‘I gave Jade half an hour on the iPad … Oh, I’d have cleared all that up.’ He looks around.
‘It’s fine, I don’t mind,’ I lie through my teeth. Spying the clean but empty colourful lunch boxes on the counter I go to the shelf and remove the wholemeal sliced bread and go about making the lunches. At least the lunch boxes have been emptied and washed. Colin seems satisfied with that as he sits at the table.
‘Maia thought you looked really well today, by the way.’ He wipes crumbs with his cupped hand and scoops them onto the floor. He gets up and gets the sweeping brush from beside the pedal bin. As he sweeps I say, ‘I so didn’t look well today, I hate rushing out the door, my make-up was crap and I felt wrecked all day … but totally my fault!’ I add quickly.
‘Are you all set for Friday, the business trip?’ I swing my head to him but he’s concentrating on a piece of dirt on the floor. He is barefoot now.
‘I am – I’m looking forward to it actually.’
Honesty.
‘Are you? Can’t say I ever look forward to business trips away.’ He rests his finger in his dimple looking at me.
Be nice, Ali.
‘Mmmmm,’ is all I say. The charcoal clouds are gathering. A storm is brewing.
‘Ali, I’m glad you like your job, I really am …’ He props himself up, leaning on the sweeping brush. ‘But I will be honest, I would prefer if you were here for the children after school every day. I can’t help how I feel. That’s just me.’
‘That’s so unfair, Colin.’ I put the butter knife down. ‘I am doing my best.’ I scratch my head.
‘I’m not saying you’re not, at all … I just want you to understand where I’m coming from. When we agreed to have children, it was my understanding that you were going to look after them.’
My breath releases on a high note.
‘I do look after them! What is that supposed to mean?’ My heart rate is speeding up. Adrenalin activated.
‘Calm down, I thought we were going to talk … this is called an adult conversation, stay with me.’ He lowers his voice and replaces the brush beside the bin. Bending, he gets the dustpan and small brush and picks up the dirt.
He is so patronising. I turn back to my bread.
He walks over and stands beside me.
‘How nice was that? A family meal and be honest?’
‘It was lovely … but it took the effort of you getting home early also … also I do eat with them every night, you know?’
He holds his hand up in front of my face.
‘I get that, don’t be nitpicking …’ He wags his finger at me now. ‘I try my best to get home for dinner every night, sometimes I’m just not able, but I’m talking about weekends too.’
‘A-ha, you don’t like me going to lunch on a Sunday with Corina.’
‘I think it’s selfish, Ali.’ He shrugs his shoulders. Nonchalant.
‘But I work all week, like a dog – both with the kids, the house and in my job!’ I’m losing it now.
‘A job, Ali, is supposed to bring money in, your job doesn’t do that. All it does is pay for a stranger, who, after seeing her this evening wrecked out of her brain, is definitely far too old and incapable to watch our kids after school … I’m not sure how you think that’s OK? Don’t yell, that’s all I want to say.’
I slide the butter knife through the softened butter and scrape it onto the bread. His words ring out in my ears. I’m making holes in the bread I’m so heavy-handed with the knife.
‘I love my kids more than anything in the world … more than you …’ I whisper to the bread.
He leans against the fridge door. He didn’t hear me. I continue.
‘I love my job, I love getting out of the house all day, I love watching work being created, dance, theatre, art, whatever. I love working with the inner-city community … with the elderly and the disadvantaged kids …’ I am trying desperately to explain myself once again.
‘Or, you could be watching your own kids growing up.’ He gives back.
‘I am watching them growing up, what are you saying?’ I grip the knife so tightly now my knuckles are protruding from under my tight white skin.
‘Well, aren’t they disadvantaged too by not having their mother here after school?’
‘Oh, please, Colin …’
He interrupts me. ‘And aren’t you missing Jade’s gymnastics show this week?’ He straightens his back against the fridge, pulling the zipper on his tracksuit top up to the neck and back down again.
‘Yeah, I am … God, how will life go on, Colin?’ I slam the butter knife down now. Holes in the bread. Holes in the marriage.
