Encounter in a restaurant

Encounter in a Restaurant

He hadn't so much as looked at another woman since Sandy left, three
years, two months and three weeks ago, and here he was struggling to
avoid staring at the brunette three tables away.
She was crying, and the blonde woman with her was doing her best to
comfort her. What was it? Lost her job? Husband strayed? No, hang on,
she's not wearing a ring; boyfriend trouble then? Or perhaps prison,
like him. His stomach seemed hollow. If Sandy had left him whilst he
was 'inside', he'd have understood, but three weeks after his
release....?
She'd stood up for him at the trial. Had even blushed when she told
the court that he didn't need to look for 'comfort' outside marriage.
It was true, and, in any case, he hadn't had any 'comfort' from the
girl. Why wouldn't anyone believe him. Even Tracey from the fitness
club had dumped him.
The older woman looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. He
searched his memory.
Nope, he knew no-one with hair like that. But he knew he knew her; he
needed a closer look.
He rose and casually strolled past their table towards the toilets. He
waited a few moments, then equally casually, but also equally puzzled
he strolled back.
Pausing beside them, he touched the older woman on the shoulder. 'Can
I be of any help?"
She shook her head vigorously, not looking up, "No, Jon, you
can't."
"Sandy! But-"
She lifted a hand to her forehead. An edge of black appeared in front
of the swirling blonde hair "I heard about your pardon - can we talk?
Not now." She motioned towards her companion. "Later, sometime."
"Whenever. It's lovely to see you." He stared down at her trying to
see her face.
"Tomorrow?" She looked up at last. "I just want to say sorry; see if
we can work something out."
"Oh, that's alright, I mean, er... Look. I'll wait around till you and
your friend have finished."
She nodded. "That'd be nice."
"Jon!" The other woman looked up at him through smudged make-up. "What
about me?"
It was the first time he'd seen her face. "Tracey?"
Sandy's frowning eyes flicked backwards and forwards between them.
"What are you on about, Tracey?"
"Him - and me..."
"You and....him?"
"I didn't know he was your husband."
Sandy stood up abruptly. "Right, Jon, explain."
He stood silently. fighting to find some harmless words. "We were just
friends," he said at last.
"You - and her. Behind my back! Well at least it wasn't you who got
her pregnant."
Her words echoed back four years to the abortion.
"Did you -?"
"No. course we didn't."
"Jon!" Tracey's shaky voice made him wince.
Sandy glared at him, then drew back her hand. He watched it approach
his face, one of her nails was chipped and she'd cut her thumb
recently. Her wedding ring was on the wrong finger. He'd forgotten she
was left-handed. The impact was like a gunshot. He reeled back, aware
of faces turned towards them.
"Liar." Sandy spun round and marched stiff-legged out of the
restaurant.
Tracey sprawled onto the table, sobbing bitterly. He glanced round the
room. A waiter approached. "Is everything in order, sir?"
"Yes, fine thanks." Jon waved him away and sat down beside Tracey. She
peered up at him as he slid a gentle arm round her shoulders.
"Take care of me, Jon. Please."
Well, why not?" he murmured.
She snuggled up to him, still crying.
"Am I right in thinking that you're expecting?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"I've only just found out."
"Good. We know what to do, don't we? I'll take you to see a doctor
tomorrow. Then we can start fresh over," he said giving her a
squeeze.
Tracey's crying increased. He felt uneasy: she wasn't the sort to cry.
Perhaps he ought to chase after Sandy. He couldn't. Oh no, he thought.
I'm lumbered again..