Erin Kaye - Second Time Around

‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’

Jennifer laughed and went on, the smile fading from her lips, ‘It’s made me turn a spotlight on my own life and I just think “Is this it?”’

Donna nodded gravely and said, ‘Jennifer, my dear, I think we’re looking at a case of ENS.’

‘What?’

‘Empty Nest Syndrome.’

The waitress appeared with the food and Donna ordered two glasses of white wine. Jennifer stared with no interest at the beautifully presented chicken Caesar salad she had ordered, her appetite suddenly gone.

‘It makes perfect sense, when you think about it,’ said Donna, who, sadly, had never been blessed with children of her own. But she was a trained psychologist and she knew what she was talking about. She picked up her knife and fork. ‘Come on. Tuck in.’ She popped a piece of salmon in her mouth and added, chewing, ‘You’re just in a bit of a rut, Jennifer. You’ve lost your mojo, girl, and you need to get it back. You need to get out there and meet new people.’

‘You’re right,’ said Jennifer bravely, though beneath the table her knees would not stay still while her underarms prickled with sweat. She glanced involuntarily at the bar. The stranger was nowhere to be seen.

She thought back to the girl she had once been, a girl who’d dreamed of adventure and romance – and believed that life would deliver it. Somewhere along the way – round about the time she’d married David – she’d lost her sense of discovery.

It wasn’t his fault. They’d had a baby on the way and not much money back then and dreams suddenly seemed like expensive, unattainable luxuries. David had been reliable, trustworthy, dependable – everything she thought one needed in a husband and a father. Combined with her emotional neediness and artistic temperament, it had not been a recipe for a happy marriage. Turned out what she wanted was excitement and laughter and unpredictability after all.

And now twelve years after the divorce, her life, while happy and satisfying in many ways, had become just as predictable and boring as her marriage ever was.

But if her life was a disappointment she realised, with painful clarity, she had only herself to blame. She’d been too busy ensuring that Lucy and Matt made the most of all the opportunities available to them.

Instead of swimming herself, she’d collected subs at the door on Swim Club night. Instead of going for a run on a Saturday morning, she’d stood on the sidelines in the rain watching Matt play rugby. She’d ferried them to Guides and Scouts, music, dance and art classes, panto rehearsals, hockey and football training. Not that she’d do it any differently if she had to do it over again. She’d given of her best to her family and she’d no regrets about that.

As if she could read Jennifer’s thoughts, Donna leaned forward, patted her friend on the back of the hand and said, ‘This is your time, Jennifer. After all the years of doing for your kids and prioritising their needs, it’s time to put yourself first.’

Jennifer smiled. ‘I hear what you’re saying but it’s a difficult idea to take on board. I don’t know about you, but I feel guilty and self-indulgent pleasing myself.’ She looked at her hands. ‘And if truth be told, when I do have time to myself, I sometimes don’t know what to do with it.’

‘The curse of motherhood,’ said Donna wryly. ‘It’ll wear off eventually.’

Jennifer frowned, placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. ‘I do need to meet new people. But I don’t know where to start.’

‘Well I do,’ said Donna decisively. ‘Let’s get you signed up with an online dating agency.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so. It, well, it seems like such an unnatural way to meet people.’

‘Oh, rubbish,’ said Donna. ‘It’s how I met Ken.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Jennifer and she put a hand over her mouth. Donna and Ken, a big, burly policeman with a heart of gold, had been together for four years. She blushed furiously and said, ‘I didn’t mean to … it’s just that –’

‘Oh, that’s all right,’ said Donna, waving away Jennifer’s feeble attempt to backpedal like a bothersome bug. ‘You just have to look at it a different way. It’s the modern equivalent of meeting a guy in a pub. You like the look of somebody, share some information and, if you think you might get on, you arrange to meet. Simple.’

Jennifer squirmed in her seat and then a premonition came to mind – a vision of eating a lonely supper at her kitchen table, staring at the empty chairs where Lucy and Matt had sat for the last twelve years since they’d moved into the house in Oakwood Grove. No, the status quo had to change – and she mustn’t be afraid of it.

And yet, she still believed in the romance of a chance encounter, the spark of chemistry when a handsome man’s eyes met yours across a crowded room …

Something made her look up and there he was, the man in the pink shirt, only a few short strides from her. Standing in the middle of the restaurant with a tray of drinks in his hands. And he was staring at her without a flicker of a smile. No, not at her. He was staring into her eyes, his black pupils so dilated that the hazel-brown irises surrounding them were all but eclipsed. His gaze was penetrating, knowing; it touched her very soul. And she held it, startled, uncomfortable in the intensity of his gaze, but riveted nonetheless.

‘Drastic times call for drastic measures,’ persisted Donna, her voice breaking the spell. Jennifer, her heart pounding, broke eye contact, and the man moved away.

‘The man of your dreams isn’t going to land on your lap sitting at home in Ballyfergus,’ lectured Donna. ‘You have to go out there and get in the game. And it’ll be fun. Trust me. I met some great guys,’ she added, omitting to mention the many creeps she’d also encountered in her quest. ‘I’ll help you set up your profile.’

Jennifer, slightly breathless, struggled to regain her poise. It had been a long time since any man had looked at her that way. And none so gorgeous as him. She closed her eyes and saw him still, his clean-shaven image burned into the backs of her eyelids. His dark, softly curling locks skimming the collar of his shirt. And yet it seemed so improbable. He was so handsome. He could have any woman he wanted. Why would he want her? Perhaps she had imagined the stare. She opened her eyes. She must have. He could’ve been staring at someone else, or staring into thin air.

‘Jennifer?’ frowned Donna. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. Just a little woozy. You know, after the cocktail and the wine.’

After the waitress had brought over a glass of water, Donna said with a satisfied smile, ‘You won’t regret this. When Matt finally walks out that door you’ll be so busy having fun, you’ll hardly notice him gone. Speaking of which,’ she added, craning her neck to see past the diners at the next table, ‘isn’t that Matt over there?’

‘It couldn’t –’ began Jennifer but she turned to look and the words died on her lips. It was Matt. And he was smiling and talking to the man in the pink shirt. They spoke briefly and then disappeared through a dark wood-panelled door at the back of the restaurant.

Jennifer said, as much to herself as Donna, ‘What’s Matt doing here?’ And what business did he have with that man?

‘Job interview?’ offered Donna.

‘Of course.’ Jennifer pulled a face to signify irritation with her own dimwittedness as much as her surprise. Casually dressed in jeans and a hoodie, he certainly didn’t look like he was about to have an interview. And he hadn’t said anything to her. But why would he? He’d had lots of interviews lately and he hadn’t known that she was coming here. It had been Donna’s surprise. A ‘happening place’ she’d called it. ‘Yes, he must’ve come for an interview,’ she said, scrutinising with freshly invested interest the busy, noisy restaurant. ‘And if today’s anything to go by, he wouldn’t be short of work. This place is heaving.’