This month I’m sharing a short story I wrote so long ago, the original was on a floppy disc - luckily I had a hard copy. A few details needed updating, but women searching for partners in today’s western society no longer depend on parents and marriage brokers, but take matters into their own hands - which in turn creates a world of possibilities for writers. I hope you enjoy this light-hearted look at the dating game.
Maisie's Blind
Date
If
you’re only going to be attracted to one man in a hundred, then move the other
ninety-nine through as fast as possible, said ‘Finding
Your Soulmate’, Maisie’s latest bible, and she’d taken the advice to heart.
Hence her current anxious state of mind as she waited in a coffee bar amid the
hubbub of St Pancras Station on her forty-eighth blind date.
Perched on a stool like a bird on a thin branch
about to snap, Maisie gazed disconsolately at her reflection in the
window. Squeezing water out of what
remained of her expensive salon-styles curls, she decided taking the afternoon off work and paying
a fortune to go from iron-straight blonde highlights to auburn ringlets had
been an expensive mistake. Not listening to the weather forecast, and so minus
her new see-through umbrella, resulted in a hair style resembling her granny’s
perm. Some days, she didn’t know why she bothered.
But the truth? She knew why she was making the
effort; she wanted a man. One of her own. Maisie enjoyed working in her chosen
career of marketing, and was doing well as her recent promotion testified; with
good friends and an active social circle, there was no reason to complain. But
she wanted someone to travel by her side on the path of life, someone to share
the ups and downs with, someone to have children with, someone to laugh and
grow old with - in other words, a best friend, a companion, and a lover.
Maisie had tackled the problem methodically: read
every book available on the topic; followed advice given by friends, family and
work colleagues; joined a gym, lost weight and firmed muscles; been colour
assessed and had numerous make-overs; drunk endless lattes at popular cafés,
been out and about and generally available.
This year she’d tried out six new hobbies at various
evening classes, drawing the line at macramé, dropping them one by one when
time revealed Mr. Right didn’t have any interest in these particular subjects.
She’d joined several online dating websites, and, in spite of the constant
scrolling involved, dated no one she desired to spend more than five minutes
with, let alone the rest of her life. She’d placed ads in the ‘Personal’
section of every local and national newspaper, and gone on an endless succession
of blind dates with every eligible man anyone within her circle had even
vaguely heard of. Was she too fussy? Were her standards too high? Was
compromise, like those tv estate agents explained, the name of the game?
Start with friendship someone said. You need something
to hold the pair of you together when the lust clears from your brain. Malcolm,
Jon and Dave had qualified for this category, but, sadly, in their cases the
lusty phase hadn’t been present. All in all, Maisie had given the whole affair
top priority and attempted to conduct her search in a business-like manner. She
had met, and genuinely liked, some of her dates, but so far had come nowhere
near finding ‘The One’.
Maybe she should give this guy a miss? She contemplated
the idea for a minute, but determination wasn’t her middle name for nothing.
And what were her options? Nope, the search must continue. Today she was
meeting her friend Beth’s second cousin, Bill. Or was Bill the second cousin’s
best friend?
Aware of a sudden desire to use the bathroom, and
figuring she’d enough time to dash across the station and back, she placed the
book she’d said would identify her prominently next to her coffee. But what if
this Bill arrived early and didn’t wait? She’d done that once, when for no
reason an attack of nerves struck and she’d fled, leaving a probably very nice
young man standing alone and vulnerable outside a theatre.
‘Excuse me?’
The man behind the counter barely glanced at her.
‘I’m popping to the Ladies and leaving my book by my
coffee so my friend knows I’ve arrived. Is that okay?’ She took the grunt she
heard as acknowledgement, racing off and navigating her way through commuters and luggage at top speed. Checking herself in the mirror before
leaving the loo, she decided a quick flick of lipstick would have to do as
there wasn’t time or money for plastic surgery. A few minutes later, Maisie
re-entered the coffee bar completely out of breath and collapsed panting onto her stool,
grateful her date had not yet appeared. Recovering her poise, Maisie’s
adrenaline based buoyancy dissipated as the designated meeting time ticked
passed. A dark cloud of rejection hovered on the horizon. Despondently she
picked up her book.
‘Hi.’
Maisie gazed up into a pair of eyes so full of
humour, she beamed right back at their owner.
‘Bill?’
‘Sorry … Bill couldn’t come. He’s been unavoidably
delayed. He … er … asked me to come in his place. I’m Tom.’ He reached out,
grasped her hand, shaking it enthusiastically.
From that moment on the afternoon just got better
and better.
Tom first took her to an exhibition at the South
Bank, and in his company, despite the grey damp day, she felt as if she was
basking in warm sunshine. She didn’t remember ever having an interest in 1930’s
poetry, but somehow that day it was the most fascinating topic on the planet.
And they talked about every subject under the sun. Maisie had never experienced
feeling so comfortable with someone so soon after meeting them. It was as if
she’d known him her entire life.
Afterwards she couldn’t recall what or where they
ate, although she was aware the meal was delicious and the surroundings
elegant. When they finished eating, they took a leisurely stroll along the
Embankment, captivated by the illuminated London Eye as it turned in the night,
its reflection flickering in the Thames.
‘I’ve got a confession to make,’ Tom murmured softly
in her ear.
Fear and suspicion sprang fully formed into her
mind. Was he married? A single father with ten children? A bigamist? A serial
killer?
‘I told a lie when we met.’
Maisie’s brain froze, a mist formed in front of her
eyes, a fog paralysed her brain, her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and a
sense of impending doom descended. She didn’t deserve this. She was young and
her whole life lay ahead of her.
‘I’m not a friend of Bill’s, and he didn’t ask me to
come in his place,’ Tom continued.
Maisie couldn’t even nod, but stared, barely blinking,
mesmorized by the shiny buttons on Tom’s jacket.
‘The truth is Bill turned up at the station. He
arrived a moment after you dashed out. I informed him you were unable to stay,
but you left the book so I’d know who to give the message to.’ He put a hand
under her chin, raising her face so she had to look at him. ‘You see, from the
first moment I saw you, I knew I had to meet you.’
Maisie let out the breath she’d been holding. Her
vision cleared, and the hum of traffic impinged on her consciousness again.
‘You must think me crazy. Can you forgive me?’
Maisie looked over the dark river watching each
wavelet catch the light for a brief second as she considered the import of his
words.
‘Maisie?’
Without warning, she turned back to him, and flung
her arms around his neck. ‘Kiss me,’ she said.
THE END
If you enjoyed reading this story, please check out
my stories on Wattpad - just click on the images on the right. Or if you’re interested in something longer, I've published two novels - and one is free if the genre is to your taste.
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teagankearney@modhaiku
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To all story lovers out there,
good reading, and to those of you who write, good writing.
