Tempus Frangit
By Denham Forrest, writing as Misnomer Jones
Tempus Frangit, Capitulus IV
Sylvia and Rose bounced into the bungalow – or whatever you like to call it – just after five o'clock, as if they had not a care in the world. The two grinning Neanderthals they called 'Win' and 'Mol' followed them.
Two guys Douglas and I took to referring to -- between ourselves -- as 'arsehole' and 'asshole'. Hey, I never would have imagined that the difference between American English and the real thing, would come in so handy.
Anyway Douglas's temper got the better of him and... well, I -- and a couple of those yellow shirted security guards -- had to separate the two of them. Me holding Douglas back as best I could, and the two yellow shirts restraining the guy the girls called Win, before bundling him outside.
The other guy, Mol or whatever his name was, bravely inserted himself between the two women and the altercation and then did... well, he did sod-all actually, but stand there with a nonplussed expression on his face, mouth agape.
I have to say that for all his size -- and apparent fitness -- the Win bloke didn't put up a very good show against Doug, even though Win did have the upper hand. Whether Win was going easy on Doug, or he just wasn't used to fisticuffs, I have no idea. Whatever Mol, followed his mate outside rather sharpish once a little decorum had been re-established.
But Douglas hadn't got his emotions completely under control and once the four of us were alone, he tore into Rose – verbally. Who matched him word for word and gave him back as good as she got. Don't ask me exactly what they said to each other because with both of them shouting at the top of their voices, I couldn't exactly hear.
No, I didn't instantly lose my own cool with Sylvia. Even though I was not enamoured with the idea, I suppose I had accepted the inevitability of was about to happen. Because I knew that -- in Simul's peoples' history at least -- it already had happened, and by that time in my life I was way past the point where I could be bothered to cry over spilt milk.
I just stood there, without speaking, glowering at Sylvia. Who at first looked a little nervous until Rose took a holier than thou stance in her argument with Doug, then Sylvia began to look a little more belligerent.
But then when the Sugget's eventually ran out of steam, Sylvia went on the attack and complained that I'd embarrassed her in front of everyone. That inevitably led to my retaliating.
"How have I embarrassed you, Sylvia? I didn't go gallivanting off with a youngster half my age without word, and leaving my spouse behind."
Okay a complete exaggeration, those guys had to have been in their mid to late twenties and Sylvia was only thirty-two; but really, I was trying to make a point.
"George, it meant nothing. Things are different here; men and women don't get married like we do back home."
"No, they don't, Sylvia! But that's no reason to forget that you are married to me. At the moment anyway, the way you're going I can't see us being married long after we get back to our own time again."
"Oh, that's silly, George. You boys are taking this all too seriously. In a few days Adona's people will transport us back home and we'll be laughing about this together."
"If you think that, Sylvia; you've got another thought coming. Now if you don't mind I'm going to take a shower, then we'd better eat. We're going to a concert tonight."
"Concert, no. The boys told us they have an ice-skating rink in one of the domes. They are taking us..."
"Sylvia. I am going to a concert, and if you have any sense left in your head, you will come with me."
"No, George, their music is rubbish, I don't like it anyway. Why don't you come ice skating with us?"
"You have to be kidding, me go along with you, with that freak sniffing round like a dog on heat? How long do you think it would be before I wiped that smirk off his face permanently? Sylvia, you might not realise how angry I am about the way you've been behaving around those wankers, but I'm damned sure he does. I'm going to the concert, either you come with me, or you don't come. Honestly, I just don't give a damn anymore."
Our evening meal with just the four of us – our two minders trying to keep out of the way, I should imagine -- was a somewhat sombre affair. You know, I don't believe any of us said more than two words during the whole meal.
But Sylvia must have been doing some thinking though, because very suddenly after the meal she started to change her position to a more conciliatory stance. I'll admit that she could only do this because I had -- I suppose some folks would say childishly -- switched into dumb mode. I refused to reply or react in any way when she spoke to me. Come-on fella's, we've nearly all had the missus play that card at least once in our lives; I wanted to see how Sylvia would react to the treatment.
Very oddly, I thought, Sylvia seemed to be under the impression that... well, when push came to shove, I'd cave and go ice-skating with her, Rose and their new friends. I can only assume that she and Rose believed Douglas would do the same. A very strange conclusion for them to come to, after Douglas's violent outburst earlier, I thought.
But then, I've never claimed to be able to understand how the female mind works. I know to have gone to the ice rink, would have effectively meant total surrender of our principles. And I was also aware that -- short of actually physically stopping her -- there was nothing I could do to prevent Sylvia from going skating with those idiots, if she chose too.
I think the fact that Doug and I chose to wear togas told the girls where we were going, the same as their choice of those leggings and short dresses informed Doug and I of their decision.
However the shock on both Sylvia and Rose's faces was plain to see when Chaise and Myra arrived in the golf trolley again to pick us up.
"Did you have the front to lecture me about going ice-skating with Mol and Win, when you were intending to cavort around with those little tarts this evening?" Sylvia demanded.
"Sylvia, I invited Chaise and Myra to come with us, you and me, to the concert tonight. It's you who decided to go gallivanting elsewhere without consulting me. Now you have a choice, the concert... or off with lover-boy. Frankly after your behaviour today, I don't give a monkey's where you go!"
There were a few moments when I'm sure that Sylvia was in two minds. But then her facial expression changed. I'd say a look of sad understanding more than anything else, came over her face. I really do believe that was the instant that Sylvia realised that she'd probably already pushed my patience too far.
"George, I'm sorry. I think I should go ice-skating with Rose, don't you?" She suddenly said.
"Sylvia, I told you, I don't give a damn what you do, from now on!"
"I'm sorry, George." she said. Then she burst into tears and ran back into the building.