‘I’m just pointing out that I think family should come before “the arts”, that’s all.’ He uses quotation signs with his fingers as he say The Arts.
So I’m supposed to hop into bed with this guy and ride him sideways in half an hour. I can’t stand being in the same room, I can’t hold back any longer. I have to tell him.
‘I don’t fancy you any more, Colin.’ My words release on a shaky breath.
He is standing over me now, fridge rocking slightly from where he has pushed his body off it.
‘What?’ his voice croaks.
The sweeping brush falls over with a bang onto the grey slate tiled floor. I go on.
‘You want us to have an adult conversation, well, there you have it. I … I don’t know why … I just don’t.’ My lip quivers. I can never take this back and I can’t believe I have started this conversation with the children in the next room.
‘You sure you’re just not frigid, Ali, because it’s been some time since I ever imagined that you fancied me. That’s not breaking news, love!’ His baby-blue eyes are blazing in temper. Colin is very angry now.
I need to make sense of what I am saying. I grab his Adidas tracksuit top in my fist, twist the material and in hushed tone, I say, ‘I want to fancy you … I want to desire you … I can I think, if you would just stop … just stop … talking.’
It’s ridiculous. My reasoning is ridiculous. I stare at the missing Cherry Bomb. It’s like me, neither here nor there.
‘Stop talking? Have you lost your fucking mind?’ He grabs my hand roughly and pulls his tracksuit top free from my vice-like grip.
‘Stop irritating me, I mean … here, look!’ I pull open the belt on my polka-dot gown and hold it wide open. His eyes widen.
‘I bought this for you … for us … for tonight … and after the pizza and your help, I was so keen to try and get us back … but then you say the shit you just said about me as a mother and my job and frankly, Colin … I hate you right now …’ I do. I really do.
‘Well, I hate you back, you stupid fucking bitch!’ he screams at me, white spittle escaping and landing in my face.
‘Dad!’ Jade is at the doorway. ‘I heard a crash … I’m – I’m … sorry …’ She turns, runs down the hall.
My hands fly over my mouth and I go to move.
‘Happy now? Leave her! We aren’t finished … Has this lack of desire for your husband anything to do with your little fancy artist gobshite pal?’
‘Where’s Jade gone? Why are you fighting again? I hate when you always fight.’ Mark rubs his eyes at the kitchen door now, his bottom lip covering his top. His little chin wobbling.
‘Answer me!’ Colin shouts into my face again, flecks of spittle all gathered at the sides of his mouth.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I move away towards Mark and usher him back inside whispering nothings into his ear. I close the door.
‘Because all this shit started when he joined that fucking spastic zoo.’ His face is blood-red with temper.
This can’t be happening, my beautiful eleven-year-old and tiny five-year-old cannot be subjected to this. I hate myself so much. I need to stop it. Now.
‘Sorry … I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please stop screaming. Listen, it’s me, I dunno … maybe it is hormonal, maybe … I’ll get checked out by the GP …’ I’m begging w
ith every part of my being.
‘Maybe you need a shrink!’ He moves to the table and pours more red wine from the bottle into my half-full glass.
‘You need to cop on to yourself or you are gonna be sorry.’ He holds back his floppy hair from his eyes.
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning … I’m watching you.’ He necks the glass of red before continuing. ‘I tried hard this evening because I thought after lunch today that was what you wanted,’ he says now.
‘It is and I do.’ But it isn’t and I don’t. The children. I lower my voice.
‘But I do this every day and night, Colin. Every day I do the school stuff and every night I collect them and I make their dinners, and I do the homework and I watch a movie with them … You ordered a pizza, and it was lovely, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not giving up my job, Colin, because you ordered a pizza mid-week, why should I?’
‘Did you not listen to one word I just said? Because you are a mother first and foremost, I know your own mother was a workaholic—’
I jump in.
‘How dare you! My mother worked to keep a roof over my head and food on the table and made sure I got a good education!’
‘And look at her now swanning, around India, not paying a blind bit of notice to her two grandchildren,’ he scorns.
