Take Care of You

Wifey Material

How did I get it so wrong? I'm wracking my brain to death as I make a pit stop at the service station. The nearly fully grown ulcer on the side of my mouth is driving me mad. Lack of sleep. Ever since the abysmal birthday party attempt I have struggled to have a full nights rest. Lou screamed the hotel down the entire time, it was excruciatingly embarrassing. Four out of five sons of Mildred came with some of their kids, but to her, she was broken. An outcast, friendless and alone. Maybe I have spoilt her out of compensation for the lack of maternal figure in her life. It didn't stop me feeling like a big fuck up, I'd let her down. Me and my actions are potentially driving a wedge between my daughter and her fellow peers. I don't get what the big deal is, it's my money. I have more than enough to live on, a few games a day doesn't even bleed into my monthly wage. I go into the station on the prowl for some ointment, searching the aisles in vain. "Cough medicine, headache pain relief... " I speak aloud, rummaging through all the different remedies.

"Can I help at all?" A tall dark haired woman approaches me. She is wearing a dark red polo neck shirt and smart black trousers. Her name tag reads, Laura Bird, Manager. I smile warmly at her, rising up from my crouched position on the floor. Christ, she is only a few inches shorter than me. That's usually unheard of.

"Yes, actually. I have had this ulcer in my mouth of the last couple of days and nothing I have seems to kill the little mite. Any recommendations?" I ask politely.

Her forehead creases as she pouts, "Do I look like a pharmacist?"

Taken aback by her brash reponse, I dart my eyes back to the shelf and continue looking for myself.

"I'm only kidding," she giggles, gently patting my arm. She walks past beckoning me with her finger, "follow me." I do as she says, I can't help but take a look at her backside. She most definitely works out, its pert and peachy. She whips her head around, glancing over her shoulder at me. I quickly avert my eyes, hoping she doesn't clock on to what I was doing.

"Are you from around here?" She asks, finally stopping at a section that sells mouthwashes and dental flosses.

"No, my wife. Well, ex wife lives here now," I tell her, suddenly feeling nervous.

She nods, blinking in thought. Without taking her eyes from me, she reaches to her left and hands me a box. "Bonjela," I say aloud, flipping it over to the back to read its contents.

"That will sort you and your mouth out in no time," she smirks, with a raised brow. Her teeth are perfectly white and straight.

"Thanks. Are you from around here?" I find myself asking.

"You bet. I'm only twenty minutes away with my dog and nineteen-year-old," she answers, rolling the hairband down from her wrist. She gathers her long hair up into a messy bun at the top of her head.

"Wow, you don't look old enough," I blurt out in surprise. She looks early thirties tops.

"Why, thank you. I'm thirty-eight. Since we are on the subject, how old are you?" Her eyes are gleaming, they are a brilliant shade of blue. Almost turquoise, they are well and truly drawing me in.

I chuckle, rubbing my lips. "Guess," I reply with a flirty look.

"Ooh, now you're asking. Hmm, no sign of grey hairs. No real wrinkles, apart from your crows feet around the eye area. I'm gonna say, thirty-three," she smiles, looking at me suspiciously.

"Boy, there's a big brownie point for you!" I reply happily, raising my hand for her to slap it.

As she does she says, "Don't tell me you're in the forties club."

I nod with a shrug, "Well, at least my handsome devilish looks haven't fled me yet."

She sniggers, taking the Bonjela out of my hands and walks towards the checkout area. I follow suit, taking my wallet out to pay.