Love Byte

by David Atkinson

  ‘OK good news first.’

  ‘She loves the kitten.’

  ‘And the bad news?’

  ‘Well there’s no bad news really – well, not for me anyway – I’m taking her out tonight for dinner, but I guess that’s bad news for you. Sorry, Andy, you knew the risks. I was her teenage idol and I guess you can’t really compete with that, huh?’

  I felt hot tears burning at the corner of my eyes but I wasn’t about to let this prick know he was getting to me. ‘Yeah Colin, I knew the risks, just be nice to her, OK?’

  He laughed, ‘Oh I’ll be very nice to her, don’t you worry about that, oh, and one more thing.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘You were right, she has a perfect arse.’

  After he hung up I slumped down on the couch and drained my glass of wine. After a moment I got up and refilled it again and walked over and stared out over the grey ocean. I was trying to think of something to do that would take my mind off Molly when my mobile pinged signifying a new text.

  Hi Andy. Lindsay here. Just sent u another email – read it when u get a chance. U might want 2 have a drink to hand before u do.

  Well, that was handy, I put my full glass onto the table and logged on to my email account.

  Love Byte 6 – 29th December – Hospice

  Hi gorgeous husband

  It’s 5 a.m. and I’m sitting in bed typing. I can’t get out of bed at all now, my legs are too weak. They’ve stuffed a tube in my fanny today to collect urine – well not in my fanny exactly but you know what I mean. The last degradation which is fucking uncomfortable. Anyway enough about that – details you don’t really need to know. It was lovely to see you earlier, even though I was a bit dopey. That happens just after they give me my meds. My brain is much clearer now but the pain is almost unbearable.

  I’m glad I moved in here, the staff are great and I had to take the pressure off you both. Besides, Amy is scared of me now, I look like some freak from a horror film and every time she looks at me her eyes well up with tears and it breaks my heart.

  I must be really disrupting your life by now but as I’ve always said, I’m doing it for your own good and it helps me feel better too. I don’t think I’ve explained why I decided to wait so many months before I sent you the first email and there’s no real big answer. I just reckoned that by now you should have got most of your grieving out of the way and have your head clear enough to deal with me.

  I hope you’re looking after my little angel. God I miss her so much, I can’t believe that soon I’ll never see her again. It’s so cruel that she’ll never know me, the person who gave life to her. The mother who nurtured her for nine months and beyond will always be a stranger to her. How sad is that?

  Sorry, Andy, I know this will be tough for you, but please indulge me a little more. This is probably my final email – the drugs are making me too woozy to do this much longer and I’d rather sign off from this life while I can still be lucid rather than with some garbled nonsense weeks from now.

  After this you will probably never hear from me again, at least not in this world. Hopefully I’ll always live in your memory, and please when you think of me from time to time remember the good times when I was well, happy and sexy. Don’t dwell on the emaciated mess that I am now. That’s not me, that’s not who I am, you know that.

  The last few months have been wonderful and hellish. I’ve tried to bear this the best I can but I wouldn’t wish this disease on my worst enemy – not that I’ve got a worst enemy, in fact I don’t think I’ve got any enemies (well none that I know of). I hope when your time comes, you are very old, very happy and you pass away peacefully in your bed or maybe on the toilet like Elvis. Then when you do die – if there is an after-life – I’ll come and meet you. That’d be funny, wouldn’t it? You’d be an old codger and I’d be young and gorgeous. I probably wouldn’t fancy you anymore and I’d want to go dancing and clubbing and you’ll probably just want to sit in a comfy chair, watch the Antiques Roadshow and drink Horlicks haha!

  OK I know I’m wandering a bit but please, please, Andy, to be serious for a moment, I want you to focus on the times we had before Amy came. The holiday in Florida when we rushed around the parks like wide-eyed children. Then later drinking beer in that Orlando bar with the drunken Germans who thought we were Americans – do you remember how we pretended to be from New York and took the piss out of them for hours? Also you must remember the time we danced through that thunderstorm in Crete while the rain cooled our sunburnt shoulders, and then afterwards when we plunged naked into the ocean and raised our arms to the sky and shouted every dirty word we could think of.

  Those are the memories I want you to take with you, that and the times after Amy came along and we didn’t know what was wrong with her, and the wonder we shared together when she took her first steps, and spoke her first word. You remember her first word, don’t you? It wasn’t mummy or daddy, it was ‘shoes’! God how we laughed. That girl takes after her mother – she loves her shoes!

  Oh God it hurts, Andy. I’m nearly dead. This empty worn-out shell of a body can’t take much more. I’m sitting here typing, crying and laughing at the same time. Such a bittersweet moment, and I’m all alone – you’re not here to share it with me but that’s OK, you and Amy will be sleeping and that’s a good thing. You need to be strong for Amy, Andy. Even if my plan to find you a woman has worked, you probably still need to be a mother to her as well unless you’ve found a saint. You will be the only one who has that real connection to her. She is part of you, she’s part of me too but I’m gone. I’m history, you need to be her world, Andy, and the good thing is I know you know that.

