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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Love / Romance / Dating
- Published: 09/04/2014
Belinda
Born 1954, M, from De Rust Western Cape, South AfricaBelinda By Jeff Glazier
“I said Belinda, who’s Belinda?” It was still dark, that was a good job as the look on the face of Frank Harris couldn’t be seen. “You called out her name . . . tell me Frank – who’s Belinda?” There were beginnings of emotion in her voice. “You’d better tell me, it’s not the first time recently that you’ve said that name in your sleep.” Frank took a deep thoughtful breath before answering.
“She’s someone at work.” He had turned to face his wife, but she wouldn’t see him. The early morning traffic suddenly sounded loud in the silence of the bedroom. Then there was the aftermath of the silence.
“ . . . How old is she?”
“Twenty eight. Do you . . . really want to know about her?”
“No.”
“Actually she’s a really nice girl . . .”
“I said no!” It was beginning to grow light now, Janet Harris turned to look at her husband. “Is this just a fling, or are you serious?”
“I don’t know, it just happened. She came on to me.” He looked rather grey in that half-light. His face ill shaped by sleep – features blurred, his guilty eyes heavy with baggage, his white stubble ageing him more.
Janet lay back heavily on her pillow. She should really have suspected when Frank changed his rather standard insurance agent issue dress. He had stopped at the window of Tru-Man. She had thought it odd that he suddenly saw himself as the mannequin. The next moment he was dressed just like it – almost. It was a short while after his fifty-sixth birthday, part of a midlife crisis? Now she was seeing another part, will that make up the full picture? – She was wondering just how many episodes there might be.
“Seriously Frank, I think that you should see someone – a counsellor, psychologist even. Apparently there comes a time in a man’s life when he sees things in a different perspective.”
It was almost light now. Frank looked at his wife, no doubt as to the perspective he would see her, thinning hair, flat on her head – he could see her white scalp. That turned him off. Belinda had beautiful hair, long and full. As she walked down the corridor it bounced with life. “Perhaps we’d better both go before too much damage is done . . . just how much damage has been done?” The silence let in noises from their neighbours, bursts of music, the closing of doors, the starting of cars. The familiar pattern of a weekday morning.
“I asked you how much damage has been done?” Janet leaned over closer to him. Her breath wasn’t so great first thing in the morning – Belinda’s breath was just a whisper, a soft, delicate, teasing whisper. He recalled the first time he’d got up close to her at the coffee machine. She’d turned quickly and bumped into him – spilt a little coffee on his tie. She breathlessly apologised, then dabbed his tie with a tissue. She first licked the tissue, he still had that image of her little pink tongue in his head.
Janet sighed heavily. “We’d better get going I suppose.” She shifted her weight to the side of the bed, then in two movements her legs flopped over the edge, her feet into the waiting well-worn sheepskin slippers. Belinda, with a nymph-like movement, would probably just slide out. He knew what his wife would do next – that irritating bounce as she gathered the effort to propel her bulk out of the bed. He had his eyes closed, no longer wanting to witness the scene. Janet would stand for a second or two, her body clearly shapeless in her nightdress. Her heavy sagging breasts limp and lifeless. Belinda, once out of bed would turn to him, realising that he was eagerly watching her, naked, her firm breasts trembling ever so slightly as she moved. On a number of occasions he had reached across and pulled her back. She never resisted. It often made them late though – he was thinking about the time when they went on the team-building weekend . . .
“I suppose that she went on the teambuilding weekend.” Frank didn’t answer. Janet turned and clumped towards the bathroom. Frank still had his eyes closed – Belinda seemed to glide, it was as if she walked on air.
Frank Harris had been with Old Mutual since he left university. He started off in one of the minor branches, always harbouring ambition to work in the main branch in the city. He had always admired the stately stone building, he thought it had status. Once there he seemed to lose all ambition and there was hardly meteoric rise, in fact due to a series of sideways shifts, after twenty-five years he was still in a junior post. His good friend, Jannie de Wet, had done better. He was in charge of Life Policies and the Branch Manager. He had a personal assistant – he had Belinda.
Janet came back into the bedroom and began to dress. She would wrap heavy structures around her body to contain her escaping bulges. Frank closed his eyes again and watched Belinda put on her delicate garments instead. Janet sat at her dressing table with her back to him and began the daily ritual of reconstructing her face.
Frank swung his legs out of bed and sat for a moment. Janet spoke to her reflection – she had a paint brush in her hand.
“Don’t forget Alison is coming this weekend – Sam is bringing her up.” Their daughter was at university at the other end of the country, but would try to make it home twice a year. “I don’t think that we should worry her with this.” Then she pulled a face at herself, and did something funny with her lips.
