Chapter Six Losing Her #3
‘I’m being a bit unfair to him, but he can be an absolute nightmare about this kind of thing. But he is a man – and they’ve raised avoiding health problems to some sort of art form.’
Ouch.
‘I actually think most of us spend way too much time avoiding things, don’t we?’
Oh, thank God, she’s changing the subject.
‘Honestly, if we put as much energy into actually doing things as we do avoiding them, we’d probably be a generation of Olympic athletes and brain surgeons.
But no, we are the kings and queens of procrastination!
Largely because of social media. You see?
I said I could blame pretty much anything on it, and I meant it.
We love to put things off . . . ignore the issue .
. . pretend it doesn’t exist . . . deal with it later. ’
. . . or maybe she’s not.
‘But let’s be real: we never actually get around to the “later” bit, do we?
We just kind of slowly let things rot away in the background – like that pot plant your aunt bought you.
The one you know you should have watered a lot more than you did.
And now it’s a brown twig on the kitchen windowsill, and she’s coming over in half an hour, and what the hell are you going to do now, Annie?
! B&Q is a twenty-minute drive away! Do they even have begonias at this time of year? Oh God! Oh God! Noooooo!’
The audience are in stitches. I’m chewing a fingernail.
‘. . . sorry. Having a flashback there. I still have PTSD about that incident. Or should that be PPTSD. Pot plant traumatic stress disorder.’
Is she still referencing me here? Is the pot plant meant to represent my car crash? I just can’t tell anymore.
‘It’s not just pot plants. It’s everything. The little things, the big things, the mildly irritating things that make you shudder if you even think about them.
‘You know when you get that slightly unsettling noise in your car? The one that sounds a bit like a tiny poltergeist having a tantrum under the bonnet? Do you deal with it? Do you go to a mechanic, like a sensible adult that doesn’t spend all their time on TikTok?
No, of course you don’t. You just crank up the car radio and decide that it’s a problem for Future Me!
‘But of course Future Me is just Past Me, with another six weeks of denial and TikTok videos piled on top of her. I could’ve fixed this problem when it was a tiny rattle, but now the car sounds like it’s auditioning for the part of the trash compactor in the next Star Wars movie.’
Is she saying she thinks I’m in some sort of denial? About what, though? I’m telling her the truth about what I remember of the car crash. I’m not hiding anything. And I’m not in denial about seeing a doctor. I’m just not.
Absolutely bloody not.
‘Honestly, it’s everywhere,’ Annie says, her arms open wide. ‘Every single part of our lives is just one giant case of the I’ll do it tomorrows. And even when we do finally face the difficult stuff, we tend to be pretty inept at handling it, because we’re so out of practice.
‘I tried “facing things head on” once . . . And it was bloody awful. I only ended up making things worse. I tried to end things with this guy I’d been seeing.
This was years ago, way before the current boyfriend who I once called “Dad”.
The one who’s sat in the audience, praying he doesn’t get another mention in this routine. ’
So very, very true.
‘I tried to end things directly with this other bloke – who I’d only really been seeing on a casual basis up to that point.
I told him it wasn’t working and that we should go our separate ways.
You know what he did? He started bloody crying.
And the next thing I know, he’s talking about how he’s never felt this way before about anyone.
That’s when my guilt reflex kicked in – and somehow, I end up in a full-blown relationship with someone I was trying to dump.
I ended up dating him for another four bloody months, just because I was too polite to say: Actually, could you . . . could you possibly leave now?’
To underline the joke, Annie picks up the microphone stand and starts making brushing motions. This has them rolling in the aisles.
Is this about me? Does she want to brush me away? Is she just being too polite with me?
‘You know what? I think we all just need to get over this fear of dealing with stuff, don’t you? We need to learn to just rip off the plaster. Get things done. Be a bit braver about it. Sort it out properly! And quickly!’
I blink a couple of times. I feel like my girlfriend is reading my mind, live here on stage tonight. And it’s far more disconcerting when she does it than when it’s Zitana in her purple suit.
‘No more procrastination! No more TikTok! Just ball up all of those problems in one glorious bigger ball, and throw it in the rubbish bin!’
Some of the crowd clap at this.
‘I’ve decided my new mantra is: Just get it done.
The moment I hear myself say that I’ll deal with a problem later, I force myself to do it right there and then.
Got a difficult email to write? Just send it.
Need to go to the doctor about something?
Book the appointment. Got a stubborn boyfriend who won’t do what you ask?
Invite him along to your latest gig and embarrass him in front of a bunch of complete strangers . . .’
Oh boy. Mission accomplished, sweetheart.
‘Just do it now, and then it’s out of your head. Face your fears all at once! Deal with your issues with no delay!’
