Strange Times; Wacky Anecdotes by John M W Smith - HTML preview

"Yes, I'm Leaving You........"

'Will you do it for me, John?'

I shifted uneasily in my chair, moving my coffee mug on the table this way and that.

'I don't know, Harry. Hey, it's a personal matter for you to sort out. It's just not right for me to be there.'

It was as if my friend hadn't heard me.

'I don't know what will happen when I ask Sue. I trust you, I need you to be there for me.'

A spurt of alarm raced through me as an awful thought reared its ugly head.

'Harry, you don't mean.....'

You see, I hadn't figured Harry to be a violent man. Far from it. But why then would he want me there other than to restrain him if his wife gave him the one answer he'd been dreading?

I'd known Harry for over a year. He had once come to my aid when I needed him. That's how we had become such good friends.

It had been an inky-dark night when I was driving along this winding country road on my way to visit a sick aunt. As I rounded a corner the tiniest, fluffiest little bunny you have ever seen hopped across the road. I swerved to avoid it. There was plenty of room, even if I was going a bit fast. What I hadn't seen was the patch of engine-oil. Suddenly my car began spinning crazily as the steering wheel became a living thing in my hands. Next second I was off the road and into a ditch as red lights exploded behind my eyelids. The stick-shift had dug deep somewhere into my middle, and for a moment I blacked out.

When I came to, the pain was worse. I could actually feel something grating inside me.

I somehow got the door open and staggered away. How I made it out of the ditch I'll never know. And so I stood, clutching my belly, trying to stand as straight as I could to flag down any passing car.

Finally one appeared. I waved desperately. It didn't stop. If anything it put on speed as it passed me. I realized how I must have looked, a tall figure, staggering on the road in the dark, one arm raised threateningly---only I wasn't threatening anyone. I needed help badly, that's all.

Another car came by. It didn't stop either. The pale oval of the driver's face looked terrified. I could see his point. Only the extras from The Night Of The Living Dead behaved like me! I cursed loudly as fresh pain lanced across my belly. I'd had it. This was where I was going to die. Alone, in the cold and dark, in this miserable place.....

And then the lights of a third car came around the bend. I raised my arm again. It slowed. It stopped. A man got out.

'You all right?'

What a silly question! Another kind of darkness, more complete than the one we stood in, descended across my eyes. I was falling...and someone was holding onto me. Guiding me towards the car.....

A month later I came out of hospital with my ruptured spleen more or less mended.

'Why did you stop?' I asked Harry when I went over to see him. 'Everyone else was too scared.'

Harry smiled.

'It was your face in the headlights,' he replied. 'You looked an okay guy. I can tell. You wouldn't hurt a fly.'

Yes, Harry was proud of his peculiar knack of being able to read people. It had never let him down – – – until now, apparently. You see, Harry had decided to marry the woman who became his wife the moment he saw her. Forget love at first sight, it wasn't that. He just knew she was 'okay'. That she would never let him down. Only now she had and he had to confront her. And he wanted me, a guy many years his junior, to come along to give him moral support. Or maybe he was scared out of his mind; he really loved that woman, and he wasn't sure what would happen when he got the truth out of her. So it was my turn to be there for Harry. Just the way he had been there for me.

'No, John, it's not like that. I'd never hurt Susan,' he said now in response to my earlier unfinished question.

'Right,' I replied. 'I'll come with you. Even if I still think it's wrong for me to be there.'

Susan had been cheating on Harry. Harry knew it. He was good at reading people.

Susan and Harry had been married for 20 years. They had settled into a comfortable, routine coexistence, the way most middle-aged couples seem to do. Just chugging along sedately. And, as we all know, this is where the danger lies. The deadly danger of boredom. The longing to recapture an almost forgotten excitement before it is too late. The need to feel alive again in a way that can only happen in the throes of passionate ecstasy. A last gasp reaching out for physical fulfilment.

