Waiting.
He had in a fit of peak scoured the personal ads. Why he did not know. He was happily married, had never felt the need for extra adventure and had a full life as it was, with home, work and extracurricular duties as a society officer. Anyhow, his eyes were drawn to an advert that was ostensibly the same as any other. Something was between the lines of that one that made him feel that his person was not seeking togetherness or casual relationship. He was compelled to reply. He knew not why, but his very straightforward scribble of “I’m married, but don’t worry, I’m sure together we can fix what’s wrong” along with an e-mail address he usually reserved for mailshots had been put into the envelope and the box number address had been written upon it had been posted before he realised how adventurous he had been. He soon forgot his concerns as he had not addressed any of the points in the advert, only those that he saw between them. He didn’t expect to hear from the advertiser.
Three days later, amongst the spam, he spotted an e-mail entitled “How can you be so perceptive?”. The name of the sender, “jewell132"was not one he had seen before. His heart missed a beat as his impulsive activities of earlier in the week came flooding back. He tentatively opened the e-mail. It was indeed from the recipient of his reassuring one-liner. The body of the e-mail was supplementary to the vignette in the original advert, filling in background - name (Christine), family, school studies, degree, first date and work. The detail of the earlier life took only a couple of paragraphs but painted a full picture. The following five paragraphs were concerned with work, but said very little. However, between the lines he read torment and dilemma. He felt somehow he needed to help. Why he didn’t know - nor how. He just knew he had to. He replied, with just a couple of paragraphs. He gave very brief detail of his earlier life, his work detail and how he had met his wife. He then replied to the text between the lines. “I feel you are in turmoil and, as I said when I first wrote, I know I can help. But you have to trust me a little more. The depth of my perception only goes so far”. He thought about what to entitle the e-mail. He chose “You’ve tried Home Help, now try “Work Help”. He hit the send button before he realised he had been very direct once again.
The cuckoo of an incoming e-mail reported a read receipt only a few seconds after sending. Had she been waiting for his response? Time would soon tell. Just one minute later the cuckoo sound played again. It was his new-found pen pal. The title “I need help to make a decision” encouraged him that he was reading things correctly between the lines. He does not know to this day how he sees the pleas. The words as written are so very similar that nobody else would give them a second thought. The body of this e-mail was almost empty. Just a single paragraph thanking him for the background to his family, with a closing sentence wishing that her work was as straightforward as his. His job is actually very involved - design work and man management. Hers has been portrayed in text as very straightforward - market research in a small company - meeting people and sometimes telephoning them, asking pre-scripted questions and recording answers. The paradoxical ending of her later e-mail confirmed to him that something other than the job duties was causing grief.
His return e-mail did not take long to compose. The text of the e-mail was a pretext - explaining a little more background of his hobbies and the society duties he had undertaken. He ended asking her to elaborate on her work “... not the job detail but your colleagues and boss”. He entitled the e-mail “Is the problem ‘what’ or ‘who’?”
Cuckoo was only seconds arriving confirming the e-mail had been opened. Then a few minutes later her reply arrived. “I’ve not been entirely straight with you” What could that mean? The body of the e-mail said “I didn’t tell you this, but... I’m married. You came straight out with it, but I held that one back in case it put you off me. You have been exceptionally perceptive throughout, and I now know the problem is not what I do at work but who I do it with. My husband has his eyes on one of my colleagues. I’m sure he has, the signs are there”.
I should have felt threatened by this. It was a classic ploy for a rebound affair - seeking comfort. However, between the lines it was different. Very different. He felt only an overwhelming empathy here and a burning desire to make things right.
Six months on, the e-mail exchanges continued. The main message in the title and the continuity in the final paragraph of the e-mail seemed to be the modus operandi - with platonic background almost randomly selected in the few paragraphs above. Despite the innocent words in the main text body, somehow he found subtle messages between the lines. Was it empathy? ESP? Or was it just an overactive imagination? Either way, his interpretations had been well received and things had moved along. Her marriage was now very solid, possibly thanks to his timely e-mails. His was straightforward and unthreatened. The frequency of e-mails had rescinded since the threats and concerns of earlier had been dealt with.
One night an e-mail arrived from Jewel132 entitled “Works open day”. Christine was inviting him to go to see her place of work. This would be an opportunity for them to finally meet. He would have to stay in a hotel. The planning required for this involved some pretexts. He had never mentioned to his wife the dealings he had had with Christine. He had nothing to be ashamed of but he felt somehow, innocent though his motives were, they would be misread.
He arranged to travel across country the day before, and Christine was going to meet him at his hotel that afternoon to show him around the town. Although he typically declined on principle the market research aimed his way - he never filled in questionnaires - he was genuinely interested in how the industry worked. This was an opportunity he did not wish to turn down. Also of course he would have the opportunity to finally meet someone who he felt he knew very well, for the first time.
Strangely he felt very excited. The feeling was one of mixed emotions. He had never met Christine. He had never even spoken to her on the phone, never even seen a photo, yet he felt he knew her. The week and a half leading up to the open day served to heighten the emotions. E-mail exchanges had taken place confirmimng the hotel advance bookings so he would know where to go and she would know when to meet him. They even exchanged mobile phone numbers but agreed this was only for urgent SMS messages and no voice communication.
Finally the day before the open day came. He was all of a daze. His heart was pounding with excitement even before the train arrived. It was on time and with adequate space for him to stretch out. He could not resist sending a text message explaining that his train was on time and that he would be at the hotel on time. The bland “OK, CHRISTINE” reply reassured him that at least the number was correct and that his message had been received.
The train drew nearer. As it did so his heart began to race again. Finally it pulled smoothly into the destination station. He almost fell off the train. Naturally he was the first to the taxi rank. The taxi ride was only 5 minutes. The fare was paid and he went in. For the first time he actually felt nervous. All his other emotions may have served to hide this one before, but no longer. He was physically sweating as he verified his booking and signed in. His luggage was already in his room thanks to the speedy staff lifts and efficient porter.
He tried to calm himself by reading the notices regarding meals, fire exit, how the TV worked etc, but it was no good. His eyes and ears were drawn every few seconds to the door. He didn’t have to wait too long before he heard the knock. He jumped nervously to attention and tentatively opened the door. The thirty-something brunette stood there. “Christine?”. She nodded. They fell into a very long hug in the doorway.
Finally their emotionally charged embrace dissolved and he ushered her in. He was burning with questions, but remembered his manners. Christine nodded at the offer of a cuppa. He fired several statements and questions in her general direction as he attended to the tea. It was after the third or fourth unanswered question that he turned to look at her. Suddenly it dawned on him. Christine was a deaf mute.