Page 46 of Life After Me

I struggled to keep my eyes on the screen because she was wearing this long stretchy woolly jumper thing that ended just above her knees.

I don’t usually notice women’s clothing like that, because I’m not a pervert or something.

But I really struggled not to notice that skirt as it rode up and lengthened the gap between its end and the top of the knee-high boots covering the rest of her legs.

I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I’d seen her in skirts and shorts before, and she does have great legs, but they’d never affected me like that before.

The inches of caramel skin between boots and dress fascinated me, and I kept wondering what it would feel like to touch, and to brush my fingers against those long legs.

Then I remembered how cold it was and realised her legs couldn’t be bare.

She would be freezing if they were. Which meant she had to be wearing tights.

Or stockings. Oh crap, I didn’t want to think about Ruth in stockings.

I tried to watch the film, I really did. I didn’t want to be thinking like that. Ruth’s my friend, and I’m a married man. Jenn’s still with me every day. Oh God, Jenn can never find out how I’ve been thinking about Ruth. I concentrated on Jenn and forced myself to try and watch the film again.

But then Ruth leaned down and unzipped one of the boots to scratch her ankle.

It was a completely innocent movement that was over in a couple of seconds, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the leg that flexed beneath her fingers.

For the first time I noticed that her nails had been painted a rich burgundy, and for some reason that really got to me.

Or maybe it was the satisfied sigh she gave as she’d relieved the itch. I couldn’t get that stupid breathy moan out of my head, because my twisted sick mind kept wondering when else she made that noise.

I really did try to concentrate on the film, but those dark red nails seemed to claw their way into my mind.

I couldn’t stop looking at them, wondering about how they would feel running over my skin, biting into the flesh on my shoulders and back.

I couldn’t stop picturing them travelling lower, grasping at me, wrapping around me and squeezing.

The images were so intense, and so enticingly wrong that I started to count down the current England cricket team in my head.

Anything to distract myself from the growing ache and throbbing in my pants.

I think the film might have been good. I remember trying to watch some of it.

I think I was starting to enjoy it, until her fingers bumped into mine when we both reached for the popcorn.

How much of a cliché is that? Our fingers met over a sticky pile of popcorn.

I swear an electric shock jumped right through me.

She smiled an apology at me, and went back to watching the film, oblivious to the effect she was having on me.

I couldn’t watch a thing after that. I stared at the screen, but in truth I was watching her from the corner of my eye.

In the flickering light from the screen I was gobsmacked by how stunning she was.

Her skin looked smooth and creamy, and her lips were sticky and dusted with popcorn crumbs.

She shifted in her seat and her arm brushed against mine.

I held my breath as she settled, the back of her hand and wrist lightly touching mine.

I felt like a teenage boy again. My hands were clammy.

I could feel sweat trickling down my back, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything except this woman sitting next to me.

I could feel the heat of her touch the whole length of my forearm, and I was so tense I could feel the blood pounding in my ears.

She must have noticed something, because she turned to me and, in the half-light of the cinema, gave me a warm smile that set my pulse racing even faster.

Was Lottie right? Could Ruth possibly be attracted to me?

Our eyes met, and in the dark I could have sworn Ruth was reading my mind and answering the question.

Yes, I could have her. I could have all of her. In any way I wanted. In every way I wanted.

Then she popped another bit of popcorn between her lips and turned back to the screen.

I spent the rest of the film, which was possibly the longest one ever shown, berating myself for being an idiot.

I was the worst man living. My wife’s still with me every day, fighting through God only knows what to stay with me and make her presence known, to make me feel her and know I’m not alone.

And there I was fantasising over a woman sitting next to me.

One who trusted me and considered me a friend.

I finally managed to pull myself together enough to make vaguely sensible small talk as I drove Ruth home, but her goodnight threw me for a loop.

She leaned over to place a kiss on my cheek as usual, but one of us must have moved because the kiss landed on the corner of my mouth.

We both froze. It was sweet agony. I wanted nothing more than to grab her and kiss her until her heart was racing as fast as mine.

She moved away quickly and shot me an apologetic smile while tucking her hair back behind her ear.

Then she was gone with a quick “see you soon”.

I waited until her door closed before slamming my hand into my forehead.

The light in her living room flicked on, and I slammed the car into gear and kicked the accelerator.

When I pulled up at traffic lights, another vision of Ruth’s legs crashed into my mind.

I didn’t realise how long I’d been staring into space until a horn sounded behind me.

I jumped so far I stalled the car and growled at myself in frustration.

Ruth is attractive, hell, she’s gorgeous, but she’s not Jenn.

I still love my wife, and she’s still here with me.

There’s no way I can get involved with anyone else.

I don’t want to be with anyone else. I’d never dishonour Jenn like that.

It’s been her and me for as long as I can remember, and I want it to stay that way for ever.

That’s why she came back to me, so we can stay together for ever.

It’s quite simple. I just won’t see Ruth again.

* * *

Jenn

Oh David, this is not what I meant to happen.

I don’t want you to stop seeing Ruth. She’s your friend and you’re supposed to like her.

And if you like her in a way that could lead to more than friendship, then all the better.

She’s a good woman, David, and more than that, she’s good for you.

I wish you could see how much brighter and happier you are when she’s around.

Damn it, David, you’re supposed to be listening to me. This is what I want. And it’s what you need. As much as it breaks my heart to say it, you can’t keep living your life for me. You’re supposed to let me go and move on. I’m supposed to move on too.

That’s the problem. You don’t need me anymore, not like you did. You aren’t falling apart. You’ve got yourself and your life together, and you’ve got reasons to live.

You’re depressed because you’re fighting the natural healing process.

Some people can be alone and still feel happy and fulfilled.

But darling, you’re not one of them. You can’t survive by living in the past and surrounding yourself only by memories.

It isn’t enough for you. You’re too young and vibrant.

You’ve only lived half your life. You’ve still got so much more left to see and do and experience.

I know you’re scared and that you don’t know what to do, or how to feel, but David, don’t use me as an excuse to avoid living your life. Don’t you dare do that.

You’re the type of person who is so full of passion and joy that you need someone to share it with.

You need someone to bring that out of you.

It doesn’t have to be Ruth, but why not her?

She makes you laugh, and challenges you, and you’re attracted to her.

I’m not asking you to fall in love with her and forget about me, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying life and living it to the full if that’s what you want.

Why do you think I introduced you two?

You shouldn’t feel bad for being human, and what you’re feeling is human. It’s normal and healthy, so stop fighting it and stop fighting me. Stop pushing me away because you feel guilty, and damn well start listening to me again.