The Broken Ankle

“You see, Brent, there are men, lots of men, who demand, insist and can get rough with a girl, even when it isn’t technically rape. Anything of that sort could bring her crashing down again. Only you know for sure whether you love her or not, but if you do, then be very, very gentle with her.”

“I don’t know if I can love her as she needs to be loved, mum.”

“You told your father you didn’t want anyone else.”

Although I had spoken those words unthinkingly, my mother repeating them brought them into sharp focus.

“Is it love, mum, when you feel like that…I mean…not just infatuation, not just wanting to bed a woman, but not wanting to be without her?”

“If it isn’t love, Brent, it comes pretty damned close.”

Peace seemed to settle on me. I felt as if the problems and doubts had dissipated. It was both as simple and at the same time, as profound as that. I didn’t want to be without Smithy in my life.

I could have telephoned her, but knew that what I had to say must be face to face. I rose, gave mum a kiss and said “Thanks mum, I’ll be gone for a while.”

She gave a little laugh and said, “Be very nice to her.”

I grinned and responded, “I will, I promise you.”

I drove to where Smithy was living while in town. It was an aunt’s place, and it was the aunt who opened the door to my bell ringing.

“Brent, you’ll want Norma I suppose?”

“Er…yes please.”

“She’s not here at the moment, her mother’s come down here and they’ve gone out together to do some shopping. Do you want to come in and wait?”

“Yes please.”

I was led into the kitchen and offered tea or coffee. I settled for tea.

“They’ve been gone about two hours,” the aunt said, “I don’t think they’ll be too long.” now.”

We talked about the weather, the state of her garden, the price of lamb chops and the prime minister’s latest faux pas.

No Smithy and mother arrived. The aunt told me she had to “get on,” without specifying what she had to get on with. She left me to do her getting on.

Impatience took over. “Where the hell is Smithy? How dare she keep me waiting like this! Perhaps the aunt was lying and Smithy was off with a lover! All the business about not wanting to be touched could have been a fake, and right now she was in the arms…”

“Brent, what are you doing here?”

I had been so engaged tormenting myself with visions of Smithy in a passionate embrace with some vile seducer, I had failed to hear her arrive.

“I…well…you see…Don’t bloody well go.”

“Go where?”

“Don’t be so obtuse. Don’t go home.”

“Oh, I see. Why shouldn’t o go home?”

“Damn it, Smithy, because I don’t want you to go.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“Oh, good. The thing is Brent, I already knew that. It was you who didn’t know it.”

“How did you…?”

“Never mind about that now. Have you thought of a date for the wedding?”

“Wedding?”

“You haven’t, have you? Really Brent, it’s like dealing with a child. Never mind, I can see to things for us. By the way, mummy and I have been out looking at wedding dresses this afternoon. I think I’ll go for something simple.”

Marge had entered the kitchen so she chimed in. “I think she’s right, Brent. She doesn’t really need anything elaborate or showy.”

Smithy picked up the theme. “It’s all right, darling. We haven’t ordered anything yet, so if you want to you can have a say about the dress.”

I was bowled over. I struggle to speak, trying to inject something into the flow of words, and finally came out with, “I haven’t asked you to…”

“Oh, but you were going to, so I saved you the bother, but if you’d like to ask me you can.”

“I er…”

“Yes. There, that’s settled. I do love you, Brent, you’re so decisive.”

Marge left us, assuming no doubt we were about to engage in romantic and embarrassing discourse.

Smithy did one of her quick personality changes. “I love you very much, Brent. When we do, you will be gentle with me…you won’t hurt me?”

“No I won’t hurt you, my love. It will only happen when you’re ready for it to.”

She snuggled up against me, and I felt her fragility once again. She raised her face and said, “Kiss me, Brent.”

It was not a passionate tongue lashing kiss, but very warm and loving. The protective feeling I had felt for her before came back to me. Yes, I loved her…loved her very much.

I have no wish to expand on the intimate details of our sex lives. Let it be sufficient to say that after our third night of marriage, next morning we were both very happy. We have been very happy ever since.

Five years down the track Marge has her grandchildren…well, two of them.

There is a rather odd epilogue to my story.

Our youngest child, Robin, had recently started school, and one day it was convenient for me to meet him after school. He came running out, but then stopped to say something to a group of children.

As I waited for him a teacher came to the top of the steps at the school entrance. I idly glanced at her, and then looked back at her again. It was Jackie.

She must have sensed my looking at her because she stared across at me for a moment, and then fled back into the school.

I felt no pain, and merely wondered what had happened to her “better offer.”