Cecilia

A Story by Aimee Holt

its not finished yet!

I sat on the wooden bench. The damp immediately seeped into my skirt. It was a dowdy black one with fringing on the hem. I had found it in a charity shop for two pounds. I didn’t like to dress up, I didn’t want people to look at me; I almost didn’t take the skirt because of the fringing and how dressy it was. My ankle boots were black and so was my plain and sensible blouse; my coat and hair the same. I used to have a long mane of thick, shiny blonde hair but I dyed it black. I used to get far too much attention as a blonde; it was safe to have black hair. I made sure it didn’t gleam by not washing it for a week and then when I did I wore a black hat until the shine had gone. Nobody noticed and that’s how I wanted it to stay.

The wooden bench had iron curled around the edges to support it. I pulled out my newspaper from my deep chocolate satchel and rested it on my lap. I had planned my week already and it was only Sunday afternoon. I always came to the park on a Sunday afternoon. I enjoyed the way the leaves danced in the spring breeze; the lime bright against the sinister trunk. The cow parsley had claimed one of the flower beds and a beautiful hydrangea the other. I didn’t know very much about plants and had often wandered into garden centres to gaze at the different varieties. I would play games in my head seeing how many I could remember and if it was more than last time I would treat myself to a scone and clotted cream. I spent a lot of time there and it was easy; no one noticed the woman who blended in.

I concentrated on my newspaper and I was just finding out the weeks weather, when suddenly a dirty rugby ball landed on top of it. I looked up in frustration and a young man came striding towards me.

“I am so sorry, mam! I didn’t see you there and I didn’t mean for the ball to go this way! I had a bit too much to drink last night and its making my kicks a little wonky!” His eyes were the colour of faded blue jeans and they crinkled at the edges when he smiled.

“It’s no problem, honestly!” I gasped. I had spoken to a man for a good few years and Peter from the post office doesn’t count. I was talking about a man the same age as me and quite an attractive one at that.

“Well it would be rude for me not to buy you a new paper!”

“No, no, don’t worry its fine!”

“No, I insist! Let me just grab my bag and I’ll be with you.” And with that he dashed off to the boys, not before flashing me a grin. I noticed his teeth were perfect on the top row with a few wonky ones on the bottom. It must be the rugby, I mused as I watched him job back over.

“I think there is a paper section in here!” He said, as we walked to the coffee shop.

“Are you sure? I’ve never been in here before; I thought it was just for coffee and tea.”

“I’m positive! Me and the lads often come in here after a kick around and Wez always likes to read the sport section in the paper.”

“Oh, fantastic!” I said as we reached the counter. He glanced over my shoulder to check the name of the paper before ordering two coffees and two slices of chocolate fudge cake.

“You look like you need warming up!” He smiled. The barista offered to bring our order over and asked us which table we wanted. He chose one by the window and I slid onto the cheap wooden bench opposite him.

“What’s your name?”

“Cecilia, what’s yours?”

“Tom and sorry I didn’t ask beforehand, that is incredibly rude of me.” His eyes crinkled again.

“It’s okay; I’m not used to being noticed by anyone. Not saying that you have noticed me, I mean if it wasn’t for your ball then we wouldn’t have met.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Try and excuse yourself when you haven’t even done anything!”

“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t spoken to a male for a while.” It was my turn to attempt a smile. I felt a bit shocked; I know this wasn’t a date but usually men would make their excuses and leave when I started talking. I had never been stopped and asked why. The coffees and the huge slabs of cake arrived.

“We could have shared this! I probably would have been better to have the carrot cake or nothing at all!” I said eyeing the cake ruefully. It looked amazing but I would never usually treat myself to something as glorious as this. He pushed my coffee and cake towards me a smiled.

“Does this mean you’ll enjoy it more because you would have usually had the healthy option?”

I ducked my head and carefully loaded up a silver fork with a small chunk. Tom wolfed his down and I didn’t finish until a good quarter of an hour after. He didn’t watch me eat he opened the paper and read out some of the headlines and asked my opinion on the weather. Until now I had completely forgotten about Friday.

“What’s the weather for Friday?”

“It is meant to be sunny but there could be some cloud in the evening. Why?”

“Oh no reason really, it’s just the day I usually hang my bedding out on. I love the way it smells when it dries on the line.”

“So do I! I always try and make Ella shove it in the wash on nice days.”

“Ella?”

“Oh s**t, yeah sorry I should have said! Ella is my wife; she’s such a lovely lady.”