by Rachel Marks
‘Great. I’ll take you to my new favourite place.’
Kate links her arm through mine and guides me to her chosen café, and it’s ridiculous how excited I am at the prospect of being alone with her for an hour or so.
*
I can see immediately why this is Kate’s new favourite place. The coffee is reasonably priced, the cakes are massive, the sofas are comfy and there are bookshelves on every spare bit of wall filled with novels of every genre.
Kate takes out a well-thumbed copy of One Day and sits down on the sofa with it, flicking through the pages. ‘Oh, the wonderful David Nicholls. Still my all-time favourite novel.’
‘Except for the ending?’
‘Well, yes, I will never forgive him for that, but it’s just so brilliant. Listen to this, “ Loss has not endowed him with any kind of tragic grandeur, it has just made him stupid and banal. Without her he is without merit or virtue or purpose, a shabby, lonely, middle-aged drunk, poisoned with regret and shame. ” Oh, it’s just so heartbreakingly beautiful.’
The passage rings a bit too true for me, but I smile at her enthusiasm. She’s like a kid in that way. She’s never become numb to the world around her. She still gets ridiculously excited about Christmas, she cries at building society adverts … I guess it was one of the things that brought us together – our tendency to feel things intensely – but somehow, unlike me, she managed to avoid the fear that went along with that, the crashing lows.
‘Can you believe Jerry doesn’t even read?’ she continues, putting the book back on the shelf and then sitting down and taking a sip of her coffee. ‘I mean, he’ll occasionally pick up the autobiography of some sports star or other, but that’s not proper reading, is it?’
In the early years of our marriage, before kids monopolized all our time, we used to spend a lot of time in cosy B&Bs by the sea, tucked under the covers reading. We had different tastes. I’ve always been partial to a bit of fantasy and dystopia, and Kate would always mock my ability to accept a world where goblins roamed the fields or you were in danger of being picked off by a zombie on a random trip to the supermarket. She couldn’t see how I could buy into that stuff, but to me it was no more unrealistic than the happy-ever-afters she was so fond of. Either way, I loved those times.
‘I’ve already told you he’s not right for you.’
Kate smiles, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. I’m not quite sure of the origin. ‘So how about you? There must be someone you’re interested in for more than just a one-night stand?’
I want to say no, how can there be when you put my heart in a grinder and shredded it, when the fragments that remain are still so full of love for you, but, instead, I play the part of Mr Billy Big Bollocks.
‘Turns out one-night stands are really fun. It’s like the edited highlights, no adverts, no slow plot development.’
Kate nods, but she looks hurt and I regret my comment immediately, because of course to her it sounds like I’m criticizing what we had; and I guess, in my pig-headed defensiveness, that’s exactly what I’m doing.
She finishes the last of her carrot cake, scraping the plate with a fork, then reaches into her bag. ‘Well, I suppose the real reason I invited you here is to give you this.’
She hands me an envelope and I look at my address in her handwriting and the stamp in the corner.
As if following my line of vision, she says, ‘I was going to post it, but it didn’t seem right. I wanted to give it to you in person.’
I slip my finger underneath the flap. ‘Well, it isn’t my birthday, so I know it’s not a card. What is it, Kate?’
Her eyes are dewy, serious, and I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that causes a bubble to rise up into my throat. I reach into the envelope and pull out the card – the words ‘Wedding Invitation’ hitting me like a bullet.
‘Please tell me your sister is getting married.’
Kate bites the tip of her thumbnail.
I open the card, my eyes skipping the formalities and landing on the names of my ex-wife and new husband-to-be.
‘I want you to be there, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to be. You’re welcome to bring someone with you if you want, if you do decide to come, that is.’
I look at the date. ‘It’s in a couple of months? Are you going for world’s shortest engagement?’
Kate’s face flushes and I know immediately that she’s been keeping this from me for quite some time. ‘We didn’t tell anyone. Not even the kids. We thought we’d get all the details sorted first.’