“What is Dad wearing?” Alison was helping her mum clear the table. He’s an insurance salesman – jeans, red-checked shirt, boots? He looks like he’s left over from some rodeo.”
“Well it wasn’t my idea, I think he’s trying to retrieve some of his youth. He thinks he’s cool”
“You mean some sort of mid-life crisis?”
“Well it’s stereotyped – no one yet has explained to me exactly what it is, but I’m starting to find out.” She couldn’t hide from her daughter that there was more than the beginnings of a problem. She ran the water in the sink and absentmindedly squirted in the liquid. “Actually I’m really worried about him, he’s behaving oddly, he’s become distant, it’s almost as if he’s in a world of his own. I’ve been meaning to speak with Jannie, you know him, he’s the branch manager, but . . . well to be honest I’m afraid to.” Alison began to load the plates into the soapy water. “And there’s another thing . . . I didn’t really want to bother you with this but . . . he tells me that there’s a woman involved.”
“What!”
“Well, a girl really, a girl at work, she’s twenty eight.”
“I don’t believe you Mum.”
“I wouldn’t have believed it either, if he hadn’t told me himself. I don’t think that he knows what he’s getting himself into.”
“Gosh Mum, this is serious.”
“I know . . . but he has agreed to seeing a counsellor with me, we’ll see what happens. Your Sam seems a nice young man, it was good of him to drive all that way. We must help with the petrol.”
“Don’t worry, Sam’s fine with that, and I know money’s tight with you.”
“Yes, it looks like I’m going to have to work until I’m sixty. Your dad’s salary has only just kept pace with inflation. We’ve just got to keep our jobs.”
“Mr and Mrs Harris, do come in.”
“Frank and Janet please.”
“Good, and I’m Bertha, pleased to meet you.” Frank followed with his head down and sat with his wife on the two seater couch. Bertha sat in a comfy chair close by. Frank had already made it quite clear that he didn’t want to be there. He could be with Belinda, she would go to the supermarket on a Saturday morning and then . . . who knows where they would go?
“Twenty-seven years.” Janet answered the question that Frank hadn’t heard about how long they had married . . . And so it went on, Frank slipping in and out of his thoughts.
“You didn’t say much Frank, that’s why it was a waste of time. You’ve got to open up in front of these people, they’re here to help. They were driving home. “Stop at Checkers will you, we need a few things.” Frank wondered if Belinda would still be there, best if she wasn’t really . . .
The Monday morning ritual began as usual with its monotonous regularity. But he was looking forward to going to work. There was a note on his keyboard in his cubicle. Jannie wanted to see him. Probably congratulations on the success of the team-building weekend. He’d have a coffee first, Belinda often went there early.
“Frank, come in.” Jannie had come to the door and shook his hand. He went straight back behind his desk then leaned forward on it with his hands clasped together. He looked very uncomfortable. “I can’t help you this time Frank, I’ve got to let you go.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on Frank, I don’t have to spell it out do I?” Frank looked obviously surprised.
“I covered up for you with the last girl, and she was willing to move on – but Belinda’s different, she’s a very good assistant, and she’s my assistant. This really hasn’t been very clever of you.”
“Don’t know what you mean Jan . . .”
“I mean several verbal complaints I received from her – suggestive remarks made by you. Three written complaints,” he glanced at the paper in his hand, “ – crowding her at the coffee machine, one occasion you groped her in the lift . . . the team building weekend – the assault course, you were always too close behind her. You’ve been stalking her Frank, in and out of these offices. On several occasions she’s looked over her shoulder in the supermarket to find you staring . . .” Frank was sinking into his chair. “She was even thinking about calling the police. I’ve persuaded her not to do that. We’ve been friends for a long time Frank, the only way that I can help is move you to East London.” That made Frank sit up. “They need someone with your experience . . .”
“You can’t send me there Jan, please, it’s the back of beyond . . .?”
“Well, it’s either that or you lose your pension and all other benefits. You’ve got to sort yourself out, this is the best I can do. I’ve . . . er . . . promised that you will have left the building by the end of the month – that’s next week. ”
“Wonderful news Janet.” Frank had a bottle of wine in his hand, “I’ve been promoted. You’re looking at the new branch manager of the East London offices.” Well, the East London bit was true. Janet hid her dismay.
“Here, come and sit down,” Janet patted a space next to her “Jannie called me, I knew about the girl you got into a scrape six months ago as well, you know. It’s a condition you’ve got Frank.” There was care in her voice. “I suppose we hoped that it would just go away– foolish of us really. You’re delusional . . . you’re in fantasy land – you’ve got what’s called erotomania. You believe that these girls are in love with you. But you can get treatment for this psychosis, even in East London. Shall we give it a go Frank? I’m up to it. Hey, come on, – not such a sad face – and don’t forget you do have a real woman in your life that loves you.”
