I hear male voices, and then the closing of the front door, followed by the roar of a motorcycle engine. Guess, Grumbler has gone. My powers of deduction tell me he’s probably borrowed the bike the unknown man has ridden in on.
Slightly concerned about the stranger who might be making himself comfortable in my living room, I delay getting out of bed. But my mind is racing, half due to the early caffeine consumption, and half because I’m sure where Grumbler has gone will provide some answers about what I hope isn’t, but dread is, Alicia’s unwilling entry into the porn industry.
Normally, if I have a guest in the house, I’d make myself as presentable as necessary, then go and see to his comforts. Today is weird, as I’ve no idea who’s waiting for me outside my bedroom door. The only comfort is that Grumbler must trust him.
Oh God. Grumbler. Covering my face with my hands, I remember I all but told him I fancied him last night. Like a gentleman, he hadn’t taken advantage. He wouldn’t have gotten far. After the day I’d had, I was in no mood for a man. But when things have settled down and our problems have been resolved—and somehow Grumbler has given me the confidence that that day will come—would I want to explore something with him?
I prop myself on my pillows, pulling up my knees, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on my hands. Since Dave died, I’ve never found a man who I feel as comfortable with as Grumbler, which is crazy. I’ve never been one for the bad boy types, and that Grumbler is one is undeniable. Maybe I’ve been looking in the wrong direction all this time? Perhaps I should grasp this chance with both hands?
Grumbler is a good man, otherwise, he wouldn’t be helping me. At first, sure, there was something in it for him, he contacted me to get the money he was owed. But when he found Alicia was also being conned, he began to fight for her as well.
Alicia’s only got a dim memory of having a father in her life. I thought I was doing well on my own, but perhaps after how badly she messed up two nights ago, there’s room for improvement. It was, after all, Grumbler who Alicia had run to, wanting to avoid telling me. Of course, I’m angry she lied, but as to everything else? It was only a matter of when and not if. I just wished she’d waited a little longer and had found someone worthy of her.
I suspect, were I to conduct a poll, the vast majority of women wouldn’t have stayed with the man they lost their virginity too, and again, for a high proportion, losing it wouldn’t have been like the often happy circumstances read about in books. It’s a rite of passage, something we all go through. For my part, the best first time is with the man you give your heart to. I might barely remember the details of the first time I went with a boy, but Dave? I can still remember every touch, every moment. Or maybe I’m glamorising it in my mind. I knew right then I loved him and had found the partner of my dreams.
Not that Dave hadn’t had faults, he was a man after all. But any mistakes he’d made weren’t intentional. It had taken time for us to learn to live with each other, neither of us having been in a committed relationship before and everything different, right down to what food to buy at the store. But we were happy, the divorce word never came up. Any plans made were about growing old together, though life had had other ideas.
Grumbler’s older.
He is, by ten years.
What am I considering with him? A few romps in the sack until we see how unsuited we are? If that’s the case, maybe we should just stay friends and not add in any benefits. But what if we found we could be more? Would this age difference mean I risked losing another man that I may give my heart to too soon once again?
One thing losing Dave had taught me was, life was to be seized and lived. That future assumed so enticingly close, but just out of reach, may never come to pass after all. Sure, Grumbler might one day be stricken by the ailments of an older man, but he was just as likely to come off his bike, and I could be knocked down crossing the street.
Ten years at Alicia’s age is a lifetime, it doesn’t seem so much at mine.
Hearing the stomping of motorcycle boots, I interpret they’re crossing the living area to the kitchenette. I should be out there providing for my unknown guest. I feel awkward not knowing who is in my house, though the knowledge that Grumbler arranged for someone to be here is comforting. Having raised the spectre of Owen or Devon visiting, I wouldn’t want Alicia and I to be alone.
Forcing myself out of bed, I collect some clean clothes and go into the bathroom. Not sure what the day’s going to hold, I shave my underarms and legs, and neaten up my lady garden. Rolling my eyes as I tell myself, knowing I’m fresh and nice under my clothes helps me feel good. I’m doing it for no other reason, oh no.
I dry my shoulder-length hair, take the time to straighten it, then immediately pull it up into a messy bun. Staring at my naked face, I decide against putting makeup on. Might be a mistake, Mary. Might be a hot biker out there.
Yeah, but my hot biker’s just gone. Having seen me at my worst, and normally without adorning my face, if he can be attracted to tear-reddened eyes and blotchy
