[Reviews - 14]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 3110 times

- Text Size +




‘Get the ball. Get it! Get it!’ “Argh!”

“Match set.”

‘Thank god.’ You see I’ve been playing this game against this kid who just won’t quit and I’m in the middle of a divorce. Some may say, “So I see you’re finally getting rid of the ball and chain” but she was never one to tie me down. Sadly it was the other way around. And of course she was American.

It seemed I always had a fondness for Americans. Bints. American and tennis player. I’m such a wanker. Oh shit, he’s serving again.

“Err!” That was a lucky shot. He missed only by a centimeter. You see in the game of tennis love means nothing. It means you lose. And of course in the middle of her tournament, I lost, to another American. So here I am running back and forth across this damned court chasing after something that was never really mine.

Buffy and me met at a game. I was facing her boy-toy at the time. He was a wanker. He beat me. What? I’m old. Anyway, I saw her a couple days later and she gave me a few pointers. So to speak. It was safe to say that we hit it off.

Five more minutes and my divorce will go through. My friend told me that I’d be safe. I won’t have to think about her if I’m playing. He was wrong. That’s all I ever do when I play. Think. Think about her. Think about England. Think about life. But somehow it always comes back to her. It always did. Even when we weren’t dating. It was always about her. That’s how she liked to think about it too. Spoiled brat.

“Match Love.” The referee shouted. That’s it. I’m done. I picked up my sweat-drenched ass and dragged it across the court. The kid that I was playing against came up to me and shook my hand.

“It’s an honor playing against you sir.” The kid said. He had teeth that could blind a blind man.

“Thank you.” What was I gonna say? ‘Yeah the only reason it was an honor was because you kicked my ass!’ No I was trying to be nice. I walked to my chair, picked up my bag, and wiped my face with a towel and that’s when I saw her. She was right there. In the stands. Standing. Watching me. I would have met her eyes but I couldn’t even look at her. Her beauty was absolutely blinding. Never again will I ever find anyone like her.

She was from sunny California. Her skin was naturally sun-kissed; her hair was golden blond. Gorgeous. She used to make fun of me because I would bleach my hair, but when I caught her using the same stuff, she stopped.

I walked away. I didn’t wave. I didn’t smile. I looked down at my white tennis shoes and walked away.

My best friend caught up with me at the door to the locker room. I meet him in America too. Xander Harris, the president of wanker-vile but I like him around. He’s good for a laugh. “So how was it?” He asked anxiously trailing behind me.

“She’s here.” I said stopping at my locker and taking my shirt off.

“Yeah… I know.” Xander sat down on the bench behind me. I stopped. Breathed in. Breathed out. Turned around.

“How?”

“Because she asked me for front row tickets.” I wanted to punch him.

But I didn’t. I turned back around and continued to get dressed. “I thought she was going back to the states.”

“Yeah, me too. But she called me this morning asking about you.”

“What did she ask?”

“You know. The usual stuff. ‘How is he? How’s Dodger? How’s his game?’”

“And you said?” I picked up my bag and started walking. I knew Harris would follow.

“Well, I told her the truth.”

“And that is?”

“That you’re horrible. You get drunk every night, you don’t go out anymore unless it’s to the tennis court and your game is shot. But the dog is fine.”

“Thanks Harris.” I pushed open the front door and walked into the parking lot.

“I’m here to tell nothing but the truth.”

“You didn’t really tell her all that, did you?”

“Of course not. I said that you were doing fine, but now that she saw your game she’s going to know every little detail. And especially that detail about how you didn’t eat the dinner Dawn sent but fed it to Dodger instead.”

“Again, thanks Harris.” I rounded a corner of the parking lot and saw her. Standing next to the car. She was wearing the sundress I gave her last year and my mother’s locket. I gave that to her on our anniversary. Bitch.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get a taxi. I’ll see you later.” Harris practically ran back to the building. Thanks once again Harris.

All right Spike, swallow your pride and go home. So I did. I strutted over to my car. “Hello Mrs. Giles. Oh, wait. I’m sorry. It’s Ms. Summers now isn’t it?”

“Spike don’t be that way.” She begged touching my arm for comfort. It used to comfort me, but now it just annoyed me.

“Be what way? Angry and bitter? I’m sorry too late.” I opened the door to my car and got in.

“Spike we have to talk!” She stopped the door from closing.

“About what? About how you want the dog now? No. I’m keeping Dodger. The divorce is over I got the dog.”

“It’s not about Dodger! It’s about the divorce. It didn’t go through.” She let go of the door and backed away. She knew I’d be mad.

“Why?” I stepped out of the car.

“Because I stopped it.” She backed up more. Now, I have never hit my wife or any woman in my life, but I have to admit that I do get a little scary when I get mad.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want it anymore.”

“Okay, let’s get this straight. You cheat on me and tell me that you love that dick-head and now you’re telling me you don’t want to get divorced anymore?”

“Yeah.”

“No.” I turn around and get back in the car.

“Spike don’t be irrational.” Buffy walks around the car and gets in the passenger side.

“Oh okay I’m being irrational. Okay. Get out of the car.”

“No.” She reached over and put her seat belt on.

“Get out.”

“I’m moving back in too.”

“No. Get out of my car.”

“I bought the damn car.”

“You are so immature.”

“I’m immature? Where did you take me on our first date?” She said looking at me with a cocked head.

