SAVED BY EMILY
A 50 year old disabled guy's chance meeting with a 19 year old changes their lives
Valerie and I met at an art gallery - yes, just like in the movies. I was only there as I had an hour to waste before a meeting. I had intended to walk from Battersea to Westminster, but the usual grey summer London sky had opened up and it was raining heavily, so I had taken refuge in the gallery.
I saw her as soon as I walked in. She was in her 30s, about 5' 2" and her long back hair was tied up. She had a white blouse tucked into her denim jeans, all finished off with a pair expensive trainers. As she bent over to retrieve something from her opened shoulder bag it was the jeans I remember the most. They fitted snugly in the right places as if painted on by one of the masters displayed in the room.
Our eyes met and I had to look away for fear of being seen as a pervert as I had rather over-stared at her.
She approached me and with a smile, asked if I could help her get the packaging open on a supermarket fruit cocktail she was about to consume in the actual gallery; you know, the little pot with the plastic spork in the lid. I helped her, after all I am a gentleman and that is what we do, but I did think it was a bit gross to 'picnic' in the middle of the Tate Britain.
Val introduced herself before explaining that she was a teacher who had been sent on a familiarisation visit as she was bringing a group of students there next week. She said couldn't afford the prices to eat there and didnt want to be surrounded by tourists in a canteen when she could be eating surrounded by such inspirational beauty.
"Thank you, you're not so bad yourself" was my rather tepid reply.
But it worked as she smiled, and what a smile. We enjoyed chatting for an hour and a half and swapped numbers as we said goodbye. We became an item, and two years on, we were engaged. Life was good, it was really good.
She got a promotion to a School in Oxfordshire. She was happy as housing was cheaper than London, however this made seeing each other difficult. I lived in central London and loved it. I was 43 and had made a fair living in the North Sea oil business before becoming a self employed project manager specialising in heavy lifting engineering.
Val had a wonderful house in the Oxfordshire countryside and although I stayed regularly overnight at weekends and holidays, Val didnt want us to live together until we were married. She was determined to make sure her young daughter was protected and shared my name.
In the two years since we met, sadly I developed a medical complication with my eyes. I could see pretty well, but my peripheral vision has been lost and isn't coming back. To add insult to injury, my driving licence was cancelled and I had to sell my beloved car. To say I was gutted is an understatement. My life was turned upside down and I fell into a deep depression. It was Val that kept me alive and encouraged me to keep my business going, albeit using contractors to do the site work and the travelling across the world - the part of my job that I used to love the most.
Since then, we haven't been doing as great as we have settled into a routine and not one that I am enjoying. I think it's my disability - I am now officially 'registered blind'. Yep, life had presented me with a disability where I cant get a disabled parking permit! To be honest, I really am not that disabled. I watch TV as long as there's no subtitles, play some computer games and can type -as I am now - on my PC with an additional bit of audio software.
But this curse of losing a significant part of my vision has had a lasting effect on my personality which just adds to the stress of life. I feel useless and less of a man. I am short tempered, moody and downright depressed on occasions. I was very active, but have had to give up squash, golf and I even struggle with swimming now too.
Val and I regularly rowed like we never had before. It was not good but we hoped the counselling I was getting would come smooth out my personality imperfections and rebuild my confidence.
We didnt see each other at Christmas, but I went to see her two weeks into the new year. Her daughter was at her sisters in London for the weekend so we went for a meal and drinks. It was really lovely. We went back to her place for more drinks and a kiss & cuddle, but I got the feeling she didnt want sex. When I asked if everything was OK, she dropped the bombshell that she wanted to put back the wedding 12 months to....'allow time for my counselling to work'.
We talked, we rowed and we argued. Val said I was really difficult to like with and had changed my personality since we met. Eventually, I decided I would sleep on the sofa and we could talk in the morning. I laid there with a 1001 thoughts going around in my head. She was right, I had changed and I wasn't a nice person or the same guy she had met. Why would she want me? I may lose all of my sight and she will be lumbered looking after a cripple, cutting my food and wiping my arse.
I was plummeting into a really deep place so decided to go home as I couldn't face Val in the morning. I booked a taxi to take me to a coach stop where I knew a 24/7 express coach runs from Oxford to London. I reckoned I would just make the 4am coach, getting me home just after 6am.
I through my meagre possessions into my bag and put some jogger bottoms and a sweat shirt on. My phone purred gently informing me that the cab was outside. Perfect! So quietly, closing the front door as gently as possible I left. The cab drove off and I made sure I was not looking back in case I had woken her. The cold air woke me up and I now wasn't sure what the fuck I was doing.
The cab dropped me off at a motorway junction in the pitch black and middle of nowhere between Oxford and High Wycombe. I usually travel by train to Saunderton, a little town in Buckinghamshire and Val will drive over to pick me up. So I wasnt familiar with the 24hr coach service. However the coach apparently leaves the motorway at Lewknor, does its pick ups on a country lane and it then travels back on the motorway to London.
The cab pulled away leaving me in silence and in the dark. This is not great for me as I need good light to find my way around. I saw through the dimmest of street lighting that I was perhaps in the bleakest place in the Thames Valley. No buildings, nothing, just a cold inhospitable looking bus shelter and a rubbish bin - and nothing for miles other than the motorway traffic on a flyover above. As I approached a shelter in this isolated spot, I was surprised to see a young girl huddled in a corner looking a little terrified of me.
"Is this the right stop for London?" I asked, more to reassure her I wasn't a rapist.
"Yes, it will be here in about 20 minutes" she replied.
She looked freezing as she was wearing a short faux fur jacket, a light skirt and trainers. It was cold now as the wind at this exposed location was swirling around the bus shelter.
After some polite conversation, I offered a hoodie from my bag, but she refused it. But a short while later when her teeth began to chatter, she accepted my offer and wrapped it around her long legs like a blanket.
She explained she'd been to her brother's graduation ceremony at an Oxford College and to a party at her brother's flat afterwards. But the party got out of hand when she had rowed with guy who was aggressively coming onto her, so she decided not to stay over.
She was 19 and at University in London studying medicine. As she told me a short biography, it was obvious she had a bright and vivacious personality - not to mention a stunning body (which, to make it clear, I am not mentioning).
I repeated my similar story about my row with Val and suggested with were both 'relationship refugees' which made her smile. She said she hated travelling alone when it was late and asked could she sit with me in the coach so men wouldn't think she was alone?
She added "You can be my Dad for the morning".
