Twelve
When I arrived at my family home, everyone was surprised to see me. Amy spitefully commented, “Wow, I thought you’d last longer than that.” She made no attempt to hide her cynicism. And my father made a joke that he had turned my room into a gym. I didn’t appreciate either comment.
I delivered a half-truth that Nixon was going away for a while and so I’d decided to come home for a few days. Amy asked why I hadn’t brought any of my stuff, but I explained that I still had things in my room. She seemed determined to trip me up and I didn’t welcome her method of attack.
We all chatted briefly, but I found it difficult to appear fine. I didn’t want them to know that I had just had a huge row with my husband, so I retired to bed and explained that I’d see them in the morning.
Amy followed me upstairs and pried the entire situation from me. She gave no quarter, plying me with question after question and eventually, I’d broken down. I felt so upset. She never said I told you so, but I could see that written along every disapproving crease on her face.
I slept atrociously, feeling across my double bed for Nixon half the night, dreaming about him with other women.
When I woke the next day, I felt strangely refreshed considering I’d had little sleep. I showered and dressed, feeling determined that I would go over and have things out with Nixon. He was due to leave for the base that next morning and I didn’t want him to leave without us clearing the air. Again, that thought of him leaving was like a hand around my throat.
I shared breakfast with my family and it felt pleasant and relaxed, like the old days. It had only been a matter of weeks but I had still missed it.
Once my parents, Chrissy and Mattie left to go into the village, Amy and I sat at the kitchen table together and spoke about what had happened .
“So, how do you feel now you’ve slept on things?” she questioned, finishing off her muesli.
I leaned back in my chair, pushing my own bowl away, scrutinising her face. Was she trying to back me into a corner? Amy was a master of asking leading questions.
I gave her a slanting smile, “To be honest, I do feel better. The break coming here last night was important I think, to get away from the heat of the moment. Nixon has such a hot temper and he isn’t himself right now. I doubt we would have resolved things amicably last night anyway.”
Amy snorted, “Why the hell is he not himself? He got you , didn’t he? The fucker is the luckiest bastard on the planet,” she tutted, folding her arms crossly.
She warmed my heart as she always did. Amy was prickly and could be mean but she had my best interests at heart. She could be a lot to stomach in one serving which was why I sometimes switched off and thought about something else. Amy put this down to me daydreaming which wasn’t the case at all.
“So why isn’t he himself?” she questioned in a disbelieving voice.
“He has to go back to the base and work off his notice period,” I explained.
Her face scrunched up and she dropped her spoon in the empty breakfast bowl, “I thought he’d finished in the army. I thought he quit, he’s been back ages , that’s the longest holiday I’ve ever heard of.”
I left it a beat or two before I answered. I couldn’t tell her everything that had happened to Nixon in the army, as it wasn’t my story to tell. I thought about it for a moment, if I said the right thing it might get Amy onside and she may be a bit more understanding. “Nixon has been signed off for months on sick leave.”
There, I had said it.
“Sick leave my arse. What’s he got? I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who looks so healthy. Don’t tell me, major personality disorder,” she snorted.
I inhaled as her eyes widened at her own words and the penny dropped. She’d hit the nail on the head even whilst attempting to be facetious .
“You’re shitting me, the fucker has ADHD?”
“Not quite, but close,” I corrected her, “He was signed off with mental health issues. One of his friends got killed.”
Her face immediately softened and she started to worry her lip. My eyes roamed over her face. She was almost eighteen now and such a stunning young woman, plus she was a fighter. There were times when I felt so envious of her wild personality.
“He was traumatised and badly injured himself. PTSD I think they call it,” I explained with a sniff. Suddenly feeling guilty about last night’s fight. Nixon had been especially fired up and less tolerant. I didn’t understand why he just didn’t quit. I understood that he wanted what was owed to him and didn’t want to be seen as going AWOL. But he didn’t need the money. How I wished he’d stay and turn his back on them completely. The army had hardly supported him over the last several months. Yes, they’d signed him off, but that was almost like trying to brush the issue under the carpet. Was he even offered counselling?
