The Right Words

“I’m not very good with words.”

A classic understatement if there ever was one. Strolling along the city’s riverbank that was close to home, Sally could hear Roger saying it as if he was with her now. She wished he was!

Roger and Sally had been friends for years. In spite of numerous outings and hours spent meandering along country pathways, coasts, woods, and parkland together, they’d come no closer to expressing whatever it was that held them back. If altering familiar patterns for something deeper was like breaking a taboo, surely it could only end up being more rewarding than what they had at present.

Sally had always been the ying to Roger’s yang. Or was it the other way round? When he’d moved away from their hometown after leaving to work abroad, it had seemed like a dealbreaker. Yet at the moment of parting, he’d said nothing about the effect it would have on their friendship and neither had she. They’d kept in touch sporadically, mostly through WhatsApp and the odd phone call, but lately when he’d called it had been like trying to squeeze out the last drop of toothpaste from a nearly empty tube.

Narrowly avoiding a cowpat that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere, Roger’s absence was like a hole that needed filling in a tooth, only more painful. Knowing it needed fixing, the tongue kept going back to it.

•••

Once, piqued by curiosity, Sally had opened Roger’s bathroom cabinet and discovered what seemed like thirty thousand toothpaste packets, all neatly arranged. Unlike herself, she couldn’t imagine him accidentally dropping one down the toilet while rushing to meet some impossible deadline. His expression when he’d travelled in her cluttered Beetle, was at best circumspect. It was certainly a marked contrast to the experience of being in his cherished Aston Martin which he drove with a quiet pride. Fortunately he avoided commenting on her driving skills, and although she secretly adored being a passenger in his car, she’d never admitted as much.

On the other hand, Roger had always admired the fact that Sally was great with people, as well as being a brilliant community fundraiser. At one event, he’d watched goggle-eyed while dressed up in a turkey outfit, she'd charmed everyone in sight for a children’s charity event.

“You were amazing out there. I could never do what you do.” It was the best compliment he’d ever given her.

So why had she found herself needing more?

Personally, Roger preferred working with things rather than people. While Sally was prepared to take on the world, with the exception of sports cars, caution was Roger’s middle name. That was why she’d been astonished when he’d stepped out of his comfort zone to work abroad.

Roger and Sally had often laughed at their chalk and cheese-like natures, agreeing it made for a stronger friendship. Yet during the last year, with his calls trickling off, she was starting to wonder whether he was only ringing her out of some sense of misplaced duty. 

Not that she could blame him after the abysmal way she’d treated him the last time he’d visited. Now she wanted to tell him she’d only rejected him out of fear. On that occasion, she had been the stilted one!

•••

Then just as she was about to give the whole thing up as a lost cause, he’d contacted her out of the blue saying he was returning to his old job at the science park, and would she like to meet up?

Of course, she wanted to meet up. She had big plans for the meet up, especially now after a few misadventures she’d rather forget about, she was single again.

Needing to tell him the truth, she decided she’d make up for everything by cooking him a meal he’d never forget.

Roger happened to be a great cook, so it wasn’t going to be easy. After checking out various recipes, Sally finally settled on a curry dish she knew he’d like. More risky was the choice of Baked Alaska, a delicious miniature ice cream mountain dessert he raved about and had loved as a child. For some reason, Roger preferred to eat the dish warm. Sally had prepared well, doing a few trial runs on her daughter with happy results.

So, what could possibly go wrong?

**

During the warmer months, inexperienced punters weaved their poles from one section of the river to another, sometimes with hilarious results. Breathing in the charcoal air, Sally ambled along, until leaving the river behind she made her way through the city’s spires and towers. Now less verdant, but stunning in their autumn reds and golds, the trees in the park tapered off into a high street filled with opulent shops and bustling restaurants. Sally only stopped when she reached the city’s market.

Set in a square, surrounded by businesses and an ancient church, its canopies kept the worst of the chill at bay. There were an eclectic mix of stalls, some offering gifts for tourists at inflated prices. Sally’s first port of call was the one selling coffee beans. In the past, she’d visited the stall with Roger who was a bit of a connoisseur. So much so, she was on first name terms with the market trader, Ted.

“Your usual?” Ted asked pleasantly.

