Looking back, she chided herself for being so pathetic. But hindsight is a wonderful thing. And love is blind. And all those other clichés which are clichés for a reason – because they’re right. Love is blind. And she was in love. Very, very much in love. So much so, that when he’d finished his pastry and drunk the rest of his coffee, and suggested sex, she’d jumped at the chance. After one month of no contact, one pastry later, she was opening her bedroom door to him and opening her legs as well.
It seemed that after that, Sasha was always on her best behaviour. She never displayed any jealousy (even if she felt it), and she went to great pains to show him that she was a good girlfriend.
Step one was planning a trip away. Her birthday was approaching. She thought a visit to her cousin down south would be a good idea. It would be a hell of a train journey but Sasha was in operation good girlfriend mode. Part of this involved showing how sociable they could be as a couple. They could hang out with other couples and she would not be jealous of the female. They would extend their social circle. It would be a good indicator for later life and, hopefully, marriage.
So operation good girlfriend began. Sasha was aware that her cousin’s girlfriend Amber was very talkative. She knew that she would probably hog the spotlight. And she knew that Kirk would probably get on really well with her. But she was determined to showcase the new Sasha. It would wash over her like water off a very slippery duck’s back.
Sasha was not, however, prepared for all the flirting. Sitting in a café, Sasha, Kirk, Amber and Andy; Sasha had that horrible, dreaded feeling of being a gooseberry on another couple’s first date. Kirk and Amber chatted animatedly with each other, hardly letting Sasha or Andy get a word in edgeways, such was the nature of their personalities. Sasha and Andy were the introverted ones – the quiet listeners. Kirk and Amber, however, were the talkative extroverts; tripping over each other with stories, tales and laughter. Sasha watched on with helpless defeat. Kirk was smitten with Amber, laughing at everything she said, asking her tons of questions, fascinated by all her answers. He was absolutely beside himself at meeting this new person who entranced him.
Was Sasha jealous? Yes, of course she was.
Listening quietly, she felt she was just the backdrop – an unnecessary part of the gathering. She also surmised that, in a parallel universe, at a different time and place, if Kirk and Amber had met under other circumstances and had been unattached, surely now this would be the point in time that they’d be ripping each other’s clothes off and fucking.
The thought depressed her.
The visit dwindled away. Sasha’s spirits fell further down into her toes with each passing hour. The flirting continued. The hilarity continued. And the first date-watching continued, while she and Andy looked on as a silent audience. It was painful. Andy, however, seemed oblivious.
The crunch came the following day, when they were all discussing age and looks, and Kirk started telling Amber how beautiful she was. “You’re gorgeous!” he exclaimed, clutching her hands. “You’re gorgeous!”
She was giggling uncontrollably, while Sasha’s stomach was taking a lurch ten feet deep. Despite her willingness, despite all the resolutions to be a good girlfriend, it was as if something inside her just snapped. She couldn’t pretend anymore. She was powerless to hide her feelings of jealousy and insecurity. Storming out of the living-room, she was making it obvious to all around her that she was not happy.
Kirk followed her into the bedroom, reasoning with her at first. “Don’t do this, Sasha…” he pleaded gently. “Don’t let the thoughts take over you.”
But it was too late. If the first carriage of her thought train had veered off onto the jealous route, there was no way of pulling it back.
Kirk was reasonable at first, but quickly his patience snapped. What ensued then were some of the worst hours of Sasha’s life, and certainly her worst birthday. Amber retreated into her bedroom, keeping out of the way. Kirk and Andy disappeared into the study to play computer games. And Sasha sat in the guest bedroom on her own, left to mull over her stupidity. The hours dragged.
Finally, it was time to go, and everyone gathered in the living-room. Amber had removed every inch of make-up, scraped back her hair into a ponytail and wore a geeky pair of thick rimmed spectacles, clearly trying to make herself look as unattractive as possible. Kirk and Andy sat in awkward silence.
