Bill & Ethel: A Love Story

Bill & Ethel: A Love Story

A Short Story by Damien L Malcolm

This story is available as a downloadable PDF, thanks to Goodle Drive. Click here
Also a part of my recently released ebook, The Tiny 1st Volume: A Short Collection of Short Stories
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I'm here to tell you a story about a boy and a girl. But not just any conventional story.

She was a check-out girl at the local grocery store, with her pink-streaked jet-black hair, charred ash eye-liner and ice-dagger nose piercing. She chewed wistfully on squelching gum while scanning her phone screen, completely ignoring the job she was being paid to do. She glanced up nonchalantly as he approached.

He was a thin lad from Dalby, now living in the heart of Toowoomba, regrettably miles away from his mother's cooking, clothes washing and all-round emasculating mollycoddling. His face was pale and pimpled, bones too prominent, with narrow lips and tousled brown straw for hair. He had that pasty, distant look of a young man who spent far too much time indoors playing video games.

Slowly he shuffled toward her register, too shy to look her directly in the eyes. He placed on the conveyor the standard kit for a young man just starting out away from home: twenty-four packets of

two-minute noodles, four multi-pack bags of flavoured potato chips, a box of cornflakes, long-life milk, a six-pack of pies and a Cadbury crème egg. He was very careful to position the soft-porn magazine face-down and underneath the other items so the check-out girl wouldn't see the tanned buxom model in an undignified spread across the front cover.

After a tense few moments of silence broken only by the incessant periodic bleeping of the scanning device, he finally built the courage to meet her expectant gaze. He was taken breathless at her gothic, unhinged beauty, as he had been every time he had shopped at this store in the last three weeks. She looked at him, passing her striking dark-ringed azure eyes up and down him before opening her mouth to utter the precious words in her sultry vocal rasp...

"That'll be thirty-three dollars forty."

He handed her the money, mostly in ten and twenty-cent coins, gazed longingly at her once more, too afraid to speak, then left the store with his groceries.

He promised himself that next week when he returned, he would find the courage to talk to her. However by the next Friday she was gone. When he asked the floor manager, he was told that she had quit the job on Monday. No notice.

He would never see her again.

But that's ok, because one look at them together in the cold, harsh light and sanitary atmosphere of the supermarket cleaning aisle would have shown how truly incompatible they were. She would have been far too dominant; he too submissive. And boring in bed. And too obsessed with that damned Xbox. Once the novelty of taking his virginity, getting him tattooed and whipping him at random intervals with her studded leather stock-whip had passed, she would have tired of him and moved on, leaving him hurt, alone and irreparably damaged.

So thankfully we're not here to talk about them. No. So sorry for leading you on. Instead, there's another boy and girl I'd like to tell you about, though it would have been quite a while since these two were referred to in such an endearing, youthful way. Close your eyes and think back to that encounter at the check-out last week between the geek and the goth. Look past his whimpering shuffle and her uninterested eye-rolling. Focus instead on the fresh vegetable department across the foyer.

See him there? That elderly gentleman in the checked shirt and corduroy slacks, randomly picking through the apples with no real attention paid to the mottled red fruit in front of him. He too has been coming back the last few weeks, building the courage to approach someone.

His name is Bill. He's a nice old fella: simple, good hearted; only gets a little grumpy when he's run out of bacon for his mid-morning breakfast. Worked at the power-plant from 1948, the year after he left school at sixteen, till the day they downsized the company and retrenched him in 1993.

His life has been full of ups and downs, like anybody else's. But he's always managed to keep himself to a steady rhythm. Never cheated, smoked or been overseas. Margaret had passed away from cancer fourteen years ago, leaving his three adult kids without a mother and Bill without a best friend after a fifty-one year marriage.

Since then the family had gradually moved apart, his kids now scattered around the world with their own families and semi-fulfilling careers, leaving him alone in his two bedroom unit with only a schizophrenic twelve-year-old cat to keep him company.

