Faces

What chance do I stand?

Hm?

I mean, leaving aside the obvious… what have I got going for me?

I’m thirty-nine – though I know I’d pass for mid-forties. Life hasn’t been that kind to me, you see. Lots of upheaval.

Weight’s another thing. I’m what my doctor diplomatically refers to as well-proportioned. I lost a couple of stone before the operation, but it’s come back again since. It’s why I’ve taken up swimming.

My hair’s greying quite quickly now. I tried dyeing it at one time, but it looked terrible – like I’d got a bad wig on or something.

I have to wear strong glasses, and they tend to magnify my eyes in a way that makes me look permanently startled.

And then… there’s her. Early thirties, perhaps. Certainly not much more. About my height. Slim, though.

She’s got long, dark hair, which she ties back in a pony-tail… and I’ve always had a thing for pony-tails. The way it swings over her shoulder when she turns her head.

She’s got green eyes, too. Not everyone’s favourite colour. Mine, though.

In all, I guess she’s not exactly what you’d call stunning… but that whole thing’s subjective anyway, isn’t it. It’s what’s in the eye of the beholder that counts. First rule of attraction is that there are no rules of attraction. I keep telling myself that. Trying to reassure myself. It’s not easy, though – given the way things are now.

You see, on top of it all, she just seems to radiate health, and… well, there’s no other word… sexuality. Partly it comes from working at the pool, I suppose. All that exercise. I’ve seen her doing lengths. She cuts through the water like a dolphin.

Me? I just flounder around like a bewildered turtle. Or I sit at the side and watch her.

I think she’s just… gorgeous.

Which is why I say – what chance do I stand?

And yet… there is something. I’m sure there is.

The way she looks at me when I go to the pool – that odd sideways glance and a tilt of the head.

The way she smiles at me.

Even the way she takes my money and passes me my change, our fingers briefly brushing together – like something else is also passing between us.

The way she always speaks to me. Just casual remarks, sure – about how busy the pool is, or how many lengths I plan on doing that session. But it’s like… like she makes a special effort that I’ve not seen her make with other people.

And then there was the other day.

“You’re getting quite a regular face here now,” she said. “Have you ever thought about membership?”

No, I hadn’t. But I am now. Because she’s noticing me. I mean, you’d probably pass me by in the street and I wouldn’t even register. But she’s noticing.

So… why am I hanging back? Because… well… because of what I am. For someone like me, this sort of thing needs a lot of confidence, and I’m not really sure that I’ve got it back yet. It’s taken me a long time to get to this stage. I don’t know if I could take having it knocked again.

Am I reading more into this friendliness, this attention, than is actually there? Is it just some sort of… curiosity? Can I afford to take that chance? On the other hand, can I afford not to? I’ve got to do something sometime. I’m just terrified of being wrong.

*

It was like that time last September. Is it that long ago already? God, where’s it gone? It was awful. It really set me back.

I was just getting over the double whammy of the operation and then my split with Angie, so I was feeling pretty low anyway. I mean, we’d been together almost five years, and she meant an awful lot to me. She saw me through the worst of it. But it wasn’t going to work out afterwards, and I can’t blame her for what happened.

But anyway… this one evening, when I was feeling well enough to face the world again, I took myself out alone and went to this bar I’d never been to before – where I was sure no one would know me. It was quite early, and it was such a warm evening that I took my pint and sat outside. There was only one other person there – a young woman, sitting with a glass of wine at an adjacent table.

I sat there, minding my own business. But I couldn’t help noticing that this young woman kept looking across at me. A couple of times, I caught her eye and she looked away again. Then I caught it and smiled quickly, and she smiled back. Something’s cooking, I thought. Not quite my type, but… well, who knows?

She took out a cigarette and started rooting through her bag for a light. And that was my cue. Now, I don’t smoke myself, but Angie used to, so I’d always carried a lighter around with me because she was always losing them. I still had it in my jacket pocket. I took it out, then leaned across and clicked it in front of her. She cupped her hand around mine as she took the light.

“Thanks,” she said, blowing smoke through pouted lips. Then she looked at me levelly.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” she said.

It was the oldest line in the book. It was the first time anyone had ever used it on me, though. Couldn’t have been easier.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Really?” she said. “That’s funny. I’m usually good with faces.”

I glanced at the empty chair opposite her. I was about to ask… when she suddenly raised her arm and pointed the lit end of the cigarette towards me. For one bizarre moment, I thought she was going to stub it out in my face, and I flinched.

“Got it,” she said, almost shouting. “You drive a bus, don’t you. I’ve seen you on the Park Hill run.”