I got up from my chair. Again I hesitated, even though I knew I had made up my mind.

'You're sure about this, Harry?'

My friend hung his head.

'I'm sure,' he whispered. 'It isn't natural, John. A week ago in the morning she caught me looking at her and she suddenly pulled me close and kissed me. She made me my favourite dinner, roast chicken, that night.' (Harry's tastes were fairly mundane). 'She strokes the back of my head when I'm leaving for work – – – she hasn't done that since we were young and.....and in love,' his voice had become shaky. 'It's a guilty ruse that many partners try when they are being unfaithful. It helps to make them feel better about what they are doing. It also quashes any suspicion which a new pattern of behaviour is producing.'

I nodded. It all added up.

'She bought herself new dresses. Started taking extra pains with her make-up and even forgets to take it off when she's home. There is this wonderful perfume – – – must have cost the earth. It's got to be someone at work,' Harry pondered glumly. 'Because she always makes it a point of being home on time.'

Harry couldn't take it any more. It was killing him he said. He had to have it all out in the open, even if the act of doing so in itself killed him. That's the way brave men behave. And Harry was the bravest. It was the aftermath that scared him. The fallout from what his wife would admit. The effect on him. I was beginning to understand it now. Men like Harry could lay down their lives for people they loved, without a second thought. But they needed someone around when something bad was about to happen to themselves. Nothing wrong with that. It doesn't diminish their bravery.

We set out in my car. Harry's hands were shaking so badly that he was in no condition to drive. There was no more conversation. We were each steeling ourselves for the ordeal ahead.

Susan certainly looked good. Okay, she was old enough to be my mum, but even my mum can still look fantastic if she tries. Well, that's my opinion anyway.

'Come in, come in, John,' she gushed as she ushered me warmly inside. 'Haven't seen you for ages. Harry should be getting out more, I keep telling him. It's good to widen one circle of friends – – – make new friends – – – you know, have a social life – – – have fun!'

Harry could take it no longer. Without further ado he took Susan's shoulders and turned her gently around to face him. Taking her hands in his own he raised them to his chest.

'Susan, tell me. Now. Don't lie, give me that much respect. I can't take it any more. I've got to know. Are you having an affair?' Susan's smile slipped. 'Who is it, Susan? Is it someone I know? You've got to tell me. I'll understand.'

The words were spoken softly but in a curiously flat and resigned tone of voice. Like a man's last words as the hangman tightens the noose around his neck.

'Harry, why do you think....?'

'Shhhh....don't. No. Just give it me straight my love. Tell me.'

There was a long silence. Then Susan's shoulders slumped. She looked down at the ground as Harry continued to hold her hands on his own. Two large tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. I was embarrassed and wanted to turn away, but I couldn't. An icy calm had descended over Harry. He was doing the decent thing, giving her time to find the right words. She hadn't been expecting this right now.

'I....I....Harry, I'm sorry,' she whispered.

We waited, frozen like statues, not daring to move.

'I...I couldn't help it...' Still we waited. 'I had this dream,' Susan went on. 'You and I...we were sitting at the breakfast table...and you suddenly put down your newspaper.....turned to me slowly....your face like a stone mask, and you said to me, "Susan, I don't love you any more. "I... I'm sorry, Harry my love. But it made me panic. I thought it might actually happen.'

Life began seeping back into Harry's dead eyes.

'So you've been doing everything you can, not to let your dream come true?' he asked. Susan nodded, fresh tears appearing in her eyes. Harry pulled Susan close. 'Dreams are just that. Only dreams....' he murmured into her hair.

The atmosphere in the room had changed. There was something new and dynamic being born, a kind of electric charge that was making the very air sizzle.

Susan put one hand to Harry's face. And at that point I decided I just had to back out of the room. So I did, and I didn't stop until I driven all the way home.

Women! Wonderful, aren't they?

Aren't they?

Of course they are!

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