Relight my Fire

by Joanna Bolouri

  I shook my head. ‘I want to be, Oliver! I really do! I want to kiss you, but when I do . . . see, not only did you bring her into our relationship, you brought her into my head. That is so unfair.’

  ‘Good, Phoebe.’ Pam smiled while her head bobbed in approval. ‘This is a process. Unfortunately you won’t know where the stumbling blocks are until you trip over them. Oliver, do you want to respond to Phoebe?’

  ‘It was unfair of me,’ he agreed, ‘but I don’t know what else to say. Couples move on from this, right? We can move past this.’

  Pam didn’t respond and for once we were both left with the realisation that if we can’t move past this, we’re in deep shit.

  Saturday May 6th

  Lucy and Kyle have set the date and she’s now panicking in advance. Most couples have at least a year to plan, she now has six months. I had to calm her down over coffee. Hazel, an actual real life married person, also attended.

  ‘The venue I liked had a cancellation. November the 11th. Do people actually have weddings in November?’

  ‘Of course!’ Hazel proclaimed. ‘You’ll be an autumn bride.’

  ‘Oh, God, there’s a name for it. Should I be reading up on this? Are there seasonal rules I have to adhere to?’

  I slid half of my cheesecake across the table towards Lucy, who looked like she needed it more than me.

  ‘You can have whatever kind of wedding you want,’ I insisted, before Hazel could start frantically Googling ‘Autumn Brides’ – ‘as long as you don’t make me wear yellow. I’m too pale. I’ll look like a corpse.’

  ‘Never mind your dress,’ she moaned. ‘What am I going to wear? I really don’t think I’m a traditional dress kind of girl . . . though I do look good in white. Kyle is hopeless at this stuff – he actually told me to wear “whatever”. Who the fuck wears “whatever” to their wedding? Ugh, if only I knew someone who was good at all of this . . .’

  Hazel was practically foaming at the mouth.

  ‘Oh, just ask her, Lucy,’ I insisted, laughing. ‘We both know I’m useless at all of this.’

  A smile slowly appeared on Lucy’s face like a crack in ice. ‘Hazel, will you help me plan my—’

  ‘I WOULD LOVE TO.’ Hazel reached into her bag and produced six wedding magazines and a notepad. It seems we all knew this was coming and I have no doubt that Hazel will do an amazing job.

  Sunday May 7th

  At our last visit, Pam suggested that we take a couple of weeks to talk things through and bring any issues we still have to the next session. She’s also suggested that we go easy on any intimacy until trust has been re-established on my side. I’m OK with this. I mean, the sex jar hasn’t been brought out for a while now anyway, mainly because I haven’t felt particularly amorous since Oliver’s reveal and he’s not pushing things while I’m dealing with it. My final piece of paper in the jar asks for rough sex but I’m not sure I want to go with it. Angry sex would probably be more appropriate but not when I’m still sore at him.

  In other news, someone in this block of flats owns a recorder and I’m even more convinced that living in a cave is the way forward.

  Monday May 8th

  Not only was it pissing down all day, but I had to go and visit Jay first thing. At least he was actually there this time.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked as I placed my umbrella beside the front door. ‘I’m just making one.’

  Yes, please. How about a cup of what the fuck do you want this time, to takeaway? Two sugars.

  I accepted, smiling graciously. Coffee is important to me, regardless of who’s making it.

  I sat at one of the tables in the middle of the room and took off my rain-soaked coat, hanging it over the seat. Water began to pool on the floor underneath.

  ‘Oh God, I’m making a mess here, sorry,’ I apologised. ‘I’m dripping all over the place.’

  ‘That’s what she said,’ he replied, sniggering as he brought some coffee over.

  Oh dear God. He’s one of them. I bet he knows Brian.

  I didn’t bother laughing. I’m fed up humouring men who aren’t funny. Instead I opened my folder and clicked my pen.

  ‘So,’ I began, ‘you had a decent response—’

  ‘Sugar?’

  ‘One, please.’

  ‘—from the adverts we ran?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ he replied. ‘Yes, we were busy, but we always are. It’s hard to gauge response.’