I suddenly wonder if Gabe overheard something, if that’s why he asked me about it a couple of weeks ago in McDonald’s.
‘And you’re sure about this?’
Kate nods, killing me with the tiniest movement of her head.
‘Have a nice life, Kate.’
I know it’s a ridiculous thing to say – that I’ll see her again on Sunday when I drop off the boys, that I’ll always have to see her, at least until our children have grown up, that I want to see her, despite everything – but I don’t know what else to say. I storm out, the invitation in my hand, feeling like it’s coated with poison, filtering its way up through my arm into my heart.
CHAPTER SIX
‘So are you going to come to Mummy and Jerry’s wedding?’ Gabe asks, frantically pressing the X button on the PlayStation controller.
The baddy on screen is fading fast, blood squirting out all around him, the bar that shows his health almost empty. I move my character towards him, attack him with a killer blow and watch him fall to the ground with a thump.
‘Nice one, Daddy. Let’s quickly find a “ save the game ”.’
We search around the dingy caves. Finn is sitting next to us putting his Imaginext figures in and out of the walled prison of his Batcave, muttering each character’s dialogue.
‘Did Mummy say I was coming?’
‘She said she didn’t know. She said she hoped you would. Please come, Daddy. They’re having a chocolate fountain.’
‘Yeah, it’s going to be so cool,’ Finn chips in.
I don’t want to hear the details of their special day because it makes it real and therefore harder to push to the corner of my mind (for it to have a little party there with all the other stuff that’s too painful to face up to). Not that I can push it to the corner of my mind. Ever since Kate told me, it’s infiltrated my every thought, even my dreams (nightmares).
Our wedding was very low-key. We got married in church – Kate wouldn’t have it any other way. It felt right to me too. I’m not sure I believe in God, but I’m not sure enough that I don’t either, so I was happy to grant her her wish. Somehow it felt more ‘proper’ saying our vows there, more long-standing, not realizing at the time that I’d go on to screw it all up. The reception was held in a small rustic barn near Kate’s parents’ house. We lit candles everywhere, adorned the walls, tables and chairs with greenery we’d gathered on our walks, and the centrepieces were made up of simple silk wild flowers. Kate planned it meticulously, considering every little detail to ensure it was the perfect day. And it was. We had a winter wedding and in the evening just after our first dance, as if by magic, a few light flakes of snow began to fall outside the door. I can’t believe she’s planning to do it all again with someone else. And with Jerry of all people.
‘Me and Finn are going to be page boys. That means we follow Mummy down the aisle and she said I’m the only one she trusts to hold the rings.’
‘I want to hold them,’ Finn says, crossing his arms.
‘Well, you’re too little. I’m the big boy.’
Finn sticks his tongue out at Gabe and returns to his superhero adventure re-enactment.
I press the buttons on the PlayStation controller with such force I’m either going to break it or my fingers, but I just keep going. The baddies are slaughtered one after the other. It’s satisfyingly cathartic to see them defeated.
‘Are you OK, Daddy?’ Gabe asks, peering around
to try to make eye contact.
‘Yeah. Course.’ I continue to stare at the screen and then there’s a pause as the console loads the next level. ‘Do you guys want a drink?’
‘Coke,’ they say in unison, so I go into the kitchen and open the fridge. On the worktop, I notice a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and find myself drawn to it, hoping it might numb me just for a while, but I manage to resist and grab myself a beer instead. A lunchtime beer is acceptable, isn’t it? Then I get the boys a can of Coke each, open them and take them back to the lounge where Gabe’s eyes are glued to the television screen as if he’s been hypnotized, and Finn is lost in his own world smashing figures together. And I know that I should be doing more with them. Taking them to museums, getting them out in nature, climbing trees, making rafts, teaching them about dinosaurs or space, anything; but, despite knowing that, all I have any desire to do right now is drift away into a world where I’m the hero and it’s easy to overthrow the monsters.
