In its main theme this is a true story told me by Erica (not her real name), but embellished by me when it comes to intimate detail. I thank Erica for her permission to recount her story.
Erica is a small woman, about five feet one inch tall, and slender. She has small round breasts with, if what I have seen through a rather diaphanous blouse, small pointy nipples. Her legs are slim but nicely shaped. Her hair blonde (thanks to her hairdresser), nose perky, mouth bow shaped, age around fifty-five(?).
She lives in a house overlooking a small park that has a path crossing it to our river walk. It was along this path that I first met her as we walked our dogs.
She had not long moved into the house when we met, she having just left her medical specialist husband after thirty years of marriage. She was in that emotional state that requires an outlet. She wanted to tell someone about what was happening to her, and I became the chosen one.
Her situation is an odd one. She left her husband because she couldn't cope with their arguments any longer. Never the less, although they now live about eight hundred kilometres apart, every couple of months or thereabouts, Erica will go and spend a week with her husband. In similar manner, he occasionally appears at Erica's house and stays for a few days.
I think they still care about each other, but just can't live together.
Erica said that when she left her husband she carried in her head a fantasy. She would meet a nice man, they would fall in love, and live happily ever after. She claims that her husband also had a fantasy. When Erica left him a beautiful young blonde would come into his life. "It hasn't happened for either of us," she commented to me at that time.
Living in nearby suburbs are Erica's mother, now well into senility, her sister with whom she argues constantly, and her daughter who is very busy with her own life. As she said to me, "Am I going to spend the rest of my life just walking the dogs?"
Erica was unhappy. She needed someone around whom she could care for and who would care about her. She became depressed, and was seriously thinking about returning to her husband who was pressing her to come back. It was at this point a chance meeting began a process of change.
One morning she was sitting on a seat along the river path while her two dogs chased around hunting for imaginary rabbits. A young man came along with his dog, which began to play with Erica's dogs. The young man stopped, and he and Erica started talking.
It was the usual sort of talk one got along the river. The breed of dogs, the weather, was the river high or low, how many were out walking? The young man, who introduced himself as Ben, was a cheerful pleasant looking chap. Erica found herself enjoying the talk and the company.
After a while Erica said she had to be off home, and as Ben was going in the same direction, they walked together. Reaching her house, Erica bade Ben goodbye, and that, she thought, was that. But not so.
Thereafter Erica met up with Ben along the path quite often. It seemed that somehow their walking times just happened to coincide. Furthermore, Erica spent quite a lot of time working in her garden and from there, she could see who passed along the street. She began to see Ben passing her house frequently.
In their conversation she learned that Ben was twenty-one and was studying something or the other (she could never remember what).
One day walking back to her house with Ben, she took the bold step of inviting him in for a cup of coffee. Ben eagerly agreed, and put his stocks with Erica up by admiring a number rather nice antique pieces she owned.
Dropping in for a cup of coffee became a regular feature of Ben's life, and as many people who use the river path talk to each other, jokes began to circulate about how often Ben and Erica were seen together.
On the now few occasions when I met Erica out walking without Ben in tow, I found that no matter what the subject of our conversation, somehow Ben's name got into it, and we were soon discussing his latest doings.