It may not sound like much, but for the most part Bill was satisfied with his lot. He'd had a good run, and was happy to finally have the chance to slow down. Content to sit in the recliner at night eating his microwaved dinners and watching reruns of sixties TV shows till he fell asleep an hour into the following movie he wasn't interested in.

However everything had changed three weeks before when he wandered down to the shop for his afternoon walk and a bottle of milk.

He had seen Ethel.

Thankfully though, she hadn't noticed him. It had been a nerve-wracking forty minutes that Friday evening, stealthily following her around as she shopped. He saw her name on the Red Cross volunteer tag pinned to her shirt, which he noticed as he covertly cruised past her up the aisle to get a peek at her shopping basket. But there was something else about her that drew him intensely. That's why he was here again this Friday, as he had been for the last three weeks in the hope that she would come again.

The gamble had finally paid off.

She was beautiful. While indeed her eighty-three years were showing through wrinkle lines, and she didn't stand as straight as she used to, Bill could see the pure and honest beauty in every part of her being. Her eyes sparkled and her face glowed; even brighter when she smiled at the man handling the small meats. She seemed, even from this distance, to be so confident, warm and noble. Bill found it increasingly difficult to resist her.

At the same time though, every moment made him that bit more terrified to make the approach. Which for all of his own history, experience and confident demeanour, he found his nervousness around her quite frustrating. In all his eighty-four years he had never been too scared to a walk up to a woman.

It had been that brazen forthrightness in his youth that had won over his first love, a high school romance abruptly ended in '47. And again a few years later, it had impressed Margaret and convinced her to go steady with him. And to marry him at just nineteen. He had always prided himself on having the confidence, even if it was somewhat feigned at the time.

As he watched her now, Bill began to rally himself to the call. He put down the Fuji apple he had been absent-mindedly fondling for the last five minutes and started to crossing the fresh produce section toward her. His knees seemed decidedly weak as he crossed the polished supermarket floor, and he thought for a moment that he wasn't going to be able to pull it off. He was on the verge of chickening out.

But then he noticed her plight at the bread section. Ethel was reaching for the maxi-fibre, wholemeal, multi-grain, light-crust sough-dough loaf at the very top, failing to come close even on tip toes. Bill saw his chance. He sidled up beside her, hoping to God that his voice wouldn't fail him.

"P... pardon me, madam. Would you like me to get that for you?"

She turned, a little surprised to find an elderly gentleman suddenly standing beside her. Ethel was a private woman, and never took too well to strangers. But one look at the adorable twinkle in this short man's eyes brought her to an immediate pause. He seemed at first impression clearly genuine, honest. Still, for the most part her guard stayed high.

A smile played at the edge of her lips though, as she looked down at him and replied rather curtly, "And what would be the point of that? You're almost two whole feet shorter than I am."

"Ah, but," Bill replied playfully, waving his index finger in the air. "Due to my unfortunate stature, madam, I have learned to be resourceful over the course of my lifetime."

And with that he spun on his heel, marched off down the end of the aisle and disappeared. Ethel waited for several moments, wondering what the man was up to. Just when she was on the verge of giving up and summoning the strappingly tall young man four metres away busily restocking the potatoes, Bill reappeared carrying something large and fluorescent orange in his hands.

As he closed the distance between them, Ethel could see that what she had thought was a box was in fact a platform step; one the shop attendants used to stock the higher shelves. Grinning from ear to ear, Bill sauntered up and placed the step down at Ethel's feet. Without hesitation or even a minor creak from his aging bones he bounded onto the step and reached up for her loaf of bread.

He was just stepping back down when a thirty-something blonde woman, clad in an apron and striped shirt, whirled around the end of the aisle, pointing an accusing finger in their direction.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing with that?"

Bill turned to face her, nonchalantly waving his hand, "Well love, you lot will make the shelves so high an average person can't reach even at their full span. Can't blame a fella for making use of your little step here."

"Well, sir, they are for staff use only. You're not trained. You could have fallen."

