Buttonhole
Linda gently brushed Claudia’s fringe to one side and shifted to take the weight of her daughter’s sleeping body. How could her boyfriend have done this to her? Six months together: a nice enough kid, or so he had seemed. But, no, he had slept with her best friend. The oldest betrayal of all.
‘When will I meet someone as good as Dad? I just want to be happy, like you,’ her daughter had said. Yet, she and Dave had come so close to missing each other entirely.
A friend had arranged a blind date her brother. ‘He’s OK,’ she’d said, ‘a good egg!’ Linda had never met him, so she playfully suggested he wear a red carnation in his buttonhole. A silly joke or, perhaps, something out of a spy movie. She arrived at the pub in good time, bought herself a drink and scanned the room. No red buttonhole in sight. She took a seat and waited, her eyes darting towards the door with every new customer.
She was taken by surprise when a tall man crashed into her table, spilling her drink. He turned toward her and there it was – the red carnation. He seemed melancholy, unstable, a little drunk perhaps? Great first impression, she thought.
‘Let me buy you another,’ he offered. And with that he staggered to the bar. That day, she had so nearly grabbed her coat and left.
‘Sorry about that. Bad day. Nice to bump into you, though.’
And so she had taken the cue and chatted, or tried to, over the noise of the jukebox. He was nice, she thought, despite the disastrous start.
‘You said something about a bad day? I hope it wasn’t because of that buttonhole,’ she shouted, pointing at the wilting petals.
‘Well, kind of.’ He frowned, with downcast eyes.
Her stomach flipped. ‘Looks like it’s my turn to be sorry,’ she offered.
‘Why are you sorry? It was my stupid mistake.’
‘What? To want to walk out …..’ With me, she had tried to say, but the words were lost to the opening riff of ‘Jack and Diane’ that pounded through the low-ceilinged room.
‘No, to have stayed,’ he yelled, looking close to tears.
Her face reddened. ‘I think I’d better go.’
She stood and turned, her eyes coming level with a rose, red, of course. She stifled a gasp and looked from one face to another. ‘Who are you? Is this some kind of joke?’ she had shouted.
The two men looked from one to the other, confused.
She pointed at them both. ‘I’m here to meet Melanie’s brother, Richard. Which of you is Richard?’
The newcomer, the one standing, nodded his head. The one sitting, the melancholy but kind one, shook his.
Something told her to listen to her instincts. She turned to Richard. ‘Well, I’ve changed my mind, sorry, I’m with him.’ She sat down again, determined to solve the mystery of this enigmatic man.
He looked at her intently. ‘Shall we start again? I’m Dave and I’ve just found out my bride-to-be has been cheating on me with my best friend.’
THE END