You Had Me At Hello

I can’t go yet. I can’t. I sit down on the front door step and try to gather myself, instead I feel myself unravelling. A bit of a sniffle turns into whole-body sobbing and I feel Caroline’s hand on my shaking shoulder.

When I pull my messy face back up from my knees I say, through all the liquid that’s leaving my body via my eyes, mouth and nose, ‘I don’t have anything to sleep in.’

‘What do you mean?’ Caroline asks, crouching down in front of me. ‘Rupa’s got a bed, hasn’t she?’

‘No,’ I gesture downwards. ‘To sleep in. I always wore one of Rhys’s t-shirts. A Velvet Underground one. I’ve left it behind.’ I wipe my eyes. ‘Is it mine? Or is it his? I don’t even know.’

I recommence sobbing while Caroline rubs my back.

‘You’ve been together such a long time and this has all happened so quickly. You’ve got to expect it to hurt, Rach.’

There’s something about Caroline’s kindly no-nonsense that really sorts you out when you’re in a spiral. She’s sympathetic without being indulgent. The difference between seeing the school nurse instead of your mum when you’ve grazed your knee.

‘I’m going to miss him,’ I say.

‘I know you are.’ She rubs harder, as if I might be able to cough the hurt up and get it out that way.

‘I can’t tell him that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m leaving him!’ I bawl, and break down again.

She moves in beside me on the step, I shift across, both of us ignoring the kids kicking a ball across the street who are looking at us curiously.

‘Look,’ she lowers her voice slightly, ‘I don’t want to sound too much like a therapist but I think you’re bound to feel guilty, and you’re going to feel sad. You have to simply feel it. Don’t hate yourself. It is what it is. God, that sounds so trite …’

‘No it doesn’t. It actually makes sense.’

‘Really? Well, good.’

We sit in silence for half a minute.

‘We don’t have to do all this now if you want to stay another night,’ she adds.

This surprises me. Caroline is usually of the ‘have at it’ school. I have a feeling she’d like to see a rethink, and a reunion.

‘No, no, I’m OK,’ I insist. ‘I want to get it done now.’

Or maybe it’s some damn smart reverse psychology.

Caroline stands up, brushes her knees off and holds out her hand to help me up.

‘I’ll get Mindy to choose some pyjamas for you. You know how she loves a shopping project.’

I smile, weakly, take her hand and haul myself to my feet.

‘Sure you want to leave so much behind?’ Caroline says, as she checks she’s squeezed the boot shut fully. ‘I know Mindy thinks it’s a good idea, but Mindy thought her last three boyfriends were good ideas.’

‘Yeah. I’ll have the money to buy it all again. I’m not leaving that much.’

I look up at the house and it stares down at me blankly, in agreement. I think about the envelope I left next to the telephone, containing the ring I’m no longer wearing.

Caroline says nothing more, pats me on the shoulder and gets into the driver’s seat. I take a deep rattling breath and walk round to the passenger side.

This is it. I’m leaving. And there was nothing to mark it. Not so much as a significant look passed between Rhys and I. Maybe this is how it always is. It feels like something more formal should be required: an official handshake, a splitting up ceremony, a certificate. As Rhys said, is this all it’s worth, after thirteen years?

12

Caroline eventually breaks the waterlogged silence in the front of the Audi.

‘I was wrong about buying straight away. Maybe Mindy is right and this … interlude is exactly what you need.’

‘Thanks. I thought you were saying Mindy’s judgement is dubious?’

‘Not always.’

I know they’ll have discussed me, worried about me, and there’s a question that I can’t put off asking any longer.

‘Do you all think I’m making a massive mistake?’

There’s a tense pause.

‘There isn’t an “all”…’

‘Oh, God.’ I put a hand over my face. ‘Three different types of disapproval.’

‘It’s not disapproval, you’re thirty-one. It’s not for us or anyone else to say what’s right for you. I suppose I was surprised you didn’t mention any problems before, that’s all.’

‘I didn’t want to talk behind Rhys’s back. I wasn’t sure how I felt, truth be told. I was being carried along by the wedding planning and then he was being a shit about it and it came tumbling out and there it was.’

‘It wasn’t worth giving him a shape-up-or-ship-out? You never put your foot down enough, in my opinion, and it might’ve led to … laziness.’

‘I did try suggesting a counsellor or whatever. He wasn’t interested.’

‘I doubt he wanted to lose you. He’s stubborn …’

‘You can’t ask someone not to be who they are. That’s where we were.’

‘Couldn’t you … if you’d …’

‘Caro, please. I can’t do this now. I will do soon, over wine, for hours. We can thrash the whole thing out until you’re sick of hearing about it. But not now.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine. Let’s talk about something else.’

Hmm. Not sure when this ‘soon’ will arrive. I possibly want to wait until 2064 when she can put a data stick in her ear and download the information straight into her frontal cortex.