"Did I fall?"

"Ahh... no."

"Then what's your problem? Here, take your little step, love, and go back to work. Thanks for your help and impressively courteous customer service."

The woman muttered her impolite response as she picked up her platform and retreated down the aisle. Bill turned back to a stunned and speechless Ethel, who outwardly had lost only a little of her prudent air.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes," he held up her loaf. "Here's your bread. I'm Bill."

Ethel took the bread in one hand, and shook his outstretched hand with her other. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Ethel. You're a... well, quite an interesting fellow aren't you?"

"Wouldn't know. I've never met myself. Mind if I tag along for the rest of your shop? Darn shelves are so high, you might just need a hand with something else in here."

Ethel smiled warmly. "Sure."

What for Ethel was normally a half hour late odd-week supplemental shop turned out to be a much longer affair with Bill's "help". Not that he was a hindrance at all; quite the contrary. Bill was witty, clever and had the best sense of humour Ethel had encountered in a long while. He had a funny story relating to just about every item she placed in her trolley, and despite herself she found she was deliberately taking her time moving down each aisle to prolong his company.

She didn't know how, but Bill seemed to bring out an intimate openness Ethel hadn't felt since.... well, she couldn't remember really. It was as if she'd known him for years. In just the hour or so they walked up and down the supermarket, she found herself telling him things she had hardly told anyone else, especially a total stranger. All about her late second husband, estranged son, life as a single elderly woman in a retirement village, and how she still experienced hot flushes every few nights despite passing the height of menopause thirty years prior.

Things were just so easy with him. Ethel hadn't shared time with a man in six years, and in some ways even longer than that. Maintaining and enjoying relationships had always been a strain for her. Long before her second husband passed away with dementia in the local nursing home, deep down Ethel had felt always alone. Left out in the cold. Not that she ever admitted it to anyone, including herself. Being an independent woman, in the past she had done her best to fill the intangible void with a few good friends and a busy social lifestyle.

Though nowadays, after more recently experiencing the almost predatory nature of divorced older men, she had learned to remain guarded and private. She hadn't felt the need for male company at all, nor wanted it. Though now, when they finally reached the end of the last aisle and the time had come to go their separate ways, Ethel found she didn't want Bill to leave. In fact, it almost hurt. She couldn't for the life of her explain why.

"Did you not have anything you needed to buy while you were here?" she asked as her trolley reached the checkout and she noticed his still empty hands.

"No, love. The only reason I came back was to see you again."

Ethel smiled. Not just a polite, courteous smile. The guarded mask had finally let go of its last thread and crumbled. Her entire face broke into a beaming grin as her heart melted from the inside out. Before she even tried to check her tongue, she found herself asking if he would care to meet again for coffee.

"Nah, sorry. No can do." Bill replied, straight faced.

Ethel's expression dropped.

"Haven't drunk coffee since the seventies," he continued, letting a smile creep in. "I could go a tea though, straight black with a bit of sweet stuff. At the park by the creek, say ten tomorrow morning? My shout."

"Sounds lovely," she answered, just a little more enthusiastically than she was aiming for. "I look forward to it."

"Me too. Now let's get these groceries through so you can get home. She's dark outside."

Bill helped Ethel put the groceries on the conveyor belt, then transfer the bags to her Toyota Prius waiting just outside. She offered him a lift home, but he politely declined. She waved as she turned out of the parking lot, watched him standing there with his hands in his pockets, a smile on his rugged old face.

The following day turned out to be a gem. As did the walking date they set up for the day after, and the movie Bill took Ethel to see the day after that. The film was a mature romance, starring older actors long past their heydays but still charismatic enough to fill out the Hollywood stage lighting. The best part for Ethel was about twenty minutes in when Bill pretended to yawn, innocently placing his arm behind her shoulders as he did so. It took all she had not to giggle like a sixteen-year-old girl.

