A short little story about a first date - or, really, the lead up to that date. It's a competition entry with the brief of the first date, and it had to include Merlot. Content Warning - the story features postnatal depression. When Terry awoke, he knew it was going to be a difficult day – Valentine’s Day had been for the last few years. He lay in bed, listening to the radio play, trying to forget the date and enjoying the last few minutes that he would have to himself.
Surely enough, the bedroom door opened, and Chelsea padded in. He looked over at his six-year-old daughter and smiled. She ran over, jumping on the bed and throwing her arms around his neck in a massive hug. He hugged her back and they wished each other a good morning. Chelsea slipped down onto the bed beside him and reached for the TV remote. Terry smiled at her and helped, passing it to her, before getting up to make coffee. He brought it back to bed, by which time Chelsea had chosen something to watch. He could ignore whatever it was. They settled in to watch, but before too long the doorbell rang. Chelsea moved to pause the TV, but Terry waved to her that it wasn’t necessary, and he went to answer the door. Stood a few paces back was a deliveryman, mask in place, and taking a photograph to confirm that he’d done his job. He gave Terry a quick wave, and then rushed back to his van. Terry looked down at the doorstep and picked up the box that was there. He took it to the kitchen, in no great rush to return to the TV upstairs. Opening it, he was surprised to find a bottle of wine – Merlot, his favourite. Confused, Terry looked through the packaging but was unable to find any indication of who had sent it. He checked the delivery address and confirmed that he was the correct recipient. He smiled and put it to the side for later, at the end of the day when Chelsea was back in bed. He tapped out a quick query on his social media accounts, asking if any friends had sent it and returned to his bedroom. Soon, the two of them would need to get up and start their day. There was precious little to do. Most of the activities that he would normally take Chelsea out to do were closed due to the pandemic, but he’d worked hard to find things to keep her occupied. They drove out to some nearby woods and spent a few hours walking, talking about nothing, and playing Pooh Sticks when they came to bridges. A picnic in the woods made an excellent lunch for the young girl, followed by play in the park. Chelsea had an active imagination, and Terry followed her lead for play. It was exhausting for him to keep up with her, but he had to keep her busy. He couldn’t face the question again, that day of all days, about why she couldn’t see her mother anymore. She’d asked before, and Terry had tried to answer. It had been difficult, and he’d not been able to do so fully. How could you tell a three-year-old that her mother had left because looking after that three-year-old had been too difficult? Postnatal depression had hit Judith hard and, despite his attempts to help, she had eventually walked out of their lives. He didn’t know where she had gone – her parents had refused to tell him. He missed her every day. He hadn’t been able to explain that to a four-year-old or a five-year-old either, and he was dreading the day the six-year-old would ask again. By the time they returned home, Chelsea was exhausted, and Terry put her in the bath. Whilst she played in the water, he checked his social media. Nobody was admitting to having sent the Merlot, but it made him smile to think that somebody was thinking of him. It was quite nice to have received an anonymous Valentine’s present – it made him feel like a teenager again. He went to put a pizza in the oven for Chelsea’s dinner, and then went to help her wash her hair and get her out of the bath. He was going to worry about his dinner after she was in bed – and he’d now have the wine to enjoy with it. By the time that he had Chelsea in bed, Terry was as tired as she was, and he was very glad that his evening plans included an easy takeaway rather than cooking. He went to open the wine so that it could breathe and picked up his phone to choose a meal, and there was a knock on the door. Surprised, he went to answer it to find another delivery – this time a meal from a local restaurant. Terry queried the delivery with the driver but, like the wine, it was correct. He waved a thank you to the driver and took it to the kitchen. His phone rang and he picked it up, looking at the screen and almost dropping it in surprise. It showed Judith’s face – a face that he hadn’t seen in more than three years. Nervously, almost reverently, he touched the screen to answer the videocall and her face, looking much as it always had, smiled at him and waved. Judith didn’t say anything. Terry didn’t say anything. Moments passed. “Has the meal arrived?” Terry was shocked into response by the sudden sound. “The meal?” Judith nodded. “I sent you dinner. It was supposed to arrive at eight.” Terry nodded back. “Yes. Dinner arrived. Thanks?” “And the wine?” Judith raised a glass, showing a red wine and, over her shoulder in the picture, he could see a similar bottle of Merlot to the one that he had received earlier that day. “That was from you too?” Terry sat down. Judith nodded, but then they both fell silent again. “It’s good to see you.” Again, Judith was the first to break the silence. “You too,” Terry replied. “This is… something of a surprise.” “I know,” Judith said, looking down rather than at him. “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I was really nervous about calling you.” “That’s ok,” Terry said. “I can understand that. You’re looking good.” It was true – she looked rested, which was probably the biggest change from how he remembered her. She’d had trouble sleeping since the day Chelsea had been borne. At first, they’d simply put it down to Chelsea crying in the night and needing feeding, but even as the nights had calmed down, Judith had still never managed to sleep enough. Terry wasn’t sure over the phone screen, but he thought that she’d put makeup on as well. “Thanks.” Judith smiled and raised her eyes to look at him again. “I wanted to apologise to you. Not just for surprising you today, but for the last few years. I… well… I think you know how hard I was finding everything, and, at the end, I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I know that I shouldn’t have just left, but, at the time, I couldn’t do anything else. I hope you understand.” Terry nodded to her, slowly. “I’ve been getting help,” Judith continued. “I’m feeling much better than I was, and I wanted to talk to you. So, I sent you dinner and wine – I hope I remembered what you like! If you don’t want to, I’ll completely understand – you can just enjoy a good meal on me. But, if you’d like to talk… well, I’d like to think of this as a new first date, so that we can get to know each other again. I’ve changed over the last few years, and I’m sure you have.” “A first date?” Terry asked. “You want to get back together?” Judith nodded to him, and her eyes glistened on the screen. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or if it was just the glare of a light. “I’m not pushing anything,” Judith insisted. “I have no right to. But I miss you, and I miss Chelsea, but I don’t want to get her hopes up if things aren’t going to work out, and I didn’t know if you might have already moved on, or the two of you might hate me for leaving you… I just wanted to reach out and see if there could be a chance.” Terry smiled at her, and felt tears fill his own eyes. “It’s a date. I’m going to hang up so I can go freshen up, and then call you back from my laptop.” Judith smiled at him, looking so much as she used to that it almost broke his heart. Whatever help she’d been getting had turned her around. He gave her a wave and ended the call. Ten minutes later, Terry was freshly shaved, had changed into a shirt, had warmed his meal up and had poured himself a glass of the Merlot. He pressed the necessary controls on his laptop to call Judith back, and she answered within a couple of rings. She looked just as she had before, though tears had smudged her makeup. She was smiling though, and the smile reached her eyes. He raised his glass to her and saw her do the same. “To new beginnings,” he said. “To new beginnings,” she echoed and moved her glass towards the screen, as if to toast over the miles of distance between them. “I’m sure there is lots you’d like to know about the last few years. First though – please – how is Chelsea? I miss her so much.”
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