GA Writing Prompts - 25. # 108 Valerie Woodward

Valerie Woodward

It was a Saturday afternoon. I was sitting in my apartment, eating an ice cream and reading the newspaper. I gazed at the name in shock when I turned the page and saw the obituary. Valerie Woodward. Valerie Woodward had died? I read the death notice again. No doubt. The date of birth was correct. I remembered the date because I had invited her for dinner on her twenty-third birthday. That was twenty years ago. But I remembered the day in all detail.

Valerie had accepted my invitation which had taken me by surprise. We had been working together for about six months and I had been into her from the moment she had been introduced to me. Valerie, however, had always ignored me. Whatever I had tried to attract her attention, it had never worked out. She brought a cake to the office on her birthday. We accidentally left the office together in the evening, and, without giving it a prior thought, I invited her for dinner. She accepted, to my very surprise. She asked me to pick her up at eight p.m. and so I did. I rang the bell and she opened the door. Her sight stunned me. More, it shocked me. She was wearing a short and low-cut red dress and her lips were painted dark red. I think I gazed at her with my mouth open. And Valerie gazed back at me. A moment or two passed, and then a frown crossed her face.

"What do you want, Jordan?" she hissed at me.

I swallowed.

"Well, I invited you for dinner and you asked me to pick you up at eight p.m.," I said in a slightly indignant voice.

She looked me up from head to toe. I felt totally confused and uneasy. What was wrong? I didn’t have a clue.

"So why did you not come then?" she asked sullenly. "You see, I’ve other fish to fry."

I gazed at her. I was feeling cold. What the hell was she talking about?

"I’m right on time," I said slowly.

She shook her head and shot me a dark look.

"Look," she said, raising her left arm. She wore an expensive silver watch.

I made a step forward and looked at her watch. It was twenty past nine. I looked up, feeling entirely puzzled. I met her dark look. Valerie lowered her arm and made a step back. She was about to close the door. I looked at my watch. It showed a quarter to eight. The scales finally fell from my eyes. My watch had stopped and I had not checked any other. I had dawdled away my time and I was totally late. I was about to apologize to Valerie when I heard a voice from the background. A half dressed man walked up the corridor.

"Like I said, I’ve other fish to fry," Valerie hissed before she slammed the door in my face.

I returned home. I was like in a state of shock as the truth dawned on me slowly. Did Valerie have a side job? Why had she accepted my invitation? Had she hoped to hook me up? Did she lack clients? Or what?

We ignored each other at office the following weeks. And yet, I could not stop thinking about her. A month had passed when we finally talked with each other. Valerie admitted all. She worked as a call girl in the evenings. She was in need of money and she found her side job was an easy way to earn it. However, she had wanted to separate her official and her double life. She admitted that accepting my invitation had been a mistake.

Valerie left the company two months later. I have never seen her again. But rumors had spread that she got involved more and more in the sex trade over the years. I don’t remember who spread the news. One of my co-workers, I guess. I have never seen her again. But I remember the day in all detail. I see her standing in the doorway in a short and low-cut red dress and with her full lips painted red.

I looked at the death notice again. Valerie Woodward had died. I wondered what had happened. Only the names of her parents were listed. Had Valerie died all alone? I wondered if I should attend her funeral. But then I decided to refrain from it. We had had nothing in common. She had just entered my life for the briefest of time, for the glimpse of an eye. I had glimpsed at the true Valerie twenty years ago. I would keep this memory. But, for the rest, I would let her go.