As he had fully expected, Bill found himself completely taken with her. He had loved Margaret, his late wife, more than he ever had the chance to tell her. But in truth the start of their marriage had stemmed from the dark well of his own teenage heartache. It began unconventionally, and really never should have lasted. It had been a very long time since he had felt the true and unpredictable crackling tingle of a new personal attraction.

Soon Ethel and Bill were walking together every morning, sharing lunch and spending afternoons resting in Ethel's personal lounge room at her retirement unit. They seemed the perfect match: familiar, harmonious. As different as chalk and cheese, while at the same time as natural as hazelnuts in chocolate.

Their relationship blossomed and flourished more rapidly than a teenage romance. In less than a week Ethel found herself longing for Bill's company every waking moment, light-headed and relaxed when he was around, pining when he left.

One day, while sitting across a garden table from him at the local park, Ethel found herself feeling a sudden wave of emotion. She couldn't identify it, explain it, or even validate its reason for being, but it was there and it was overwhelming.

"Bill," she started saying, having absolutely no idea where her own words were about to take her. "Bill, I've been thinking."

"Oh yes?"

At the hesitant silence that followed, Bill looked up from pouring the thermos of tea to see Ethel in a state of minor confusion. She looked as if she had thirty different thoughts passing through her mind simultaneously, and was desperately trying to grab a hold of just one to see what it said.

Being a male, Bill had absolutely no idea what that felt like, thus couldn't empathise in the least.

"What is it, love?"

"That!" she pounced, scaring him half to death. "That's exactly it."

"What is? For goodness sake, Ethel. Just how many whiskey shots have you had this morning? What in the blue blazes is the matter?"

"What you just said. That's what it is. Bill, from the moment I met you I've been feeling something I haven't felt in probably sixty years. It's like I've known you forever. Honestly, that side of me has been dormant for so long I had no idea what it was or what it meant. For the last four days my thoughts have been so intense they're keeping me awake at night. I've been so confused! But you, just then, put the exact word to it. I know what I've got!"

"What... crabs?"

Ethel laughed softly. "No, you old fool. Love. I think—no I know—I love you. I really do."

Bill slapped the table, making the plastic cups jump. "Well, it's about bloody time."

"What do you mean?" she asked, puzzled.

"I mean it's about time you figured out you feel that way. Taken you long enough."

"Why?" Ethel said indignantly. "How long did it take you?"

"Ethel, I've loved you from the moment I first saw you. Why do you think I've been trying so hard? I've been fighting to make you see what you're missing over here!"

"My goodness. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I had to let you figure that part out in your own time. When I saw you again in the supermarket I decided that I was just going to meet you. That's all. The rest should be up to you. I was hoping after all these years feeling something for me again may help you remember. But it had to be real, not manufactured."

"Remember? What do you mean, 'after all these years'?"

"Gee, huh? You still don't see it. Ok, you leave me no choice."

As Ethel watched on in embarrassed awe, Bill stood up in the middle of the council park and started removing his plaid shirt.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking around in worry people would see them.

"Giving your memory a little jog."

He tossed the shirt to the grass, standing before her looking as comfortable as if he were in a private room, regardless of the several bemused onlookers and two giggling children hiding behind an adjacent tree.

Honestly, despite the embarrassment crawling up her spine, Ethel did find herself presently surprised by how well Bill had kept his physique in his senior years. He really was an attractive eighty-four year old man, moderately taut and obviously completely comfortable in his own lightly-wrinkled body. His brazen confidence was incredibly alluring.

And she was pretty sure that it wasn't just the rekindling of her aged, probably semi-rusty hormones telling her that.

One look at Bill showed that he too was experiencing a warm rush... most likely of emotions. However even as she stood there watching his chest rise and fall with each heavy breath, gazing into his eyes, Ethel still was not putting together whatever it was that Bill was fighting to make her see.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said forlornly. "I just don't know what you mean."

Bill said nothing, merely stepped toward her and held out his hand. He gently touched her chin, running his hand softly down her neck and to her shoulder. Ethel could feel her heart nearly beating out of her chest as he drew her closer to him; so close she could feel his breath against her.