  I try not to think about it but I’ll not get to see my baby grow up and that hurts more than anything. So spare a thought for me when she has her first day at school – all excited and dressed in her new uniform, with that pang of remorse and realization you’ll experience when she leaves you at the school gate for the first time and walks into a life where you are no longer the centre of her universe. Be easy on her when she brings home her first proper boyfriend and be there for her when she needs a shoulder to lean or cry on.

  I was glad I made it to Christmas. My final thought, whenever that will be – but probably not too far away now – will be of her face on Christmas morning when she opened that doll my mum had bought for her, the one she always played with in John Lewis. She was so excited, so happy.

  I’m scared, Andy, but to be honest I’m so tired. My body aches everywhere, even with the drugs. In a way I’m looking forward to the end now, the release from the pain. When it comes I hope you try to celebrate my life, the fun we had and the joy we gave each other. Don’t dwell on the dark stuff – it’s not worth it. Life’s too short, believe me I know.

  That’s it. I’m too tired to type any longer. I’m going to log off for the last time. I hope you will be happy with whatever life you make for yourself without me. I wish you well, I hope you find another love as big and as strong as mine and if you do, babes, hold onto it for all you are worth.

  Tell Amy how much I love her when she’s old enough to understand who I was and what happened to me.

  I love you Andy, I always will – wherever I am.

  Your very tired wife

  Lindsay

  XXXXX

  I poured myself another glass of wine, then another one, then another one. . . .

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The next day dawned bright and clear, and I dawned dull and foggy with a splitting headache. The previous evening Pauline had stayed with me until Amy was asleep and I’d sobered up enough to be capable of looking after her if she awoke.

  Pauline was not judgemental and attributed my drinking to the bad day I’d had with Perennial Mutual. The weird thing was that ‘officially’ losing my job barely registered in the overall scheme of things. I’d also left it too long t
o explain to Pauline what her dead daughter was up to – even that sentence would probably have her organizing a psychiatric evaluation for me. Then if I tried to explain about a psychotic Irish girl who cut up suits, wrecked apartments and left dirty knickers in fridges, she’d probably have had me sectioned.

  I crawled out of bed and padded through to the kitchen, took two aspirin and made myself some coffee. I took the steaming mug over to the dining-room table and gazed out of the window. The white tops on the waves told me that it was still windy and probably cold. It was amazing what a difference a few days made to the Scottish weather, the warm front that had given Edinburgh a last tantalizing taste of summer had now been replaced by chilly autumn air. I flipped on the radio and listened to the dulcet tones of Angus Paul who had the drive slot on local morning radio. He was a minor celebrity who just happened to have a flat in my block. I wasn’t sure if he’d bought the flat or just rented it like me. Given his indifference to everything at the residents’ meetings I assumed he was just a renter.

  Normally his chatter just washed over me, but today my ears perked up when he started to describe what had happened to his car.

  ‘Early this morning I took the lift down to the underground car-park in my building – which is supposed to be secure by the way – and found my car covered in white gloss paint. Now whoever did it wasn’t happy with just splashing paint all over my green Audi, no they had to write obscenities on the doors and the roof as well. And you know what the worst of it was? Whoever did it was semi-illiterate, half the swear words were spelt wrong. So please, whichever low-life did this, next time you decide to vandalize someone’s private property, remember to take a damn dictionary with you.’

  After he’d completed his rant he played the latest Rihanna song and I pondered over what he’d just said. I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach, it could have been the vestiges of the wine from the night before but I didn’t think so.

  I didn’t have time to think about it further at that point as Pauline arrived to help me get Amy dressed and ready. She was taking her to see the Singing Kettle. It had slipped my mind, like so many other things recently. I really needed to snap out of it.

  After they left I showered and dressed. I had made no plans so moping around the apartment all day felt like a good option. I had just poured myself another coffee when my phone started to ring. I really needed to change the ringtone; ‘Firework’ had only bad connotations now. I noted from the readout that it was Jamie calling me. I groaned and thought about not answering, but decided if he was phoning me after our last conversation it must be quite important.

  ‘Jamie. How are you?’

  ‘I’m good thanks – probably better than you are – but that serves you right.’

  ‘Jamie. . . .’

  ‘Yeah I know – listen I’m not one to argue, I just need to tell you something, I don’t actually want to but I made a promise. How are your suits by the way?’

  ‘What? How did you know about that?’

  ‘A little birdie told me, well a little Irish birdie actually.’

  For some reason I wasn’t all that surprised.

  ‘Anyway, Andy, I’m just calling to tell you that I’m now going out with Amanda. I hope you don’t mind, but given recent events you have no moral ground left to stand on anyway.’

  I could have debated the point but didn’t have the energy. Picturing the two of them in my mind I could see why they would get on. They even had similar degrees, so their brains and temperaments were probably wired the same way.

  ‘I don’t mind, Jamie. In fact, I think the two of you are well suited.’

  Jamie missed the joke, I barely got it myself.

  ‘That’s what I thought. We got together the day after the débâcle in your flat and it’s been brilliant ever since.’

  Despite our recent differences I was a little worried for him. ‘Has she told you what else she did?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that, but a few broken plates aren’t the end of the world and I tried to tell her not to leave her panties there, but she thought it was a good reminder of what you would be missing.’