I pushed back from the table and stood with Amy watching me beneath her lashes with a guarded expression.
“Look, why don’t you and I spend the day together? Do some girly shit. You probably need it after spending so much time in a house with smelly boys?”
She was right, but shouldn’t I fix things with my husband first? “But what about Nixon, I could do with speaking with him really? Clear the air,” I said as she slowly rose to her feet and took our dirty bowls to the dishwasher.
Amy turned back as she switched the machine on, “No. Let him make the first move. He was the one who had the last word. The threat of having sex with someone else. Why should you go back with your tail between your legs?”
Those words came back to haunt me, they were still a jumble in my head, but Amy was right. He should be the one to come forward and apologise first. He’d purposefully said those words to hurt me .
He probably wouldn’t have got much done last night and so maybe I should give him some more time to pack. I could then go over later and surprise him and we’d share one last amazing night together before he left. He was only supposed to be away for a few weeks, a month at the most. I had my family close. I could deal with that. Maybe Amy would come and stay with me at the house, if Nixon was still so hugely against me leaving.
“OK, so what do you want to do?”
During my time with Amy, I kept checking my phone but there was nothing from Nixon. As the day went on, I started to feel more miserable, hoping that he would show up at the house but he didn’t.
Amy, Chrissy, and I all cleaned out the chicken coop and then painted it. We had fun, the three of us together again. Mattie appeared and joined us later, commenting on the bits we had missed. This forced Amy to slap the paintbrush over his cheek, leaving a green splodge. He got her back and the battle commenced. I had more fun than I’d had in ages.
My mother asked me if I was stopping for dinner. I could see that they were suspicious as to why I was still home but they didn’t pry.
After showering, drying my hair and pulling on fresh underwear, a long gypsy-type skirt, and a strappy camisole, I decided to head over to Nixon’s to surprise him.
I pulled a cardigan on as it was a cool evening, the sun had started to go down and I felt a fizz of excitement at seeing my husband. It had only been one day, but I had missed him.
My family were having a movie night in the cinema room of our house and said I was welcome to stay but I declined, feeling a lick of sadness to be leaving them again.
The wind caressed my shoulders as I made my way across the fields. When I eventually got to the pool, I made a right and headed up and through the meadow toward the man-made bridge which Nixon and his brothers had built .
As I passed by the barn where Nixon had proposed, my heart leapt in my chest and I fondly fingered my wedding rings.
How stupid had our fight been? So silly and I suddenly felt that the bomb was one of my own making. The fact that Nixon hadn’t called me first, wasn’t that much of a shock, he was stubborn and probably still licking his wounds.
After around ten minutes, I got to the house and was just about to climb the small fence that sectioned off their driveway. There was a fancy-looking car parked there next to Boyd’s Audi and Mason's battered pick-up. Nixon usually parked his car around the back.
I wondered who was visiting, maybe his parents were home and that was their car?
Placing one sandaled foot on the fence, I prepared to push myself up and over, but the front door opened and stopped me in my tracks, a huge smile spread across my face as I pushed my hair back and looked up. Expecting to see Nixon in the doorway. Maybe he was on his way to fetch me?
My face dropped . Nixon was standing in the door as expected, but he wasn’t alone.
Scarlet was with him.
The air was sucked from my lungs and I felt sick as a thousand images raced through my mind. I fell back a step, clutching my chest with my hand. I couldn’t breathe, I had no air. A blazing wall of antagonism swept through me like wildfire.
My legs wobbled and I felt boneless as I saw the smile exchanged between my husband and his ex-lover. I felt that look like a physical blow.
Pain, like I’d never experienced twisted through me like barbed wire. I watched helplessly as Scarlet placed her perfectly manicured hand against his cheek and then placed a soft kiss on his lips .
