Journey to the Centre of Myself

by Andie M. Long

  ‘I’m not in a rush for a divorce.’

  ‘Well I want one, Karen, but I can’t get my head around the details just yet.’

  ‘Adrian, I really am sorry it’s come to this.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be. In fact, no—I’m not sorry. I am who I am—if it isn’t enough for you. That’s your problem, not mine. That’s what I need to remember.’

  I begin to sob again. ‘Too much happened. We can’t fix what went wrong, and I need other things out of life. We’re destroying each other. This is for the best, I know it is.’

  ‘It’s only ever been about what you want, Karen. I moved back to England to be with you. You’re trying to make out things were so terrible, but all I ever did was try to make you happy.’

  ‘That’s just it, though. I need to make me happy. I can’t rely on other people creating it for me. It’s in here—somewhere.’ I put my fist in the centre of my ribcage.

  ‘Well, I hope you find it. I hope in the end your journeys are worth it.’

  That’s the last large conversation we have until I leave.

  Chapter 30

  Amber

  Boxing Day is divine. A lovely quiet day. I finish my Christmas book. It ends with a romantic Happy Ever After and I perform a satisfying stretch as I throw it to the floor. Nothing is finer than a good Christmas read.

  I’m surprised I get the whole day to myself with zero interruptions. Adrian’s car stays parked outside the house. I wonder how Karen is getting on. Maybe they’re working things out?

  Now, what time is it in New Zealand? I suppose I should attempt to Skype with my mother.

  Work is quiet. Being at work on the days in between Christmas and New Year is strange. It’s like the planet has been invaded by alien life forms. People are sloth-like, full of too much indulgence, like little slugs trying to slither through to New Year. Then they return like brainwashed carcases declaring new fitness regimes and ideas for life changes as if they haven’t just spent the past ten days in a sugar or alcohol induced coma.

  The phones aren’t ringing and the day drags on. Even the rapport between Mirelle and myself isn’t enough to stop us yawning and wishing the rest of the week away.

  ‘Roll on next week and some normality,’ says Mirelle, mirroring my thoughts.

  ‘I wonder when they’ll advertise the job?’

  ‘Can’t see it taking that long, not if it's internal.’

  ‘How are we going to get through today? I’m bored out of my skull.’

  ‘Christ knows. I’m having trouble staying awake.’

  ‘You should try sleeping at night.’ I wink.

  ‘Let’s do a typing competition until lunch, see how many letters we can get through and then after lunch we can see how many chocolates we can eat without feeling sick. That way, Jo can’t come back claiming she does all the work and we won’t have left her any chocolates to stuff her face with.’

  I must be bored because I agree.

  Andi comes into the office before its time for us to leave with a face that looks like she’ll put a horse head on someone’s pillow.

  ‘Everything okay, Andi?’ Mirelle asks.

  ‘Well, that’s what I’ve come to find out, isn’t it?’

  Mirelle and I exchange worried glances.

  ‘I’ve been on the phone to Jo. I needed to tell her about the post being advertised as I was about to release it today. In the interest of all the staff being aware, I’ve been calling the secretaries who are on holiday to give them advance warning in case they were interested.’

  ‘Jo’s got a job,’ says Mirelle.

  ‘I can still end up with a legal complaint if I leave someone out. Anyway, Jo filled me in on the events of her dinner party. Something she is very unhappy about—she claims a friend of both of yours punched Mr Smith in the face.’

  ‘That’s because—’

  ‘There’ll be plenty of time for explanations. I’ll gather evidence from everybody and then we’ll decide on an appropriate course of action. But I need to inform you, Amber, this may affect your application, depending on Mr Smith’s version of events.’

  I’m screwed.

  ‘In the meantime, from Monday, Jo will work for Mr Smith. She says she’s very happy to do so, in the interim period.’

  ‘So, I still have a job?’

  ‘You’re a temp, Amber. I’ll move you to the general office while my investigation takes place. So on Monday, you’ll join the team there. Once I’ve interviewed Mr Smith, I’ll let you know whether you still have a job here.’

  Oh my God.

  ‘You can remain in this office for the rest of the week seeing as everyone is on annual leave. Mirelle the same goes for you too. General office next week, please. Jo also mentioned a possible relationship between you and Mr Smith. She thinks it’s the root of what happened at her dinner party. Until I’ve discussed all this with Mr Smith, you’ll be working in the pool.’

