Afraid of Losing You

I’m afraid of losing you
This is where I live, Simon said with a wistful smile, beckoning the young woman inside.
Come in, make yourself comfortable.
Ill be just a tick.
Elsie hesitated at the threshold, boots scuffing the mat, wide-eyed as she looked about the hallway as though she expected the wallpaper to shift and the ceiling to sigh.
Something in the air, elusive and restless, pressed at her nerves.
Simon slipped away and, the moment he reappeared by the coat rack, he found himself alone for Elsie, with terror etched in her face and trembling hands, had darted out the open door without a word.
Elsie!
Where are you going?!
Simon gazed, dumbfounded, at the front door swinging softly, then at Martha, standing at his side, tail motionless.
The evening once golden and hopeful had twisted, as if the clock had chimed backwards.
She just scarpered?
Didnt say a word?
Simons best mate, Victor, stared in disbelief into his pint as Simon recounted the tale at the George and Dragon.
Not a word.
Ran like she’d seen a ghost.
Simon gazed into his half-drunk lager, as though answers floated among the bubbles.
He set it back down, shoulders heavy.
I cant figure it out What on earth frightened her so?
Could be anything.
Did you ask?
Tried to, but she wont answer the phone.
Not since last night.
Have you been round her place?
No.
I only ever walked her to her building never knew her flat number.
Odd business.
Tell me about it It started so well, and ended sopathetically.
Maybe it’s not over.
Don’t give up early, mate.
Probably just changed her mind.
Can’t think of any other explanation.
Monday youll see her at work, right?
Give it a bit of time, then find out whats what.
Hed first seen Elsie on a crawling, mist-filled bus down Oxford Road, squeezed between commuters and gossiping pensioners.
No one offered her a seat; he stood, gave up his own, managed a bashful smile.
She smiled back, eyes bright beneath a halo of autumn hair.
She lingered in his thoughts, as stubborn as the sound of rain after midnight.
Hed wanted to speak, properly, but work pressed, jammed briefcase and worries about being watched.
What would he even say?
Hi, Im Simon.
Heres my number, ring me tonight after the seven oclock news? Ridiculous.
He climbed off the bus before her, walking quickly to the office.
Still, the sense of her shadow lingered as though she hovered at his heel, trailing gentle possibility.
He scoffed at himself.
You just want it to be true
Yet when he sat behind his desk, Excel open and emails blinking insistently, it was her eyes he imagined behind every figure, her smile shimmering on the periphery of the screen.
Madness.
And then as if summoned by wishful thinking his boss, steadfast old Mr.
Evans, swept into the office.
At his side: Elsie.
Simon almost pinched himself.
Maybe hed finally lost the plot.
But the boss was all warmth.
Meet our new recruit, everyone.
Play nice! And there she stood, very real, staring straight at Simon.
Elsie, she smiled, that English softness in her vowels.
Simon.
Nice to meet you.
All his rehearsed lines evaporated in the hum of the office printer.
Inside, however, his mind spun, beer froth in a glass, ripe with hope and wonder.
Every time they spoke at the kettle, in the corridor, over dreadfully weak coffee Simon felt he might pluck the moon from the sky or unearth pearls from the Thames.
He felt a growing urge to perform grand, foolish acts in return for a fragment of her attention.
That very evening, in the familiar expanse of Victoria Park, dog leads tangling round muddy boots, Simon confided in Victor, words tumbling over themselves.
You fancy her!
Victor declared, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Do you think?
Dead certain!
It was the same when I met Jenny knew it right off.
Its strange.
Only with her it feels like wanting forever.
Well then, do something about it.
Ask her out cafe, cinema, whatever.
What if she says no?
Or has someone already?
Wont know till you try.
At worst, nothing changes.
At best
So Simon tried.
At the bus stop, nerves skittering, he invited her for coffee.
His cheeks flared Elsie laughed and agreed.
They drank flat whites in a poky cafe, wandered through quiet, lamp-lit streets, trailing laughter behind.
He walked her home, barely believing the easy magic.
That night, he lingered outside with Martha, the park thick with dew and moonlight, replaying every moment over and over, unable to sleep for dreaming.
He imagined proposing to her, a cottage with a sprawling garden, children tumbling through the weekends, roast dinners and excursions into wild English woods.
It all felt so close, as if the future were leaking into the present.
Three months passed the best of his life.
They dined at bistros, watched rain-splattered films, snuck kisses beneath the drizzle where even the pigeons seemed to applaud.
Elsie was marvellous kind, clever, the sort of funny that made tea spurt from your nose.
Grateful to the universe for bringing her near, Simon tried not to complain when duty called him home to walk Martha after dates.
Hed suggested walking Martha together, picturing a joyful triangle.
But Elsie always demurred, growing silent and distant whenever Martha came up.
Lets go just us?
Might fancy popping into a pub or the cinema cant bring the dog along.
Suppose youre right, Simon conceded.
Then, one starlit evening, he asked her to marry him.
Elsie accepted, joy flickering in her eyes.
But when asked to move in, she became evasive, kicking the decision down the road with mumbled excuses about her lease ending.
I promised my landlady Id stay till Christmas.
I could pay the last months rent for you, make it easier.
Come back to mine; Id love you to meet Martha properly.
Reluctant, but loving, Elsie agreed.
She resolved to squelch her worries just this once.
And so, the strange, tense evening unfolded once more.
Simon led her into his flat, urging her to step in.
Again, she hesitated, prowling the hallway, scanning every nook.
Something bristled in the air.