I was stunned. “You must be thinking of someone else,” I said.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” she said. Then she giggled in a most unappealing way. “Well, you must have a double, then.”

I could have said ‘No I haven’t’. I could have said ‘You’re right… you have got a good memory for faces’. But I didn’t say a word. I was too shaken. I couldn’t believe she’d recognised me. I’d left the buses at least a year earlier – before it all happened.

I just sat there, staring at her, not knowing what to do. And then suddenly she looked past me and her eyes lit up. I turned my head as this fellah came along. Without even a glance at me, he grabbed her as she got up from the chair. Their mouths met like two spacecraft docking.

I didn’t wait around for introductions.

*

So I know how easy it is to misread these things. I mean, we’ve all done it. But it’s… different for me now. After what’s happened, I’m more conscious of things. The thought of getting it wrong, well…

But I’ve got a thing about this woman – something I haven’t felt for a long time. One way or another, I’ve got to find out.

*

That’s it.

I can’t go on any longer. My mind’s made up.

Tomorrow morning. Seven o’clock, during the adult session, when the pool’s dead quiet.

Just talk to her… casual, I mean. Test the water a bit – no pun intended. Get her chatting about… something or other. What harm is there in that? It’s just being friendly. Play it by ear.

She won’t be there, anyway. It’ll be her day off.

*

But she is there.

She’s sitting behind the paydesk and there’s no one else around.

I don’t believe it. Everything exactly right. God… I don’t know if I can do this now.

She hasn’t noticed me yet. I could just duck out of sight and go home again.

Ahh… no… too late. She’s seen me now. She’s smiling. That tilt of the head. So… here goes…

“Hi. You’re keen this morning.”

Huh! You can say that again.

“Yes, I… I was up early… so I thought I’d come and get it over with.”

Oh, shut up! What a stupid thing to say. Like I don’t even want to be there.

“Before work, you know. Saves time later. Leaves the evening free for… going out and stuff.”

She smiles again. There’s something knowing in it, I’m sure there is.

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”

I hand over my money. She rings it in and gives me my change. Come on… keep it going…

“Nice and warm today.” My voice sounds like I’ve just swallowed a mouthful of chilli peppers. She looks up.

“Hm?”

“The pool.” I point to the digital thermometer over her head. “Eighty-five, it says.”

“Right, yes.”

Quit stalling, for heaven’s sake!

“I… I was wondering, you know, if…”

The phone rings.

“Excuse me,” she says, and she picks up the receiver.

And I’m just standing there now. What am I waiting for? Why don’t I go in? That’s what she’s thinking. She’s sitting there, talking on the phone, looking at me loitering there, wondering why I don’t go in.

Sod it!

Ah… I know. There’s a weighing machine in the corner. I go over to it, step on, slip in my coin.

How much?

I can’t believe it. Let’s think… deduct the weight of my clothes: T-shirt, track bottoms, trainers. My keys and wallet… no, they’re in my rucksack…

Who am I trying to kid?

And she’s looking at me again. I must look like a sleeping bag full of footballs.

I get off the machine and head for the door to the changing rooms, my eyes to the floor.

As I’m going past the pay desk, she finishes the call and hangs up quickly. My hand’s on the door handle.

“Sorry about that,” she says. “You were going to ask me something.”

Yes, I was. Yes.

“I just wondered if you were doing anything later. If you fancied a drink after work.”

That’s it. Done now. I’ll never be able to show my face here again.

She just looks at me, expressionless. Or surprised, is it? Horrified?

“That’d be nice,” she says, casual as you like. “Yes, okay.”

Yes?

She said yes?

Jesus! I didn’t account for that. I’m still holding the door handle. Tightly.

“Great. Okay… um… what time do you…?

“I’ll give you my mobile number,” she says. She takes out a pen and writes it on the back of a membership leaflet. “There you go. Give me a call later.”

I look at it. Above the number, she’s written her name.

“Cat,” I say. “Short for…”

“Caitlin,” she says. “I prefer it to Kate.”

Her eyes are shining. I expect mine are, too.

“Okay, Cat. Thanks. Later, then.”

I push the door open. There are fireworks exploding in my head.

I’m going to swim like a sodding torpedo today!

“Hang on,” she calls.

I stop dead. Has she changed her mind that quickly? Ah, well… can’t say I blame her.

“Yes, Cat.”

But she’s still smiling. “What do I call you?”

Ha! I laugh. Idiot.

“Sorry,” I say. “Jo.”

“Jo.” She taps her chin with a finger. “Let me guess. Short for… Joanna? Josephine? Jolene?”

It’s my turn to smile.

“None of those,” I say. “I’m just an ordinary Jo.”

Well… sort of.

END