Annie’s clenched fist rises high into the air, much to the delight of the audience, who clap and cheer.
The triumphant expression disappears from her face and she looks back down at the audience with a lopsided grin.
‘. . . and, you know . . . if that doesn’t work, you can always just shove a lapis lazuli up your arse. That should take care of everything.’
Bringing a joke back when the audience least suspect it is a guaranteed way to get a huge laugh.
Which gives me ample opportunity to slide out of my seat, and get the hell out of here.
Clearly my girlfriend and I need to have a conversation after her show.
I just hope it’s not one that ends with her pushing me away with a microphone stand.
‘Well, that went well,’ I say, with a slightly sick expression on my face, as Annie enters the dressing room that the kindly staff of The Palisade have provided for her.
‘You think so?’ she says, picking up a bottle of water from a side table and taking a long swig.
‘Yes. Lots of interesting material, I thought.’
Annie’s eyebrow arches as she methodically screws the top back on the water bottle, looking at me quite intently as she does so. ‘Yes, there was, wasn’t there?’
‘Went down very well with the crowd.’
‘Yes, I’d say so.’
My mouth has suddenly gone quite dry. ‘Felt like some of it wasn’t really aimed at them, though.’
‘No?’
‘No. Felt like it was more . . . aimed at someone more specific.’
Annie places the bottle of water down on the table very carefully. ‘Well, Charlie, they do say that the best comedy feels like it’s been written especially for you.’
I nod, equally carefully. ‘Makes sense.’
Annie folds her arms and simply chooses to look at me. It’s clearly up to me to fill the silence.
Which is quite problematic, to say the least.
‘I guess . . . I guess maybe the stuff about sickness and facing up to your fears was probably aimed at me?’
Annie’s face crumples a little. ‘Not aimed at you, Charlie. I’m not trying to be horrible to you. But is it partially about you? Yes. I base my stuff on real life, and what’s going on with you is the main thing in my life right now.’
‘It is?’
She looks a little horrified. ‘Of course it is, Charlie.’ Her brow furrows. ‘I’m really worried about you.’
Why do I feel so embarrassed and ashamed when she says this?
Annie catches the look on my face. ‘There’s no need for you to feel so bad about feeling so bad, Charlie. And please stop pushing me away.’
I shake my head. ‘I’m honestly not trying to do that.’
‘You’re not? The way you’ve been acting these past few weeks makes me feel like you are. Like you Still don’t want to talk to me. I put all that stuff in my routine because I had to say it all to someone. Might as well be paying customers.’
My shame grows. I can’t stop it.
‘The bit about getting rid of the guy you couldn’t stop dating . . .’ I say, my entire body feeling like it wants to convulse. ‘Is that . . . Is that how you’ve been feeling about me? Would you rather I wasn’t around anymore?’
Annie looks aghast. ‘Of course not! That wasn’t about you. I don’t want to split up with you! I want to be with you!’
‘I want that too!’ I say, and make a move towards her. She holds up a hand.
‘That’s lovely to hear, Charlie. But I’m not sure I quite believe it. I’m not sure we have a future together at all.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t think you trust me. I don’t think you trust yourself. And you’re avoiding me. You’re avoiding the problems that you’re having . . . for some reason.’
‘I don’t mean to,’ I mumble, falling back against the dressing room wall.
‘Nevertheless . . .’ She leaves this hanging in the air, looking at me with eyes that are slightly glossy. She’s probably said all she’s wanted to say tonight. Both on stage and in here.
I’m losing her.
She says she still wants to be with me . . .
But I’m losing her.
Because there’s something wrong with me, and she deserves better than that.
Annie yawns and rocks her head back and forth. ‘I’m tired, Charlie. I think I’d like to go home now, take a long bath and get some sleep.’
I give her a dull nod. ‘I’ll go get the car . . . and I’ll . . . I’ll drop you off.’
Her eyes grow a little more glossy. ‘Okay, Charlie. That’s fine.’
I can’t bear to look at her anymore. I can’t bear to be in the room with her.
No. You can’t bear to be in the room with yourself. Big difference.
I leave quickly, letting Annie collect her things, and make my way out of the rear exit of The Palisade. As I reach my car, I try to take a deep breath, which for some reason I find very hard to do.
You know what? I think we all just need to get over this fear of dealing with stuff, don’t you? We need to learn to just rip off the plaster. Get things done. Be a bit braver about it. Sort it out properly!
Oh God, I wish I could just sort it out.
Nothing would make me happier! Then I’d be the man Annie fell for in the first place.
Then I’d be a man that she does want to stay with, and not one she wants to push away with a microphone stand.
But that’s not who I am right now, is it?
Not at all.
I’m something else. Somebody else.
I just wish I could bloody understand Why.