Gemma

A shift in the air. Something felt different, seemed different. Somehow.
Maybe it was that it wasn’t raining for the first time in a few days. That kind of thing instills a bit of hope. Better days on the way. Better days. 

First time this year without a coat? Maybe it was that.

As I clocked off from work for the weekend, it was still light. The sun had been on its way down of course, but there’d been enough light in the sky for the walk home to qualify as a noticeably longer day than those I was heading home in a fortnight back. 

It was going to be a good night. I could just tell. I felt hopeful. I had a buzz because Gemma was going to be out tonight. There was something there now. Something in the way we spoke that hadn’t quite been there before. The smile she now gave when we saw each other. Like we had a secret, even though we didn’t. Not really. She liked talking to me, and I liked talking to her. It got me going like I used to feel when I was a teenager. Ridiculous really, that I hadn’t quite felt that buzz in so long, but Gemma brought it on. Since we’d swapped numbers we’d enjoyed little bits of chat here and there. She’d messaged me the other evening to ask what I was doing, how my evening was going. I knew that was a good sign. The fact that she initiated the chat, and not me. 

She’d be pleased to see me tonight, I was sure of it. The regular crowd would be out. Steve and Martin, plus a couple of the girls from Gemma’s work. Decent bunch. Maybe Eddie would be there too. Steve and Martin were always good craic; I felt comfortable chatting with them. They were good, easy-going lads, enjoyed a bit of banter. Infectious laughs and encouraging grins. Secure enough in their own relationships to not get in my way. Steve had a kid now too, and we always had a laugh when he managed to get the night off and join us for a few. I liked to be seen with Steve. I’d be less nervous, feel a bit more like I was on a good level. Able to be a bit silly, have Steve laugh it up and serve me another line to spin it out. Add a bit of momentum, so that everybody got wrapped up in the mood. It made me look good, feel like myself, away from the quiet nights in, meals for one, TV, scrolling, and all the other stuff I did on my todd. The me I wanted Gemma to see, the me that got her smiling.

I knew I’d go to bed feeling really good after seeing her tonight. I’d message her about her dog. Something along the lines of hoping he was feeling more like himself, ready to terrorise the postie in the morning. Yeah, she’d like that as she wound down for sleep. Another glimpse for her of my caring side, with a bit of humour thrown in. Maybe she’d ask a question or two, a follow-up message to ask what I was up to. Mind you, she might wrap it up with a “I’m off to bed now, sleep well! XX” kind of thing, and if she did, fine. Leave it there tonight, don’t overdo it. Better not to appear too eager.

I’d ironed my shirt already. Last night. I’d ironed three, to give myself options. They were hanging up in my room, waiting for me. I thought about them as I pushed my finger into the ring of my key fob as I pulled the bunch of keys from my pocket. The front and back door keys with their red and orange plastic tops, and the thicker, heavier key for Mum’s house. I gave the keys a satisfying spin around my index finger as the light over the front door flicked on, triggered by my movement at the gate. I hummed a tune. Silly sod.

Keys into the lock, twist back and forth, body weight against the door with my thigh to compensate for the dicky latch, and in. A really good evening lay ahead, after a really, really good day. Yep. I saw a glimpse of Gemma’s smile in my head as I sat on the stairs to untie my shoes, then arrange them carefully in the wooden shoe rack. Maybe I wouldn’t message her after I got in tonight. Maybe I’d wait until the morning instead, see if she fancied doing something on Sunday. The weather was going to be decent according to my phone - warm enough, bit of sun, no rain expected. Maybe a walk to see that new cafe that opened last month in the middle of the park.

As I walked through into the living room I flicked the light on, and got the dimmer set for a cosy warmth, hitting that yellowy-orange hue that somehow took the edge off. I nearly tripped over Leslie’s body, still lying exactly where I’d left it at lunchtime. She’d been wearing those blue tights that just felt like a weird colour to put me. Like those bingo women dog owners, who added a streak of pink to their hair. Not natural. Jarring. Nobody would choose to have blue legs, would they? Her hand was pointing across the rug towards my bookshelves over by the curtained window, as if she was about to pick out a novel and ask if I’d seen the film version. Her face was partially obscured by that arm. Her head had settled right there when she hit the floor. Her eyes were still open, staring out at my stories. At the time, I’d managed to right the little coffee table she’d caught and knocked over as she fell, but I’d been in a hurry to get back to the office. So everything else was left as it was when I’d headed back to work, with nothing more to eat for lunch than a banana I’d grabbed from the fruit bowl on top of the microwave. It had just about kept me going for the afternoon, along with a couple of custard creams I’d found in the drawer of my office desk. I’d deal with Leslie’s body and pack her clothes up at some point in the middle of the night, but for now she could stay where she was. I needed a cuppa, and I needed to get ready.

I carried on into the kitchen, added a bit of water to the kettle, popped a teabag into a mug, and leaned with my back up against the counter to scroll through my phone while the water heated up. A couple of football updates, a newsflash about an explosion in the Ukraine. David Lynch had died - shit. That was a shame, but he’d been getting on. And one WhatsApp message. Gemma. Saying she was looking forward to a good night tonight and asking when I was likely to get there. Brilliant. I’d give it a few minutes before answering.

The kettle rumbled, steam shot out of the spout, and then it clicked itself off. 

Image from Wikimedia Commons