Chapter 5

The following morning Stan woke up, did the painkillers-and-water routine, and he slowly put himself together.

He'd been very tired when he returned home the previous night and had fallen asleep the instant he hit the bed. This morning his thoughts kept replaying Denise's parting comment. His best friend was telling him, "You've got to get over it sometime... why not now?"

'Doesn't she know the pain I've been going through? Doesn't she understand that I can't do that to Caron?' he thought.

On the verge of tears, he decided to try to cheer himself up with some breakfast, so he puttered around in his kitchen for a while, making toast and coffee. It allowed his body to continue on autopilot while beginning to think a little more rationally. The caffeine and calories would help improve matters, too.

Maybe Denise did understand, he decided a little while later. Perhaps he should call her, talk about it, find out what she meant.

Talking, yes. It's what friends did. 'Umm... '

He realised that, despite their friendship, he'd never called her at home. In fact, he didn't have her home phone number! After several moments of near panic he was able to remember her address and went to find a phone book.

Bottomley, D. wasn't there. She had an unlisted number. 'Shit!'

'Elizabeth, ' he thought. 'Elizabeth might have it.'

He did have Elizabeth's number; she'd been to dinner with Caron and Stan several times before last November.

"Elizabeth? It's Stan."

"Hello, Stan! What can I do for you?" she replied into his ear.

"Um... I was wondering, er, do you, um... Do you have Denise's number?"

"Why, Stan, I thought you were phoning to ask about me," she teased. Stan could only stammer in response, before she let him off the hook. "Sorry, Stan, I don't. I think Elaine might, though, and I've got her number. Do you want it?"

"Yes please, Elizabeth." She started to read it out to him, and he suddenly realised something, "Wait! I need to get a pen and paper." He heard a giggle from the other end as he grabbed for notepad and pen.

"Are you ready now?" she asked. He could see her arched eyebrow.

"Yup!" he said, with more confidence than he actually had.

She read out the number again, and he confirmed it back.

"Now," Elizabeth said, "What do you want to phone Denise for on a Saturday morning?"

He grimaced, and then realised Elizabeth couldn't see his expression. He said, "It's just something she said last night. I just wanted to chat with her."

"Can you tell me what it was she said, or is that a secret?"

"It was nothing much, I just want to chat. Cheers, Elizabeth, have a good weekend!" He rang off before Elizabeth could ask any more, took a deep breath, and called Elaine.

The phone rang several times before being answered, somewhat sleepily.

"Hi, is that Elaine?" Stan asked.

"No, it's not. Do you have a wrong number?"

"Oh. Wait, you're Susan, aren't you? This is Stan, from last night, I need a quick word with Elaine."

"Oh, OK, Stan, but you seriously want to wait until later. We didn't get to bed until three, and well, we didn't sleep right away..." He heard a giggle.

Stan apologised again, rang off, and waited. He put on some music — a little light classical stuff for now, he couldn't deal with anything heavy — read the paper, and chilled out.

He awoke with a start. The CD had finished, and the paper was on his lap, half unread. Blearily, he checked the time — eleven thirty. 'The morning's gone already, ' he thought, chuckling to himself, 'Best I ring Elaine.' He dialled the number.

"Hello?"

"Hi Elaine, it's Stan. You awake this time?"

Elaine laughed into the phone and Stan thought he could hear another giggle in the background as well.

"Susan still with you, then?" he asked, with a smile.

"Yes, she's right next to me. Do you want to know what we were doing?"

"Not right now, Elaine, I think that might be 'Too Much Information'. Actually, I'm trying to get hold of Denise. Elizabeth thought you might have her number."

"Oh. Wait a moment." She did.

She read out a number to him, which he confirmed back off of his notepad. Stan thought that Elaine sounded a little sheepish — or embarrassed?

"OK there, Elaine?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you on Monday," she replied.

"Oh. Okay," he said, and they hung up.

'What was THAT about, ' he wondered.

He thought about what to ask Denise. Actually, he'd been thinking about it a lot, without coming to any definite solution — which bothered him. Stan hated talking to anyone without a definite plan of the conversation, beyond superficialities. 'A legacy of my childhood, ' he thought.

Stan was an only child, and when he'd qualified to attend one of the last grammar schools in the country he'd been as happy as his parents. What he hadn't been expecting was that the single-sex aspect would affect him so much.

'I sure as heck didn't learn much about girls. Caron had to chase me, else we'd have never got together, ' he thought.

He reflected for a moment on how Caron had set him up...

Emma Tilly.She'd walked up to Stan, bold as brass, at work. She was a part time model, and used the 'model walk', with one foot crossing over the other.

She'd gestured for Stan to stand up, measured herself off against him for height, and then walked off in the same fashion with a teasing look on her face. Stan was, of course, totally bemused, he hadn't a clue — Emma surely wasn't after him?

Later, Emma 'just happened' to be nearby when a tall, dark haired and slender young lady walked past, smiling at Stan. "That's my friend Caron, would you like her number?" she'd asked. Stan was naïve and a very poor student of the female half of the species, but he wasn't unintelligent and had the sense to say "Yes please!" They'd gone on a date, and only three years later they were married.

'But I still don't know how women think at all, ' he thought. Normally, when it was a question to do with people, he'd ask Elizabeth. This time, he didn't want to, for some reason. It seemed, well, personal.

Well. For good or ill, he'd decided to ring Denise — certainly he'd be grilled by Elizabeth, and probably Elaine, on Monday — so he'd better get on with it. He glanced at the clock. After lunch. He'd ring right after lunch. No, Now, else he'd lose his nerve.

He dialled.

"Hello?"

"Hi Denise. Um, it's Stan. Er, I was wondering, sort of, erm, what, I mean, um, did you mean, last night?" 'Christ! He'd managed to say it, but God, what a poor delivery!'

There was a pause.

"What, specifically, Stan?"

Pause.

"Stan?"

He gathered his courage, and said,

"Denise, um, last night, uh, when we got to your place, you told me, basically, er, that I had to get over it sometime, why not now?"

There was silence at the other end, this time.

"Denise?"

"Stan," she said, almost too softly for him to hear, "you know what I meant, really. It's time, now. Caron's gone. You loved her, you love her still, I know, but you need to move on."

Stan was silent.

"Stan?" Denise asked.

Still, he couldn't speak.

"Stan, are you all right?" Denise asked, with a hint of concern.

"Oh. Yes, I'm OK. Um, I'll see you on Monday," he said, and hung up despite the fact that Denise was obviously trying to say some more.

'Shit!'

Over the weekend, Denise thought about Stan. She wondered whether he would see what she so desperately wanted him to see; that she was growing to love him and that it was all right for him to open up and start to love her back.