Finally, they were on the train home. Sasha tried to make small talk but Kirk completely ignored her. Silent tears ran down her face, and she tried to wipe them away surreptitiously, without drawing attention to herself.
At the train station, Sasha went to hold Kirk’s hand as they walked along – more out of force of habit than anything else. But he pulled his hand away from her quickly, as though from a hot poker.
At the B&B, they said nothing to each other, simply getting into bed and switching the light off.
Sasha, of course, couldn’t sleep a wink. She rose in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Door closed behind her, sitting on the toilet seat, she longed to cry. A river of tears was desperate to spill out, like water from a dam. All that built-up tension, the disappointment, the annoyance at herself. It had all gone horribly wrong. Even her cousin had texted her to say how disappointed he was in her.
So it must be me. It must be my fault.
If both Kirk and her cousin were condemning her jealousy, she knew she really must have a problem. But she seemed powerless to stop it.
The tears came out, despite themselves. She managed not to make any noise, lest she wake Kirk, but the tears flowed. Silent sobbing. Huge, wracking tears which erupted right from her gut and fell down her face. It was tears of giving up. Of knowing this was the end. That there was nothing else she could do. She had tried – and failed. And now it was over.
“Can we talk?” Kirk asked, the next morning. He was sitting upright on the bed, the blanket wrapped up to his chest.
“Yeah,” she replied wearily.
There ensued another two hour talk-a-thon; about her jealousy; about embarrassing him; about how absurd it all was; about how she had broken her promises to change.
And on. And on. And on.
This time, Sasha had switched off. It was as though she accepted it was over. It was as though she knew it was done.
“Okay,” she said, accepting. “I accept it’s over.” In a way, she felt a cloud of relief wash over her. No more trying. No more fixing. No more pushing/pulling. Just be. It felt like a tonne weight was being rolled off her shoulders.
“Okay, it’s over,” she thought, as she looked in the mirror and applied make-up before breakfast. No more arguments, she thought, with relief.
They went down to breakfast. The landlady was in chatty form. Sasha listened and nodded politely in all the right places. She took a long sip of her hot coffee. She was aware that this was ‘the last breakfast’. Instead of deep despair, there was a resigned acceptance. Relief was her main emotion. No more trying. No more pretending to be something she wasn’t. She could just be herself.
After this, she’d get on the bus and travel home and never again would she face the look of disappointment on Kirk’s face.
The three of them chatted amiably – the landlady, Kirk, Sasha. Kirk looked at Sasha with fondness. It was funny – now that the pressure was off, they could be relaxed.
But then the strangest thing happened. As they were sitting there at the breakfast table and the landlady had gone back into the kitchen, Kirk looked at Sasha fondly, put his hand on hers and said, “Let’s stay together. We can work this out.”
Sasha could hardly believe her ears. Really? After all the jealousy? After how embarrassed he was? He was really willing to try again? She was too shocked to be happy. Where earlier she had resigned herself to single life, now she realised that she was back on the merry-go-round; trying desperately to live up to his ideal. It was like slumping into a cosy corner and giving up; only to find that you had to get back up and put on the runnin
g shoes again.
But he must really love me, she told herself. If he’s willing to put up with that embarrassment and then forgive me, he must really love me.
Chapter Seven
Returning back to Belfast, drained yet full of fresh resolve, Sasha was determined to make it work this time. He wanted to give it another go, Christmas was just around the corner and Sasha was determined to show him the best Christmas ever. She was swept along, too, by his enthusiasm. Kirk, when he was good, was full of ideas. Brimming with energy, excitement and vitality, he was like a big kid at times. And the vibe rubbed off on Sasha. They discussed a turkey dinner, Christmas decorations, presents and a soppy Christmas movie. They dreamed of sitting around the Christmas tree on Christmas morning, opening presents, the soft lullaby of Christmas music in the background; the aroma of turkey drifting from the kitchen. It would be perfect. Sasha was determined to prove herself. Still guilt-ridden about her latest jealous episode, she was determined to make amends.
