A Dog Called Regret
06/02/23 14:30
Mid Week Flash Challenge: Week 280
A Dog Called Regret
Jennifer slumped in the sofa, her face speaking of thunder and depression. It was proving to be one of those weekends. The Black Dog, her dad called it. Winston Churchill suffered with it he said. Her seemed to think it would help knowing famous and even great people suffered with it, so it was alright for her to do so too. As help goes she thought it was shit. These people had money, fame, friends and colleagues; she had no one: just that Black Dog.
Scrolling up and down the TV schedule Jennifer found nothing that interested her. She didn’t have the concentration for a new film, she ended up settling for some series or other she’d watched countless times. It would wash over her anyway.
Her phone stubbornly failed to buzz with notifications; nobody cared about her today. Maybe nobody ever did. Every time the adverts came on the volume went up, then it quietened too much for the show. Whatever it was. If pressed she’d say it was something American; maybe it was an NCIS, CSI, or Law & Order. It didn’t matter. It was simply background noise to her mood.
While the loud adverts came on for life insurance, stair lifts, and denture cleaning products she found herself scrolling through her photo albums. Ian Botham was shouting to a woman about his feet whilst trying to look jolly and sincere while Jennifer had found herself in Malta. What a holiday that was: warm weather; great food; nice beaches; and even top sex. It had felt like the beginning of a new life at the time. It felt perfect. Duncan had seemed perfect for her and she to him. All her friends were happy for her. To find your soulmate is always to be celebrated as much as a lottery win. Claire had said it was as unlikely as winning the lottery, especially as you couldn’t even know when you were in the draw.
She wondered what had happened to Claire. So many of her friends from those days were long gone. What had happened to her life since then? She’d drifted from them without even noticing over the years. And then there was Duncan. Her biggest regret. She’d got worried about things. They were getting on like a house on fire. Like they’d known each other forever, despite only being together for less than a year when they went to Malta. They’d then had city breaks in Barcelona, Madrid, and Rome. Each was wonderful to her, and for Duncan too. He’d proposed in Rome in the piazza by her favourite building; the Parthenon. She’d cried tears of joy. She’d shouted ‘Yes’ repeatedly. There had been applause from customers at the restaurant. It was a night still etched in her memory. But now it felt like a memory of a movie, something that had happened to somebody else. Two years they’d been together when he’d proposed. Two years that could not have been better. In hindsight she’d call them the “Peak Jennifer” years. Hindsight. Damn hindsight. Why couldn’t hindsight do a deal with foresight from time to time?
They were getting married in a registry office to save on costs. But there was a big party planned in Gloucester afterwards. Two hundred friends and family to celebrate with them, before they were to head out to California for a fly drive to die for. Two years that couldn’t have been better, a wedding that was just what they wanted and a honeymoon she’d have died for. So lucky.
She didn’t deserve any of it. Her brain was broken. Friends didn’t have what she had; and was to have. But they were better than her, they deserved better. She decided she couldn’t accept it. It was bound to go wrong down the road. She was being set up. Life was having a laugh. Perfect Duncan. Perfect future. Perfect life. It was all a big fat joke on her. She’d no doubt about that.
She’d ended it with Duncan over four acrimonious months. Then she’d hidden away from the world. Lost him, lost her brilliant life. Eventually Jennifer lost all her friends too. Her life was now awful – like it should be. She’d sorted it. She had days when she’d wonder what would have happened if she’d married Duncan. She told herself that she couldn’t regret it. At least she had the Black Dog for company. Had she even been to Malta?