Be Careful What You Wish!

Ding-dong! The sound of her doorbell jerked Shirley out of her reverie, back to the present. A policeman stood on her doorstep. He held an identikit of a middle-aged, bearded man in his forties. The man was sporting a big, black beard. He was wanted by the local police for housebreaking and, more seriously, attempted murder.

The policeman wanted to know if she had seen anyone of that description around the neighborhood. Shirley answered in the negative, absentmindedly running her fingers through her fine, light brown hair. She had lived in this neighborhood for many years, the neighbors all knew each other. A stranger would be noticed by someone.

Drip-drip went the hot water, as it slid over the instant coffee granules. Just like life itself, Shirley mused. Mundane, pedantic, and mostly boring. The local radio station hummed quietly to itself, regurgitating the daily casualties of life in the 21st century. An accident here, a parachute that didn't open there, a mother with six children evicted from her home because she had lost her job, war in Ukraine, and on and on and on, ad infinitum!

Outside, the rain-splattered windows revealed a collage of people and dogs. The mutt from next door was christening a nearby lamppost. He barked in silent, slow motion at the cat across the street. The cat looked bored too. Did cats even get bored, Shirley wondered idly. The sounds of the street were muffled by the double-glazed windows.

Her coffee was cold when she remembered it. Shirley changed stations. Classical music filled the house. Looking at her cellphone, she noticed a message from Moira, her nearest neighbor, asking her to buy some milk when she went to the shops again. Shirley didn't mind. People were starting to drift home from work. Collars upturned, against the evening chill, umbrellas at the ready.

Shirley had never married. After a disappointing love affair which she failed to recover from, she decided her heart was too sensitive to get broken into little pieces again. She surrounded herself with friends and extended family. But now, she was approaching middle age and really felt the loss of that someone special. Someone to just chit-chat with and swap the news of the day. To exclaim at the price of cheese and wonder what they would be doing for the upcoming weekend. The minutiae of life. She admitted to herself that she was lonely.

She sat down at her computer and trolled through her emails. Eventually, she plumped herself down on the too-soft sofa, the laptop cradled in her arms. She found herself on an internet dating site. Idly scrolling through it, she rated her possibilities. That man probably had a wife and six children, that one looked too old, that one too young, that one too hopeful, and that one too freckled. Was she just difficult to please? All her friends had married and settled down for better or worse. Well, in some cases it was for the worse, she decided.

Clicking off her computer for the night, Shirley turned in. It blinked its evil, green eye at her from her dressing table. Wink-wink!

Nothing ventured, nothing gained! Shirley returned to the dating site the next morning and answered an email from a 'Bryan'. He was an accountant from Leeds. Sounded nice. He was 43 years old and loved dogs, golf, fishing, and country walks. His picture showed a tall, dark-haired man, with a square face. They arranged to meet up the following, Saturday at the 'Lion and Fox' pub down the road. She fetched Moira's milk with her own shopping at the local grocer. Moira came to the door, hair in curlers. At sixty, her life was etched in furrows on her face. Wispy, grey hair escaped from under her scarf. Fluffy, dirty, pink slippers hid her gnarly, old feet.

The date went well. Bryan was personable, if not downright charming. Funny too. Shirley was a bit smitten. She had made an effort with her appearance. Moria had set her hair in curlers and a new pink lipstick graced her lips. "Ibiza blush", it was called. Her nail polish matched her lips.

They were married six months later in the little stone church on the corner. The whole neighborhood turned out to attend. And some of Shirley's closest friends. They made a nice couple, everyone said so. The only problem was Bryan's mother. She had to live with them. She had nowhere else to go. Her pension barely covered utilities. And she was a difficult and obstreperous old duck. Nothing was ever good enough for her. No woman would ever be good enough for her son. She found fault with everything. The house was too cold, the curtains were too loud, the yard was dirty, and the food wasn't to her liking. She needed to eat at 5pm and not at 6pm. Of course, Bryan sided with his mother. And Shirley found herself turning into a domestic drudge. She played middleman between Bryan and his mother, trying to keep the peace. The two often went at each other hammer and tongs. the slightest thing could send them off. Walking on eggshells is how Shirley thought of it.

One day, in winter, Bryan decided to grow his beard. He said it kept him warm in winter. Shirley complained that it tickled her. Not deterred, he grew a voluminous, dark beard. The romance had already gone out of their marriage. The funny, charming man she had met about a year ago was now not even home a lot in the evenings. Shirley wondered if it was to avoid her, or his Mum. She was left alone with his Mum, 'gran sitting', is how she thought of it. Not a whole lot of quality conversation going on. She may just as well be on her own, she thought ruefully. His Mum demanded to have the television on all her programs, she grew tetchy and petty if Shirley tried to get the remote from her.

It was sheer hell. She had to cut up the old lady's food, false teeth, being a problem. She also found herself meting out her medications. She had to help her into the bathtub. She couldn't manage on her own. I may as well be running an old age home, Shirley thought ruefully. There was never a thank you, or even an acknowledgement that her daughter in law had gone beyond the call of duty. Shirley had little time to call her own. Her once, quite carefree, if lonely existence has been supplanted by a stressful, loss of freedom. The family hardly visited and friends kept their distance. Shirley knew it was because Mildred, that was the old lady's name, would make it most unpleasant. She ordered Shirley around and treated her like a servant. It was demeaning.

A loud knock on the front door at midnight, about a year after their marriage, woke Shirley with a fright. On the doorstep stood a different policeman. The blue light of the patrol car flickered behind him. He flashed the same identikit that the first policeman had flashed at her more than a year ago. They had apprehended a man of Bryan's description in the next town. He had strangled a woman in her thirties with her pantyhose. She was a well-known prostitute in the town.

Shirley felt the blood run cold in her veins. How could she not have noticed? Could she not have seen the similarities between 'her' Bryan and this other stranger? He would be put away for a very long time. She ran her hair distractedly through her hair. She couldn't think straight. Her whole world was crashing down around her. She would be stuck with Mildred. Where was she going to live now? Who would take her? She would have to gran sit for the rest of her life! The awful reality struck home with a vengeance. When the policeman left she walked back into the lounge to tell Mildred the truth about her wonderful son.

The old lady just sat there with an impassive expression on her face while Shirley regurgitated the story in a daze. Shirley wondered if she comprehended the awful truth. Eventually, ever so slowly, she winked conspiratorially at Shirley. The true price for wishful thinking was starting to sink in!