My girl friend, Amelia, is that unusual combination, logical and sensitive. For a long time I thought she was the only woman for me.
Then I saw her walking arm-in-arm out of the Odeon with the young man who came round to fix my computer and refused to take any money, saying it only needed a bit of readjustment and five minutes of his time was neither here nor there. Nice guy, we both thought. Very tall. Very articulate. Probably Spanish but wherever he came from, a really nice guy. Then from the upper deck of the 22 one lunchtime, I saw them, definitely them, arm-in-arm, outside the Odeon, either going in or coming out or just passing by.
Smierc Prezydenta. Henryk Bista and Zdzislaw Mrozewski. Black and white. About Poland in World War One.
Definitely her in the expensive red dress that she hardly ever wore, arm-in-arm with Mr. Nice Guy.
What if….Perhaps….Maybe…. Possibly……
I kept thinking about her and him all the time. My work began to suffer because of it. I kept meaning to ask her straight out if she was being unfaithful to me but didn’t want her to feel I was the heavily jealous type.
But to-day Mr. Menagh came up to me and said if I didn’t snap out of it I could start looking for another job. Shape up or ship out, he said.
Then I saw them a second time, in the queue outside the Odeon hand-in-hand for the evening showing of J’ Existe, a French thriller. Jean-Pierre Chevalier and Denise Cubertin. In a blue dress I’d never seen her in before. Looking up at him. Laughing.
You can’t say I didn’t warn you, Mr Menagh said.
When I told Amelia that I was having all these problems and that I knew she was seeing someone else, she threw her arms around me, tears welling up in her eyes. Isn’t it wonderful how everything works out for the best? she said. I have been meaning for so long to tell you I had fallen out of love with you. I didn’t know how to, didn’t want to hurt your feelings. But now you know I’m someone else’s girlfriend, you don’t need to give me a second thought.