‘She doesn’t have to … and she always talks to them on the phone. She has her own life to lead, she’s reared her child. She has no interest in raising her grandchildren and that’s her perogative!’ I am shouting now.
He is on top of me now and grabs my arm, not too tightly but I’m alarmed slightly at the colour in his face he has paled now completely.
‘I don’t know why you are trying to break us up, but you are – and if you keep this up, I swear to God you’ll be sorry.’
‘Is that another threat?’ I gulp.
‘It’s not, it’s me telling you to cop the fuck on … I’ll do couples’ counselling or whatever it is we need. I didn’t come from a broken home like you and my kids won’t either. Now go and flit around Amsterdam with your arty pals, look at blobs on a wall, or people throwing shapes in a dark alley, look at old rocks and ooh and ahhh over them, whatever. But you better come back to your real life with a different attitude.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense, my attitude is fine. You want me to give up my job and I won’t.’ I dig my heels in. They won’t be seeing the Red or Dead black patent high heels again tonight obviously.
‘You know what, Ali?’ He is looking me up and down now, like I’m piece of shit on his good shoe.
‘What?’
‘I don’t know who you are any more.’
I throw my eyes up to the ceiling.
‘I’m going up to see our daughter.’
‘Please, Colin … Can I go, please?’ I am clasping my hands together, prayer like, begging him.
‘No. You better get packed, aren’t you leaving early.’ He walks out of the kitchen and shuts the door. I hear him take Mark up from the front room.
I haven’t smoked since I found out I was pregnant with Jade but right now I want a cigarette so badly. I want to scream. I neck some wine from the bottle and grab my phone from my bag under the table.
I pull out the chair and pour the rest of the bottle into Colin’s glass.
With shaking fingers I open Facebook and message Corina.
Just told Colin I didn’t fancy him any more. Send.
The little bubble with the dots appears. She is active and reading.
Oh shit. Are you OK?
No. Send.
What can I do?
Nothing. Send.
Are you still going in the morning?
Yes. Send.
Will I call you?
No. He will be listening. He’s upstairs. The kids heard all the fighting again, I feel so terrible. Send. I choke back the burning tears as I type.
As I type my phone lights up.
A Facebook Messenger message from Owen O’Neill.
I open it.
Three words.
I have to scroll down.
Adjoining rooms baby.
He has added a .gif of the famous restaurant scene from When Harry Met Sally.
I message Corina back that I’m going to bed, I will call her from the airport in the morning. I stare at the Facebook message from Owen. Then I do something absolutely insane. I stand up slowly on the kitchen chair. When I have control on my balance I hold the phone in my right hand, extending it out as far and as high up as I possibly can. I unwrap my polka-dot robe and let it slide to the grey slate kitchen floor. Then I take a selfie of me in the sexy underwear and I send it to Owen.
9
Friday sunrise. Dublin Airport.
Not surprisingly I have a new Facebook message from Owen, which I cannot bring myself to open. I sit on the hard airport seat at my gate and sip a lukewarm latté, holding my passport and boarding card tightly between my knees.
This morning at four fifteen tears fell down my face as I kissed both my babies.
I’m an utter disgrace.
How could I have done that? Sent a picture like that? That’s not me. I don’t know who I am any more. How do I explain that one to Colin? To anyone in their right mind? It’s torture. The fear has me paralysed.
I stand up – the gate area is still empty as I checked in so early and I’m not boarding for another hour. I put my passport and boarding card safely in the zip pocket of my bag and I walk to the toilets. Urine, bleach and heady perfumes hit my nostrils as I look in the full-length mirror. A pretty air hostess in a green-and-black uniform moves away, drying her hands on some hand towels. I’m dressed in a black suede skirt to my knee, black tights and high black leather boots. I have a white shirt on and my long red winter coat. I take out my messy make-up bag and smear on my Clinique Dramatically Different moisturiser, then I edge to the side of the mirror so I’m not blocking the other women. I apply a light Mac Face & Body foundation and then lashings of mascara before I run a soft dark black kohl pencil several times on my lower lid. I’m not in a cat eye mood. When I’m happy I remove my phone. I walk outside and sit away from my gate. At an empty gate. Everything about me is empty. I slide across the bar and open his message.
