Chapter 2
Theo
Present Day
“Ahhh!”
Here we go again.
I inhale the world’s deepest breath as I hear, (more so feel her heavy steps, if the dust falling from the ceiling was anything to go by), as she stomps around upstairs. The noise grows increasingly louder now as she bombs her way down the staircase, her tone of voice grating through me like nails on a chalkboard.
“How many times Theo?! How many time do I have to tell you to stop leaving your fucking beard hairs all over the sink?”
She looked like a volcano ready to erupt, her face the colour of molten lava. She looked fuming. She always did lately. The smile that once left me weak at the knees, now completely lost in time.
Her fists squeeze tightly at her sides as she tries to contain her anger. “And don’t even get me started on the toilet! You know your family are coming in less than 10 minutes and you still insist on leaving actual shit in the toilet without flushing! Nothing screams ‘Hi Margaret, nice to see you, please enjoy the hospitality with our special guest, the floating turd in the bathroom!’”
I’d learned that it was often easier to just keep my mouth shut when she was on one like this, if I dared breath a word against her, hell might as well open up and suck me in it right now.
“Well? Anything to say for yourself or are you just going to stand there in silence as always?” She looks impatient now, crossing her arms and jiggling her legs like she was stuck in an A&E waiting room.
“Sorry,” I mumble. I didn’t even want to give her the satisfaction of an argument, I’d lost all motivation at this point. “I’ll go and sort it now.”
She guffaws sarcastically, “Oh no, don’t bother now! I’ve already cleaned up after your crap, as usual .”
You know, seven years ago, so many people warned me. If I had a pound for every time someone breathed the sympathetic words, “bless you, teenage relationships don’t last!” I’d have managed to pay off our mortgage in full by now. The funny thing was, I didn’t even care. We didn’t. It was me and Astrid after all, taking on the world, one weird film at a time. There were so many obstacles thrown our way, but we always took them in our stride and came out the other end. A year after we finally confessed our feelings and got together, Astrid went away to university. I wasn’t stupid, I always knew that she wanted to be a teacher, so I quickly gathered that she’d have to go away to pursue it. She literally moved 4 hours away to Nottingham and even that didn’t ruin us. She spent 4 years there, and we were long-distance for the entire time, with her only coming back for holidays. I think I genuinely spent an arm and a leg travelling up on multiple trains to visit her. But I didn’t care though, it was worth it. She was worth it. Our Freaky Friday’s also never stopped. I went out of my way to make sure that I lined up the craziest film I could, and we’d either stream it together over a Netflix Party, or we’d both set up facetime, armed with popcorn, and perfectly timed the films we were watching so we could press play at exactly the same moment, and ensure that we could still chat about it as normal.
After she graduated and got her first teaching job at a primary school in our local town, admittedly, (and perhaps a little selfishly), I was relieved. Relieved she was going to be here permanently and back in my arms. Half a year went by, she was absolutely smashing it as a reception teacher, whilst I was…tolerating my admin job in a construction firm. We stayed over each other’s houses most nights, but it got to the point where we realised that we didn’t just want ou r own space, we needed it. Plus, there was only so much cockblocking I could take from Danny whenever she came round mine. The twat always lingered like a bad smell, probably because he was jealous that I had a long-term relationship and he was still single, living at home with mum and dad at the time at the age of nearly thirty. Astrid and I knew we were ready to live together, financially but also mentally. It didn’t matter what anyone else said.
I remember how ecstatic we both were, twenty-one years old, our whole lives ahead of us, excitedly scrolling through Rightmove to find our perfect first home. We knew our exact budgets, we knew what type of house we wanted to live in, and we’d ended up whittling it down to five potentials. Even though the first four viewings were absolute no-go’s, we still didn’t give up, and were holding out hope on lucky number 5. When we arrived at the final viewing, we both synonymously caught our breaths. It was a beautiful cottage, framed with cobble paths and vibrant pink rosebushes. It was oldy-worldly on the outside, but the inside had been completely refurbished, with two spacious bedrooms, a modern bathroom with a Rainfall shower, and a huge open-plan living room/kitchen that had a mix of cobbled walls and marble countertops. There was even a little garden out the back, filled with an old fishpond and a wicker outdoor table and chair set, that the previous owners had obviously left behind. We just knew it was ours. We’d fallen in love with it and had our offer accepted the very same day.
The first few months living here were absolute bliss. Our Freaky Friday’s had turned into most nights because in honesty, it was cheaper to stay at home and watch films than go out to begin with. We ate greasy ready-meals and frozen chips, we shared our nightly showers, (just for the strategic, cost-effective, reason of saving water, absolutely nothing else…), we spent the weekends going out on walks in the woods, and it felt very much like a sleepover everyday, but you know what? We were happy, and we made it work. Because that’s what you do when you love someone.
Fast forward to today, and we’d now lived here for nearly 3 years. It was hard to believe we’d been within these four walls that long. They say that you only truly know a person once you live with them, and I never believed it at first. The idea that moving in with someone could magically make or break a relationship. To me, it was a ridiculous concept. I already knew everything I needed to know about Astrid. It goes without saying that she was smart, beautiful, funny, one of the kindest, and most thoughtful people you could ever meet, and we had a bunch in common. She was my everything, with her Golden hair, caramel eyes, and cheesy smile. She looked like sunshine in human form. But as the months grew into years, the girl I fell in love with, the woman I thought I knew, began to change. We were no longer having kitchen-disco’s, where we used to dance like lunatics and sing into the wooden spoon whenever we cooked a meal together, we were no longer play-fighting on the living room floor until she nearly pissed herself from the tickles after I pinned her down. I don’t even remember the last time we made love, and the ever-present weird-movie-watching became nothing but a distant memory. All of these moments were now overtaken and replaced by frequent arguments, angst, and tension. I didn’t want to give my family the satisfaction of being right, but now more than ever, it was evident that the honeymoon period was well and truly over, and honestly, I wasn’t sure whether we ever stood a chance of getting back to paradise.