Page 60 of Love Beyond Repair
I roll my eyes at her bravado.
The rest of my workday goes smoothly. I don’t have any bad news to distribute, which is a blessing. As much as I love my job, delivering the news of someone’s limited time is incredibly difficult. I hear quick, heavy footsteps behind me and turn to see Eamon running to catch up to me as I head out the main entrance.
“Time for a quick one, Jones?” He yells so loud that people in the waiting area lift their heads in surprise. “What time do you pick up my little pumpkins?” His love for my children is heart-warming; they just adore each other.
“Not for a couple of hours. Savannah and Rose have after-school dance, so Ollie stays in for the club,” I respond, laughing at the fact my kids have a better social life than me.
“Excellent,” he shouts, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips exaggeratedly. “This way. We’re going for a refreshment.” I watch his burly figure stride off toward the local tavern and almost have to run to keep up with him.
We sit at one of the old wooden tables marked from years of pint glasses and the days when you could smoke inside. A young woman in her mid-twenties approaches, a high ponytail holding back her blonde hair. The low neckline of her fitted black dress leaves little to the imagination. She smiles at me with perfect rows of bright white teeth behind plump ruby-red lips. Eamon sits opposite me and waggles his eyebrows when she’s not looking.
We each order a pint of lager. I notice as she walks away that her hips swing from side to side, and her abundant bottom bounces seductively on the top of sexily shaped legs. It’s been a long time, I tell myself, but she’s way too young for me.
As if reading my mind, Eamon pipes up, “It’s time you got yourself some action. No point sitting around the house while the kids are at Kelsey’s. You need to get back out there. You’re too young and too damn handsome to be on the shelf.” He looks pointedly at me, then continues, “She’s dating, you know.”
“Who?”
“Kelsey, who do you think? According to Mel, tonight is her third date with a bloke called George, a firefighter from outside the city. He has a dog called Meg and no additional baggage.”
I laugh. “Fuck’s sake, Eamon. You sound as if you have been reading profiles off a dating website.” He pulls a face but is undeterred by my rebuke.
“No, Jones, I’m just telling it like it is. Kelsey’s moving on, and you’re allowed to as well.”
His eyes are locked on me. I’ve heard this little speech plenty of times. About how a woman would do me good, something fun, nothing serious. I’ve tuned him out, but he’s still talking.
“Ben!” he snaps. “Bloody listen to me. You deserve some fun, some happiness away from the children. You’re a youngish man with red blood running through your veins. Are you telling me you don’t need sex?”
I glare at him.
“Eamon, not that it is any of your fucking business. You don’t know who I have in my bed.” He gives me a look,telling me he knows I’m lying, but I barrel on. “Anyway, sex doesn’t require a woman. A dirty magazine and my right hand are more than sufficient.”
Color floods my face as I realize what I’ve revealed, and we both burst out laughing. Things settle back down, and he leans over like a father would.
“You can’t take a porn magazine to a restaurant. Please, just consider trying again. You have so much to offer to someone special.”
Two hours pass quickly with Eamon. We’re never short on conversation topics. Working in the same field, our blended families and my unruly children give us plenty to chew over.
Savannah received her first detention last week. Kelsey was beside herself with embarrassment. We’d been called into the Headteacher’s office to discuss an incident.
When I’d asked what the incident was, I was told they would rather talk to both of us in person. To my surprise, I discovered that the school sends identical correspondence to both parents if a child’s parents don’t live together. The direct flow of information initially relieved me.
Kelsey and I arranged a convenient time for the school meeting when neither of us was working. I think about the text message conversation we had to arrange it. The words were so normal. There was no venom, no nastiness. We just talked about what was required. I consider myself lucky.
A colleague of mine had split with his wife five years ago, and he still has blazing arguments with her about the kids. Once, I remember him telling me his wife had driven the distance between their houses and calculated an exact halfway point for drop off and pick up. My mind boggles at the idea I would withhold from my children an extra mile of fuel or a minute of my time.
As I pulled up into the school parking lot, Kelsey was sitting on a bench in front of the entrance. Her hair was down and loose on her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple pink dress with small heels. It hugged her body, accentuating her figure. Thinking back, I noticed she was wearing more makeup than usual. Her lips a bright pink in the sunshine.
Eamon telling me about her seeing someone now makes sense. It didn’t even cross my mind but yes, she had a glow about her last week.
The secretary had shown us to the office. Mrs. Pringle is like a caricature of a schoolteacher. She wears her dark-brown hair pulled severely back in a bun, her eyes are sharp, and enormous glasses with a neck strap perch on her long nose.
She gestured for us to take a seat and plonked herself in a large green chair. Her considerable tweed-clad backside made the wood creak underneath it. This woman sees the school as her domain, and I’m sure she rules it with an iron fist. Mrs. Pringle cleared her throat loudly.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” she began.
Kelsey’s voice cut in, taking me by surprise. “Actually, Mrs. Pringle, I’m returning to using my maiden name, McMillan.”
She looked to me and back to the headteacher. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Talk about a curveball. The tyrant in front of us took no notice.
