Sad Chat 😢

"I lifted the car hood. I stared a few moments at the engine, and succumbed to the devil that drives us to peep into strangers’ lives."

I’m 34 and I’ve never been with a woman. My sister, she’s twelve years younger, once asked. When I said I’m not a virgin she looked me in the eyes. She didn’t believe it before she even asked. So why ask? I’m sure she told mama too.

Greg Robson pulled up at the door of my garage, tyres screeching. Wanda was in the passenger seat. I walked out with a smile I put on across my face. But lingering hope that my voyeuristic failings had gone undetected vanished when Robson slammed the Volvo door shut with a rubbery thud.

“Is Wanda’s car done?” 

I nodded a Yes. Robson shot me an ugly look. I nodded another Yes.

“Not a single word,” I added to reassure him, which I regretted because it was an admission I’d been through Wanda’s phone. 

Wanda was running late when she brought her Micra in for servicing that morning. Greg was there before her, waiting to drive her to the office, tapping the wheel. Wanda yanked the keys out of the Micra’s ignition. She flipped open her bag and pulled out the spare key. She lobbed it to me and rushed out without her bag.

The bag lay open on the passenger seat. I released the engine hood. My phone rang. It was Wanda, beside herself with panic.

“Don’t touch my bag.”

“Sure, Miss Wanda. Of course I won’t.”  

“Or my phone.”

I lifted the car hood. I stared a few moments at the engine, and succumbed to the devil that drives us to peep into strangers’ lives. 

Back inside Wanda’s Micra, I peered into her half-open bag. A plastic zip-up file caught my eye and I unzipped it. It held pretty lingerie. I laughed hard. Wanda looked every bit the sexy secretary. But a change of kinky undies in an office folder? Wanda?

“Amazing,” I mumbled to myself, “you never know the hot ones till you peek in their bags.”

I next picked what looked like a makeup compact. But it wasn’t. It held this strange thing, a miniature dome of silicone. Never had seen something like it before but it looked designed for not getting pregnant. I put it back and picked the phone and swiped the screen. I tapped the Messenger icon. A chat thread with someone called Suzie came up. I tapped Suzie.

Hiya Wanda. How u doing sis.

So-so Suz. Long day today but some snatched time with the boss when we’re over.

Ru safe Wanda?

Can’t never know. That time of life when you think ur. I take precautions.

You still on that crappy diaphragm thing? Safer stuff around.

It’s ok.

Suzie replied with a thumbs-up, her text shortcut for unconvinced, I think. So the dome is called a diaphragm. I had always thought it’s only rubbers or a pill.

Stop worrying Suz. It’s ok. And Greg doesn’t complain.


Yaknow. He doesn’t expect I take the risks.

Wahaha you lucky bitch 😊


Coz I also know some who don’t give a fuck.  

U should know 😊 Lofl I only stick to Greg.

And there’s another thing with the diaphragm, Wanda continued. Protects me from the risks I ran when I was only a kid.

Sis stop hurting yourself. Forget.

Would u forget if dad had done it to you too?

Suzie returned a weeping emoticon.

And the diaphragm also helps meet my conscience half way.

What the fuck you on about now?

If it’s somebody else’s man, she sort of keeps something to herself.

Sure Wanda👍     

The phone startled me. It was Greg Robson.

“It’ll be ready in a couple of hours, Mr Robson.”

The other end of the line went silent, Wanda whispering in Greg’s ears.

“What’s kept you this long?”

“In a couple of hours.”

“Be sure it’s ready in 90 minutes.” Robson slammed the phone down.

I rushed the job like a madman. Finished it just before Robson and Wanda showed up.

“What does Wanda owe you?”

“There’s also Mrs Robson’s.” He wasn’t going to bring another car in, so.

Robson wrote out one cheque.

I dropped into the desk chair at the back of the garage. Four lost cars, counting Mrs Robson’s and the family SUV wagon. My best client lost. But Wanda is lost forever too. I’m in love with Wanda. She now goes stiff like a car crash dummy when her Micra dashes past my door on her way to the office. She must be worried I’ll talk but I’ll never.

No chance with Wanda now that I’ve screwed it. But it was never going to happen. Wanda’s a secretary and I’m a mechanic with greasy fingers. I’m nowhere near Wanda’s class.

I love Wanda.

Photo: Lum3n

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