"I never would have believed this!" she thought as she looked in the mirror.
It had once been so simple, her life, work, looking after hubby, seeing the kids and grandkids on weekends. So simple. So ordered.
She knew that she had been restless, that her thoughts had sometimes strayed into areas where they shouldn't , but she would never have done anything about it, really she wouldn't, until she met Alan at that damned evening class.
She'd only joined to get out of the house. She needed something other than four walls and work. She needed to breathe, to create, to think freely, so she joined an art class. She'd been lousy at art at school, and she didn't think she'd be any better now, but it got her out of the house and into new company once a week.
That's how she met Alan. He was a few years older than her, mid fifties maybe, not too tall and stockily built, with a pleasant smile. Most of the others in the group were either much older or younger than them, so they almost naturally gravitated toward each other in the mid class tea break, laughing at their rather pathetic attempts to paint a vase of flowers. They sat together at a small table and sipped their tea, making small talk. He seemed a little sad, she thought, and she wondered if for him, as for her, the class was an escape from something. She found herself oddly drawn to him, and when the class finished she left reluctantly. She saw him in the lobby and said "See you next week then." And he smiled and said "Yes, I'll be here, ruining another piece of good art paper." They both laughed and walked their separate ways.
When the next class came around, she found that she was looking forward to seeing him again. Odd, really, as she'd hardly thought about him all week, well maybe once or twice, just as she was drifting off to sleep, seeing those hazel eyes looking into hers, wondering how it would feel to .....
"Stop it!" she thought. Damn, she hardly knew the man, she'd only met him once, hardly spoken to him, and here she was imagining his hands........
"Damn, pull yourself together woman!" she told herself sharply, but when she arrived at the class and there was no sign of him, a little knot of disappointment formed in her stomach. A few minutes later, however, he came through the door, and she felt as if the room grew a little brighter with his presence.
This time, during the tea break, she managed to arrange things so that they were away from the others, and he seemed happy to fit in with this. In fact, she imagined that if she didn't know better he could have been thinking along the same lines. This time talk turned to family. He was married, he said, but he'd wanted something to get him out of the house now and again, so he'd joined the art class. "Snap." She replied.
Over the weeks, their friendship seemed to grow quickly, each one seeking out the other at break time and the more they got to know each other the more natural it seemed, then the long summer break loomed, no classes for six weeks. On the last night, they sat together drinking tea and saying how much they would miss the evening out.
Alan fidgeted for a moment, then he said "Jane, may I say something to you without you taking it the wrong way?"
"Of course, anything."
"Well," he hesitated, it's not just the classes I'll miss, it's our chats, your company. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. You're a married woman."
"And you're a married man," she replied " but that doesn't mean we can't be friends, does it?"
"No, it doesn't." he answered, looking relieved. "Look, do you think it would be OK for us to meet for a drink say, during the holidays, I mean a real drink, not PG Tips. Just as friends I mean. Tell me to get lost if you're offended."
She laughed "I'm not offended, I'm amazed, why on earth would anyone want my boring company?"
"Oh you aren't boring, far from it!" he protested quickly.
"Will you tell your wife you're going out with another woman?"
He looked sheepish "No, I couldn't" he said "she would never believe it was innocent. Does that mean you'll come?"
"Yes, I will come Alan. Thank you for asking me"
"I must be crazy!" she thought "What am I doing? I'm agreeing to a date with a married man!"
"Will you tell your husband?" he asked.
"I'll tell him as much as you tell your wife." She answered.
They met a few days later in a quiet street a short walk from her house. He pulled up and she climbed into his car quickly, feeling like a total fraud. He drove them out to a small country pub where they were both sure that nobody they knew would see them. The place was quiet, and they bought drinks and sat in a corner of the room, both a little nervous of the situation.
"It's crazy we have to do this in secret," he said " but you know what people would think if they saw us."
"I know," she replied "but now we're here lets just relax and enjoy the evening."
"Where does your husband think you are?" he asked her.
"Out with some girls from work."
He laughed "My wife thinks I'm out with the lads," he said "not that I do that much, it's not really my scene."
"What's your wife like?" Jane asked "You never talk about her much."
A shadow crossed his face. "Well, she has health problems," he said "bad arthritis for a start. I think the world of her, but sometimes...."
"Sometimes?" she prompted.
"Well, they say in sickness and in health, but why does it sometimes have to be years of sickness? It doesn't seem fair. I look at other men, with fit healthy wives, walking with them, things like that, and I feel, well, bitter I suppose, and a bit jealous."
She reached out and put her hand on his, then as quickly drew back, realising what she had done. Her fingertips tingled where she had touched his skin, and there was a tightness in her chest that she'd never noticed before. He leaned toward her.
"Can I tell you something very personal Jane? I mean without upsetting you. Something I've never told anyone, but I think of you as a close friend."
"Of course you can, Alan, anything." She said.
"Well," he hesitated "the thing that I really miss is the physical side, you know what I mean?"
Her heart seemed to jump in her chest "Yes, I know what you mean Alan." She replied.
"We haven't done anything like that for ages," he said "she's always in too much pain or too doped up on her painkillers. It's not her fault, but I really miss that side of things.
It's not just the sex, it's the closeness, the sharing."
"Alan, you don't need to explain, I understand." she said. She reached out for his hand again, and this time she didn't draw back. She squeezed his fingers in hers tenderly.
