by Swan, Tarn
I sat drinking tea, thinking random thoughts while watching Doris and Eddie busily feed the brood of four chicks they'd hatched while we were away. There were originally five, but sadly we found one lying dead on the grass beneath the nest. It must have gotten pushed out in a feeding clamour. Twinks was upset and insisted on burying it decently in the garden so its poor parents didn't have to see it lying there. The fledglings vacated the nest a few days ago and have taken up residence in different parts of the garden where they still loudly demand to be fed by their exhausted parents. I imagine Doris and Eddie counting the days until the chicks fend totally for themselves.
My random thoughts took a morbid turn, perhaps not surprising in the wake of news about Paul. As I sat there with the sun warming my body and the sights and sounds of the garden impressing themselves upon my senses, it suddenly struck me that this was a once in a lifetime moment and that human life is composed entirely of such moments. They are born, exist but briefly and change into something else and then one day it all stops, no more sights, or sounds, no more scents, no more summer mornings or winter nights, no more me and no more Twinks. It hurt.
I wondered about Paul, wondered what his last thought had been, wondered about the last thing he had seen and the last scent he had inhaled before it all just stopped. I abruptly got up and went back inside, determined not to brood upon painful things. I still had the moment and it was to be savoured.
I made fresh coffee and toast, put honey and butter in pretty dishes and set them on a tray along with one of the scented white roses from the garden and took it up to Twinkles. He smiled, thanked me and picked up the rose to inhale the perfume and then promptly dropped it with a barrage of obscene language and insults as a thorn impaled his finger. I should have 'de-thorned the evil little fucker' before putting it on the tray. The contents of the tray along with the romantic moment ended up lying shattered on the bedroom floor.
I removed the offending thorn from his finger, sucked clean the small wound it had made and then crossly left a pair of very unromantic red roses blooming on his offensive buttocks with the message that he really did not deserve my consideration at times. We cleaned up the mess in silence and then I went off to shower and get dressed.
When I went downstairs again I found him in the kitchen looking remorseful. He'd put the rose I'd picked into a slim bud vase along with some jasmine leaves and set it at my habitual place on the table. It looked pretty and so did the word he'd composed from fallen rose petals on the table in front of it. It was the most fragrant apology I'd ever had. I let my annoyance go.
After a reconciling kiss and cuddle he asked if I regretted tying the knot with him. I said not for a single second. It was a moment I would joyfully live over and over again.
That was an idea! He gazed thoughtfully into my eyes. Could we do it all over again, next year, on our anniversary, a renewal of commitment? We could do it every year. It would be a great excuse for a party? I said no. Once was enough. He pointed out that I'd just said I'd joyfully live it over and over again. Yes, that particular moment, not a new one every year. Apart from the fact it wouldn't have the same level of emotional intensity and meaning it would bankrupt us.
He tapped me on the nose with his finger. “Tarn, sweetie, has anyone ever told you you’re a tad on the tight side? Do you know there’s a PP joke about your tightness?”
“No, do tell.”
He put his arms around my neck. “What's the difference between Tarn Swan and a coconut? You can at least get a free drink out of a coconut.”
I pulled a face and said I didn't believe for a moment anyone would say such a thing about me. Unfurling his arms from around my neck I turned him round, landed a brisk slap on his bottom and told him to go back to bed at once.
He pouted and asked if I were coming up? I said I was up and I hoped to be coming very soon, but in keeping with my reputation for meanness, not too soon and only after much gentle persuasion from him.
He gave his eyelashes a provocative flutter and said he couldn't make any promises regarding gentleness, because like a rose his beauty had a thornier side. I've got the scratches to prove it.
1st July 2006: Ripples on the Swan Pond
My office was closed yesterday on account of the computers getting a system overhaul and maintenance check. Karen was of the opinion it was just an excuse for the faceless ones at the top to have a snoop and pry, to see who's been accessing porn or terrorist sites during working hours. I said my conscience was clear, how about her? She said she wasn't too worried, as she used my name as a password for her favourite porn sites and seeing as they all involved rather well endowed men I'd get the blame for sure. I think she was joking. I'm never sure with Karen. Whatever the reason it was nice to have a gratis day tacked onto the weekend, but it would have been nicer still if I'd actually enjoyed it. All in all it's been a choppy week on the Swan pond. Things finally came to a very nasty head yesterday.
I got up as per normal to run Twinkles into work, not that I got any thanks for it. He's been in a rotten mood since last Tuesday with not a good word for anyone and most of them accompanied by eye rolling, tongue clicking, and huffing, making clear he considers himself surrounded by irritating idiots. Time spent apart at work was a blessing to be savoured. I don't know how people work with their spouses. I'd go mad. Yesterday his mood was even gloomier, which was understandable in a way. I certainly hadn't expected him to be full of summer sunshine.
When I dropped him off I made to give him the customary goodbye kiss, but he jerked his head away saying he couldn't stand me kissing him when I hadn't shaved. Okay, fair enough. He does have sensitive skin and my morning growth can resemble something sported by Desperate Dan.
