Time For Change

I almost allowed the door to slam shut behind me. Almost. Not dramatic enough, though. Not for the ending I’d envisioned, and I wanted this to be perfect. As perfect as my beautiful foot right now, wedged in the door. A perfectly pedicured foot in a silk stocking, in a brand new Jimmy Choo. A perfect and expensively adorned leg.

At the last minute I’d turned and stuck my foot back in. I knew he’d be there behind me if I looked. I wanted our eyes to meet one last time. I knew how beautiful I looked and I wanted to look into George’s eyes once more and have him know how beautiful I looked too. Have him know that I knew. As he stared back at me he seemed to also fade before me at the same time, already just a memory. Not even one I cared to keep. I knew at that moment I would never look into those eyes like that again. No words were spoken. A smile began to creep across my lips and I slammed the door shut just as my mouth broke into the wide smile that followed.

For a long time I never believed this day would happen. I think George believed it even less. But as time wore on it had become more of a reality to me and less of a reality to him. He’d ignored me completely in the early days but I wasn’t one to give up. I stuck around, niggled in his mind until those harmless flirtations over the years meant he just couldn’t ignore me any more. Stolen moments grew into nights away. Just the two of us, fancy hotels, room service, me dressed to the nines in my sexiest clothes and George loving every inch of me. It had all been so fun in the beginning, and for quite some time after.

His wife didn’t suspect a thing for a long time. Even when she’d found a pair of my lacy knickers George had managed to fabricate something about washing blowing over from next door’s line. I remember us rolling around on the huge hotel bed laughing about that. But we’d got complacent and it was only a matter of time. That time came when we were being risky at George’s house. Bingo had been cancelled and she came home early. We didn’t hear the door, didn’t hear her coming up the stairs, we didn’t even hear her enter the bedroom and by then it was too late. Me stretched out on the bed in just my underwear, what excuse could George make for that? Her jaw had dropped at the sight of me, I’d grabbed at a corner of the duvet in an attempt to cover myself, but to no avail. After what seemed like an eternity of silence she quickly closed her mouth and slowly closed the door again without saying a word. I promptly disappeared from the scene and left George to face the music.

The music had turned out to be pretty silent, by all accounts. She’d uttered a few words about him being pathetic that night and not much more was said on the subject. We didn’t see each other for a while. I just waited. I knew he’d come for me again soon, he always would. And sure enough he did. We picked up where we left off, being more careful again although now the wife knew the edge had gone a little because of that. It wasn’t quite so exciting. George’s marriage was on a steady decline from then, they barely spoke. Our exciting times had become more like therapy. Me laying there in my sexy underwear while George mulled over his life. Our own relationship was likely on a more subtle yet equally steady decline by then, too.

I did let the gate bang slam shut behind me, savoring that feeling of closure. As I strode away to the clip-clop sound of my heels on the pavement, feeling a million dollars, I reveled in the feeling of never ever returning to that place again. And yet, it was meant to represent so much, a bright future together. When the marriage had finally hit its inevitable crushing defeat and she’d demanded George move out, we felt free and seized our chance. He’d found this place and I’d been so caught up in the excitement of us finally having a place just for us that I hadn’t noticed the uneven floors, the damp smell in the bathroom, the drafty windows that didn’t close properly and everything else that tarnished the joy. I probably already knew before we moved in that our days were numbered, those things just added to the strain. He became more and more depressed and I felt more and more trapped. I had suggested therapy but he refused. So I did the next best thing and sought therapy myself. That’s when I really started to get to know me and how I wanted to live my life. To accept myself where George couldn’t. And that’s when I started to realise George wasn’t going to be part of that plan. My therapist had suggested I start to write a journal. I’d scribbled my thoughts in a little black notebook. A memoir leading up to our final days.

But I wasn’t going anywhere too soon. The promise of the money kept me there longer than I should’ve stayed. George was waiting for his grandfather to die but I was waiting for it more. It might sound callous but he was a miserable old coot anyway, George’s words, not mine. I never even met him. There would be a small inheritance, you see, and I knew George would spend it all on me if I let him. If it’s what made him happy, who was I to argue?

And he did. As soon as we had our hands on that money I was a million miles ahead of George. Twenty grand. More than I’d even expected. George had started to rapidly fade from being important in my thoughts. I bought a new wardrobe, got new hair, a make-over. I even booked in for breast surgery. I was blooming and the more I bloomed the further I got from George.

I pulled out the book from my handbag, flicking quickly through the pages, pausing to read some of the notes. As it went through there was less mention of George until it had become just about me. Even some sketches, happier pages. But it was still part George no matter how little of him was in it, and there really was no room in my life for any part of George now.

I lifted the lid off someones dustbin, tossing the book inside with force, and with that George was gone, completely dead. I would never be George again, I would never answer to that name again. George was all woman now. Now I was Georgina and I would be Georgina forever. All of me 100% woman.