The Accident. C.L. Taylor

       I slammed down the phone then stared at it, waiting for him to ring back. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. By twenty I was fuming and snatched the receiver back up.

       ‘Hello.’ Same flat voice from the other end.

       ‘What was it? Something I said? Something I did? Someone I talked to?’ James sighed and I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. ‘Who? And if you say “you know” one more time I’ll never talk to you again.’

       ‘Steve.’

       ‘Steve Steve? Steve MacKensie?’

       ‘Yes.’

       ‘You were in a mood with me because I spoke to Steve MacKensie? That’s ridiculous. Why would you be jealous of him?’

       ‘No one said I was jealous, Susan.’

       ‘Then why—’

       ‘You were flirting with him. I saw you, leaning across the bar so he could look down your top.’

       ‘What?’

       ‘Don’t try and deny it. Everyone saw and I won’t allow the woman I love to make a laughing stock of me in front of my peers.’

       ‘Allow? What is this, the 1930s? And I wasn’t flirting with him, we were just bantering, like we always do.’

       ‘Then why was his nose in your cleavage?’

      ‘It—’ I let out a deep sigh. ‘This is ridiculous, James. Absolutely ridiculous. We were in bed this morning, lying in each other’s arms after the most amazing sex ever and I was telling you how much I love you and now you’re accusing me of …’ I shook my head. ‘Forget it. If you think I’d jeopardize what we’ve got, what we had to flirt with a second-rate actor then you’re more than a fool, you’re a …’ my eyes filled with tears. ‘Forget it, James.’

       I slammed down the phone.

       Less than a second later it rang. I let it ring nine times then picked it up. When I didn’t say anything James sighed.

       ‘I’m sorry, Suzy-Sue. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’ve just had a lot on my plate recently. I’ve got a few … personal things … I’m working through at the moment, things I haven’t talked to you about.’

       ‘Well, that’s no reason to take it out on me.’

      ‘I know and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. You looked beautiful in the pub tonight. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you in that red top, your cleavage looks amazing, but it made me angry – when I saw other people admiring you too – because they have no right to ogle you like you’re a cheap piece of meat and—’

       ‘So you don’t want me to wear low-cut tops anymore? Is that what you’re saying?’

       ‘Yes. No. No, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m trying, clumsily, to say is that it was obvious to me that Steve was flirting with you because you looked gorgeous, and that made me angry – that your physicality was all that he could see. I’m not just in love with the way you look, I’m in love with the woman inside.’

       I said nothing. I was still trying to make sense of what he was trying to say. I think he was finding fault with Steve rather than me so why did I feel bad, like I’d done something to encourage him by wearing the wrong thing or being overly friendly.

       ‘Suzy?’

       I didn’t say anything.

       ‘Suzy?’ James said again. ‘Please don’t be angry. Please don’t hate me.’

       ‘I don’t hate you. I just don’t understand you sometimes.’

       ‘Let me rectify that.’

       ‘How?’

       ‘Let me take you home. Let me show you where I live.’