Funny Little Words Like Exquisite

Mel poured herself a coffee from the perculator and gave it a good stir. She preferred to do that. It saved her from swallowing the mouthful of dark, powdery gunk that would collect at the bottom of the mug. Normally, she would add a little cream, but her latest fad of a diet prevented such a treat. She wasn’t fat. Far from it, but she wasn’t as slim as she would prefer. Mel had never been totally happy with her shape, but, then again, did she know of any woman who was? No.
She seated herself at the kitchen table, cupping her mug in both hands as if in prayer. Jane would be here soon. Any minute now, in fact. The usual Wednesday morning chinwag. Every week without fail, they would fervently debate life as they saw it, armed with nothing more than good old caffeine and the odd cigarette or two. The usual subjects would be vigorously deliberated; men, more men, the soaps, the woman from number six who has definitely got another lover on the go, the price of bread these days. One pound fifty for one loaf? Disgusting. Nothing or no one would be safe from their scrunity. Of course, anything they did actually fail to ponder over was quite simply not worth talking about.
The opposite sex would be the initial subject on the adgenda. It always was. This time, however, it would be about one man in particular. Mel smiled ecstatically. She was beaming so widely, the edges of her mouth were in danger of falling off the sides of her face. She couldn’t wait to talk about Michael. Jane was bound to approve. Or at least she hoped so. If Jane endorsed a man, then he had to be good. There were no two ways about it. The prestigious Jane Carter Seal Of Approval was the badge of sheer excellence.
It was a pity that Mel hadn’t paid more attention to Jane about Steve. He had been the proverbial bad apple. Jane had known this from day one, but had Mel listened? No. And so it was to be. A whirlwind romance. A marriage too soon. A messy divorce. Luckily, there had been no children involved. There hadn’t been time. The other woman had sunk her salon-painted talons deep into Steve’s back long before the two of them had found a chance to talk families.
That had been eighteen months ago. Had it really been that long? It must have been. How time had flown. The first six months had been the worst. The endless crying. The regret. The anger. The sick, stomach-churning realisation that she had been taken for a fool. An idiot. No. Worse than that. A complete effing mug; not really descriptive enough for what she had felt inside, but it had to do. Fortunately, Jane had been there for her constantly. She could have played her ‘I told you so’ card, and she would have been perfectly within her right to do so, considering how utterly foolish Mel had been, but she hadn’t. Instead, she had been her rock. No, bigger than that. Her meteorite. Of course, the word meteorite didn’t have quite the same panache, but rock had always sounded too insignificant in comparison to how Jane had helped her through the worst episode of her life.
Michael was different. Very different. He was more of an open book. Much better than Steve. They had only been out together on two occasions, but, already, Mel knew almost everything there was to know about him. He ran his own business, selling vending machines to companies. Rather an odd choice of product to peddle, she mused, but essential in the great scheme of things. After all, no office would function properly without a good old drinks machine, no matter how badly the poor excuse for tea tasted. He had no children, but had considered the possibility of a family in the near future. That was a plus. Sure, the guy had been married and divorced, but hadn’t everyone by the time they reached their early forties? These days, it seemed to be the rule of thumb that you would marry quite early in life, then get the divorce and all subsequent complications neatly sown up as best as you could, ready for the second chance. Of course, it didn’t always work like that. Mel knew some people who were already on their third or fourth marriages. Surely that was too greedy. Wasn’t it?
The first date on Saturday had been a quick drink or two and then onto a restaurant. The meal had been exquisite, or at least that was the word Michael had used upon generously tipping the waiter. She had never been out with a man who said exquisite before. Weak alternatives such as ‘The meal was nice’ or ‘The meal was lovely’ was all she was used to. Funny little words like exquisite were new to her, but she kind of liked it.
After the meal, Michael had walked her home, but had declined her offer of a coffee on the basis that a gentleman refused to give into such weaknesses on a first date. It had all been rather quaint, but Mel had truly only meant a coffee. The second date on Monday had been dinner at her place, closely followed by bed at her place. The girl couldn’t help herself. It had been a while. And Michael was... well, you know. Too exquisite for words.
The doorbell sang its chime. It was Jane at last. The Wednesday morning chinwag was about to begin. Jane was equally jubilant, and proudly announced that she also had great news to share. Mel decided to save the best for last and allowed Jane to spill the beans first. Jane then ploughed into her story at full throttle. She gushed about how she had met a wonderful man last night called Michael who was kind and gentle and said funny little words like exquisite. Of course, once Jane’s story had been told, the shining smile that had adorned Mel’s face had completely vanished to nothing. She simply sat there in stunned silence.
‘So, Mel,’ said Jane expectantly. ‘What’s your news?’

THE END