“Roger’s coming over later and you know how particular he is about his coffee. I need something special. What do you recommend?”

“My Kenyan, Brazilian, and Guatemalan beans have arrived. You could try mixing 20 per cent of the Kenyan and 40 per cent of the other two. That should give you a balanced blend. I can see him going for that. How is Roger, by the way?”

“He’s fine. At least, I think he is. I haven’t seen him for a while. I’m cooking him a meal. I’m a bit nervous about it. Thanks for the recommend with the beans. One less thing to worry about.” She instantly decided she would use the cafetiere rather than get in a jam with her new coffee machine. Roger would be happy with either.

“Good luck with the meal. I’m sure it will be fine,” Ted called.

“Thanks. Fingers crossed. I think I’m going to need it.”

Nearby was a stall selling fresh Asian ingredients. After selecting the best ginger, chili peppers, coriander, lime leaves, egg plants, coconut milk and jasmine rice, Sally carried them off in a brown paper bag, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

•••

By six o’clock the sky had turned a brooding grey. Trees swayed woefully and power lines shook. In the kitchen, Sally hoped her mind was playing tricks, but she could have sworn there was a telltale scratching coming from behind one of the skirting-boards. The last thing she needed was a rodent house guest. The business of having to sort out traps, or lay poison, was hardly appealing. Dismissing the idea, she concentrated on the job at hand.

Keeping an eye on her phone in case it buzzed with last-minute messages, she cast her mind back to the evening she’d spent with Roger at a New Year’s fancy dress party. It had seemed like kismet when she’d come dressed as Superwoman and he’d showed up as Superman. She could have sworn he’d been attracted to her (and not just as a friend), but he’d said all the wrong things and she’d ended up with Tim, who’d said all the right ones.

Not that she would ever regret the relationship with Tim. It had restored her confidence in men, something she’d struggled with. Their daughter Ellie was the best part of their union and staying with her father for the next few days. In the end, that vital spark had been missing between her and Tim. Fortunately, when things fizzed out, there were no hard feelings.

•••

Sally was as prepared as she was going to be. Ingredients lay ready on the chopping board and small bowls had been taken out of the fridge. After frying everything in the correct order and remembering to turn on the cooker hood fan, the meal bubbled away in a pan, almost ready to serve. Flickering candles smelling of vanilla and chocolate set the mood, aromas she knew Roger liked.

Sally checked herself in the bedroom mirror. She was wearing a pink dress with a scalloped neck and her trademark light fluffy cardigan. Her makeup was more subtle than usual – just how Roger liked it, and her mid-length brown hair was scooped up flatteringly.

The doorbell started ringing like a xylophone, and a silly voice announced, “You have a visitor.”

She certainly had. Taking care not to trip over her dress, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Roger’s tall figure framed through the door glass. He was carrying a bunch of roses and a bottle of wine.

Apart from a few extra wrinkles, he appeared much the same. His usual serious expression was in place.

Comfortingly so.

“Here you are,” Sally said, giggling a little.

“Here I am.”

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

“You look…” His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he was a little damp about the edges, but any faltering was rectified by his telling her she looked “really nice.”

“Thank you.” She couldn’t remember him complimenting her on her looks before. “I hope you’re hungry. The food is almost ready to serve.” She took his jacket and hung it on a hook.

“Mmmm. The food smells good!” He followed her into the dining room. “Ah! I see you’ve got out the candles. I got you those for Christmas, didn’t I?”

“You did. I was just waiting for the chance to use them again.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, trying to understand one another. Turning to arrange the flowers in a vase, she felt him watching her.

“Well, make yourself at home,” she added breathily. “I’ll go and serve up. Can you pour the wine?”

•••

Carrying the food in white serving dishes, she laid the heated plates on a freshly laundered tablecloth.

“You’ve cooked my favourite!” Roger said appreciatively.

Sally returned his smile. “Tuck in. There’s plenty here.”

“Well?” She waited anxiously.

“It’s really good, Sal.” He was the only one who called her that. “Fresh ingredients. I’m impressed.”

“I got them from the market. There’s a great Asian stall there.”

“I know the one you mean. Adds a nice touch.”