In an effort to lighten his mood, I asked if he wanted me to meet him for lunch, my treat. I promised to be properly shaved by then. He turned on me, snarling I had to be frigging joking. He'd be lucky if he got time for a tea break, let alone a lunch hour. Anyway he saw enough of me at home without having to suffer me during work hours and did I really imagine a cheap lunch would compensate for a weekend away. I know he didn't mean it, but such things hurt all the same.
He got out of the car slamming the door so hard that my keys fell out of the ignition and the glove compartment fell open. I'm afraid my own temper packed its bags and left town at that point. I'd had enough. I'd bent over backwards all week trying to be understanding of his grievance and all it had done was make things worse.
Catching him before he could cross the road I took his arm and escorted him back to the car, making him get back in. I was tired of being the butt of his nasty temper. I wanted an apology. He managed to grind out a token sorry, which came across as more of a fuck you than sincere contrition. I told him I did not like his attitude and there had better be a marked improvement in it when I collected him from work. If not then I would bare his backside and make known my dislike in a forceful manner. He sarcastically asked if I'd finished because he had to get to work, he had things to do and he couldn't be sitting chatting all morning. He then gave me a filthy look and viciously thrust open the car door.
Grabbing his sleeve I hissed if he slammed it closed again then the whole town would know we practiced domestic discipline, because I would bend him over the car bonnet and tan his hide for all to witness. He didn't slam the door. He inverted his defiance and left it swinging open. I had to close it myself.
I sat miserably angry in the car watching him walk miserably angry across the road. The situation really needed to be dealt with there and then, but it was hardly the time or place. His colleagues were already arriving and he had a job to do. Grabbing the gear lever in a stranglehold I rammed the car into gear and headed home.
I spent most of the morning tidying the garden, but not really engaging with it. My mind was busy going over the past week and all the times I could and should have nipped his tantrum in the bud before it fully blossomed. A large part of the problem was my preoccupation with thoughts of Paul. H
is death had hit me unexpectedly hard, causing me to neglect giving my full attention to the situation with Twinks. It might have helped if I’d been able to attend Paul’s funeral, but I couldn’t.
I did visit Paul's parents to pay my respects and in doing so I discovered something that floored me. Though grief stricken by his loss, it hadn't been a great shock to them. They, and indeed Paul, knew he could die at any moment. He'd known since he was sixteen when he tried out for a professional football club. The routine medical picked up a congenital heart defect. His hopes of a professional football career were smashed.
Paul being Paul just got on with something else, while aware he had a time bomb ticking inside him. He was determined to live as normal a life as he could, refusing to sit down and not live at all. He never said a word to anyone about his condition because he didn't want people to treat him differently or view him as being 'sick.'
I thought of all the times I'd played hockey or squash with him never guessing that the exertion could kill him and the fact he knew so and yet still gave it his all because he enjoyed it. He'd also refused to consider a heart transplant saying he wasn't going to hang all his hopes on a suitable donor dying for his convenience. If his allotted time was short that was okay because he believed life was about quality and not length of years. My admiration and respect for him deepened.
His parents also shared a grain of happier news with me. Paul's fiancée is pregnant and this was something he had been joyfully aware of before he died.
I got back from my visit to Paul’s parents to find Twinkles in a state of excitement. Cherie Pie had contacted him about a drag event that was taking place in a big seafront hotel down at Morecambe Bay this coming weekend. She was organising a party to go. It was Friday to Sunday, dinner, bed and breakfast. There would be beauty contests, talent contests and professional drag queen performances. You could bet your best stockings and sling backs that the media would be there to cover it. Queens from all over the country would be attending. This was exactly the sort of thing Twinks needed to offset his post wedding blues and give him a splash of drama and excitement. I was happy for him to go if he could get the time off work. I personally declined. Being the only man without boobs in a hotel full of competing drag queens was my idea of hell on earth.
Twinkles planned on asking Don if he could re-arrange his day off for Friday and take a day's leave for Saturday. Then disaster struck. Early on Tuesday morning Don's wife called to say he had slipped on the stairs and strained his back. Twinks would need to go and collect the shop keys.
By Wednesday it was clear his weekend plans were not going to come to fruition. Don had been prescribed bed rest and wouldn't be in for the rest of the week, leaving Twinks in charge of the shop, something he's not enamoured of at the best of times. There would be no day off, never mind a day's leave.
He was so disappointed that my heart ached for him. I tried to comfort him, but my boy was not for comforting. Tirades ensued. He hated his life. He'd missed out on London last year because of his poxy job. He'd had enough of being exploited. Shop workers always got the shit end of the employment stick. He was leaving. He would hand his notice in as soon as Don got off his idle back and returned to work.
I tried to help by saying I would run him down to Morecambe straight after work on Saturday evening. It’s a long drive, but at least he might catch some of the night's entertainment. He said it was a stupid suggestion. What was the point of going when the best of the event would be over? He wasn't driving miles in order to apply a dab of lipstick and hear what a good time had been had by all except him before going to bed.