  My coffee was far too hot but I sipped regardless. ‘There are promotions you could run which might help with that. Say, offers on our ads for discounted drinks, etc. That’s a good way—’

  ‘Are you single?’

  ‘I . . . excuse me?’

  ‘Did I stutter? Are you single?’

  ‘I don’t see how that’s relevant, but no. Can we get back to this?’

  ‘Married then?’

  I closed my folder. ‘Why are you asking me this?’

  ‘Because I’d like to take you out.’ He dragged his chair a little closer and I felt his foot rub against mine.

  Lucy was right. Of course she was, she’s Lucy.

  ‘You would?!’ I exclaimed. ‘How lovely. Well, in that case, no, I’m not married.’

  He grinned. ‘Great, well, we could—’

  ‘But I do have a daughter. A big one. You don’t have a problem with kids, right?’

  His grin began to fade.

  ‘I know that some men are all I’m not taking on someone else’s child,’ I continued, ‘but I don’t get that vibe from you, Jay. How much do you make here?’

  ‘What? Um . . . I . . .’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it’s enough for us. And Molly loves all the bars I take her to. She’ll have fun here.’

  He squirmed uncomfortably, looking towards the door as if he was expecting help to appear at any minute.

  ‘Now, I should warn you. Once I tell her dad – we’re seeing each other – he won’t be happy. He rarely is. I blame it on all the bare-knuckle fighting he did as a kid in Ireland but just stand your ground. Actually, maybe just run – he’s tall but he’s not fast.’

  ‘Jesus, Phoebe, I get it! Enough.’

  I started to laugh. ‘Jay, I’m not interested in dating you and if that’s the only reason you brought me back today, I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.’

  He looked a little defeated but smiled. ‘You can’t blame a guy for trying.’

  ‘Under normal circumstances, no,’ I said, ‘but in a work situation . . . given our very brief history, it’s entirely inappropriate. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  He shrugged like a two-year-old.

  ‘I’m sure your boss will be able to help you understand when I tell him. Pete Kirby is the owner, right? I mean, I’m not certain that this is tantamount to sexual harassment but—’

  ‘Six full pages,’ he interrupted. ‘Six full page adverts and we forget this.’

  ‘Eight.’

  ‘Fine.’

  I opened my folder again and clicked my pen, triumphantly. Clickety-click, you little prick.

  Tuesday May 9th

  Having secured enough business to get Frank off my back for the next few weeks, today was a breeze. I’m still stunned at the sheer cheek of Jay bloody Dainty but when I remember back to the first time we met, I was drawn to his arrogance. He pretty much told me I was going home with him that evening, like I had no choice in the matter. I liked that self-assured cockiness in my twenties. Now I just find it irritating.

  Kelly decided to reorganise her already perfectly organised desk in an attempt to, as Brian put it, Feng-Shui it to fuck.

  ‘Clear desk, clear mind, Brian,’ she insisted, her eyes scanning his desk with contempt. ‘There’s nothing wrong with making sure things run as efficiently as possible.’

  ‘Is that what you tell your fiancé in bed?’ he sniggered.

  She sighed. ‘No, Brian, it’s what I tell your dad.’

  From across the office, Lucy could be heard picking up the phone and
saying, ‘Hello? Is that the police? Yes, I’d like to report a brutal owning please.’

  Sometimes I wish everyone would just get along but this is far more entertaining.

  Wednesday May 10th

  Even though I don’t get periods anymore (God bless this coil), I still find myself getting a tad emotional around the time they’re due. Today was no different. I had a little weep over both Oliver’s indiscretion with Bethany and the spot on my chin before my mood abruptly swung me the other way and I screamed along to Hole on my iPod while I tidied Molly’s room. I feel much better now. Thank God I wasn’t in work or Frank would have been missing a limb.

  Thursday May 11th

  Work was especially dull today as Lucy had the day off and I was left alone with Kelly, Brian and Frank for company. I helped Kelly out on a deadline with the health and beauty section before Frank called me into his office. As usual, he made me sit for a couple of minutes while he finished off emails before swivelling around to face me.