It was decided that he would stay at hers for the two week break. Considering they had had many chats in the past about potentially living together, Sasha thought this would be a great appetiser for them; a taster of what was to come.
Sasha excelled herself on Christmas day, even she had to admit. She had spent hundreds creating the perfect Christmas. Her ever-increasing credit card balance was creeping up and up, something that brought her out in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, but she pushed the panic down and tried to forget about it in the cold light of day.
She had bought a tree with fairy lights and decorations, a Christmas table-cloth, table decorations, Christmas plates, and cutlery. She had bought food, and dessert, and drinks. And, most of all, she had bought his presents. Gifts which she had spent hours deliberating over. Thermal socks, for when he complained of the cold; fingerless gloves, so he could keep warm yet smoke at the same time; a collection of lamps and lights, to brighten up his flat; CDs, jumpers, chocolates – the list went on. She had trekked around shops late at night; the Christmas lights twinkling above her and the Christmas music tinkling around her. She realised, suddenly, that this was the first Christmas that she’d actually got excited about in a long time.
Christmas day was perfect. The dinner was cooked to perfection, the apartment was resplendent with decorations, and Kirk seemed delighted with the presents she’d got him. They’d curled up on the sofa and watched It’s a Wonderful Life and they’d headed off to bed, making love before drifting asleep. It really was a wonderful life.
It was a few days later, however, that things changed. Their relationship seemed to be characterised by that; dizzying highs followed by crashing lows, like a terrifying yet exhilarating roller-coaster.
Kirk got out of bed, bleary eyed and exhausted. He sat beside her on the sofa.
“I’m in a foul mood,” he blurted out. Sasha looked at him, surprised, recognising that familiar sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Trouble was brewing. A storm was on the way. The winds were rising and soon they’d be howling; lifting tiles off the roof and bringing destruction.
“I feel like a caged animal,” he blurted again. Sasha felt the sentence like a slap in the face. He felt caged with her. He felt trapped.
“I feel… ”, he said, “that I need to get out of this house… on my own… and go for a walk somewhere. I feel that if I stay here with you, we’ll just end up fighting.”
Sasha swallowed hard and tried to push down the feelings of hurt.
My God, he’s only spent a few days with me and already he needs to get away from me.
But she didn’t argue back or create a fuss. She simply nodded and watched as he got his stuff together to leave the house.
“We’ll meet back here at 5pm today, okay?” he asked her. It seemed so cold, so formal.
And she nodded, fighting back the tears of hurt. He’s only spent a few days with me and already he needs to get away from me.
The door closed behind him and he was gone, the silence descending over the apartment like a thick blanket.
He needs to get away from me.
Sasha and Kirk’s relationship had been characterised by countless excited hellos and many tearful goodbyes. The number of Fridays that she had stood in the train station waiting expectantly for his arrival. The amount of times they had hugged ferociously, happy to see each other again after a two week spell. Other train customers looking on with a mixture of warmth or jealousy, as they’d glimpse them hugging and kissing each other triumphantly.
And then the countless Sundays, where Kirk was due to head back to the station to do the weary journey home, having to say goodbye to her for another two weeks. His low mood would start on the Sunday morning and continue through the day, until the moment he had to hug her goodbye.
So why now, the first chance they had to spend any length of time together, was he desperate to get away from her for the day?
Sasha tried to busy herself by using the day to take down the Christmas tree, put away the decorations and clean the apartment. But with the dismantling of the tree came the dismantling of her hope. Christmas is over. He had to get away from me. Now what?
The thoughts whirred around her mind as she cleaned.
What happens if we do live together? Is this what it would be like? Him having to get away from me?
On and on the thoughts whirled, spiralling bigger and bigger with each hour that passed.
