“Never too late! Never say never! There are so many rays of sunshine from the positive thinkers on social media,” Don mused as he munched his toast and jam. “Bless them.”
He sighed. He had been feeling very lonely since the untimely death of his wife of thirty-four years. Not that they had been the ideal loved-up couple. Far from it. They were just each other’s bad habit. But it had been some kind of companionship. Now it was gone, and he was doing things like scrolling Facebook while his tea cooled down, to distract him from the silence in the house. Posts about old TV shows, friends’ food photos, local nature photos, ads for funny T-shirts… Then, he noticed a page dedicated to reconnecting old friends. That sounded interesting. Well, should he give it a go? After checking with some scam-watch sites, of course. Life is so choc-a-bloc with risk!
It was a long shot, a vain hope. But he had been thinking about how old and decrepit he was. It would be nice to reassure himself that the young guns of his youth were also suffering. Where had the hopes and ambitions of young Don gone? What would his schoolfriends think? And his teachers? Especially Miss Dean. She had encouraged him – she made him believe that he could write. But he never had. Life got in the way. He had been very fond of her, in an adolescent crush sort of way. Was it never too late to reconnect?
A few days later, as he was on his morning scroll on his phone, he noticed a post for him. What? Really? This sort of luck did not happen to him. He didn’t rate luck, as a concept. He had never bought a lottery ticket. But here was a friendly message from Miss Dean, also known as Pamela Southwood. She did remember him. He looked at her profile. Hmm. Divorced 2010. She lived nearby. He messaged back and got a swift reply. Yes! She would meet up for coffee!
Oh, how his heart buzzed as he waited in the coffee shop. When she came in the door, his eyes widened. She was better than her photo. He had a memory of the young Miss Dean in vivid colour and it was still her – now in an artistic monochrome.
They ordered coffee and talked about the weather and the traffic. They remembered some mutual acquaintances from the school, and then shared admissions of ordinary marriages and children who had moved too far away. They moved on to their careers. Don never had made Chief Executive of an IT company, although he had been a consultant engineer, and Pam had never made Head Teacher.
“Why was that?” he asked, “You would have been a brilliant leader.”
The question was hanging in the air now, like dripping-wet washing. He opened his mouth to change the subject when Pam replied.
“Well, I might as well tell you. You could soon find out if you put your mind to some online searching.”
“No, really, you don’t have to explain – I understand what it’s like when you are just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and opportunities skip out of your grasp. It happened to me a few times -”
“I don’t think that you know the half of it. A boy made an allegation against me. He wanted to damage me because I failed his essay that was blatantly copied. I was cleared, but that kind of rumour never goes away.”
“What?” Don was baffled. Surely, she was just doing her job –
Pam then elaborated. “Inappropriate touching, so he claimed. I won’t go into the sordid details.”
Don’s imagination did a triple somersault.
“How preposterous – I mean, I used to daydream about it -” He jerked and nearly toppled the table when he realised what had burst out of his sub-conscious into the cosy atmosphere of the café.
“Pardon?” Pam looked horrified.
“Sorry, I –”
“What a sick thing to say! How could you, Don? I remember you as – such a shy, polite boy.” Pam picked up her bag and left, despite all his protestations and apologies.
Never too late. Never say never. Don had a stroke of luck and messed up. Hope springs eternal in the human soul, but sometimes, hope was just a taunt. He could try to craft an excuse and message her, but what was the point? He finished his coffee, his hands trembling and his heart sinking. Was rain lashing down the windows of the café, or were his eyes filling with tears?
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Photo: Cappuccino at Fego, Marlow, UK
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First published in 2025 (as Beth Rogers) in SLACK 7 by Marlow Writers’ Society.
Available on Amazon: SLACK VOLUME SEVEN: Summer 2025 eBook : Marlow Writers’ Society: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
