I said, making a quick save.
"Oh? Heard good news from your secret love, have you?" said Sherry.
I felt myself go red. "Sherry, stop it!"
She chuckled. "I'm only teasing, love." After a pause, she added, "So, are you going to tell me who this mystery man is, or not?"
I plopped onto the chair behind the desk, considering her request. "Okay, I'll tell you, but you have to promise that you won't tell a soul! And you can't tease me when he comes round," I warned her. "I don't want to be completely obvious in my affections for him."
"Are you saying that I know this bloke?" asked Sherry incredulously. "Is he a patron?"
Right as I was going to answer her, Caroline stalked up to the desk. Her eyes fell upon the cardboard box.
"Lily, why haven't you taken this box to Mr. Potter's office yet?"
"I was busy shelving books. I haven't got around to it yet."
Caroline perched her hands on her hips. "You seem to be unoccupied at the moment."
I stood up. "All right, all right." I pulled the box toward me. "I'm taking it."
Even though it was mostly Caroline's chores that allowed me to establish my friendship with James, I had to pretend that they were an annoyance. Otherwise, I might spoil our dynamic.
I mouthed `goodbye' to Sherry, who looked annoyed at Caroline's interruption. I knew she was dying to know who I fancied. Lugging that box upstairs would have been a nightmare, so I took the elevator instead. This time, his office was all lit up when I arrived. I was having trouble trying to support the box with one arm, so instead of knocking, I hit the door as gently as possible with the box.
"Hello," he said when he opened the door, beaming at me as usual. "Here, let me take that."
Carefully, I transferred the box to him. His hand brushed mine in the process. It was warm and soft and lovely. He put the box behind his desk. I noticed that he still seemed melancholy.
"Did you and Melissa have a chance to talk yesterday?" I asked.
He sighed. "No. She was packing for a business trip when I got home. I didn't want to send her off on an unhappy note."
He was so good.
"That's too bad," I told him. "How long is she gone for?"
"Three days."
"So did you try my other suggestion?" I continued. He nodded. "How did it go?"
"The good and the bad times are about even," he admitted. "I tallied them up yesterday at work. I was really counting on talking with her."
I wanted to say something to him to make him feel better. An impulsive thought flitted into my head, and before I could talk myself out of it, I blurted,
"You're not the only one with trouble in paradise."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said earnestly. He sat down at his desk. "You can take a seat if you'd like to talk about it. I'm no agony aunt, but I'd be glad to listen."
His invitation was too appealing. My instincts told me he would understand my misery. I sat down. Then I told him the whole sad story. Well, most of it, anyway. Naturally I excluded the bit about being in love with him. It felt surprisingly therapeutic to share the details of my dysfunctional relationship with him. This was a whole different experience compared to talking with Emma or Sherry. They, especially Emma, were always trying to throw in their two cents' worth, but James sat silently and listened until I finished.
"Blimey, Lily," he said in amazement.
"I know," I said. "I'm totally pathetic."
"I don't think you're pathetic."
I am not one to let myself off the hook easily. "I can't make myself leave a man who I don't love, and who I have no desire to be with. How is that anything but pathetic?"
He rested his chin on the tips of his steepled fingers. "I think part of you wonders if things might improve in the future, so you're afraid to leave just yet. Also, you've been with him for a long time. You two have a routine, and you're obviously attached to him, even if you don't feel like you are."
For a moment, I was unable to speak. "Wow. No one has ever laid it out to me like that before. You're better at this than you think."
His expression became modest. "I suppose I just know where you're coming from, that's all."
It registered with me then how long I'd been on my errand. I'd talked with James for nearly a half-hour.
"I've really lost track of time," I said, dreading Laney's scolding. "They'll be wondering what's kept me so long."
James smiled for the first time since he'd let me in. "Tell them we've been discussing county funding programs."
I giggled.
"Hey, Lily, I was thinking," he said. "Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? It might cheer us both up to be each other's company."
Those words flipped on a switch in my body. Right away, I felt energized, excited, happy.
I played down my exuberance. "Well, it would save me the trouble of dodging Irving tonight."
He grinned. "Does that mean you accept?"
"Absolutely," I said.
O O O
-->