Tears blurred my eyes and I knew I needed to look away but I couldn’t. Nixon leaned against the doorframe as she walked down the steps of the porch and climbed into her huge car. Pebbles crunching as she set off down the driveway.
I watched as my husband just stood there and watched her go, his face expressionless. Was he sad she was leaving? Why was she even there? OMG, she was the woman he’d replaced me with? Nixon had cheated and had sex with another woman after one fight. Sirens went off in my head.
How I kept the contents of my stomach inside me was a miracle. The wind blew the trees and they rustled angrily. Mirroring that feeling that was trying to push its way through the hurt.
I pushed my fist into my mouth as I watched Nixon straighten his jumper but the scream filtered out down the sides.
Nixon heard, his brow creasing as he looked around the yard below. His eyes coming to rest on mine.
At first, I saw relief, even from the distance, I was standing but as his eyes took in my agonised expression, he shook his head and glanced down the driveway where Scarlet's car was just disappearing. And then… guilt. It was written on his face, scratch that, STAMPED there.
Our eyes clashed and his mouth dropped open, his hands coming up. I saw him mouth my name but didn’t hear it as his infidelity pierced through my ribcage toward my heart.
Nixon started down the steps of the porch toward me with a determined expression, outlined with shock. He obviously hadn’t expected me to catch him with her and to think she had promised me she wouldn’t see him anymore. The lying slut. One call from Nixon and there she was, ready to take him back, and as a married man. The thought left an acrid taste in my mouth.
I twisted away and set off running, Nixon’s shouts echoing at my back. My sandals rattled around my feet. Why had I not put my boots on? It was so much easier to run in boots .
The wind raced in my ears as I ran over the field towards the river. I didn’t think to head over to the bridge. One of my sandals came off and I kicked the other to join it and lifted my skirts, I needed the safety of home. Amy was right.
Regret bled out of me like a severed artery.
I could hear Nixon gaining on me as I approached the pool before the bend in the river. It was shallower there and I could wade across, at least I hoped so. All irrational thoughts had been smashed away by what I had unearthed.
As I got to the embankment, I made my way down, tugging up my skirt so it wouldn’t get wet.
“Jenna, for fucks sake stop, it’s not what you think,” Nixon shouted. A total cliché of what a man said when he cheated on his wife and got caught!
I waded into the river, “Stay away from me,” I yelled, glancing to look back at him. He was angry. Furious I had run from him? Well, what the hell did he expect? For me to be happy that he’d just had sex with someone else?
“Jenna!” he boomed as I was halfway through the water. It was cold and the rocks bit into my feet but I felt no pain. None physically anyway, my hurt was inside, decaying my core, draining my life force.
As I got to the other side, I stumbled but managed to catch myself and climbed out of the water. I glanced around to see Nixon striding through it, his jeans soaking, his booted feet allowing him to walk without being hindered by the rocks.
Our eyes met and clashed, but I couldn’t keep that eye contact, his face had been so perfect to me but now I felt only disgust. His expression almost sucked my breath from me. The thought of him touching Scarlet, their limbs entwined whilst I was away painting a fucking chicken coop!
With a strangled cry, I spun around and set off running again.
The lights of my house beckoned and guided me, my family were watching their movie none the wiser. I would close the door on Nixon, tell my father I didn’t want to see him and go to my room to suffer in private .
As I got to the bottom of the porch, I lifted my foot, ready to take the steps but Nixon grabbed me roughly by the arm and yanked me to face him. A gasp shot from my body at his harsh treatment. He almost pulled my arm out of its socket.
“Will you stop fucking running and listen to me,” Nixon shouted down into my face. I struggled to pull out of his grip but it tightened and he grabbed my other arm and shook me.
“Let go of me, you pig, how could you?”
