Through the Glass by Lisa J. Hobman Page A

Jim hugged his friend, feeling quite touched at his words. After the meal they headed to the Nags Head for a few beers. A few beers turned to many beers and Charles got quite tipsy. Jim found drunken Charles hilariously funny, although he was by no means sober himself. They stumbled out of the pub after being chatted up by too rather scary looking, overly made-up older women. As they waited for a taxi at the nearest rank they could stumble to, Charles made a confession.
    “My dear, Jim.” He sniggered at the fact that Charles remained posh even when inebriated. “Jimmy, Jimmy, Jim-Jim.” His snigger became a chuckle. “You are my beshtest friend…didjoooo know hathat?” Charles slurred.
    “I did not know that until earlier tonight, my old pal…but I dae now!”
    They swayed as they chatted in their nonsensical way, Jim’s Scottish accent thickening with the alcohol.
    “Ohhh yes. Beshtest friend in the whooole world. In fact…I am so best friends with you, I’m gonna tell you a sheecret.” Charles looked around conspiratorially and leaned on Jim for support. “I don’t like ladies, Jim…nononono.” He wagged his finger vehemently. “I like men. I am what one would call a hhhomosexshalll.” The revelation surprised Jim a little, although he had always wondered. “But don’t worry…nononono, don’t you worry… you’re not my type.” He patted Jim’s shoulder.
    Jim’s mouth fell open. He felt rather affronted. “Eh? Whaddya mean I’m not your type? What’s wrong wi me?” The brusque and rather offended Scotsman was speaking now. “I’m a good catch me you know,” he informed Charles.
    “Oh, yesss, yesss, I bloody know that old boy…don’t be hoffended. I just like you asafriend…thass all. Hafriend. And besides…I would be wasting my time because I know that you’re…erm…heter…hetrara…hetooosesh…you like girls. Especially on account of the fact being that you are married, as well too.” He nodded, rambling on.
    “Aye…that I do…that I am, my friend. Fair comment…fair comment. Well, one girl actually. But I think she’s going off me, Charles, and it makes me hurt in here.” Jim pointed to his chest. Hearing himself admit this openly made him suddenly feel quite sober and more than a little bit sad. The pair stood in silence after their session of openness and waited for a cab.
     
    ~~~~~
     
    Jim arrived home at just after midnight and saw the answering machine light flashing. He pressed the play button.
    “Hi Jim…it’s Flick. I’m sorry I didn’t ring earlier but I’ve been so busy. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve had a wonderful night out with Charles. I’m guessing you will be home around one in the morning so I will call you at one. Okay? Bye.”
    No ‘I love you’. Great. He went into the kitchen and drank a pint of water to try and fend off the hangover that would undoubtedly hit at some point in the not too distant future. He made a pot of fresh coffee and took it back into the lounge. He would stay up and wait for her call at one.
    He woke with a start and looked at the clock. Two forty five. She hadn’t called. With a heavy heart and a pounding head he took himself off to bed.
     

Chapter 7
    January 2012 - Two Years and Eleven Months After the Break-up
    The sky looked heavy with snow and Jim had already lit the fire, even though it was only nine in the morning. It was Saturday which meant the coffee shack was scheduled to be open at ten. He sat by the fire with Jasper, eating his porridge and staring into the flames as they danced. Someone knocked at the door.
    “Blimey, Jasper, the postie’s early today. Must be getting it done before the snow comes, eh, lad?” He placed his porridge bowl on the coffee table and went to answer the door. On opening it, he pretty much got the second biggest shock of his life (the first being his wife’s request for a divorce…oddly enough she was involved in this shock, too).
    “What the hell are you doing here?”