The moment he returned, she bolted horror in her eyes fleeing before explanations could form.
She ignored his calls.
Simon, desperate for sense, poured his heart out to Victor.
They resolved hed have to wait for Monday sooner or later, shed have to come to work.
On Monday, rain lashed the windows, and Simon peered through each misty bus window, heart thumping at every alighting passenger.
Elsie was nowhere to be seen.
Just as he considered ringing their boss to beg off work and search for her, Elsie appeared walking slowly along the sodden path, hair loose, cheeks damp with tears, eyes unfathomably sorrowful.
Elsie, wait!
She stopped, turned, and wilted further at the sight of him.
Elsie, what happened?
Why did you run?
Why wont you answer?
Im losing my mind.
Simon, Im so sorry.
For what?
Its nearly work time.
Can we talk after?
You dont want to marry me?
Dont want to live together?
Ive been in limbo for days.
Tell me now why did you run?
Im sorry, Simon.
I cant live with you.
Butwhy?
Did I do something wrong?
No.
Then what?
Elsie wiped her eyes and met his.
Im frightened.
Of what, my darling?
Dogs.
Im frightened of dogs.
My Martha?
Shes the gentlest thing alive!
Couldn’t hurt a fly.
(He thought, So I was wrong after all.
It really was about Martha.)
You dont understand.
Not just Martha Im frightened of all dogs.
When I was six, a bull terrier attacked me in the playground.
Its owner was drunk sent it after me for sitting on a bench.
I was saved by a miracle.
I’ve been terrified ever since.
Youve never told me that
I couldn’t.
It’s hard to even think about.
On the outside, I can cross the street or walk close to other people.
I couldn’t share a roof with a big dog like Martha.
Im sorry.
It isnt about you or Martha.
Its just me.
Butyou tried.
I did.
But when I saw Martha in your home panic just rose up and swallowed me.
My heart was pounding.
I hoped Id be braver, but I failed.
He told Victor everything, slumped over a pint in the haze of the snug.
I really dont know what to do.
I love them both.
She loves me too, but we cant live together.
Does that even make sense?
Surely youre not thinking of giving Martha up?
Victor asked sharply.
Of course not!
Shes family.
But I love Elsie, too.
Then you have to fight for your happiness.
How?
Fear of dogs isnt the flu.
It can be faced, little by little.
Take her for walks with you and Martha in the park, or the woods.
Let her see Marthas not a threat.
Shes tried therapy, but nothings worked
Then youll help her.
Gentle steps.
Dont force anything at home yet, but try little adventures outside together.
In the forest or field, away from distractions.
When Elsie exited her building and saw Simon beside a muddy Land Rover, she blinked.
Whered you get the wheels?
Borrowed it from a mate he has a dog, so the boots set up for Martha.
You dont have to sit near her.
Just ride shotgun with me.
All right, Elsie managed, pale but determined.
But if it gets too much, we go home.
In the woods, boots heavy with morning rain, Simon tossed a tennis ball for Martha and did his best to distract Elsie from her nerves.
She watched the dog warily, hands clenched.
You okay?
he asked, gently.
I suppose It’s just hard.
Not all dogs are the same, love.
Martha wouldnt hurt a soul.
I promise, after a few walks like this, youll see.
He hurled the ball deep into a bramble; Martha bounded off, barking with glee.
Shes not cross just over the moon about her ball, Simon grinned, squeezing Elsie’s shoulder.
Eventually, he passed the soggy ball to Elsie, who squeezed her eyes shut and flung it with all her might Martha bounded after it, tail like a propeller.
See?
Shes clever as anything, loves a game.
Reckon its time to go back?
Elsie whispered.
Yeah, lets Martha!
Come on, girl!
Only Martha didnt return, her barking echoing through the hush.
Concerned, Simon followed the sound with Elsie close behind.
They found Martha barking anxiously at her precious ball, which floated atop a dark pond.
Simon laughed.
Shes scared of water.
Got her from the river as a pup, you see shes avoided puddles ever since.
Dogs have fears too?
Elsie marvelled.
Like people all sorts.
He waded into the puddle to fetch the ball only to sink thigh-deep in boggy, sucking mud.
Simon?
Are you all right?
Fine!
Its just deeper than it looks
But with every step, the mud clutched tighter round his legs.
Panic fluttered in Elsies chest.
Can you get out?
Dont think so Elsie!
Try to find a stick, anything!
Elsie fumbled for her phone no signal.
Heart hammering, past and present colliding, she nearly fled.
But Simons pleas anchored her.
She spotted a thick branch, hauled it to the edge, and held it out.
Simon grabbed hold.
Elsie pulled, straining against the quagmire but he barely budged.
Then Martha joined her, teeth fastened to his jacket, tugging together.
For a moment, fear faded Elsie focused only on Simon, on saving him.
Together, woman and dog yanked Simon back onto the banks, covered in muck but alive.
He wrapped them both in a soggy embrace.
My heroes.
Where would I be without you two?
Scared the life out of me, Elsie gasped.
But dont say youve got a new phobia now, Simon teased.
I do Im dreadfully afraid of losing you.
Elsie knelt, hugging Martha tight for the first time touching her without flinching.
Thank you, Martha, thank you, she whispered.
That evening, after hot baths and shepherds pie, the three of them sprawled on the sofa watching films with brave, loyal dogs.
For once, Elsie wanted nothing else.
And that night, Simon, Elsie, and Martha realized their greatest fear now was the same: not the bog, nor dogs, nor memories…
only the thought of losing one another.