“Stop struggling . You don’t know what you saw!” he yelled. A brighter beam suddenly bathed us both as someone in the house turned on another light, possibly the hall and panic flared in me. If my father saw Nixon holding me against my will, it would get ugly and I didn’t have the strength to deal with that just then.
“Go away, I don’t want to talk to you,” I panted hotly, up into his face.
“Tough, because you’re going to,” he stated arrogantly, his own breathing was uneven with our tussle. I started to weaken, having over-exerted myself by running over the fields.
Nixon released my arms and held his hands up, “I suggest we go into the house and play nice until we get to your old room so we can have a proper adult conversation about this,” Nixon growled down at me, his tone full of menace. I had never seen him so angry, but I knew he was right.
I bit my lip to stop it trembling. My husband watched the motion before he dragged a hand through his hair. His sigh of frustration was fraught.
“What’s going on?” Amy said from the doorway of our house. “You two are making a hell of a racket?” she said scornfully.
Nixon looked behind my shoulder before rolling his eyes. His whole frame bristled at her words and he took me by the hand, quickly mounting the steps of our porch. I had to follow or be dragged.
“Well, you two arguing again? ”
“It’s none of your business you little bitch,” Nixon said in a dark voice. He flicked his fingers in a gesture for her to move out of our way and fortunately, she did. If he had put his hands on my sister, I wouldn’t have liked it.
“My sister is my business dickhead. If you need me Jenna, yell.”
Her words caused Nixon to draw a sharp breath. He didn’t like that Amy was suggesting he would hurt me.
“I’ll be fine Amy, please just leave it.”
I was then dragged up the stairs. Luckily my parents hadn’t come out of the movie room which was at the back of the house. Amy must have been on her way to the kitchen which is why she was the only one to hear us.
My hand was released at the top of the stairs as Nixon transferred his hold to my wrist, tugging me with him.
“You’re hurting my wrist Nixon,” I complained and he loosened his brutal grip.
As we got to my room, he pushed open the door, dragged me inside and kicked the door shut with his boot. His feet and jeans were wet and dripping onto my pale carpet as was something else.
I glanced down at the same time as Nixon released me, there were crimson stains on the cream wool of my flooring. As I shuffled backwards into the room, I realised that my feet were bleeding.
Nixon saw it too and scowled, “What the actual fuck Jenna. Have you no thought for your own wellbeing? You’ve sliced your feet up, where the hell are your shoes?” he said angrily as he strode toward me, lifting my shocked body into his arms and heading for my bathroom. He placed me on the chair there and then dropped down onto his haunches to study my injuries. It was probably from the rocks in the water.
I eyed the top of his head miserably. Some of the fight had left me. The soles of my feet had started to sting as did the tears in my eyes .
Watching Nixon turning the hot water on and soaking a towel, I allowed that numbness to creep into me; heading to that special place where I didn’t have to think of anything unpleasant or deal with anything difficult.
When he turned the tap off and lifted one of my feet to clean it, you could have heard a pin drop.
“My shoes fell off when I was running,” I excused in a croaky voice.
“Why the fuck did you run?”
My frown was so hard my forehead hurt, “Why do you think ? I saw you and Scarlet together!”
He snorted, “Did you really ? Or did you just see Scarlet leaving my house?”
I couldn’t believe that he was trying to get out of it, “ Exactly , leaving your house. What the hell was she doing there? Bearing in mind she’s your ex-lover.” He had the sensitivity of a tank.
His eyes glowed lethally at my line of attack, “No. She’s, my friend. I asked her to come by.” He told me this without apology. Like there was nothing wrong with calling your ex around for a cup of tea. Bullshit, I imagined they’d been doing more than sharing a drink together. I felt sick again at the thought.
“ Friend , you must think me really gullible and stupid,” I cried miserably.
“Well actually right now, yes, I do. I did not sleep with Scarlet, Jenna,” he informed me, his gaze still focused on my feet.
“Bullshit. I saw her kiss you,” I pointed out, twinging as he hit a painful section.
