The Wrong Twin

Malcolm's wedding was all too rapidly approaching and he found himself inundated with details that held little interest. These were the usual boring, tedious, despicable wedding day details: flowers to order, most of which he could not tell apart nor name nor describe; places he had never heard of that suddenly became of paramount importance; people he had no idea of, had never heard of and were somehow related; seating plans with the complexity of Fermat's Last Theorem; and transport arraignments that made Heathrow Airport look decidedly simple (and potentially with almost as many bags lost). Is it any wonder Malcolm took to daydreaming and reminiscing?

* * *

Oh yes, reminiscing, back to the summer when he was eleven, was it eleven? Something like that, anyway it's not important, just that it was a far simpler time. Such summers of your youth are always bright, sunny and endless, especially the ones remembered with such deep affection. Hence that indisputable fact probably wasn't true. Most likely it was just as cloudy, rainy and dull as the one heralding his wedding and with as few miserable flickers of sunshine.

My Wives

This was the final load. Malcolm was up unnaturally early this Wednesday morning as he had been on this day every fortnight for the past few months. Throwing on yesterdays clothes and not bothering to take his normal shower he opened the curtains onto a dull day. He was now vaguely used to what six in the morning looked like and he did not find it tempting.

A heavy parcel was on the living room table where he had left it the previous evening. Then he had meticulously wrapped its contents in several black bin liners. Carefully picking up the parcel and lumbering to his first floor flats front door he opened it as silently as possible. He edged down the stairs, clinging onto his parcel, and out to the back of the block of flats. It was here the bins to the flats were located. He opened them searching for one that was half full. Having found something suitable he carefully moved some of the other waste bags to one side. Then he kissed his parcel goodbye before ceremoniously laying it flat in the bin. He covered his parcel with some other waste bags making sure it mostly hidden.

Looking down at his half covered parcel he now took time to say his farewells. Malcolm felt it was necessary to say a proper goodbye even so he was most fearful that any prying eyes should inspect his bin or see his deeply felt ceremony. Then he closed the lid and patted it, almost caressing it. The whole process was so much like loosing a much loved friend.

The Cathedral

Malcolm had, at last, made it up the hill alongside the Anglican Cathedral and was on the long straight road behind. Ahead his car and sanctuary was at the furthest end of the road. The few times Malcolm went to the city he parked his battered Volkswagen behind the cathedral. He usually found a spot there and it was still totally free; unlike the extravagant fees demanded nearer the shopping centre. But he only parked here when he was well and truly alone. It was a bit of a walk to the main city centre shops and passengers did not always appreciate his ingenuity or economy.

It had been a frustrating trip. Of all possible vices the one Malcolm hated most was shopping. And city centre shops on a Saturday were the worst iniquity of them all. Today was no exception and he trekked back to his car disgruntled and empty handed. So the necessity of some birthday present for his father had suddenly arrived; he only remembered this detail because of the constant nagging by his mother and only pride stopped him giving in to her offer to provide the necessary. The pride however would have to be swallowed as Malcolm was still empty handed as well as being fed up and totally disgruntled. Leaving everything to the day before the monumental day was not his best inspiration. Nor was having no idea of what his father might like; everything had seemed either tacky, useless or far too expensive – and often all three.

The side of the road opposite the back of the cathedral was dominated by once flourishing Georgian houses. Here they were clumped together ensconced in the tiniest of gardens, all due to the demands on city centre real estate. Once they had been the proud status symbols of the city's merchants. Now they were broken up into student flats and serviced the nearby university.

Standing, all alone, on a corner ahead was the prettiest girl Malcolm had ever seen, deliciously cute in a simple light blue print dress. As he walked he stared, almost stumbled, and again stared ahead intently. As he got closer the features of her small angelic face enchanted; the most beautiful face he had ever seen and clasped within short cropped black hair. The notion of 'love at first sight' was for trashy fiction. But... this was a unique and new experience. As he approached her incredible beauty only became more adorably enhanced.

Malcolm looked on and it almost appeared as if she stepped towards him. A delicious shudder of the most delightful electricity shot down his spine. He had never been in a situation remotely like this before. He was completely dumb struck. She would have to break the silence. The beautiful face looked up.

“Business?” she said quietly.

Another shudder ran through him, only this time of disappointment. Turning away, and without saying a word, he walked briskly onwards towards his car. He did not look back, he should have looked back.

Back safely among the cheep plastic and tin Malcolm composed himself. He regretted not having the courage to accept the offer. But was also pleased he didn't.

Then the thought crossed his mind: how amazingly convenient, two vices so very close together, the cathedral and 'business'.