The Most Romantic Thing
Brook Watkins walked into the opticians, punctual as usual. He’d noticed an increasing difficulty in seeing small print. Maybe it was his excessive reading and screen time. He had an appointment got have his eyes tested. The shop was on Cambridge Street in Harrogate.
A blond-haired woman approached. Brook read her name badge.
‘Hello, Julia.’
She slapped Brook hard across the face. He didn’t flinch or recoil as the second blow landed. A punch hit his stomach.
‘You’re not as flabby as you look.’
‘A hundred sit ups every day.’
‘Julia!’ The manager, Celine, intervened. ‘I need you to come with me right this second!’
‘If you’re thinking of firing her,’ said Brook, ‘I suggest you don’t. I’m Managing Partner in a local HR law firm. I’ll represent Julia personally. By the time I’ve finished, this branch will have closed and your Head Office will be writing six figure cheques.’
Brook came out from the exam and saw to Julia, who had read the prescription.
‘0.5 on your right eye and 0.25 on the left. I’ve picked out this frame for you.’
‘How much is it?’
‘Seriously fucking expensive. With Swiss lenses and UV filters to help with computer screens, £650 and the second pair is half price.’
Brook returned in two weeks to collect the new glasses. Julia checked they fitted properly and took his credit card.
‘And the post code?’
Brook gave it. ‘I have Sunday lunch at the Greyhound at Killinghall most weeks. It would be nice to see you.’
‘Fuck off!’ said Julia, completing the transaction.
Brook took his glasses and went back to work.
‘What was that about?’ asked Celine, sitting with Julia in the break room. Julia’s eyes were red and puffy.
‘We dated for five years.’
‘Were you engaged?’ she pushed. This wasn’t the type of behaviour Celine expected to see.
‘We never discussed it. He got a job in Paris, but I didn’t want to leave home. I went over for some weekends, but it fizzled out. He then went to New York and came back to London a few years ago.’
‘Do you keep track of him?’
‘He turns up on my Social Media every now and again,’ Julia lied.
Brook Watkins sat with his newspaper and a pint of Guinness. Julia Millson walked in wearing jeans and a blue striped shirt. Brook stood to welcome her.
‘Four weeks after I invited you. Not bad, Jules! I figured on waiting at least nine weeks, if not longer.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll order lunch.’
Brook went to the bar, returning with another beer and a glass of white wine with ice.’
‘Another blond haired, white wine crazy?’ smiled the barmaid, sizing Julia immediately.
‘You’ve no idea!’
‘Lunch will be half an hour. We’re terribly busy.’
‘I’m sorry for slapping you.’ Julia sipped her wine. ‘Are you married? Children?’
‘Same as you. I never met anyone.’
‘But working in Paris and New York! There must have been someone, if not loads of them.’
Brook ignored the comment.
‘Why did you come back?’
‘I was asked to lead a firm in London. I sold the company and moved back home. I’ve opened a small practice in Harorgate.’
‘You’ve got a bloody mansion! I went on Google Earth! Why do you need somewhere that big?’
‘A London sale buys a lot of house in Yorkshire.’
‘What happened between us?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know, Julia.’ Brook shook his head. ‘Did I get in the way? Didn’t you want to come to France or America? Or did you find someone more reliable?’ He knew the answer was somewhere in the middle.
‘You never asked me, Brook! You were full of your job, and yourself! I wanted you and to have children with you.’
‘Have you got any kids?’
‘I’m 38 now. That’s passed me by.’
‘Have you started the change?’
‘No I bloody haven’t!’ Julia was loud.
‘Still a twenty-five-yard screamer,’ he mused. Julia kicked him under the table.
‘I never sleep with a man before we’ve had at least four dates and wouldn’t consider living with anyone in less than six months. It means I’ll be over forty before I had children.’ Julia looked at Brook. ‘And I know what happens with us. We end up in bed and I get my heart broken. Like every other time.’
‘I’m sorry. Dinner will be another five minutes,’ said the waitress.
‘Can you make it to go?’ he asked and looked at Julia. ‘How do you want to save wasting four dates and six months to living together?’
‘By doing what?’
‘Getting married and having a family?’
Brook helped her into his Porsche.
‘Then what happened?’ asked Liam’s girlfriend.
‘They spent Sunday together. On Monday, Dad took Mum to buy an engagement ring. They got married three weeks later and I arrived ten months after lunch.’
‘Do you have any siblings?’
‘My sister’s training as a barrister. And I have a brother.’
‘Has he gone into Law, too?’
‘He plays keyboard in the band Nantucket Island.’
‘Now, I’m calling bullshit!’
Liam took out his phone and showed a family photo.
‘Jesus Christ. I love Nantucket Island.’
‘He’s touring with the Prog Rock Orchestra. Rick asked him personally.’
‘I’ve tried to get tickets, but they’re sold out.’
‘I’ve got a spare,’ said Liam.
‘Do your parents still live in Harrogate?’
‘They’re in Japan now. Mum wanted to see the blossoms and travel around South East Asia.’
The girl looked amazed. ‘Three weeks from their first date to being married. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of.’
‘If you ignore the first five years’ dating and six years apart.’
About the Author,
eter writes novels, short stories and flash fiction. His novel, A Love Like That is available for purchase on line. The first 6 chapters of the short story, 07:15, and 4 more flash fictions on his website, free of charge. Websitewww.peter-writer.co.uk Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee?. Half of what you pay goes to the author th otrht eehalf goes to expense se.g. Maintaining rhthe web site and setting up The Best of Café Lit book each year.