I felt nauseous as I saw the blood staining the towel.
“It was a fucking peck from a friend, not a lover’s kiss,” he pointed out in a firm voice.
Nixon then stood, shaking his head, and rinsing off the towel before drying my feet .
“Do you have any thick socks that you don’t mind ruining?” he questioned, looking down his arrogant nose at me. I wanted to hit him like I did that day at the pond when he’d almost drowned me.
Weakly, I replied, “Yes, the top drawer of my dresser. The black ones with spots on.”
My traitorous husband moved out of the bathroom and came back with the socks, carefully and attentively pulling them onto my sore feet.
“I saw you readjusting your clothes,” I informed him, wondering how he’d get out of that one. He didn’t even attempt an excuse and gave me a look to say that my comment didn’t warrant one.
Nixon exhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring before he leaned over and lifted me into his arms again, carrying me out of the bathroom. He then thrust me into the chair in the corner of my room which was still covered with clothing.
“You sit, I talk. Then it’s your go, yes?” His tone was thick with contempt and disdain.
I nodded my head as Nixon started to pace.
“I called Scarlet over as a friend . My head was screwed up. Going back to the base, our fight and you leaving fucked with my head and I needed someone to talk to,” Nixon began, stopping to turn and look down at me. I pulled my feet beneath me, suddenly feeling like a little girl in the presence of an adult, but I wouldn’t allow him to lie to me.
“Out of everyone you could talk to you chose her? What about your brothers, you’re family? You could have gone to one of them,” I pointed out.
“They wouldn’t have understood. I needed someone neutral, that didn’t have that biased about us getting married so soon. Mason would have been OK, but he was out in town with mates and I wouldn’t talk to Boyd about our shit. The little prick would never understand.”
“I don’t care what you say, I know what I saw! ”
“You don’t know anything . You only saw what you wanted to see,” he snarled. “It’s almost like you’re making an excuse to use. Is that it; you’ve given us a go for a few weeks and now things have got a little bit difficult you want to bail? Is that it?”
A thread of pain weaved through me, “Maybe it is. It’s not like we’ve been together much anyway,” I snapped back. My temper flared.
“What the hell? If you’re talking about the fact that I’ve been working so much then yes, I hold my fucking hands up. We had an epidemic to deal with. All my father’s work going down the fucking toilet. What did you expect me to do? Leave Mason to it?”
“I get that, but you left me Nixon. On my own, most days. Left by myself to deal with your horrible family.”
“What the fuck are you saying? My family has been nothing but good to you. Fair enough, Boyd gets a little excited at times but I’ve dealt with that shit now.”
“No, you haven’t, you’ve probably only made it worse. He sees me as being someone who has the potential to tear his family apart and he hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s just a fucking jumped up kid. A teenager. He’s probably jealous, Jenna. Jealous I got there first.”
“Jumped up kid? He’s an ill-mannered pig,” I corrected him. My stress levels were climbing toward the roof.
“Well, there’s that too. But you can take it, you’re so much tougher these days.” I wanted to sob but I didn’t have the air to do it.
“I shouldn’t have to, not in what is supposed to be my home. I’ve hated it Nixon, I felt so alone. And then the way you reacted when I said I wanted to come back here whilst you were away, showed how ignorant you are.”
His sexy mouth was now set in a grim line, “Ignorant to what? ”
“My feelings. What was going on with me? It’s like you got me, put a ring on my finger and then put me in the cupboard to bring out whenever you had time to play.”
“Well, I’m sorry if you felt like that. But the outbreak has taken up most of my time. You must see how that took me away. I didn’t intend on doing much work at all after the wedding but a crisis occurred and I had to help Mason. Boyd and Seth are both as useless as Mitchell.
“Anyway, we’re changing the subject. Did you invite Scarlet up to our room?”
“No! We spoke in my dad’s study, we had a glass of wine, put the world to fucking rights. I needed someone to talk to, she was there.”
