The Decameron 2.0

Day 5.6 Revenge - THE TALE OF THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK KenMagee

INTRODUCTION...

"Okay, my new friends, my turn, is it? Well, I'm going to tell you a tale about my girlfriend's, or to be more accurate, my ex-girlfriend's little black book. I've never told anyone this story before, but seeing as I'll probably never see any of you again, I figure why not share it?"

The Tale of the Little Black Book

What on earth was going on with that little black book? She protected the thing so preciously, and finding out all about it, or at least something about it, became a bit of an obsession for me. I wanted to know what was in it. No, I needed to know. It lived in her handbag in a side pocket, and nothing ever displaced it.

"Could you stick my mobile in your bag for me?" I asked. "I'm worried it'll drop out of these jeans."

"No room, Dan. Sorry," she said.

"Leave your book at home. My mobile would fit neatly in that wee pouch."

"Nope, the book never leaves my bag."

"What's so special about it? Can I have a look?"

"Nope."

End of conversation.

The more often incidents like this happened, the more obsessed I became. I had to know what was in the book. What was she hiding? What didn't she want me to see?

***

Jenny and I had been going out together for just over six months. Truth be told, we'd been going out for nearly four years if you added in our first stint as a couple. Yeah, that's right—we were on our second "tour of duty."

The first one hadn't ended well. It wasn't my fault though. I'd been certain there was no way she could possibly have found out about my little fling. How wrong I was. In fact, she'd found out about all three flings, and she wasn't happy. Insults were hurled, along with plates, glasses and sharp cutlery, but as I'm sure you'll be glad to hear, I escaped mostly unscathed. She got so emotional about the whole affair (pun intended), she felt the wedding should be cancelled, which to me seemed silly given it was only a couple of weeks away. But she insisted, and we broke up, leaving us free to get on with our lives... separately, no real harm done.

Eighteen months later, we'd met unexpectedly at a restaurant while we were both on supposedly romantic dates. We exchanged no more than a little small talk but there was a spark—no, there was real electricity—so I asked her if she'd like to meet up for a drink sometime, and two days later, we were back together. And it seemed she'd forgiven me for what I'd done. At least, she said she had.

Anyway, you know that tingly feeling you get when you really like someone? Some people say it's common sense leaving your body, but I reckon it's love. Yes, I was falling in love, unlike the previous time we'd been together. That first time around, I'd sort of drifted along with the flow; a flow that had nearly ended up in us tying the matrimonial knot.

***

"Happy thirty-day to you," she sang as she handed me a big red envelope with hand-drawn hearts plastered all over it.

I just love presents, so I ripped the top off with the unbridled enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning and pulled out the card. As I opened it, a golden ticket fell to the floor.

"Willy Wonka's chocolate factory tour?" I asked with wide-eyed glee.

"Nope," she said. "Parachute jump."