Chapter 5
The following morning Stan woke up, did the painkillers-and-water routine, and he slowly put himself together.
He'd been very tired when he returned home the previous night and had fallen asleep the instant he hit the bed. This morning his thoughts kept replaying Denise's parting comment. His best friend was telling him, "You've got to get over it sometime... why not now?"
'Doesn't she know the pain I've been going through? Doesn't she understand that I can't do that to Caron?' he thought.
On the verge of tears, he decided to try to cheer himself up with some breakfast, so he puttered around in his kitchen for a while, making toast and coffee. It allowed his body to continue on autopilot while beginning to think a little more rationally. The caffeine and calories would help improve matters, too.
Maybe Denise
did
understand, he decided a little while later. Perhaps he should call her, talk about it, find out what she meant.
Talking, yes. It's what friends did. 'Umm...'
He realised that, despite their friendship, he'd never called her at home. In fact, he didn't have her home phone number! After several moments of near panic he was able to remember her address and went to find a phone book.
Bottomley, D.
wasn't there. She had an unlisted number. 'Shit!'
'Elizabeth,' he thought. 'Elizabeth might have it.'
He
did
have Elizabeth's number; she'd been to dinner with Caron and Stan several times before last November.
"Elizabeth? It's Stan."
"Hello, Stan! What can I do for you?" she replied into his ear.
"Um... I was wondering, er, do you, um... Do you have Denise's number?"
"Why, Stan, I thought you were phoning to ask about
me
," she teased. Stan could only stammer in response, before she let him off the hook. "Sorry, Stan, I don't. I think Elaine might, though, and I've got
her
number. Do you want it?"
"Yes please, Elizabeth." She started to read it out to him, and he suddenly realised something, "Wait! I need to get a pen and paper." He heard a giggle from the other end as he grabbed for notepad and pen.
"Are you ready
now
?" she asked. He could
see
her arched eyebrow.
"Yup!" he said, with more confidence than he actually had.
She read out the number again, and he confirmed it back.
"Now," Elizabeth said, "What do you want to phone Denise for on a Saturday morning?"
He grimaced, and then realised Elizabeth
couldn't
see
his
expression. He said, "It's just something she said last night. I just wanted to chat with her."
"Can you tell me what it was she said, or is that a secret?"
"It was nothing much, I just want to chat. Cheers, Elizabeth, have a good weekend!" He rang off before Elizabeth could ask any more, took a deep breath, and called Elaine.
The phone rang several times before being answered, somewhat sleepily.
"Hi, is that Elaine?" Stan asked.
"No, it's not. Do you have a wrong number?"
"Oh. Wait, you're Susan, aren't you? This is Stan, from last night, I need a quick word with Elaine."
"Oh, OK, Stan, but you seriously want to wait until later. We didn't get to bed until three, and well, we didn't sleep right away..." He heard a giggle.
Stan apologised again, rang off, and waited. He put on some music – a little light classical stuff for now, he couldn't deal with anything heavy – read the paper, and chilled out.
He awoke with a start. The CD had finished, and the paper was on his lap, half unread. Blearily, he checked the time – eleven thirty. 'The morning's gone already,' he thought, chuckling to himself, 'Best I ring Elaine.' He dialled the number.
"Hello?"
"Hi Elaine, it's Stan. You awake this time?"
Elaine laughed into the phone and Stan thought he could hear another giggle in the background as well.
"Susan still with you, then?" he asked, with a smile.
"Yes, she's right next to me. Do you want to know what we were doing?"
"Not
right
now, Elaine, I think that might be 'Too Much Information'. Actually, I'm trying to get hold of Denise. Elizabeth thought you might have her number."
"Oh. Wait a moment." She did.
She read out a number to him, which he confirmed back off of his notepad. Stan thought that Elaine sounded a little sheepish – or embarrassed?
"OK there, Elaine?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure. I'll see you on Monday," she replied.
"Oh. Okay," he said, and they hung up.
'What was THAT about,' he wondered.
- - - - - - - - - -
He thought about what to ask Denise. Actually, he'd been thinking about it a lot, without coming to any definite solution – which bothered him. Stan hated talking to anyone without a definite plan of the conversation, beyond superficialities. 'A legacy of my childhood,' he thought.
Stan was an only child, and when he'd qualified to attend one of the last grammar schools in the country he'd been as happy as his parents. What he
hadn't
been expecting was that the single-sex aspect would affect him so much.
'I sure as heck didn't learn much about
girls
. Caron had to chase me, else we'd have never got together,' he thought.
He reflected for a moment on how Caron had set him up...
Emma Tilly.
She'd walked up to Stan, bold as brass, at work. She was a part time model, and used the 'model walk', with one foot crossing over the other.