Wow.
One word. That’s it. I look at the picture. Oh my good God. I am so embarrassed. Humiliated. Cringe. Beyond mortified. Who am I? I have to call him. I just have to, before I see him face-to-face, I know that. Suddenly the phone rings out in my hand and I jump on it. It’s Corina.
‘I’ve put on half a stone in two days, how is that even possible? Good morning, how are we this morning? Are you checked in? What’s the craic? Are you OK? I’m up for an early breakfast meeting. Holy crapola.’
I press my phone to my ear.
‘Yes, at my gate now and you always look amazing,’ I tell her.
‘Trevorweight, I’m going to call it.’ I hear her opening her wardrobe and rummaging between the clanking of hangers.
‘Fecking Trevorweight is going to see me have to buy new clothes. Eh, hello! What the heck happened last night? Spill!’ she orders me.
So I spill in hushed tones until I get to the end. To just before the selfie. I pause.
‘So the underwear was a waste of money then … Oh, Ali, you guys really do need to go and see a marriage counsellor as soon as you get back. I’m so sorry the little ones overheard that. I used to hear my parents at each other’s throats all the time and although kids are way more resilient than you think, it is still shit. Counselling saved their marriage. You know what I might do? I might try go see Jade in her gymnastics competition later if I can slip away. You said they are in rehearsals from eleven o’clock right? Maybe take her to Eddie Rockets for a strawberry milkshake on her lunch break? Would I be able to do that?’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Corina!’ I say, knowing Jade won’t want her there, as kind as she is to offer. ‘There is more.’
I swallow hard.
‘Well, what
do you know, my grey culottes from Marks & Spencer’s still fit … Praise me, a button that reaches across and fastens … Trevorweight needs to go! Sorry, now what else?’ She puffs and pants down the line.
‘I took a picture of myself, a selfie if you will, in the sexy underwear, after Colin stormed out and I sent it to Owen.’
I cough, gently putting my hand over my mouth even though there is no one around me to contaminate. Across the way I can see my numbered gate, which is now filling up with early morning passengers. I hear the creaking of a bed. Corina tries to get her voice out. It breaks several times. She clears her throat again.
‘T-T-This … this is so not good, Ali. Why the—? What the—? What did he send back?’ I can almost picture the look of pure horror on her freckled face.
‘He just said wow,’ I say quietly, placing no emphasis on the word.
‘Dear Lord above …’ I can hear she has now totally flopped back on the bed, it creaks under her.
‘So there ya have it.’ I exhale.
The tannoy announces the boarding of rows one to twenty and the imminent departure of my Aer Lingus flight EI 778 to Amsterdam and Corina hears it also. Aer Lingus are on the ball this morning. Looks like this flight won’t miss its slot.
‘I’m … I’m sorry. I need to think about this, Ali, I don’t know what to say … Call me when you land – fly safely. Love you.’ She rings off and I move down to my gate and sit apart from the heaving queue of eager passengers. I remain on the edge of the plastic seat until the last person goes through the gate and then I board my flight.
I love flying. Once I get over the initial panic attack I always have about the reality of where I am, I can enjoy it. I cannot remember the last time I travelled anywhere just on my own.
I stow a guidebook on Amsterdam in the seat pocket in front of me, the net straining to keep it in, and order a coffee and a cheese-and-ham toastie when the air hostess passes with her trolley. I thank her, and place them on my grey-coloured extended table top as I stare outside. The world looks perfect through my small oval- shaped window. Big blue sky with scattered fluffy white clouds, it coruscates with flashes of bright and beautiful sunlight and I lean my head against the thick glass while my coffee cools. The world is serene and quiet and I feel almost out of my own body. As though I have somehow escaped something. I have no control right now. No control over anything. No way of knowing what is happening in my world right now. It’s strangely relaxing on this morning when I feel forty-five not thirty-five. I unclench my jaw. I loosen out my shoulders.
The Week I Ruined My Life Page 14