Dinner

The next assignment was all about writing a conversation in which lies were told, but not in an explicit way.  Not in a way that used the whole ‘he lied’, ‘she lied’.  My story became more about half truths than full blown lies.  I submitted:

Dinner

As she climbed into bed he could smell the scent of his musk on her.  The smell of dried, mingled sweat.  She hadn’t even bothered to shower before coming to bed.  Hadn’t bothered to hide the fact she’d been with another man.  It didn’t worry him.  In fact he was pleased for her but at the same time it niggled at him how lax they’d become about the whole situation.

                “How was your evening?” he asked as she leant over to peck him on the cheek.  A trace of cologne filling his nostrils as she did so.  It was a familiar scent.  Not one he himself would wear, but one he favoured on others from time to time. 

                “Oh not too bad.  The food was good.  Went to that new place in town, you know the one that used to be Ricardo’s? Smith’s it’s called now.  I think it’s named after the chef.  Some guy that worked in all those top places in London or somewhere.  It wasn’t bad.  But it’s no Michelin star.

“The cocktails were good though.  Will definitely be going back for the cocktails.  The wee waiter that made them was so cute.  He’s only about twenty but he was doing the whole Tom Cruise routine.  Really took me back.  We should go some night.  You’d enjoy.

“The girls were asking for you?”

“Really?” he asked, “who was out?”

“Julie and Lynda” Gemma told him.  “Lynda’s pregnant.  That’s why we went out.  She’s over the moon.”

“That’s brilliant news” he said with a smile, knowing that they wouldn’t have stayed out too late.  That she’d have had the rest of the evening to spend with this new man.  And it was a new man, unless he’d suddenly changed his aftershave brand.  “I thought you said they’d given up hope?”

“We all thought that.  After that last time she’d said she couldn’t put herself through another course of IVF but they tried again and she’s now fourteen weeks.  The twelve week scans were very positive so they’re slowly sharing their news.  She just couldn’t keep it from us any longer and when we started eyeing up the cocktail menu she just blurted it out. We hadn’t even a drink in hand to toast the news.  But we made up for it.  Hehe” She chuckled.  “They’ll make great parents.  Talking of which, how were the little terrors?”

 “They’re fine” he said with a sigh, “Olive’s definitely becoming a teenager.  She was online chatting most of the evening and when I asked about her homework she slammed the door in my face.”

“Yeah, she’s been acting up the past few days with me too.  I suppose we were like that at her age. I’ll have a word.”

“We weren’t! We didn’t have mobile phones and the internet.”

“You’re right.  We were worse.  We’d chat on the phone when allowed or if it was free.  Used to listen to the next door neighbours on the Party Line and then tell each other what the scandal was.  Remember when we found out about Mrs Beatie and the butcher and it got out? Remember the trouble you caused?”             

“True”, he mused.  They’d listen to whatever snatches of conversation they could and then run round the block to each other’s houses to whisper conspiratorially about what they’d overheard.  He supposed they had done their fair share of homework avoidance and gossiping.  

The neighbour having an affair was the biggest scandal to hit the street.  The town.  Everyone was talking about.  It was his fault.  Not that Mrs Beatie ever found out it was because he’d been listening in on her.  Now what would have been a major scandal back then was everyday life to them now.  No, he corrected himself.  No one was having an affair.  They were just living their lives. 

“Grace may be coming down with something.  She had a bit of a temperature so I gave her some Calpol but I’m wondering if she’s just making her symptoms sound worse to get out of school again.  Tomorrow’s Wednesday so it’s her PE day.  I’ve left her kit bag next her school bag, make sure she doesn’t leave without.  Don’t want another note back from school.  Oh and Libby may or may not have lice again.  I saw her scratching.  Can you do the needful?”

“Can’t you? I hate the smell of that stuff.  It stays with you all day no matter how many times you wash your hands.  I did it last time.”

“No, I did.”

“You did and she still had them and I had to follow up behind you.”

“See, exactly, that’s why I shouldn’t do it, you’ll just have to do it again anyway so there’s no point in the two of us having stinky hands” he grinned as he snuggled into her.  “Anyway I’m out early in the morning I have that breakfast meeting at eight.”

“Humph, ok” she conceded, “tho next time it’s definitely your turn.”

“Yeah, yeah” he smiled.  “I was thinking of heading out on Friday if you’ve nothing planned?”

“You planning on coming home?”

“Probably not” he admitted, “Brian has tickets to some opening of something, there’s a party afterwards.  Could be fun.”

“Yeah no problem, I was planning on taking the girls out shopping on Saturday anyway, so we could maybe make a whole day of it, go to the cinema and grab some food whilst out.  So no need to rush to come home.  I’ve made some dinner plans for Sunday evening myself if you don’t mind.

“How’s Brian anyway? He still with Trevor?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.  You know what they’re both like.”  They both chuckled at the thought.

“I’m shattered” Gemma said as she wriggled into her comfy spot on the bed.  “You reading for a bit longer?”

“No, gonna finish up, I’m tired myself and I’ve a long day tomorrow.”  He closed his book, marking the page he’d left on, leaned over to turn off the bedside lamp and moved into a more comfortable position beside his wife.  “Love you” he said as he gave her a final peck goodnight.

“Love you too” she whispered and he knew she meant it with all her heart.  It was left unsaid who Gemma was having dinner with, but that suited them both.