  ‘Thanks for waiting. I wanted to let you know that there’s a managerial meeting in London in August, which I’ll be attending, and I thought it might be a good idea if you came along too.’

  ‘Me? Why?’ I asked, watching him fiddle with an elastic band.

  ‘We need a deputy here and I think you’d be the most suitable. It’s only an overnight trip but it’ll give you a chance to meet the MD.’

  I stared blankly at him. ‘Frank, why on earth would you think I’d be interested in being the deputy? I’m fairly certain you’re aware that this job isn’t my goal career.’

  He gave a throaty snigger. ‘Phoebe, you’re not twenty anymore. You’re a woman of a certain age with a family. This might not be your goal career, but you’ve certainly been here long enough. What else are you qualified to do?’

  His words felt like a punch in the stomach. Never mind that he was speaking out of turn or that he was a condescending bastard, he had a point.

  ‘Just because I haven’t figured out that part yet, doesn’t mean—’

  ‘You’d need to come back full-time, of course, but it’s an additional eight grand on top of your salary, plus petrol allowance and expenses.’

  I shook my head. ‘Why not ask Kelly? She’s dying to get into a managerial role. She likes it here.’

  Frank rolled his eyes. ‘Kelly would be efficient, yes, but she has zero respect in this office. I need someone who can keep a level head and not cause conflict. You’d all threaten to leave within a week if Kelly was in charge.’

  ‘Fair point.’

  ‘Look, go home and discuss it with your husband. The role isn’t being created until after this London meeting, anyway. But please keep this to yourself until then.’

  ‘I’m not married and I’m not inter—’

  ‘Close the door behind you, please.’

  There was no point in arguing. I could have hired a plane to skywrite I AM NOT FUCKING INTERESTED, FRANK, and he’d still be convinced he knew best.

  But it played on my mind for the rest of the day. Of course the money would be great and I’m sure I could do the job, but it would mean admitting defeat. It would mean that this is all I am destined to do and that’s fucking depressing.

  Friday May 12th

  After a quick jaunt to the supermarket to save me going over the weekend, I saw something which made me grin for the rest of the evening. Nothing makes me happier than witnessing the joy that is teenage goth being forced to walk the family dog. His sulk was unmistakable, as was the injustice which radiated from every cell in his lanky body.

  I spoke to Oliver about the job offer and the London trip in August. He’s not thrilled at the prospect of me doing an overnight with Frank but of course it was my decision. He just wants me to be happy. That makes two of us.

  Saturday May 13th

  Lucy came over to watch Molly tonight, letting Oliver and I spend some quality time together watching a special screening of Jaws at the Film Theatre, followed by a quick drink at Nice N Sleazy after. It was great, like a proper date – I wore fancy heels and Oliver opened doors for me, bought me sweets and laughed when I moaned about people clapping at the end of the film.

  ‘I hate that. Like a room of appreciative seals. It’s not a live performance. Stop that, no one cares.’

  ‘I fucking love how much you hate people.’

  We got back around 1 a.m. to the sight of Lucy, cross-legged on the floor, flipping through wedding magazines.

  ‘Molly alright?’ I enquired, gratefully kicking my heels off.

  ‘Yep! She loves her stories, that kid. We read a book about an asshole cat three times. How was the film?’

  ‘Same as it was the last forty times I’ve seen it,’ Oliver replied. ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘I see you’ve had a productive night?’ I said, gesturing towards the magazines. ‘Hazel’s been busy.’

  Lucy got to her feet, brushing down her trousers. ‘She’s like a well-oiled machine when it comes to this stuff. Did you know that I’m supposed to give a shit about whether flowers match my dress?’

  She didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing her car keys off the table. ‘Be thankful you don’t have any of this nonsense to deal with.’

  After I’d seen her to the door, I joined Oliver in the bedroom. ‘She’s stressing over this, eh?’ he commented, taking off his t-shirt. ‘I couldn’t be arsed with it all. I’d just fuck off and get married somewhere. Have a party when we got back.’

  We? This was the first time Oliver had even mentioned marriage, never mind including me in it. I’d never considered marriage to be an option. We’re not ‘that’ kind of couple.

