Waiting

“... So I thought that the Algarve would be better. It shouldn’t be too hot in May. I know you don’t like it when it gets too hot. And British Airways have a sale on at the mo so we’ll be able to fly in comfort rather than getting all squashed up on one of those cheap and nasty planes.”
“Yes, dear.”
Gerry looked at his wife as she adjusted the wire-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose. He watched her as she daintily licked her index finger and flicked over the page of the glossy brochure. He felt his eyebrows furrow together as she neatly circled yet another hotel.
“Why don’t you get one of the kids to see if there are any good deals online?” He offered.
Linda snorted.
“Don’t be silly. We’re perfectly capable of booking a holiday ourselves. Besides, I trust Thomas Cook. Those businesses online are a bit dodgy if you ask me. And they keep going bust.”
She fixed him with a stern look before returning her attention to the elaborate description of yet another four-star complex. Gerry shrugged to himself and took a sip of his tea. He didn’t particularly want to go to the Algarve but, despite his best efforts to make himself heard, it seemed that his argument was not strong enough to compete with his wife.
“Dad, it’s your pension, your money. Why don’t you just put your foot down?” His eldest Sean had instructed him over the phone. He had a point, but Gerry knew better than to play the money card. Past attempts had failed miserably, ending with Linda in tears, be-moaning a lack of appreciation for her dedication as a housewife, and Gerry feeling, well, terrible. No, it wasn’t worth the hassle. Resigned to his fate, he looked out of the window at the traffic as it swished through the rain outside. His heart sank. He had hoped to have a good go at the brambles in the back hedge when they finally got home from yet another trip into town. There was no chance of that today. He’d have to stay indoors.
With her.
“So, are you folks ready to order some food?”
Gerry looked up. Their waitress smiled down at him. He smiled back, using the moment to take in her appearance. He had been forced to learn quickly the art of discretion when appreciating members of the opposite sex under the ever-present scrutiny of his wife. Long cherry-red hair loosely platted down one side, dark eyeliner, fair skin, figure-hugging white shirt tied in a knot at her waist. Satisfied with his survey, he glanced down at the laminated menu in front of him.
“Yes thank you, love. Can I have a prawn sandwich please? On white bread? No salad though. Can’t stand the stuff.”
He pulled a face at the waitress. The sound of her laugh filled him with delight.
“Prawns? I don’t think so. They are full of cholesterol, and yours is already on the high side.” Linda looked at the waitress over the top of her glasses, taking in the other woman’s appearance with obvious distaste.
“Get him a tuna sandwich please. On brown bread.”
Gerry opened his mouth.
“And I’ll have chicken and sweetcorn. No mayo.”
Linda smiled primly as she handed the waitress her menu.
“That is all.”
Gerry watched the waitress retreat towards the counter. As she reiterated the order to the kitchen staff he took in her black fingernails, the lyrca skirt, the slender legs lengthened further by a pair of towering black shoes. He inhaled deeply. I bet she would never tell her husband, or rather boyfriend what he can and can’t eat, he thought to himself as he slowly let the breath leave his lungs.
“Honestly Gerry, you could show a little more enthusiasm. Here we are, planning our holiday, and you’d think that we were making funeral arrangements.”
I bloody well wish I was Gerry thought to himself. He looked at his wife and studied her carefully. The young woman he had married all those years ago had all but disappeared. Okay, so he was no oil painting himself these days, but the softness around her eyes and the naturally smiling lips seemed to have been replaced with a hard, constant frown. A pang of guilt hit his empty stomach. She was happy before she met you. You have made her this way. This is your doing.
He blinked the thought out of his consciousness and forced a smile.
“Sorry love. I’m just worried about the cost, that’s all.”
Linda looked up to the heavens briefly before looking back at her husband.
“Look, we’ve calculated a budget, we know what we can afford. And I thought the whole purpose of retirement was to enjoy oneself? We’ve worked mighty hard to get where we are today and it’s time to reap the benefits.”
Shaking her head, she turned over another page of the brochure and began to scan its contents. Grateful for the respite, Gerry took a furtive look around the cafe for the waitress. He watched her as she took an order from a table near the back wall. She was smiling politely and laughing at her customer’s joke, pushing her plait over her shoulder as she did so. She was maybe 18, 20 at most. More than likely a student, funding her way through university by serving up cappuccinos and paninis to miserable old folk like himself. Her entire life ahead of her. Gerry tried to remember when he had started looking forward to retirement, when it had become his focus, his ultimate goal. He must have been quite young (maybe 40?) when he had started to wish his life away, tolerating the daily grind through gritted teeth, fuelled by the knowledge that one day he would be free, he would be comfortable and he could begin to live again. His brow creased in thought, he turned back to his wife. She was looking at him curiously, an eyebrow raised. Feeling himself colour, he busied himself replenishing their tea.
“I know what you are thinking,” Linda half whispered. Gerry glanced up at her. She was leaning across the table, her puffy eyes magnified behind her lenses.
“It never fails to amaze me what people get away with wearing at work these days. I mean, you can almost see her underwear, her skirt is so short. When I was a waitress we had a proper, modest uniform. Not like what these young girls wear today.”
Gerry felt his shoulders relax. He looked from the waitress to his wife and chuckled. Folding her arms across her withered chest, Linda and sat back in her chair.
“What?”
Gerry shook his head. “Nothing dear. It just struck me as funny how we both thought exactly the same thing. Must be our age.”
Linda humphed. “Or forty-three years of marriage.” She looked at him, her head on one side.
“Who would have thought it, mmm? It seems like only yesterday that I was walking down the aisle.” She laughed gaily. “Doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun?”
Gerry smiled before turning back to the crawling traffic outside. The windows of the cafe had clouded with steam. He watched as a droplet of rain slid down the glass, creating a river of transparency. Having fun. Well, if sitting at a desk for forty-nine years, working long hours to be able to buy that house, get that promotion, send the kids to college and replace the car, then yes, he had been having a whale of a time.
And this was his reward.
“Here’s your lunch guys; one chicken and sweetcorn sandwich, no mayo, and one tuna.”
The waitress slid their plates onto the table carefully. Gerry looked up at her and mutely nodded his thanks. She smiled back and winked. Taken aback, Gerry watched her as she walked back to the counter to pick up her next table’s order, her tray swinging at her side.
“Well, this looks nice, doesn’t it?”
Linda inspected her lunch carefully, her hands clasped in front of her. Gerry looked down at his own plate with a frown. As he reached for the salt he lifted the top and peered at the filling. A layer of prawns smothered in Marie Rose sauce stared back at him. He looked over at the counter. The waitress was watching him, a small smile on her face. As Gerry opened his mouth to protest, she raised a finger to his lips. Dumbly he looked back down at his sandwich and replaced the bread lid.
“Is everything okay, dear?” Linda enquired through a mouthful of chicken.
Gerry nodded and slowly lifted his sandwich to his lips, being careful to conceal the true nature of its contents behind his hands. He took a bite from the corner of the first triangle and chewed. His taste-buds were not disappointed. The prawns were plump and juicy, the sauce plentiful. Okay, so wholemeal had not been his first choice, but the bread was fresh, soft and moist, the crust offering just the right amount of contrast. It was near perfect, its prohibition making it all the more delicious.
“Well, is it okay?” Linda looked from his face to his sandwich, her irritation deepening the vertical lines between her eyebrows. Gerry swallowed his first mouthful and smiled with simple pleasure.
“Yes Linda. Don’t you worry. Everything is just fine.”