At that point I should have reiterated my sympathy for his plight, but also balanced it with words about him having to accept the way things were. People like Twinks need sympathy and in the circumstances he deserved it. He'd had a stroke of rotten luck. In a relationship like ours sympathy has to be balanced so it doesn't affect good judgement, and on this occasion I failed in that respect. Distracted by my friend's death I let sympathy rule and ended up ignoring or excusing behaviour I would normally curtail. Too much sympathy can be as bad as none at all. Like I said, it's a question of balance.
As the week wore on his temper worsened. There wasn't a thing he didn't complain about: my cooking, the way I sniffed, my hair in the shower drain and so on. We had work-based tantrums. Being sick did not prevent Don calling Twinks and reminding him what tasks needed attending to. The Summer Sale is on the horizon and I think Don saw it as a way of supporting Twinks during a busy period, while Twinks saw it as a slur on his abilities as acting manager. He'd come home each evening full of hell. Doors would be slammed and things thrown because Don had never been off the fucking phone all fucking day and he was sick of it.
He also had issues with Pat whom he detests more and more as the days pass. She's a grating, bumptious woman and I appreciate she gets him down. She did not attend the evening function at the PP in celebration of our nuptials, which deeply offended him, even though he didn't want her there. He only asked her because he invited everyone else and he could hardly leave the ‘horrible cow’ out. She even declined to accept a slice of wedding cake and the silver and pink sugar almond favours he presented her with, saying she was nut and gluten intolerant. Twinkles accused her of being intolerant full stop and relations between them strained further still.
Then we had friendship tantrums. Lulu ended up in floods of tears after telling Twinks he was planning on taking his gorgeous bridesmaid dress as one of his weekend outfits to Morecambe. Twinkles flew into a jealous rage and demanded the dress back. He also told Lu if he were a true and loyal friend he wouldn't go on a trip that didn't include him. He hoped the hotel had fleas.
By Thursday he had insulted and alienated Lulu, Kevin, Teddy, in fact everyone who was going on the Morecambe trip. Then he flung a fit and his mobile because no one was calling him. There were any numbers of times when, under the terms of our relationship, I would have been justified in giving him a bloody good hiding. By only mildly reproving his actions and ignoring his excesses I think I added a sense of insecurity to the mix, causing his mood to escalate more and more out of control.
His attitude on Friday morning was a clear indication that what he really needed from me was a touch less sympathy and a bit of reigning in. In the obvious spirit of a spot of Dominant baiting he phoned me just after two on Friday afternoon to tell me I needn't bother going to collect him as he'd decided to work late and make a start on dressing the watch window ready for the sale. He'd get the bus home later.
I said a firm no. He would finish work at the normal time and I would collect him. He argued. I reminded him, not that he needed to be reminded, that it was against shop policy for a member of staff to work late alone. He said as acting manager he could do what he liked and he was staying. He didn't interfere with my work business, so I could keep my big nose out of his. I repeated I would collect him as normal and was treated to the sound of the phone being slammed down.
When I walked into the shop that afternoon everyone was going through the end of day rituals, hoovering the carpet, polishing the counters, taking the more valuable stock items out of the windows and display cases to store in the safe.
I was chatting with Tina who was polishing the glass cases when Twinkles, who was emptying the gem window while ignoring me, curtly told her that if she gossiped less she might make a better job of the counters. They weren't good enough and would have to be done again before she could go home.
Poor Tina turned red with embarrassment. For a moment I thought she was going to cry. He then turned to Susan who was rewinding the hoover cord and accused her of skimping on the hoovering. He told her she would have to go over the carpet again, reminding her she wasn't working for H. Samuels now and half measures wouldn't do.
He then slammed into the office and I walked outside because I'd had my fill of his slamming ways. I was ready to kill him, which wouldn't look good in front of his workmates. Pat was obviously on her
day off and for that I was grateful. God knows what he would have said to her or she to him. Not surprisingly neither Susan nor Tina said goodnight to him when they left.
As he cashed up I made a comment about the way he'd spoken to Tina and Susan. He snarled that what he did at work and how he treated his co-workers was none of my damn business. I coldly replied on the contrary it was my business if I chose to make it so and that applied to wherever he was and whatever he was doing.
I don’t like it when he vents his spleen by treating friends, family and workmates like shit. It’s unfair. I told him his attitude to others as well as to me was obviously in desperate need of review. He said he was surprised I'd noticed his attitude, which I accepted as fair admonishment.
After cashing up he put the money in the safe and then went outside to pull down the shutters, or shutter as it turned out. He locked down the shutter on the gem window, but left the watch window unprotected. I asked what he was playing at, though I already had a good idea. Stabbing a rude finger at me he told me I needed to brush up on my listening skills, as he’d already told me his intentions. He was going to dress the watch window for the sale. I could stay or go. It was no skin off his nose as long as I didn't get in his way. It was war talk.
Going outside I swiftly pulled down the shutter and then went back in and demanded the key to lock it. He acted like I didn't exist. Opening the back of the window he began to remove goods from it. It was the last straw.