  ‘I take it those were the ones she’d been wearing after you’d been shagging?’

  There was a moment of silence then. ‘Yeah, I think so, sorry.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter Jamie, I binned them anyway. Listen did she say anything else about me or her plans?’

  ‘No, just that she was finished with you and didn’t want anything to do with your life anymore. Honestly I didn’t know she was going to do that to your car either but she’s promised to leave you alone now that—’

  ‘My car?’ I interrupted.

  Jamie was silent.

  ‘Jamie?’

  ‘I’m still here,’ he said quietly.

  ‘What about my car?’

  ‘You’ve obviously not seen it yet.’

  ‘My car’s fine.’

  ‘It can’t be. Amanda poured paint all over it, white gloss I think she said.’

  I started laughing, ‘She’s a stupid cow. She didn’t pour paint over my car she poured it over Angus Paul’s car.’

  ‘The DJ?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘He lives in this building somewhere. He parks his car near mine.’

  ‘He’s got a red Audi too?’

  ‘Nope, his is green.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Amanda’s colour blind Jamie, well she gets red and green mixed up, so that’s what obviously happened here. Angus is pretty pissed about it too, he was ranting about it on his radio show this morning.’

  ‘Are you going to tell him?’

  I thought about that for a moment. I wasn’t sure I wanted to try and explain the events that had led up to his car getting trashed and I wanted to have to explain it to the police even less.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ I lied.

  ‘Look, Andy, I’ll make sure that Amanda never comes anywhere near you again, OK? Let’s just leave things as they are.’

  I sighed. ‘Yeah OK Jamie, just make sure she makes no more uninvited visits to my flat.’ I was planning on changing the locks anyway. I didn’t trust either of them. I’d had enough of the conversation. ‘Good luck, Jamie, I hope everything works out for you.’ My sentiment was genuine. Amanda might make Jamie change his ways, if not, at least he knew what was likely to happen to him. Maybe his parents would get the wedding and grandchildren they wanted after all.

  ‘Thanks Andy, no hard feelings and I’ll see you around.’

  I doubted it but you never know.

  Dead air again.

  I put my phone down, lay back on the couch and closed my eyes. My hangover was easing but I felt tired. It’s funny how you go out like a light when you are drunk, but the sleep you get is never good quality.

  After a few minutes I sat up and wondered what to do to keep myself from thinking too much. I could have fetched my iPad and looked for jobs online, but then I might have been tempted to read Lindsay’s email again and I didn’t think I could have faced that without hitting the red wine. Instead I decided to clean out my wardrobe, I had a lot of suits that needed binning.

  After I’d filled my third black bin bag, the intercom sounded and I sighed. I wondered who that could be. Pauline wasn’t due back for hours. I picked up the receiver but there was no answer, so I put it down. Then it buzzed again. I was getting annoyed and grabbed the handset. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mail delivery,’ a female voice said.

  I pressed the green button. ‘OK it’s open.’ I went back to work and a moment later there was a knock on my door. I opened it fully expecting to see the chubby overworked post-girl. Instead, standing there wearing a tight blue top, black jeans and a nervous smile was Molly Jenkins.

  She was the last person I expected to see. I ste
pped aside. ‘Molly. Come in, come in.’

  Molly entered and I closed the door quietly. As she passed me her perfume opened another door to bittersweet memories and emotions. I slammed that one shut.

  ‘This is a surprise,’ I said, stumped.

  Molly smiled and asked, ‘A nice surprise or a nasty surprise?’

  I smiled back. ‘Oh definitely a nice one. I take it you are the mail girl?’

  Molly laughed and nodded. ‘Yeah, I wasn’t sure you’d let me up if you knew it was me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Molly, of course I would let you in. I . . . I’m very pleased to see you.’ I thought about my next sentence, it might be a make or break one for me. ‘It also gives me the chance to say sorry. I know that probably sounds woefully inadequate after what I did, but I don’t think there is anything else I could say that wouldn’t sound lame.’

  Molly sat on the couch and crossed her legs. She gazed around the apartment. ‘The first time I was here was amazing, it felt exciting like the start of something new, something worthwhile. The second time . . . well, it was like someone had opened up a wound and poured salt in it. So I don’t know if sorry is enough. I suppose it depends on how I feel about my third visit here.’

  ‘How do you feel so far?’ I asked.

  Molly bit her lower lip gently between her teeth. ‘I don’t feel anything yet, why don’t you come and sit beside me to see if that changes.’

  Molly pulled her knees up to her chin and looked straight ahead as she spoke.

  ‘First of all, thank you for Trooper, he is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. The delivery boy was pretty cute too.’ She laughed and blushed. ‘God, I so used to have a crush on him. When he was singing in Laser Light in 1997 I got right down to the front at one of their concerts at the SECC. I was only fourteen but had it bad for him. I used to have Laser Light posters all over my bedroom wall too, it drove my dad bonkers. He’s still good looking. OK he’s put on about thirty pounds, and is probably the wrong side of forty now but he’s still got that boyish appeal. How did you manage to get him to deliver a kitten to me? Everyone in the office was gobsmacked.’