Daniel

Daniel had aged considerably since his wife died. His once toned body was now flabby due to beer and neglect, his hair greyed around his temples. He lit his tobacco pipe by the office window and stared nine floors down to the dark, windy street below, worry lines etched into his forehead.

Regent Street was empty, save for a lone figure walking briskly. Over at Clayton, under the faint glow of streetlights, five or six scantily clad prostitutes patrolled the pavement, flaunting their bodies at the occasional pedestrian, indifferent to the rough evening breeze.

His phone buzzed abruptly. He checked the number, then lifted the handset. “Yes?”   Mrs. Rhodes, his secretary.

“I’m about to go home,” said the chubby, talkative woman, her voice light and musical.

 “… want to remind you of your meeting over at Cargill, first thing monday morning. Nine o’clock. I hope you have a nice weekend.” She paused. But not hearing a response, she continued.  “Please don’t stay here too long. It’s the weekend! A man like you needs to be out dating and making new friends. Told you – my sister Mavis fancies you. She’s a good church woman, beautiful long hair and a decent cook. You’ll like her.” she added, beseeching her boss.

Daniel had met Mavis once before. An overweight, religious, nut-of-a-woman with stained buck teeth and a unibrow. He remembered her well. In fact, he wished he could forget. He tried to be polite.

“She’s too young for me, thanks.”

“Alright, you don’t like her. Come to church with me and Charlie, next Sunday, and I’ll fix you up with someone else. A man need a good woman at home…a help mate as they get older. You’re still quite a catch…. Tall, successful and not bad-looking, really.”

Daniel chuckled.

“…not bad-looking? Well, thank you, Ms. Rhodes.”

“So…. You going to reconsider, then?” she smiled optimistically. His response was gentle but firm. 

“That will be all, Ms. Rhodes. Goodnight.”

 She let out a faint sigh.

“Well, I’ll be off then.”

The phone went ‘click’. He could hear the clatter of her shoes in the outer room as she strode across the marble floor, shutting the door behind her.

He returned to the window. I hope you have a nice weekend. Her words rang in his ears, taunting him, making jest of his loneliness.

His gaze shifted towards the far end of the dark horizon where freeway lights snaked brightly out of the city, towards the suburbs. Home. Disinterested, he gazed down again. Over at the street corner the girls spread across the road. One leaned into a car, soliciting its occupants.

He’d never solicited sex before.

You only have one life. Live a little!  he whispered to himself. Live! Perhaps tonight he’d be bold and talk to them. He didn’t need sex, really – Just someone friendly to talk to and maybe have dinner with. Nothing needed to happen. It’ll be alright. His face flushed suddenly, discomfort and shame from his rising excitement.  

He inhaled a long, slow final draft from his pipe. Checking his watch, he grabbed his briefcase and made for the door, switching the lights off as he walked out of the office and hurried down onto the street.