  Mirelle’s eyes narrow. ‘What about Smithy? Does the boss get to keep his post? Very convenient.’

  Andi’s face softens. ‘Mirelle, please. I’ve never had to deal with a situation like this before. Let me have the next few days to figure out how to handle it.’

  Mirelle puts her finger to her chin in thought and nods slowly. ‘Fine. The next few days. But I’ll be making my own complaint.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Andi leaves us. I’m sitting at my desk. We did all that work today and for what? So Jo gets to come in on Monday and have an easy day while we’re stuck in the pool. If I lose my job, how the hell am I going to pay my bills? I’ll have to sell the house to Will after all.

  This year is such a crock of shit.

  ‘Well, I think our lovely little Jo set us up nicely there,’ says Mirelle.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Think about it. She invites us to her dinner party, which I thought was weird in the first place being as she’s never invited me before. Then she just happens to invite my ex-lover along.’

  ‘She’s not like that.’

  ‘Isn’t she? What about the email she failed to receive that day you were late in?’

  ‘I’m sure it just didn’t get there.’

  ‘She worked alongside Karen. I bet she thought when she was made redundant that the job would be hers, but they gave it to you. All, this time, that bitch has been setting us up.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s an explanation.’

  ‘Well, whatever it is, come Monday, I’ll certainly be getting it out of her.’

  ‘What am I going to do if they let me go?’

  ‘It won’t happen, Amber. Tomorrow we need to get our game face on. Plan of action.’

  ‘And tonight?’

  ‘Let’s get pissed. I’ll ring Shaun, tell him we’re going to the pub and I’ll see him later.’

  ‘Let’s go to mine. I’ve still got loads of Christmas booze in. Though I’m going to have to tighten my belt now.’

  ‘I’ll throttle that bitch.’

  ‘Mirelle.’

  ‘If it wasn’t for Shaun I’d screw her husband.’

  ‘You can’t solve everything with sex.’

  ‘Want to bet?’

  A few hours and several drinks later, Mirelle is still talking about urinating in Jo’s drink or sending her a prank letter headed ‘VD clinic’ that she bought from a joke shop in Blackpool. I’m laid out on a throw on the floor, looking up at the ceiling as if the tiny cracks in the plaster may hold the real meaning of life.

  ‘Everything’s better when I’m drunk, but when I sober up, I realise I’ve done something stupid. So I’ve decided to stay drunk.’ I sit up. The room spins so I lie back down. ‘Oh dear, I’m a leetle bit smashed.’

  ‘What time is it?’ Mirelle has a watch on but obviously wants me to read the time on it for her.

  I roll towards her arm.

  ‘Seven-fifteen.’

  ‘I need to go. My man is waiting for me.’

 
; ‘You’ve lost it. Gone over to the dark side where love pretends to be. You’ll be all happy and then boom.’ I make a gun with my fingers and shoot her. ‘All gone.’

  ‘Guns don’t go boom. Just my heart.’

  I crawl onto my knees. ‘Get out of my house you Mirelle imposter, with your greeting card speak. I need to sleep.’

  She rings Shaun. ‘I require collection. Thank you.’ She turns to me, ‘He’s on his way.’

  ‘Do you want me to wrap you in a parcel bag?’ I wrap the throw around her.

  ‘Get off me, you daft cow.’

  ‘It’s how I roll.’ Pfffffft. I’m finding myself hilarious.

  ‘I need to stay very still right now, Amber. Very, very still.’

  I lay back down on the floor. When Shaun comes to the door, he has to wait awhile as I’m wobbly legged and Mirelle has passed out.

  He picks her up and carries her out of the door.

  ‘God, Shaun, you are really, really strong.’ I feel his arm muscle.

  ‘If you don’t get off I’m going to drop your friend on the floor. Now, can you make your own coffee this time?’

  ‘What? See now you’ve got Mir, I’ve got no-one to make sure I’m safely tucked in bed.’

  He looks at me. ‘You going to be okay?’

  ‘Yep, gonna bed.’

  ‘Please drink a coffee first.’

  ‘Night night, Shaun sprite. Hahahahahahahaha.’

