Jackie

I’m at a wedding when I see her, the most beautiful woman I could imagine. She’s dressed in her best, knee length baby blue silk. It matches her eyes, and the diamonds around her neck glint when she laughs. I sit and watch her, mesmerised and oblivious to the world around me, as she sips her drink and sways or claps along to the music. My heart races as she stands up to join the dancing, terrified to lose sight.

I stand up too. I need to use my hand and the sturdy wooden table to help me. I must have had a few more drinks than I remember. I see an offered arm too late to take it up, but smile and thank the woman offering it. Beautiful too, and implacably familiar, but too young for me. She smiles back, as if expecting something, so I thank her again as I approach the entrancing blue stranger.

I offer her my hand, intercepting just before she can start looking for a partner, “Can I have this dance, gorgeous?” I ask, with a grin. If I had a hat I’d take it off. I can’t stop staring into her eyes, there’s something about her that just draws me in. I feel deep in myself that I’m supposed to be with her, now and forever. Soulmates, is that the word?

She laughs as she takes my hand, then the other, pulling me close enough that our chests almost touch, the little silk rose in my buttonhole brushing against her cap sleeve. I can smell her perfume, sweet roses and a hint of ethanol. It smells like home, and pulls on strings in my memory I can’t grasp. We dance together, stepping left then right and our bodies moving the same, in time with the music.

My heart races, and I summon all my bravery to let go of her hands, moving them down to her waist. Her dress is slightly slippery, and I can feel her flesh underneath. Soft, yielding to my touch, she’s healthily plump, and she’s letting me touch her. I must be red as a beetroot when I look back up to her face again. Her hands have moved to my shoulders, forearms on my back, and she’s pulling me closer. The buttons of my shirt are pressed tight between our bodies, I can feel her breath against my neck.

“My name’s Jack,” I hurry to tell her, trying to prove I’m a decent, respectful man, not some lech that just wants to touch her, “Jack Evans. I work at the Barclays in town.”

She looks into my eyes with a smile, but her own eyes look sad, wetter than when I last noticed. She’s sad, and she’s sad about me. I don’t understand why, but she’s still swaying with me, her perfume is still overtaking my senses, I can still feel her breath, so I don’t question it and push my luck, “Jackie,” she tells me.

“Jack and Jackie, it must be fate,” I joke, trying to cheer her up, “Can I see you again, Jackie? I have my own car.” I’m boasting slightly, but so do all men when they want the attention of a beautiful girl. 

She’s crying now, and I let go of her sides, but she pulls me closer, her hands both cupping the back of my head, “Oh, Jack…” she sniffles, and before I can apologise she kisses me. She tastes like wine and menthol cigarettes, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.  I’m in love, and I know I’ll spend the rest of my life with her. We stop kissing and she keeps me in her arms, our swaying is out of rhythm with the faster music that’s now playing. I let my hands fall back into place, to her hips where they belong, as she dries her tears on my shirt.

I hear someone behind me say “Dad,”, once then again, until I turn my head towards the voice, a young man I don’t know. But there’s no apology for the mistake, just a smile from the boy. Taller than his frame should allow, ruddy young cheeks and hair too long for a man.

“Let’s get you sat back down, hey?” he suggests.

I pull Jackie closer, my hands on the small of her back now. I can feel the elastic of her underwear through her dress, and I want to take her home, “Can’t you see we’re busy? Find another girl,” I tell him, and kiss Jackie this time, firm, laying my claim. I already know I love her, and that she’ll be my wife someday, she’s my soulmate. She pushes her face back into my neck after the kiss breaks, crying again. I turn to glare at the man upsetting her, “Fuck off. She’s crying.”

“Come on, dad, it’s-” he starts, and I’m ready to swing. Trying to take my woman, and then calling me old? It’s enough to deserve it. Lucky for him, a woman is soon between us, and I’d never hit a woman. She’s facing away from me, blonde hair to her shoulders and dress the same blue as Jackie’s. I stop watching the lovers argue, but Jackie is watching them now, and starting to interject, telling them not to fight. I’m confused, I don’t know how she knows them, or how I know the couple. Am I really that drunk, to not know who’s getting married?

I let go of Jackie, suddenly needing to sit down, “I’m going to get some air…” I tell her, and walk from the dancefloor, towards the white flaps of the wedding marquee. It’s an age before I’m sitting on a wooden bench just outside, staring out into a vast rural garden as the sun sets. It’s beautiful, and I close my eyes. Jackie will come and find me, and then I’ll drive her into town and we’ll have a roast at the restaurant in the hotel. I love Jackie.