His hand then ran down her right arm until he reached her fingers, which he carefully grasped, pulling her hand upward toward his body. He placed her hand on his left breast. Instantly she could feel the rhythmic thumping beneath.

"It's right here, love. Over my heart where it has been for sixty-eight years. You."

"Me?" she asked in a whisper.

He patted her hand against his chest. "You."

She drew herself from his eyes to gaze down at where he had placed her fingers. Only when she looked close did she notice it. Written in tiny, narrow lettering was a single sentence. Bill's old skin was stretched with age and wrinkled, but the words were still clearly readable:

Echoes in Time Hold Eternal Love

She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. "It's my..."

"It's you. E-T-H-E-L." He touched his hand to her cheek. "They said we were too young, but I loved you with everything I had. And I never stopped loving you, Ethel. Never. That day, I'll never forget it. They drove out with you in the back seat like we were just two neighbour kids who hardly knew one another. Didn't even let us say goodbye."

"Oh my God.... Billy? My Billy? How...?"

Ethel was in total shock. Her knees went to jelly. Bill helped her sit back down. She couldn't speak, only shake her head slowly from side to side. He bent down and picked his shirt up off the grass; started putting it on as he sat back down across from her at the park table.

"It broke my heart," Bill continued after a moment. "Shattered it completely. I left school straight after. No point staying there. I wrote letter after letter to you, but never knew where to send them. My mum tried to find out where your family moved to, but she never could. I still have them, you know; I kept every one."

"I did too," Ethel whispered. "I wrote to you too. But my father... he... he threw them away. Never let me post them."

"Yep, sounds just like him."

Ethel managed a weak smile and gazed into his eyes, finally seeing him for who he was.

"You know," she said after long pause, "we only moved a hundred miles away. But by the time I grew old enough to move out of home and away from my father, you had moved on. I called your mother. But she told me you were about to get married, and I should leave you alone now."

"She never told me that. I never moved on. Not at all. At the time Margaret was just... I don't know." Bill stared down at the table, shaking his head. Then he looked back up and met her gaze, saying firmly, "But I never got over you. I am so sorry, Ethel. If I'd known, I would have called off the wedd..."

"No you wouldn't! I could never have stood in the way of the life you were meant to have with Margaret. I had to let you go. It took me a couple of years, but eventually I accepted it. I got married, then divorced. Then married again. I was only fifteen when my family moved, and after that you had married. I never put a thought to the hope you might look for me one day."

"Well Ethel, that's all in the past now. A week after your father took you away from me in 1947 I went down to the city and I got this done." Bill pointed to the words on his chest, now hidden again beneath his unbuttoned shirt. "I had to have something that would remind me every day of what I had lost. It's funny, even after fifty-one years, Margaret never asked about it. She died never knowing..."

"She would have known, Bill."

Bill nodded, "Yeah, probably." He shuffled his feet, seeming almost nervous. After a moment he chuckled and looked up at her sheepishly. "I bought something else that day too."

Bill got to his feet and started shuffling through his pant's pocket. He drew out a small green velvet case and placed it on the table in front of Ethel. She gasped, brought a hand to her mouth and looked with wide eyes from the box to Bill and back again.

"Even after I married Margaret and life took hold, I never forgot you Ethel. You were and still are the love of my life. It may have taken almost seventy years to come round again, and God knows we may have left it so late now that we probably haven't got too long together anyway. How's your ticker? Mine's crap. But who the hell cares? Ethel, I gotta ask you something."

He opened the box to reveal a ruby and diamond encrusted engagement ring, as clear and sparkling as the day he bought it in 1947.

"I kept this hidden all these years in the hope that one day I'd get to see you again."

Using a hand against the table to balance himself, Bill slowly got down to one knee on the grass in front of Ethel. He picked up the ring and held it out to her. Smiling tears streamed down her face as she gazed lovingly into Bill's eyes.

"Ethel Rose, will you marry me?"

The End