“Oh, and I wasn’t!” I replied hotly.
“No, you ran off, like a little girl having a fucking tantrum,”
“How can you say that to me, you were horrible. You shouted at me.”
“Of course, I did, I was fucking angry Jenna. I did warn you. You knew I had a temper before you agreed to marry me.”
My throat tightened, “Did you sleep with Scarlet?”
“No, I did not fuck Scarlet. Ring her if you don’t believe me.” Hearing those words out loud and clear did not make me feel any better.
I blew out an unladylike breath, “Oh of course, because she’ll tell the truth.”
“Yes, she’s a fucking lawyer and one that goes strictly by the book. She’s the one who broke things off in the first place due to how I felt about you. You know that.”
Our fight was going around in circles and I was starting to get tired.
“I don’t know what to say to you Nixon, how to fix this. You hurt me tonight,” I whispered with tears in my eyes.
Nixon dropped to his feet in front of me and put his hands on my knees. He was pale beneath his olive skin tone.
“Look, I got angry and I’m sorry. But when you said you wanted to go home, I saw red. ”
Nixon was such a selfish bastard, “I only wanted to go home whilst you were away.”
He looked at me with troubled eyes, “But you live with me now,” he slashed back at me in a possessive voice. I suddenly felt like that trophy, Boyd had spoken about.
“I can’t do it Nixon and I don’t like living this way. I do love you but you’re asking too much of me.”
“All I am asking is for my wife to fucking wait for me. Keep an eye on my mother and father whilst I’m away, everyone knows the boys will be fucking useless.”
It felt like he was playing on my sympathies. Twisting things to stop me from coming home. I knew why he was being so controlling; he saw me as a McKenna now. By moving back home, albeit temporarily, in Nixon’s world, that made me a Taylor-Joy again.
He sent me a blazing look, “I know it’s been hard and I’m sorry. There’s fuck all I can do about it now, I fly out tomorrow,” he stated in a strained voice.
My breathing was not quite steady, “ Flying out, where?” The distress I felt at that point was palpable. I felt wretched and alone. So, he wouldn’t even be at the base where I could visit? He was going abroad and he hadn’t told me. No doubt he’d shared his plans with the illustrious Scarlet.
“Syria.” His voice was flat, without a trace of feeling. Nixon was hardening himself against the fact that he was to travel to the country where his friend had been killed.
I pushed to my feet and took a step toward him, pushing my arms up around his neck but he caught my wrists. He smelled so good.
His eyes glinted, “No, I can’t be dealing with your affection or pity right now, Jenna,” Nixon said quietly.
My jealousy flared, “But you could take it from Scarlet?” I said bitterly .
“For the love of God, I did not sleep with her!” he boomed, his cage rattled once again.
I snorted, “Well, of course, I imagine there was very little sleep.”
My jealousy seemed to push him over the edge, “I haven’t got time for this shit now, I leave first thing.” His regretful tone connected with my insides.
“Fine. Maybe we can talk when you get back,” I said in a sad quiet voice, taking a step back and eyeing the carpet.
A bitter tide of pain puddled through me as a silence stretched between us.
“Maybe by then you’ll have grown up a bit,” Nixon huffed crossly, his eyes drilling into me.
A lump settled in my throat, “Will you text me whilst you’re away?”
“No,” he said flatly. “I won’t be able to, the mission is dark, no comms.”
This extra news just added insult to injury, another kick in the teeth. I felt like he’d left me out of the loop. So, he had intended to go away and leave me to fend for myself with his brothers, without being able to make any contact? Had he thought about my feelings at all? A devil jumped onto my shoulder and for the first time ever, I wanted, no needed to hurt him back.
“Fine, you go. You don’t have to worry about me though, I have my own Scarlet I can contact when I need to put the world to rights ,” I said, the inner bitch I never knew possessed rising to the surface.
