It had been just under a month since
Abigail had moved in, and the sex was still at the ‘wow!’ stage. And that wow
had a capital double u. I lay in the dark utterly satisfied. God knows how long
we’d been at it, but the luminous hands of my alarm clock told me it was
1.30am. I should be asleep; I had work in the morning.
“I love you,” I whispered, and rolled away
from her. She murmured something similar,
showing me she was already dozing. I covered my eyes with the crook of my arm
and felt myself drifting off to sleep.
But I never got there. I sensed movement
first, then heard it. Just as crazy, semi-lucid dreams were replacing
consciousness I realised Abigail was getting out of bed. I turned to see her
beautiful bum exit the room. Toilet, I guessed, or maybe a glass of water; she’d
be back soon. But then I heard something I wasn’t expecting; the sound of the
front door closing. Abi had left the flat.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes, maybe I’d
imagined it. I listened for the sound of Abi’s footfalls, but all I heard was a
car door slam and an engine spring to life.
She’d gone. I got up and went to the toilet
before padding in to the kitchen to see if she’d left a note or any clues to
the reasons for her midnight flit. But there was nothing. I scratched my balls,
and rubbed my hair. Where the hell was she going?
I went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Why
had she walked out on me?
I thought back through the sex. Had I been
a selfish lover again? If I had, then she was a brilliant actor. Did I use the wrong name? Had I called her Cyndi?
God she’d gone through the roof the other time I did that, and that wasn’t even
during sex. I didn’t think I’d used any name, but who knows what pops out in
the heat of the moment. I sat in bed staring at the shadows on the wall,
listening for her car to bring my woman back. But the street was quiet.
I reached for my phone and dialled her
number. It rang on the bedside table next to me. She hadn’t taken her phone. But I didn’t know
if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Did that mean she was coming back? Or
did she not want me to find her.
I got up again and went in to the kitchen. I
ran the tap and filled a glass of water and looked out of the window and at the
empty parking space where her car had been.
Then a light swept into the street. A car,
was it her car? No, it drove on by. I realised my heart was really rushing, my
head aching. Another car pulled in to the street and I finally breathed out. It
was her. I watched her pull up and reverse into the space expertly. Even in my
confused state I was a little jealous at her driving ability. She skipped
across the road and let herself into the building.
“Oh hi,” she said on seeing me in the
living room. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Where’ve you been?” I asked, trying to
sound as cool as possible.
“Twenty-four hour Tesco,” she said, taking
her clothes off.
“Why?”
“I needed some tights for work tomorrow,”
she said. “Can I have some of that?” She pointed to the water. I handed her the
glass. “You should be asleep; you’ve got an important meeting tomorrow.” She
said. She took my hand and led me back to bed.
“Love you,’ she said as she curled up next
to me. Moments later she was snoring contentedly, leaving me wondering who the
weird one was.
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