*
At bedtime, I lie in between the boys on the bottom bunk. I don’t know why I bothered to buy them a bunk bed because they always choose to sleep in the same bunk, sometimes the top one, sometimes the bottom, but always together. I’m reading them Harry Potter, each boy clinging on to one of my arms, the heat of their bodies like being swaddled. And for a moment I feel calmer than I have in a long time but then all of a sudden a wave of panic comes over me and it feels like I’m in A Christmas Carol, the spirit of what’s yet to come showing me my future, and in the future it’s not me lying in the middle of them, it’s Jerry, and they’re looking up at him like they look up at me and asking for ‘one more page, Daddy’ as if I never even existed.
I try to keep reading but I keep stumbling over the words, so I finish the page I’m on then put the book down on the floor.
‘Can we just have a bit more?’ Gabe begs, but I shake my head, suddenly feeling too hot and finding it hard to catch my breath.
‘Sleepy time now, boys. I love you both so much. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Ignoring their protests, I turn off the under-the-bed lamp, slide out from in between them, kiss them both on the forehead and then head to the lounge. And without the boys in it, it feels so empty that it’s stifling. I go into the kitchen and pour myself a JD and Coke, but it’s the last of the bottle and the thought of a night at home with all these tormenting thoughts and nothing stronger than a couple of beers to dull them is too much to bear so I reach for my phone and call Ben.
*
Ben closes the front door and removes his shoes as if he’s a burglar not wanting to be heard.
‘You’re lucky. Claudia was supposed to be out with work friends tonight but one of them cancelled at the last minute. Tummy bug,’ he whispers. ‘They’re asleep, aren’t they?’ He nods his head towards the boys’ bedroom.
‘Yes, don’t worry. You don’t have to look after my insane children.’
Ben does little to disguise his outward breath of relief.
‘Help yourself to beer in the fridge.’
‘You going straight out?’
I look at my watch. ‘Well, I could have a quick one here first, I guess.’
‘Great. Grab me one whilst you’re at it.’
I go into the kitchen to get us both a beer. I don’t really want an inquisition from my brother right now. I want to get wasted, find someone to bring home, and engage in some angry, meaningless sex in the hope that it might take this fucking ache away, if only for a second, but Ben’s given up his Saturday night to babysit for me and I know it won’t have been easy getting a pass from Claudia.
Sitting down on the sofa beside him, I hand him a beer and he clinks it against mine. ‘Cheers, bro.’
‘What are we toasting to?’
‘I don’t know, fresh starts.’
I take a large swig of my beer, feeling the mixture of alcohol finally having some effect. ‘Good one. I’ll toast to that.’
Ben looks me up and down, assessing something – I’m not quite sure what. ‘So how are you feeling about Kate and the upcoming wedding? Are you OK?’
Ah, so he was checking my mental stability, deciding whether I was in a suitable state to raise the topic of my ex-wife’s planned nuptials to a man that isn’t me, or whether it’d send me running off in the direction of the next passing train.
‘Yeah, I’m cool. I mean, I think she’s making a mistake but that’s for her to discover the hard way, I guess. It’s not my place to try to convince her otherwise.’
‘No, of course not.’
We sit in silence, the sound of us slurping our drinks somehow magnified by what we’re not saying, both knowing full well that the other is holding the words they really want to say tucked into the side of their mouth like a boiled sweet.
I finish my beer, get up and put it on the fireplace. ‘I said I’d meet a friend at half nine,’ I lie. ‘Are you OK with Netflix if I go now? I’ll try not to be too late.’
‘Yeah, go. I’ve got a night of Stranger Things lined up. Just make sure you come home, OK?’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’
I pick my jacket up off the sofa and start to put it on.
‘And I’m always here, you know, if you want to talk about anything. In a manly way, of course, with beer and grunts.’
‘I know. I’m fine though, honestly. Don’t worry, I’m not going to lose the plot like I normally do. I think I’ve put you through enough of that over the years.’
‘True. But it’d be OK if you did.’
