‘No, he hasn’t called, he said he’d leave an email, but I’m not holding my breath’, Joan said. ‘I’ll ring you when I get home tomorrow. I’ve had parent teacher interviews all week and the kids have been cooped up inside because of the rain. I’m exhausted, I’ve got to get some sleep’. She slowly placed the phone on the base while she connected to her ancient style dial up internet.
In the reflection on the computer screen the face staring back was nothing noticeable. So what if her eyes were pretty blue, her lashes were barely a millimetre long and she new the school kids joked about her mono-brow. Joan’s brown and grey streaked hair framed her freckled face. At least the reflection didn’t show the hair growing from the mole on her jaw. She checked her in-box one last time. Nothing. She shut down the computer and methodically checked the locks on all doors and windows.
‘Here kitty, kitty,’ she called. Her silky grey cat jumped into her arms. She re-checked the security alarm and went to her bedroom. Tears rolled down her round cheeks and fell onto the cat’s fur.
‘Why Kitty? Tina was married at 18, Felicity at 25, even my sister found someone by 23, but me? Nobody. At home every night with you waiting for emails.’
‘Muffin top they call it Kitty’, Joan saw the jelly like overhang in the mirror as she pulled on her pyjamas pants.
‘Kitty, I’d love to get my teeth whitened, stains urh.’ Her reflection blurred as tears fell again.
Together they curled up in bed with a block of chocolate. Joan grabbed the TV controls to watch the late news. ‘Look Kitty, it’s Tom and Katie, Tomcat they call them. Blissfully happy. Blah.’ With a flick the TV was off and she threw the controls to her side table. They slid off, onto the floor.
‘Ahh, damn,’ she picked up the controls and realigned the things on her side table. ‘Here kitty, have some chocolate’, she wiped her puffy bloodshot eyes and blew her crooked nose.
As Joan reached for her moisturiser, ‘Anti-age! What’s that mean Kitty? Crows feet, deep lines, I’m aging and there’s nothing a jar of cream can do to stop it.’
The mobile phone chirped.
‘What? A message at 11:15pm. Should turn the thing off. Remind me tomorrow night Kitty, turn off mobile.’ She climbed out of bed curious as to who it would be and pulled the phone out of her oversized handbag. ‘Sender unknown Kitty, let’s see what it is. “Sorry, not near a computer to email, will find one tomorrow, Jack.”’ Joan turned the mobile phone off and threw it back into her bag. ‘What’s that mean Kitty? Like you? Love you? Want to see you? Hate you? I’m taken go away? Kitty what time is it? Oh my goodness, how am I ever going to get up in time for that gym appointment? I’ll start next week. Good night Kitty, sweet dreams. Tell me it’ll all be better tomorrow.'