By the time he returned, she had wound herself up in such a knot that it was written all over her face.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked her, the minute he saw her.
“Nothing,” she lied.
“What’s wrong?” he sighed impatiently.
“Nothing.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Kirk’s voice raised at this point.
“Sasha, sit down. Something’s wrong.”
He sat on the sofa and she sat in the armchair. She felt like she was at an interview.
“What’s with the mood?” he asked her. But his tone wasn’t sympathetic. It was abrupt, impatient; tiresome. What now?
“Well… I just felt a bit hurt that you needed to get away from me… ” Sasha began, aware that her voice sounded whiny, like an annoyed child.
Kirk rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go,” he sighed.
“What?” she asked defensively.
“Well, here you go, making this all about you… ” he began.
Sasha felt the walls closing in on her. Her shutters were coming down and she didn’t want to do this. She did not want to have a talk-a-thon three days after Christmas and just before the New Year. But Kirk was on a roll.
“There you go again – making this all about you. I just needed to get out for a walk and now you’ve… ”
“I’ve got to go out,” Sasha interrupted. She could not face this; the recriminations, the accusations, the long analysis. She couldn’t stand another one of these talk-a-thons. Not today; not a few days after Christmas.
Pulling on her coat and grabbing her bag, she left the apartment and closed the door behind her. It was 3pm. He had said he’d wanted to meet up again at 5pm. She’d walk to Tesco to kill some time. Perhaps by the time she returned, he would have calmed down. But for now, she had to get away from the insults, the put-me-downs, the accusations.
She walked and walked and walked. And when she came home, he was gone.
She walked around her apartment, searching and alarmed, the silence deafening. But as she went from room to room, she was struck by the emptiness. It was as if her voice echoed off the walls.
“Kirk? Kirk?”
Like walking around an empty show house and feeling your voice echo back off each wall. There was no trace of him.
She looked at her phone and realised she’d had three missed calls from him. She had forgotten to change her phone from silent to its normal ring-tone. Trying to phone him back, she walked from one room to the other. His coat had gone from
the hanger. His bag had gone from the side of the bed. His toothbrush had departed from its cosy spot next to hers in the bathroom. The only thing he’d left behind was the pile of Christmas presents which she’d lovingly trekked miles to buy for him. She sank on the sofa with a weary slump. A few days before New Year, and he had walked out. Was it over this time? For good?
Chapter Eight
Sasha stared at the presents Kirk had left behind. Presents which she had spent hours finding. Carefully and painstakingly rooting around myriad shops; searching endlessly for the perfect gift. The fairy lights, the Christmas songs, happiness and goodwill to all men. She had been lulled into a false sense of Christmassy joy; looking forward to the expected scene of fuzzy warmth. She imagined a Christmas card picture of her and Kirk under the tree; opening presents, kissing and drinking mulled wine. They’d be wearing matching Christmas jumpers. They’d be wearing paper hats on their heads and huge smiles on their faces. It would be perfect.
Little did she know that only one short week later, she’d be standing looking at this same pile of presents, neatly discarded into a ‘fuck you’ pile at the bottom of her bed.
‘I’m away, fuck you,’ the presents screamed.
‘See that tone of voice you had?’ the presents went on. ‘That’s my reason for clearing off home. Oh, and as for the hundreds of pounds you spent on my presents, fuck you, I don’t want them.’
It was like a slap in the face. A short, sharp, stinging slap in the face.
Sasha slumped down on the sofa; bereft. He had gone. Just upped and left. No “goodbye.” No “that’s me away.” Nothing.
The apartment felt deafeningly silent. It also felt eerily empty. Just yesterday, the place seemed full to bursting with the tree, the decorations, Kirk’s stuff everywhere and now… empty. No tree, nothing.
Sasha felt like her Christmas had been ripped away from her, like a plaster torn off a child’s knee. Quickly and painfully.
The Year of No Rules Page 4