  A man crosses the street towards mine, waves his hand.

  ‘Adriiiiiiaaaan.’

  He walks up the drive with a half-smile on his face. Cocks his head in Shaun’s direction as he is getting a half-awake Mirelle to sit in the front seat of his car.

  ‘Erm, just wanted to let you know that I’m picking up the car, so you didn’t think it had been nicked.’

  I try to appear sober. ‘Well, that’s very good of you to let me know.’

  ‘Okay then, well I’ll be off.’

  ‘My life is total shit,’ I say, ‘that’s why I’m pissed. Anyway, night.’ I close the door.

  Knocks follow.

  ‘Is everything okay, Amber?’

  I shake my head and start to cry. ‘I might lose my job. Stupid, spiteful, nasty bitch in my office. Then that stupid brood mare will come and take my house. Why is this happening to me?’

  ‘It’s not all happening to you. My life is also total shit.’

  ‘What? Why? Ohhh noooo, you and lovely Karen?’

  ‘Yep, we agreed to separate. She said to tell you she’ll be in touch with you soon.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ I reach out and touch his face. ‘Poor, poor, Adrian.’

  ‘Err, yes, well, I’ll be off now. Get some coffee down you. I presume you have work tomorrow?’

  I stumble back into my house. ‘Yes, coffee, great idea. Look what I have.’ I swing around a bottle of Tia Maria. ‘I have loads of booze. Want to get drunk?’

  ‘I’ve come to collect my car.’

  ‘Collect it tomorrow. Get a taxi later. Karen won’t mind will she? Phone and tell her where you are.’

  ‘I don’t need to tell her where I am, it’s not her business, and she doesn’t care.’

  ‘That is sooo sad. Oh, look at that little doggy over there. I might get a doggy. Woof.’

  He pauses.

  ‘Listen A-dri-an. I can tell you all the shit that’s going on with me and then you can listen to all the shit that’s going on with me. Err, that’s not right is it? What I mean is—’

  ‘Okay, I’ll stop for one and make sure you’re all right,’ he says.

  I smack his arm. ‘You don’t need to make sure I’m all right. I’m happily pissed.’

  He shrugs his shoulders. ‘Okay then, got any beer?’

  ‘I’ve got a plan,’ Mirelle says. Her hair is shiny, her face bright. You wouldn’t know she’d had a drink.

  ‘You,’ I point. ‘How do you look so fresh?’

  ‘Touche eclat. You better see if they sell it in an extra-large container.’

  ‘I’m stopping heavy drinking,’ I say. Mirelle looks at me. ‘Yes, I know. I’ve said it many times before, but I mean it this time. I need to learn the art of having a quiet drink and interesting conversation.’

  ‘You need to meet a decent bloke. You’ve had your idiot husband to deal with, followed by a dickhead. What’s happening with dickhead anyway?’

  ‘I’m meeting him tomorrow afternoon. We’re going to lunch. I didn’t want to meet in an evening. It made it too date-like.’

  ‘So are you going to finish with him?’

  ‘Well, I’m living in hope that the bloke I was attracted to turns up, but I’ll not hold my breath.’

  ‘I don’t know why you agreed to another date.’

  ‘I was trapped into it at my Christmas dinner. Plus now that I’m… well, was friends with Karen, I wanted to treat her brother right.’

  ‘What do you mean was?’

  I pause. ‘Well, she’s leaving. Off to start a new life. I can’t see her wanting to keep in touch.’

  ‘Hmm, maybe not. Well if you don’t keep in touch, it means you can get totally rid of her brother.’

  ‘I’m a bit jealous of her to be honest. If I don’t keep my job, I might run away, from my mistakes and my stupid life. I’ll start again somewhere else.’

  ‘Ambs, you’re someone who needs people around you. You need someone to care for you. Someone you know will stick around. Running away is the one thing you always talk about avoiding. Too much like your parents, remember?’

  ‘You’re right. Anyway, what’s your plan?’

  She goes in the desk drawer and takes out a Dictaphone. ‘Let’s get her to confess.’

  ‘Genius idea. But how will we do that when we’re in the other office?’