Belinda(Jeff Glazier)
Belinda By Jeff Glazier
“I said Belinda, who’s Belinda?” It was still dark, that was a good job as the look on the face of Frank Harris couldn’t be seen. “You called out her name . . . tell me Frank – who’s Belinda?” There were beginnings of emotion in her voice. “You’d better tell me, it’s not the first time recently that you’ve said that name in your sleep.” Frank took a deep thoughtful breath before answering.
“She’s someone at work.” He had turned to face his wife, but she wouldn’t see him. The early morning traffic suddenly sounded loud in the silence of the bedroom. Then there was the aftermath of the silence.
“ . . . How old is she?”
“Twenty eight. Do you . . . really want to know about her?”
“No.”
“Actually she’s a really nice girl . . .”
“I said no!” It was beginning to grow light now, Janet Harris turned to look at her husband. “Is this just a fling, or are you serious?”
“I don’t know, it just happened. She came on to me.” He looked rather grey in that half-light. His face ill shaped by sleep – features blurred, his guilty eyes heavy with baggage, his white stubble ageing him more.
Janet lay back heavily on her pillow. She should really have suspected when Frank changed his rather standard insurance agent issue dress. He had stopped at the window of Tru-Man. She had thought it odd that he suddenly saw himself as the mannequin. The next moment he was dressed just like it – almost. It was a short while after his fifty-sixth birthday, part of a midlife crisis? Now she was seeing another part, will that make up the full picture? – She was wondering just how many episodes there might be.
“Seriously Frank, I think that you should see someone – a counsellor, psychologist even. Apparently there comes a time in a man’s life when he sees things in a different perspective.”
It was almost light now. Frank looked at his wife, no doubt as to the perspective he would see her, thinning hair, flat on her head – he could see her white scalp. That turned him off. Belinda had beautiful hair, long and full. As she walked down the corridor it bounced with life. “Perhaps we’d better both go before too much damage is done . . . just how much damage has been done?” The silence let in noises from their neighbours, bursts of music, the closing of doors, the starting of cars. The familiar pattern of a weekday morning.
“I asked you how much damage has been done?” Janet leaned over closer to him. Her breath wasn’t so great first thing in the morning – Belinda’s breath was just a whisper, a soft, delicate, teasing whisper. He recalled the first time he’d got up close to her at the coffee machine. She’d turned quickly and bumped into him – spilt a little coffee on his tie. She breathlessly apologised, then dabbed his tie with a tissue. She first licked the tissue, he still had that image of her little pink tongue in his head.
Janet sighed heavily. “We’d better get going I suppose.” She shifted her weight to the side of the bed, then in two movements her legs flopped over the edge, her feet into the waiting well-worn sheepskin slippers. Belinda, with a nymph-like movement, would probably just slide out. He knew what his wife would do next – that irritating bounce as she gathered the effort to propel her bulk out of the bed. He had his eyes closed, no longer wanting to witness the scene. Janet would stand for a second or two, her body clearly shapeless in her nightdress. Her heavy sagging breasts limp and lifeless. Belinda, once out of bed would turn to him, realising that he was eagerly watching her, naked, her firm breasts trembling ever so slightly as she moved. On a number of occasions he had reached across and pulled her back. She never resisted. It often made them late though – he was thinking about the time when they went on the team-building weekend . . .
“I suppose that she went on the teambuilding weekend.” Frank didn’t answer. Janet turned and clumped towards the bathroom. Frank still had his eyes closed – Belinda seemed to glide, it was as if she walked on air.
Frank Harris had been with Old Mutual since he left university. He started off in one of the minor branches, always harbouring ambition to work in the main branch in the city. He had always admired the stately stone building, he thought it had status. Once there he seemed to lose all ambition and there was hardly meteoric rise, in fact due to a series of sideways shifts, after twenty-five years he was still in a junior post. His good friend, Jannie de Wet, had done better. He was in charge of Life Policies and the Branch Manager. He had a personal assistant – he had Belinda.
Janet came back into the bedroom and began to dress. She would wrap heavy structures around her body to contain her escaping bulges. Frank closed his eyes again and watched Belinda put on her delicate garments instead. Janet sat at her dressing table with her back to him and began the daily ritual of reconstructing her face.
Frank swung his legs out of bed and sat for a moment. Janet spoke to her reflection – she had a paint brush in her hand.
“Don’t forget Alison is coming this weekend – Sam is bringing her up.” Their daughter was at university at the other end of the country, but would try to make it home twice a year. “I don’t think that we should worry her with this.” Then she pulled a face at herself, and did something funny with her lips.
“What is Dad wearing?” Alison was helping her mum clear the table. He’s an insurance salesman – jeans, red-checked shirt, boots? He looks like he’s left over from some rodeo.”
