Footsteps
David bounded up the stairs, two at a time, the bunch of daffodils waving dangerously in his hand. At this rate, he thought, they’ll have no heads and how will that look? Not that he truly imagined anything ruining today. He had been invited to her house. This was something new and thrilling.
David had been seeing Alice for just over six months. He could date it readily by the memory of his birthday when she had presented him with a cake and candles. Shop bought, mind you, but then he still didn’t know she was an awful cook and that this was a blessing not a reason to criticise. They had met a few weeks beforehand, through a mutual friend, and had started a tentative friendship.
Neither were looking for love. They had both been hurt by undeserving partners. His last girlfriend had been remote and unwilling to share her full self. And Alice was still reeling from a cancelled wedding. The ex-groom needed more time, apparently, even though they had spent the last five years living together as man and wife.
But something had changed for David. The desire to get to know Alice, the eagerness to contact her, the exquisite thrill of imagining their first touch, their first kiss were all blaring signs that a line had been crossed, that the fear of hurt and failure was being overwhelmed by attraction and optimism.
And, more than that, he sensed a change in Alice too from the pragmatic woman who sat opposite him on that first evening. ‘I don’t want you getting too close to me, David’, she said. ‘I’m sad and lonely and if you show me any kindness or attention I might take advantage of you and that wouldn’t be right.’ How noble she had sounded. How that honesty, with a hint of subtle sorrow, had begun to seduce him.
He stood on the landing and checked himself over, before ringing the doorbell. Heavy footsteps pounded the floorboards. His thoughts raced as he tried to fit the Alice he knew with the sounds being made through the door. He braced himself as for a foe, her ex perhaps, anyone male and threatening to his future. Because, right there, he knew he wanted her for the rest of his days.
The door swung open and Alice stood there smiling. His head dipped instinctively as he took in a breath of release, deliverance. Alice cocked her head, ‘What’s up with you? Stairs getting too much for you, old man?’
She grinned at the sight of the trembling blooms and turned awkwardly towards the kitchen. ‘Come in. Make yourself at home while I rescue these poor daffs.’
David gently lowered himself into the nearest armchair. Yes, his sixty two years did catch up with him now and again and, yes, he had momentarily forgotten Alice’s prosthesis, which mattered to him not a fig. She was going to be his girl, whether Alice knew it yet or not. He was going to make sure of it.
THE END