Matt Shaw - A Sting in the Tale - A Collection of Short Stories

Anyone heard from Shaun today? Getting worried.

She put the computer down, next to her, but left the lid up. She hoped that some notifications would come through sooner rather than later. Anything to put her out of misery.

She actually felt stupid. She wasn’t normally like this. She wasn’t usually so possessive. She loved him. He loved her. That was enough for her. She didn’t need to be in his pocket all the time. She had her life, he had his life. They liked sharing times together but were also more than capable of doing their own thing too. But — during the times when they were occupying themselves — they still stayed in contact with one another. They’d both know what the other was doing. And it was that — the not knowing — that was stressing her out.

I love you and a second message that said I’m sorry.

That’s what Frankie had woken up to. Two separate text messages sent within minutes of each other. Nothing else whatsoever; no mention of where he was, no answers to yesterday’s many text messages. Nothing. Just ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m sorry’. Had she received the first message only — the one claiming his love for her — she might have felt better but… What did he have to be sorry for?

Looking at the screen — the text had come through a little after one in the morning. She had no idea what time she’d dozed off but wished she’d been there when the messages had come through. That way she could have called him back straight away and stood more chance of him answering. Now though. Now the stupid phone was just ringing right up until the voicemail service interrupted again.

She hung up and tried calling again.

In her mind she started thinking about his cock being inside someone else. His cum trickling from between her pussy lips. Was that what he had to be sorry about? He had got drunk and met someone else? He had had sex with her? He had sent a text through yesterday because he had felt guilty? Was that it? Had he been with this mystery woman all day? What was it? Was it a case of the grass being greener on the other side? A part of him thought this other woman would be a better girlfriend than Frankie? Is that what had happened?

Fucking voicemail again.

She hung up and called back.

Voicemail.

Enough was enough. She looked at the time. Half seven in the morning. He wouldn’t be leaving for work for another hour yet and she had an hour and a half before she had to be at her place of work so — looking at it like that — there was plenty of time to get to his house.

Having fallen asleep in her clothes the previous night, she didn’t need to worry about what she was wearing. A quick spray of perfume would mask the fact she’d dozed off fully dressed. Mints would detract from the fact she’d not brushed her teeth; something she’d worry about after getting round to Shaun’s place.

She hurried from the bedroom and up to the front door. Her father — Steve — called out from the kitchen.

“Oi!”

She turned to see him. He was looking out, down the hallway to where she was standing.

“Did you go out last night and leave the front door open?” he asked.

“What? No.” Frankie said.

“Well if it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t your sister — who was it?”

“I guess it would have had to have been mum,” Frankie said — a cocky know-it-all look upon her face.

“Don’t get lippy!” he warned her. “I’ve already spoken to your mother.”

“Well I don’t know!” Frankie said. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t even know it was open.” She stood there a moment as the two stared at each other, waiting for either one to crack first. “Can I go?” she asked eventually.

“Where are you going?” Anne stepped into the doorway.

“I’m going to see Shaun,” she replied.

“Well drive carefully,” Anne smiled. Frankie smiled back — if only to keep her happy — and stepped from the house.

“Don’t be late for work!” her dad shouted after her.

The door slammed behind her as she hurried towards her little red Renault Clio. Her mind had gone from imagining him dead to wondering what she’d do if she caught him with someone else. What if she got round to his place and the mystery woman was still there, in bed with him?

As she sped down the road, she felt the adrenaline rushing through her body. An uncomfortable feeling that she tried to shake but — the more she tried to get rid of it — the more she kept seeing Shaun with another woman.

Why would he do this to her? They had been getting on great recently. They hardly ever argued and — if they did — it was never anything serious and often ‘fixed’ within a couple of hours at most. What had she done to drive him into the arms of another woman?

She felt her eyes start to well up.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” she told herself.

With one hand on the wheel, she used the back of the other to wipe her eyes dry. Her mind not posing the question as to whether she would find it in her heart to forgive him if there was anyone else involved. Part of her wanted to say ‘not a chance’ but another part — was it the bigger part? — told her that she would. Of course she would. She loved him.

That bastard part of her brain spoke up again, “But what if he doesn’t love you?”

There it was again — that sickness in the pit of her belly once more. The same feeling she’d felt when she first thought of him as dead and then — again — thought of him as cheating on her. A horrible feeling hinting that her world was soon to be coming crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Just turn around, she thought to herself.

The thought was loud and clear in her head but she ignored it, pressing her foot down harder on the accelerator. If he was cheating on her, she had to know.

“You’re being stupid,” she said to her rear-view mirror. “He was busy yesterday. That’s why he didn’t reply. He didn’t reply to your text messages and that’s why he was sorry. Stop reading so much into this,” she finished.

What she said made sense and — yet — she still found herself speeding to his house.

Nearly there now. Only a few more turnings away…

Frankie’s car bumped up onto the pavement as she pulled up outside his house. His own vehicle was parked in the driveway; a good sign that she hadn’t yet missed him. She switched the engine off and opened the door; her heart in the back of her throat as her nerves continued to play with her mind.

She hadn’t made it halfway up the drive — heading towards the house — when the door suddenly opened and Shaun came running out wearing nothing but blue jeans splattered in the odd globule of paint.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, panic in his voice.

“I came to see you. I was worried,” said Frankie. She didn’t say what she was worried about — the fact she needed to see if he had been cheating on her.

“Worried about me? I’m fine. I’m just running late for work…” he said. He put his arm around her and started walking her back towards her car. Looking down, as they walked, she noticed he didn’t have any shoes on. When they got to her car, Shaun leaned forward and opened the door for her. “We’ll talk later, okay?” He tried to usher her back into her car.

Frankie froze.

This wasn’t like Shaun. He didn’t care about running late for work. There had been times when they had been in bed together and he knew they were both running late for work yet, every time Frankie had tried to get up, he had pulled her back — keeping her there longer.