“Well it wasn’t my idea, I think he’s trying to retrieve some of his youth. He thinks he’s cool”
“You mean some sort of mid-life crisis?”
“Well it’s stereotyped – no one yet has explained to me exactly what it is, but I’m starting to find out.” She couldn’t hide from her daughter that there was more than the beginnings of a problem. She ran the water in the sink and absentmindedly squirted in the liquid. “Actually I’m really worried about him, he’s behaving oddly, he’s become distant, it’s almost as if he’s in a world of his own. I’ve been meaning to speak with Jannie, you know him, he’s the branch manager, but . . . well to be honest I’m afraid to.” Alison began to load the plates into the soapy water. “And there’s another thing . . . I didn’t really want to bother you with this but . . . he tells me that there’s a woman involved.”
“What!”
“Well, a girl really, a girl at work, she’s twenty eight.”
“I don’t believe you Mum.”
“I wouldn’t have believed it either, if he hadn’t told me himself. I don’t think that he knows what he’s getting himself into.”
“Gosh Mum, this is serious.”
“I know . . . but he has agreed to seeing a counsellor with me, we’ll see what happens. Your Sam seems a nice young man, it was good of him to drive all that way. We must help with the petrol.”
“Don’t worry, Sam’s fine with that, and I know money’s tight with you.”
“Yes, it looks like I’m going to have to work until I’m sixty. Your dad’s salary has only just kept pace with inflation. We’ve just got to keep our jobs.”
“Mr and Mrs Harris, do come in.”
“Frank and Janet please.”
“Good, and I’m Bertha, pleased to meet you.” Frank followed with his head down and sat with his wife on the two seater couch. Bertha sat in a comfy chair close by. Frank had already made it quite clear that he didn’t want to be there. He could be with Belinda, she would go to the supermarket on a Saturday morning and then . . . who knows where they would go?
“Twenty-seven years.” Janet answered the question that Frank hadn’t heard about how long they had married . . . And so it went on, Frank slipping in and out of his thoughts.
“You didn’t say much Frank, that’s why it was a waste of time. You’ve got to open up in front of these people, they’re here to help. They were driving home. “Stop at Checkers will you, we need a few things.” Frank wondered if Belinda would still be there, best if she wasn’t really . . .
The Monday morning ritual began as usual with its monotonous regularity. But he was looking forward to going to work. There was a note on his keyboard in his cubicle. Jannie wanted to see him. Probably congratulations on the success of the team-building weekend. He’d have a coffee first, Belinda often went there early.
“Frank, come in.” Jannie had come to the door and shook his hand. He went straight back behind his desk then leaned forward on it with his hands clasped together. He looked very uncomfortable. “I can’t help you this time Frank, I’ve got to let you go.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on Frank, I don’t have to spell it out do I?” Frank looked obviously surprised.
“I covered up for you with the last girl, and she was willing to move on – but Belinda’s different, she’s a very good assistant, and she’s my assistant. This really hasn’t been very clever of you.”
“Don’t know what you mean Jan . . .”
“I mean several verbal complaints I received from her – suggestive remarks made by you. Three written complaints,” he glanced at the paper in his hand, “ – crowding her at the coffee machine, one occasion you groped her in the lift . . . the team building weekend – the assault course, you were always too close behind her. You’ve been stalking her Frank, in and out of these offices. On several occasions she’s looked over her shoulder in the supermarket to find you staring . . .” Frank was sinking into his chair. “She was even thinking about calling the police. I’ve persuaded her not to do that. We’ve been friends for a long time Frank, the only way that I can help is move you to East London.” That made Frank sit up. “They need someone with your experience . . .”
“You can’t send me there Jan, please, it’s the back of beyond . . .?”
“Well, it’s either that or you lose your pension and all other benefits. You’ve got to sort yourself out, this is the best I can do. I’ve . . . er . . . promised that you will have left the building by the end of the month – that’s next week. ”
“Wonderful news Janet.” Frank had a bottle of wine in his hand, “I’ve been promoted. You’re looking at the new branch manager of the East London offices.” Well, the East London bit was true. Janet hid her dismay.
“Here, come and sit down,” Janet patted a space next to her “Jannie called me, I knew about the girl you got into a scrape six months ago as well, you know. It’s a condition you’ve got Frank.” There was care in her voice. “I suppose we hoped that it would just go away– foolish of us really. You’re delusional . . . you’re in fantasy land – you’ve got what’s called erotomania. You believe that these girls are in love with you. But you can get treatment for this psychosis, even in East London. Shall we give it a go Frank? I’m up to it. Hey, come on, – not such a sad face – and don’t forget you do have a real woman in your life that loves you.”
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