  ‘You’ll say you’re going to the photocopier. Then, a few minutes later, I’ll excuse myself to go to the toilet and we’ll head down to see Jo, on the pretence of catching up. I’ll talk about what Smithy said to me outside the bathroom and we’ll take it from there. Let’s hope she’ll say something that gets us off the hook.’

  ‘And if she doesn’t?’

  ‘We’re going to have to hope she does, or we’ll both be out of a job.’

  It’s a sobering thought.

  Chapter 31

  Karen

  It’s a strange experience, preparing to leave the marital home. Adrian and I seem to have settled into the decision now it’s made. As if we were riding a bucking bronco but after falling off, we realised we could get up and walk away.

  I’ve bought a set of storage boxes. I hate used, dirty boxes. These are brand new, pristine. I’ve bought a proper marker for writing on them. For now, Adrian has agreed that I can store my things in the loft and spare room until we’ve got the house sale sorted. I’m not planning on being home much in the meantime, but Adrian says it’s not a problem if I need somewhere to stay for the odd night. Houses around our way tend to sell pretty quickly and spring is coming.

  I take the books off the shelves I’ve not long since assembled. I tried to fix myself rather than the shelves. Tried to anchor myself to this home, but it was the wrong choice. However, the shelves will come with me to my new place, wherever that will be.

  I don’t want to take much else with me, but I have to be practical. I can’t afford to buy everything from new so I’m going to discuss splitting our stuff with Adrian and pick items that don’t need as much storage, kitchen appliances, etc. He can keep the sofas. That’s if he wants to, I won’t presume.

  Adrian’s still in bed. He went out last night and came home paralytic. I know our split has been hard for him. He came home a happy drunk, though. I sent him upstairs to the main bed, in case he needed to be near the bathroom.

  I decided today that I’d like a farewell party. A quiet affair, just myself, Adrian, Steve and I think Amber. I realise it could be awkward for Amber to be around Steve, but he told me they are meeting this lunchtime so I’m hoping they patch things up. I don’t
want to be the only female at my party. Later I’ll talk to Adrian about it but my mind’s made up. I want to say goodbye to the house, toast it with a drink and celebrate the New Year, which will be different for us all.

  Now, what does one pack for a month long holiday? I’m off to Tenerife for a month. I’ve booked a hotel called Paradise Park. The reviews were great, but the name clinched it. I’m off to Paradise. I’ve booked all inclusive. There were photographs on the internet of my junior suite, which was well worth the upgrade for the difference in price. The bathroom looks like it belongs in a palace. There’s a large balcony for sea breeze evenings. I can picture it, a large glass of wine on the table. A book in my hand. There are multiple pools, two of which are adults only. One of them is on the top of the hotel, like a penthouse pool, and there are little relaxation tents so you can sunbathe in private. An in-house spa means I can enjoy facials, massages and mani-pedis. Adrian can let me know if there are any offers on the house by email. There’ll be Wi-Fi somewhere.

  Adrian said he would tell future buyers that the house was for sale because we needed to move to something smaller. He won’t mention divorce or separation because some people are superstitious and the thought of a marriage ending under the roof could put them off. Are people really that fickle? To believe that a house could end a marriage, not the people within it? Then again I’ve watched house programmes where people have said they can’t buy a house because their sofa wouldn’t fit in the lounge, instead of just buying a new one. People are strange.

  You never realise just how many photographs you amass. I went through them this morning and chose a select few that I’d like to keep. I’m not about to pretend my marriage never happened, but I’ve not kept many, most of the memories are in my mind. Adrian can choose what to do with the remainder though he’s never been a photo person so he’ll probably throw them away.

  Adrian told me to take the bedding. He says he wants fresh sheets on his bed, an end to the florals that I continued to buy. I can see it now, masculine shades of black and grey in blocks or stripes. He’ll need to paint the room a different shade from the soft pink that it is. A colour he never liked, he says, but something he went along with to make me happy. I wonder how many times he did that; acquiesced, thinking it would help my frame of mind or make me a happier person. Like a choice of pink or beige would make the difference between suicidal thoughts and euphoria. He never did see that in life we are a varied palette, a mixture of hues—some light, some dark. I think he realises now. The sacrifices he made were to no avail and keeping me captive didn’t make me safe. It made me stifled, bored and ultimately dangerous. For then I wanted to escape.