“To a merry-go-round, and I would hardly call that a date.” She was still dating someone else.

“Oh and why is that?” She crossed her arms, she was getting annoyed. Good.

“You were still dating what’s-his-face!” What was his name?

“Angel.” She mumbled under her breath. “Could you please take me to the hotel so I can pick up some clothes?”

I started the engine. It made a revving noise that I absolutely loved. It makes me feel all manly. “Yeah but why? You’re not coming home.”

“Spike!”

“Fine! Fine, just shut up!”

And that was that. We sat most of the ride in silence. Who am I kidding? There was no talking, not even the radio. When I stopped out in front of the hotel, I asked her how long she would be and told her I was going to have a smoke while she was gone.

She hated it when I would smoke. When she lived with me I had to smoke out on the veranda. I couldn’t smoke anywhere near her. I couldn’t even smoke in my own car. She hated the smell of smoke, but the strange part was that she told me one of the reasons she fell in love with me was my smell. Cigarettes and booze. I leaned up against the car and watch her bounce her way into the hotel. One time when we got into a fight, like we would usually do, she took all my cigarettes and drowned them. At the end we would fuck. Fight and fuck. That was our unsaid motto. We never spoke of it. But we always did it.

I remember the first time we fought. It was over something stupid. Like I think it was about her being scared of something. She would through things. I would try to corner her. We ended up making up on the kitchen table, the couch, the coffee table, and then I think on the stairs. But you get the picture.

“I thought you said some clothes?” I asked as I saw her coming out the door.

“Stop being a dick and just help me.” She didn’t have that much upper body strength but God blessed her with lower body strength. The things she could do with those legs are unbelievable. The oldest porn star would be impressed.

I reached for the strap of her suitcase, which meant I had to get around her hand to get it. I touched her. We both pulled back like we were on fire. The suitcase hit the ground hard. We both stared at each other.

“Can I help you with that?” A young bellboy asked shaking both Buffy and me out of our stare.

“Yes, please.” I looked down and walked away from that rendezvous. I hate getting help from bellboys but in this case I didn’t want to do anything but go home and play tennis in my own backyard.

When we reached the house, I stopped the car so Buffy could get out and I could pull it into the garage. She just sat there with her hands clasped. I didn’t think she remembered. That’s until she spoke.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“For?” I didn’t think she would be sorry about the suitcase, which is just not how she is.

“Everything. The fights, the cheating, the divorce. I’m just really sorry.” Before I could respond she leapt out of the car.

I brought the suitcase in and went to go find my wife. I guess. I knew exactly where she would be.

She had this special room. It was full of paintings and a computer. It was everything she had wanted.
“It’s not your fault.” I said from the doorway of the room. “I practically tied you down.”

“No. It’s not your fault. It’s completely mine. I cheated on you. You did nothing wrong.” She turned around and looked back at the room. “I can’t believe you kept everything. I’d of thought you’d burn it.”

“Well my lease on the storage shed ran out and it was too cold and rainy for a bon fire.” She smiled wistfully. She knew I wouldn’t throw her shit out. Why? I don’t know. I think I had a sort of attachment to it.

“And you got to add lazy.” She said taking a step toward me.

“Yes of course.” Another step.

“And rude.” Another step.

“Mhm.” Another step.

“And completely,” step, “head-over-heels,” step, “madly,” I could feel her breath on my face, “in love with me.” Back when we were newlyweds, so about a year ago, she would do this. You know, tell me exactly what I feel and then leave me hanging there. It always got me hot. And it never failed.

I leaned in so that my lips were mere millimeters away from her face. “Always, love.” She looked me straight in the eye. Not a blink from any of us.

She got those tears in her eyes; the ones where if you did blink it would be like the floodgates opened up.

A single tear fell of the rim of her emerald eyes. I took my hands and put them on either side of her face and kissed that single tear. The floodgates opened.

Buffy clung onto me as her body was racked with sobs. It was unbelievable. It was like everything since the day her mom died, she had been holding in, let go and I was there to hold her.

I’ve always been in tune with women. I think it was because my mother, my aunt, my sister and my female cousin raised me. Don’t get me wrong I still think that all women are complete and utter loons. But I understand better then the average man.

So like any other man in tune with women, I stood there. Thinking about my dry cleaning bill. What!? I care. The woman cheated on me, demanded for a divorce and then told me she’s moving back in. And I should think about her needs.

Any way I patted her bum, which was our “sign” for jump. She understood and did. Still sobbing. I carried her into the bathroom and sat her on the toilet, all while handing her tissues. I turned my attention to the tub. A bubble bath always made her feel happy. That and candles. Put two and two together and you’ve got a plan. I drew her a candle-bubble bath.

When I turned around to show her my work, she was just watching me. Tears still falling but eyes intently watching my every move. “I made you a bath.” God, I’m so pathetic.

She nodded.
“I’ll just leave you to it then.” I was walking out when I heard her call my name. So quiet and timid, I’m surprised that I heard her. Maybe it was from all those times wishing she would talk to me and me dreaming I’ve heard her call me. Anyhow I looked over my shoulder to her.

“Thank you.” It was my turn to nod. And I took it.

~AN~ This is my first chapter of a brand new story that I’ve been playing around with lately, so tell me what you think. By the way I know nothing about tennis so if I screwed up the terminology or anything like that please tell me, I wouldn’t want to offend anyone.





You must login (register) to review.