  ‘It just all seems a bit pointless,’ I replied. ‘Archaic . . . of course, you can buy me a big fuck off ring regardless. I won’t complain.’

  He smiled but stayed quiet. Oh God, he’s going to think I’m hinting for an engagement ring now. I stayed quiet too. I’m not digging myself in any deeper, we have enough to deal with.

  Sunday May 14th

  Took Molly to the park today where we saw Ruby and Sarah Ward-Wilson hanging out by the boating pond. It’s the first time I’ve seen her away from nursery. It felt weird. Like when you were a kid at school and you spotted your teacher out in the wild.

  Molly began sprinting towards Ruby, yelling her name so loudly, it startled the swans. The way children run always fascinates me. Adults run with their legs but children run with their feet. They make that completely identifiable, slapping sound you never hear from a jogger. Sarah waved me over and I took a deep breath. If she hurls herself into the pond, I’m not going in after her.

  ‘What a surprise!’ she exclaimed. ‘How are you? Keeping well?’

  She was definitely far more chipper than the last time we spoke. ‘I’m good, thanks,’ I replied. ‘And you? How is everything?’

  ‘Wonderful,’ she said, the smile on her face never wavering. She looked over at Ruby to make sure she wasn’t in earshot of our conversation. ‘He’s back in the house. He says he realises that our kids need him around but I think he realised that living in her shitty flat in Govan wasn’t all he hoped for.’

  ‘So you’re trying again?’

  She laughed. It was creepy. ‘Of course not. Separate bedrooms. I’ve told the children their father snores too loudly. He can continue seeing his homewrecker and I will take a lover.’

  There were a million questions swarming around in my mind. Firstly, they have four kids. That’s four bedrooms plus her own and apparently a spare room, too. How fucking big was their house? Secondly, was she really OK living like this? Also, SHE SAID TAKE A LOVER AND NOW I CAN’T GET ‘GLORIA’ FROM FLASHDANCE OUT OF MY HEAD.

  Supressing the urge to mention any of this, I smiled and told her I was glad she was doing well.

  ‘I’m pleased you’re doing better. After last time, I—’

  There goes the smile. Her face became cold and motionless. ‘What about last time? What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing! Just in your c
ar . . . at nursery . . . you seemed quite, well . . . distraught.’

  She threw her Prada handbag over her shoulder and replastered the smile back on her face. ‘I’m sure I have no idea what you mean . . . Ruby! Time to go, sweetheart.’

  I didn’t push it any further. If she wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, who was I to insist it did? What good would it do?

  Tuesday May 15th

  Oliver and I had a massive talk tonight. We discussed how we felt things were going after his confession in Pam’s office, the state of our relationship – basically everything that’s been on our minds for the last week or so. It was tough at times but I’m glad we did. His main issue was me working with Frank again. It was difficult trying to convince him that not only did I never have feelings for Frank but that he didn’t have any for me either. I wasn’t harbouring any then and I’m certainly not now. From what I can gather, Oliver is more concerned about Frank trying it on, than me.

  ‘He’s a fucking toad. There’s no way he’s not remembering what it was like to sleep with you. And if you go on that London trip . . .’

  ‘I have no control over that,’ I replied, exasperated. ‘Just as I have no control over who you’ve slept with previously, and whether they remember it. Just trust me when I say that it’s in the past and it’s staying there.’

  I think I finally got through to him but it’s still a real sore point. Can I blame him? I don’t know how understanding I’d be if Oliver was still working alongside Bethany. Ugh, even writing her name makes me want to scream. I can’t help but wonder how she feels about what happened between them. She knew he had a partner. A family. Does she feel guilty? Embarrassed? Does she pity me? Think she’ll be the one to save him from his miserable hum-drum life with the wrong woman?

  But most of all, I can’t help but wonder if Oliver had feelings for her that went beyond lust. I think that would crush me more than any sexual infidelity.

  Wednesday May 17th

  I think Pam’s session was productive today, with both of us eventually accepting responsibility for the way our relationship had struggled over the past couple of years. I’d love to blame it all on Oliver and get my ‘nothing to do with me, I’m perfect’ badge on my way out but I know that’s not true.