I force my lips into an appreciative smile and feel glad of the alcohol in my system, like a covering of sticky-back plastic, an impenetrable skin.
*
‘Line up the shots, Mimi. It’s Saturday night, I’m young, free and single, and ready to mingle.’
I throw my jacket towards the bar stool in an attempt at some kind of smooth James Bond gesture, but it misses and lands on the floor.
Mimi raises her eyebrows. ‘Are you OK?’
‘It’s the question on everyone’s lips, Mimi, but I can assure you, like I assured them, that, yes, I am absolutely splendid.’
Mimi screws the top back on to a bottle of wine and puts it in the fridge. ‘I’m guessing this isn’t your first drink of the night?’
I scoot myself up on to the bar stool. ‘You’re far too intelligent to be working behind that bar, young lady. Your skills of deduction are being wasted.’
‘So what’s your weapon of choice? Tequila? Sambuca?’
‘You choose. Just line them up and keep them coming.’
‘Your wish is my command.’
She lines up a row of shot glasses and starts filling them, in the way they always do in drinking establishments, at such a height that if I tried it, I’d end up with nothing in the glass and a sticky mess on the surface of the bar. As she does, it’s like inhaling nail polish remover, and I cover my mouth as the fumes make me cough.
‘All yours. Although if you change your mind about obliteration by sambuca, you could always tell me what’s up. I’m stuck here all night anyway. I’ve got nothing better to do.’
‘Why do I have to keep saying it? Nothing’s up, OK?’ A few of the people nearby turn to look in the direction of my raised voice.
Mimi looks startled, even a little scared. ‘Right. Sorry.’
I drag my hands through my hair, pushing it back off my face, and let out a loud sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.’
‘It’s fine.’
She goes to the other end of the bar to serve another customer. It’s a young guy, good-looking in a stuck-up twat sort of way. He leans over the bar, whispering something in Mimi’s ear, then pulls up a bar stool and beckons his friend over to join him. They sit with their pints, chatting away to Mimi, and every now and again she does this coy smile, pushing her fringe behind her ear and pushing out her chest.
I raise my hand but she takes no notice. ‘Um, drink needed here. You are working, you know?’ I shout down the b
ar.
Mimi glares at me, apologizes to the men and marches over. ‘Look, you want to drink yourself into a stupor, go ahead, but don’t you dare speak to me like that, do you understand?’
She’s right. I’m being an arsehole, but I’m on the slippery slide to self-destruct and I’m not sure how to get off. ‘You’re not seriously won over by that prick, are you?’
Mimi’s shoulders rise and fall slowly as she lets out a pained breath. ‘He’s the prick, is he? It doesn’t look like that from where I’m standing.’
I slam my shot glass on the bar. ‘Whatever. Same again, please.’
‘Sure.’ Mimi pours me another row of shots, both of us purposefully avoiding eye contact. Then she turns to go back to her new acquaintances, but I reach out and grab her hand.
‘My wife, ex-wife, is getting remarried.’
Mimi nods but doesn’t say anything, like she’s waiting for me to say more before she decides whether or not to keep walking in the opposite direction.
‘It’s a shock, I guess. It feels too soon, like an insult to our marriage, you know? Like I wasted the best years of my life on something that meant nothing.’
I can feel tears in my throat and bite down on my thumb to stop them. There’s no way I want Mimi to see the state I’m in.
‘How long since you split up?’
I shake my head. ‘It’s been just over two years, but that’s not exactly a long time in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t feel long. Not long enough to reach a point where you are ready to marry someone else. I mean, I’ve not even liked someone …’ I pause, suddenly feeling like I’m on the verge of blurting out the truth and needing to reel myself back in. ‘Well, you know, it just seems a bit quick, that’s all. It’s not like I’m not over her. She can be with who she wants. It’s a respect thing, you know what I mean?’
The look in Mimi’s eyes suggests that, no, she doesn’t know what I mean. Or, more accurately, that she knows exactly what I mean, but that it’s not contained in the words bumbling out of my drunken mouth.