JACK AND JILL
Jai Clare

Jack fell in love with Jill. She had blue eyes and thin red hair. She was beautiful. It was her voice, the way she said hello that had him gasping. They met in downtown Putney, in a bar under the bridge. They talked about gangster and kung fu movies and drank lager. But what sealed it was the glimpse of the red hair between her legs as she climbed into the car. He felt good when he knew she was his.

Jack and Jill moved to a flat overlooking the river, where they’d made love, fed the budgie, cooked meals, entertained friends on Friday nights, argued, rowed, sulked, misunderstood each other, and made up under apricot duvets. Only occasionally did Jill glance in the mirror and wonder about something she could hardly grasp.

Jack and Jill went up the ladder of success slowly, carefully trying not to cause in each other any moments of concern. They thought about children, they thought about changing jobs, changing cars, changing hair colour, but never each other. Jack and Jill were a solid couple. They’d wave pleasantly to the neighbours—by now they’d moved to the suburbs where Saturday afternoon was always spent at Waitrose. Everything had a rhythm and a purpose.

In the summer Jack and Jill went on holiday to Turkey, thinking it was a safe adventure, making sure to eat only English food. The resort on the coast was self-contained, white, dis-infected. Jill was bitten by a jellyfish, so they sued the company. It was a pleasant life: they had money, each other, TV, jobs. Their mind and hearts were full.

One day Jack fell out of love with Jill. He saw her coming out of a hairdresser’s, and watched as a man came up behind her, and after grabbing her bag, ran off down the main street. She shouted, she screamed and for the first time Jack listened to her whiny voice, saw her red hair as garish, her little mouth as mean. She didn’t run to retrieve her bag. She just stood there looking gormless.

~

Later he spoke to her, much later he spoke to a solicitor, and even later signed divorce papers, bought another flat overlooking the park, and then that was the end of that story.

© Jai Clare

Jai Clare, currently working on a PhD at the University of Gloucestershire, has recently joined the Fandango Virtual team as poetry editor for Bonfire and Gator Springs Gazette. Her work appears in The London Magazine, Agni 60, Bonfire, The Barcelona Review, Nemonymous, Night Train, Redsine, The Pedestal Magazine, Gator Springs Gazette, Cadenza and QWF. She is also featured in Foreign Affairs, The Erotic Travel Tales Anthology, Cleis Press and in Wheatland Press' Nine Muses Anthology.

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