Nixon’s body went extremely still before he turned to look down at me, his eyes searching my face, “What do you mean?” he said in a deathly quiet voice.
“Charles of course, I’m sure he will keep me company.”
His jaw tightened like he was preparing himself for a punch. Rage like I had never seen it, entered his features and he released a thunderous noise before putting his fist directly through the wall beside me. I gasped and fell back, my eyes wide, shocked as I looked at the hole he had created. What I had pushed him to. I felt a stab of alarm, I needed him to leave. If my family heard, more trouble would come calling .
“Jenna, are you OK in there,” Amy suddenly cut in, banging on the door. Talk about bad timing.
What had I done? I had provoked the beast. Tears started to run down my face.
Nixon’s hand was bleeding and I moved to grab at it but he drew it above his head, looking at me with so much contempt I could feel it, “Leave it,” he snapped, his voice was low and rough.
Amy pushed the door open her eyes zeroing in on the damage to my wall, “What the hell? Jenna, do I need to get Dad?” she panted looking down the corridor. Her face had lost all colour.
Tension pulsed between Nixon and Amy.
Nixon shot a look of pure unadulterated hatred at my sister, “Don’t worry, I’m going,” he growled and then turned back to face me. My body was now plastered against the wall close to the hole. “You’re free to make your choice Jenna. But you either come home tonight or you don’t come home at all. I’ll leave you to think about that.”
“I need space Nixon,” I sighed, not really feeling that way but not knowing what to say.
“Well, you can fucking have it. Choke on it for all I care.” As Nixon strode through the door, almost knocking Amy over, I fell to my knees and she raced forward, pulling me into her arms. That loneliness and those doubts I’d had about the speed of our marriage and the treatment I’d received at Nixon’s family’s hands came rushing out through my tears.
I was torn, part of me wanted to go after him but the other was too hurt. Seeing him with Scarlet had cut deep when he’d had so little time for me. Did I really think they’d had sex? I wasn’t certain, how could I be, my head was mush.
Amy had closed the door and consoled me on my bed. It took her a while but she eventually managed to convince me that Nixon going away was the perfect time to get my head together. To establish what I really wanted .
That night she slept in my bed and I told her all the things that had happened to me whilst living at Nixon’s. I probably shouldn’t have told her everything as she would use it as ammunition to attack him and his family.
And eventually, I fell asleep without thinking much about anything. I was totally numb.
*****
In the morning when I woke up, I panicked and dragged my clothes on, rushing over to Nixon’s, ready to say sorry. Beg him to forgive me for what I had said about Charles and for us to forget about our fight and make another go of it, but he’d already left.
The pain I felt was excruciating . I sent him a handful of messages but they showed up as undelivered. That powerful surge of need when I had awoken was unrelenting and now, I was too late.
I walked back to my parent’s house in a daze, shell-shocked. I just wanted to feel Nixon’s arms around me again. For him to make it better. And what the hell would I do if something happened to him whilst he was away? I would never forgive myself if the last words we had spoken were those ones that were so full of anger.
Amy told my parents about our fight even though I told her not to. My father was angry, and especially not impressed with the hole Nixon had made in my bedroom wall. He confiscated my phone, saying how space from Nixon was a good thing.
I wasn’t allowed to mope for too long as it was the day of my sister’s eighteenth birthday. Dad had bought Amy new alloy wheels for the car he’d bought her the previous year. It was a cream Mini Cooper and he took her for a spin around the yard. I attempted to join in but felt like shit, as you can imagine. Why did I have to say anything about him having a horrible family and about Charles, and on his last night? I should have just let it go. If I hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have called Scarlet. The whole thing was a shit show that I was massively responsible for.
The night of the day my husband left for another country without a word was the worst night of my life.
I felt so confused; like someone had scraped out the contents of my head and placed cotton wool in there.
I lost part of myself that day. A major part and one I thought I may never get back.