One Phone Call Away
Sybil walked through the front door of her boyfriend's house and hung up her coat and bags on the hooks behind the black-painted wooden door. She kicked off her heels and nudged them towards the overflowing shoe rack on the floor as she placed her house keys on the little table pushed against the wall. After a full day walking around in heels with barely a second to sit down, she was glad to be able to stand on flat feet again. She walked down the hall on the polished dark wood floor, dragging her feet as she went, her tights gliding effortlessly on the surface. She quietly climbed the cream carpeted stairs, taking time to look at the photos hanging on the wall. Most were of his family and his childhood, but a few were of him and his friends at university on wild nights out that for the most part they couldn't remember the following morning. A couple of those photos had Sybil in them too, but not many. When the two of them had gone out together with friends, more often than not, Sybil ended up chatting to the girls, while Larry got drunk with the boys. She smiled at a picture of Larry when he was a little boy – he was a charmer back then as much as he was now. Sybil's family had known the Greys for generations, so Sybil had spent a chunk of her childhood being forced to stay with Larry and his brother, along with her sisters, while their parents talked alone. She knew back then that Larry had a thing for her, but she could never see it happening. But then, when she was nineteen they'd got together, much to Sybil's surprise, and had been together ever since. "Larry," she called, climbing the last few stairs. She aimed her voice to his bedroom, where he seemed to spend most of his time. She wanted to tell him that she and Mary had arranged a time for the two of them to stay at Downton during the holidays. "I spoke to Mary last night," she said as she walked towards his closed bedroom door, "and she said that we can…" She stopped in her tracks. She'd opened Larry's door to find him lying naked on top of the covers with another woman.
"Fuck, Sybil, I can explain," Larry said quickly, clambering off the bed, as the woman unbeknownst to Sybil scrambled on the bed to cover her body with the messy sheets. Sybil turned on her heel, made her way down the hall and ran down the stairs, blanking out all the pleasant thoughts she'd had of the framed photos on the wall on her way up. She deliberately ignored her key to Larry's house lying on the side and walked out of the house, her bag on her shoulder, her coat over her arm and her shoes in her hand. "Sybil!" Larry called, rushing out of his house to follow her, now wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Sybil continued down the road until she reached her car. She walked around to the driver's side of the vehicle, slipped into the seat and drove off as soon as possible. She didn't want to talk to Larry. She didn't want to be associated with him. Not now. Things hadn't been going badly between them, either. They had been talking about moving in together. That was all down the drain now. Two and a half years of a steady relationship all gone in a moment. Why the hell was he sleeping with another woman anyway? It's not like Sybil wasn't willing to have sex. If anything, Sybil's sex drive was stronger than Larry's. More than once she'd had to relieve her feelings herself, but she always did it alone; she didn't get another man to do it for her! How long had he been unfaithful to her? Was this the first time? Or was this the tenth time? Sybil couldn't tell, but she didn't care. She didn't want to know. Either way, it was all over.
When she arrived at her own house, she drove carefully onto the drive, calmer than she should have been, and made quick work of getting out of the car and through her front door. She hung her coat on the end of the banister to the stairs and put her shoes and bag on the floor. She silently made her way to the kitchen and made herself a mug of cranberry tea. She sat on the side, next to the sink, sipping from the mug in her hands. She swung her legs, hitting her heels against the drawers beneath the counter and thought about what had just happened to her. She'd just lost a boyfriend. He had been a big part of her life and now that part of her life was completely gone. One second had taken everything she thought she knew about him away. She had a new void in her life that hadn't been there for quite some time. She thought about what had happened. Why now? Why hadn't he broken up with her before fucking another girl? If he was too attached to her to break up with her, then why was he fucking another girl in the first place? However, if there's one thing that Sybil had discovered about Larry Grey in the past half an hour, it was that he was an arch idiot and a dick to go with it. In a way, though, she was glad that she walked in on him and whoever she was. He couldn't deny anything now. Not that Sybil would give him the chance anyway. She heard her phone play 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' from Mary Poppins and recognised it as her ringtone. She put her now half empty mug down on the side next to her, hopped down to the floor and walked towards her bag, where she'd dumped it on the floor only ten minutes before. It was Larry. I should have guessed. She pressed 'ignore' decisively and then took her phone back to the kitchen with her. She resumed her spot on the side and sent Larry a text: It's over. Don't even bother trying.
She picked up her mug again and continued to drink. Why should she let him rule her life now? From this point, she didn't want him to be a part of her life any longer, and she wasn't about to allow him to force himself into her arms. She thought she should be more upset though. She had spent two and a half years with this man – buying him presents, going on holidays, spending days at a time together, without a moment apart. Did she really have such little respect for him now that she didn't even care? She hadn't expected to feel like this, but here she was, sitting in her kitchen, wanting to never see him again in her life.
She frowned. She looked at her phone. She scrolled through her contacts, going up and down the list aimlessly. There were some numbers that she used often: Mary Crawley, Gwen Dawson, even Elsie Hughes. And then there were others that she rarely used: Richard Clarkson – her boss at the hospital, William Mason – Gwen's boyfriend, and Joseph Molesley – her grandmother's 'butler'. She kept on scrolling until she reached Tom Branson. She stared at the words for a moment. She scrolled past, but swiftly scrolled back to the contact. She pressed the words and stared at his phone number. He was one phone call away. Things could all be different if she just made one phone call. She pressed the eleven digit number, telling her phone to ring his phone. She held her phone to her ear, with her warm mug of tea still in her hand, resting on one leg. "Hello?"
"Hi, Tom, it's Sybil."
"Oh, hi, how are you?"
"I'm not doing too badly. Look, umm, I know this is going to sound ridiculous and don't take this the wrong way and you don't have to say yes and I apologise in advance if what I'm about to do all goes terribly wrong and I give you full permission to hate me and never speak to me again after this, but, umm… do you wanna come round for a shag?"
This is quite different for me, and I might continue it if there's enough interest, but I probably won't. I don't know if it turned out well - I don't usually do this sort of thing. I hoe you like it, though, and please leave a review to let me know what you thought of it.