Open Writing

Sally looked at her beautifully laid table: best linen, best silver, best crystal glasses ready to be filled with the champagne chilling in a silver bucket, tall red candles which when lit would produce the planned romantic pink glow, and sighed with satisfaction. It was perfect. But, she thought, as she moved to turn the oven down, the meal would not be perfect if Tom did not arrive soon.

She looked at her watch again. He was almost an hour late. Perhaps a meeting had run late, perhaps there was some problem with his flight from Melbourne. Friday evenings could be tricky and he didn't often come to Sydney on a Friday. That's why this evening was so special. They'd have the whole weekend together.

But why didn't he ring from the airport? She'd suggested meeting him there but as always he refused. 'No, no, the parking is too difficult. I'll just grab a taxi. Work pays for it anyway,' he'd say with a grin.

In frustration Sally poured herself a glass of wine, sat down and turned on the television, but after a few minutes she was back in the kitchen restlessly fussing with the meal. She'd put so much time into its planning so everything would be perfect.

Then the door bell rang. She made herself walk slowly to the door but when she saw Tom standing there, rain drops glistening in his hair, sad bedraggled flowers in his hand, she forgot everything and threw her arms around his neck.

'Sorry, I'm a bit late,' he muttered into her hair.

'As long as you are here my darling,' she replied helping him of with his coat, 'but why didn't you ring?'

'Left my jolly mobile in the office.'

'Was there a delay at the Airport?' She chatted as she led him into the living room and poured him a glass of wine. His answer was interrupted by a timer ringing in the kitchen and Sally dashing off calling, 'I'll have to see to that.'

When she returned he'd tossed off one glass of wine and was pouring another. Poor darling must have had a really tough day, she thought, but said, 'Hope you don't mind but I think we'd better eat straight away or the meal will be spoiled. It is a new recipe. Why don't you open the champagne and light the candles while I serve up?'

Normally Sally would have wondered why after a few minutes Tom had not joined her in the kitchen, putting his arms around her, nuzzling her neck, offering to help, making her giggle, but tonight she was too busy with the new recipe, too busy making sure everything was perfect.

Smiling triumphantly she carried the plates in, only to stop short on seeing him standing exactly where she'd left him, candles unlit, champagne unopened, an unfamiliar expression on his face.

'Sally,' he started as she put the food down and came towards him saying,' What is it? Aren't you well?'

'No, no, I er . . . er.'

Something in his eyes, something she'd never seen before, caused her to stop. 'Tom what is it?' she asked. But she already knew the answer.

He bowed his head.' Sorry Sal. But I can't do it. The kids are growing up and they need a father there in Melbourne.'

'And Mary?'

'Er, ah, she's been very understanding and we are going to give it another try.'

For a couple of minutes there was just a heavy cloud of silence, then Sally spoke. 'I'll get your coat.'

As she went to give it to him it fell from her shaking hand. His mobile phone clattered across the floor . . . the last straw in what was planned to have been a perfect evening.

© Colleen McMillan

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Colleen writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au