Sally took a deep breath and raised her glass. “To us,” she said.

“To us. The wine tastes good!” Roger was already on his second glass. He usually drank more slowly.

All at once, the lights went out pitching them into darkness.

“Oh, no!” She sprang up knocking over the wine. “We must be having a power cut. The baked Alaska will be ruined!” Already, the date – if that’s what it was - was turning into a disaster.

“Would you like me to check the tripper switch?” Roger asked helpfully.

“You won’t find it easily.” Sally was alarmed at the thought of him scrabbling around in the cupboard under the stairs. Piled high with coats, old Christmas tree lights, rejected tins of paint, strips of wallpaper, cleaning fluids, and goodness knows what else, he’d be put off for life if he messed around in there!

Or would he?

Peeping out of the half-closed blinds, Sally was relieved to find the rest of the neighbourhood similarly afflicted. “There’s no need,” she said. “It can’t be the tripper switch – everyone’s in darkness too. It must be an outage.”

“At least we have the candles,” he said.

•••

By the time the power came back on they had moved to the kitchen. By then the Baked Alaska was ruined, and Sally had lost the nerve to say what she’d planned.

“Never mind, you can cook me one another time,” Roger consoled, his pupils large in the light.

In a flash, a mouse ran out from under the sink and disappeared behind the fridge. Squealing, Sally hid her face against Roger’s chest.

“Never mind.” Holding her, he closed his mind to the array of diseases carried by vermin.

Reluctantly, Sally disentangled herself.

“Oh, Rog, this is hopeless! Just this once I wanted to impress you and as usual, everything has gone pear-shaped. Now, there’s this mouse and I know you hate anything like that.”

“It’s hardly the end of the world,” Roger said, surprising her.

“But I planned on telling you how I felt over the meal. I wanted to explain the last time I saw you I got scared and backed off.”

“You mean before I left for the new job?” he asked.

“Yep.” Horrified to find herself crying, now he had to contend with a runny nose, ans well as smudged makeup.

There was another flash of lightning, and the power went out again. Things never seemed to go the way Sally wanted and tonight was no exception. Roger looked shocked.

“Oh no. I’ve said too much. As usual,” she exclaimed. “And now I’m blubbering.”

“Hey.” He held out his arms and produced a hanky. “And I’ve not said enough. As usual. I always find words so difficult, but this time I’m going to make myself say them.”

“You are?”

“Yes. What I’ve always loved about you is that no matter how hard things get, you never give up.”

“And where has it got me?” She was amazed he could find anything lovable about her right now.

“At least you’ve tried to make a go of life. Which is more than I’ve done.”

Sally felt the tension easing. “But you’re a successful person, Roger.”

“In the work sense, maybe. Not so much the personal.”

 “We’re a proper pair, aren’t we?”

Perhaps it was the wine, or his determination to finally find the right words, but Roger suddenly broke out with. “That’s exactly what we should be! I’ve wanted us to be a pair for a long time. I just didn’t think you did. That’s partly why I left. There didn’t seem much point in hanging around.”

Sally felt light enough to fly. “I do want it. I’m just so scared of ruining things. I have a history of doing that.” Her voice sounded muffled against his shoulder.

In the dimness, Roger’s eyes were large and warm. “So, you’ve made a few mistakes. Who hasn’t? But you’ve never been scared of anything. You’ve always had enough courage for both of us. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

“I don’t think I want the lights to come on again,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to see me the way I am. All messy.”

“I’m used to you being messy. You didn’t look messy when I arrived. You looked…”

“Well?” She so feared he was going to ruin things by saying the wrong thing.

“Really pretty,” he finished.

“Wow! You’ve never said that before. But you knew it couldn’t last. Do you remember when you called round for one of our outings and spotted that horrible slug trailing across the kitchen floor?”

“And you screamed because you hate anything slimy.” He hoped she wasn’t going to talk about revolting things all night.

“And you were there to protect me.”

He laughed. “What did I do other than pick it up and sling it back in the garden where it belonged?”

“You were my hero that day.”

“Well, never mind about that now,” he said kissing her. “If you want me to stay, there’ll be plenty of time to deal with slugs, mice, and any other unwanted pests that choose to turn up, in the morning.”