I got home from school feeling exhausted. I’d completed my marking, but still had lesson plans to do for the next day. Even so, I’d just got an invitation to William’s third birthday party, with subsequent promises from Esther and Kat about the food Mum had promised to make. I was smiling merely at the thought of it.
Jack was in the kitchen, dressed up for a night out, sternly slicing up a massive ham before he left. My glow lessened a little as I saw him carefully knifing each piece into a large Tupperware box. No ham for Zo. Fair enough.
‘You not eating either?’ I called.
He looked over his shoulder. ‘No, I’m out tonight. This is for the rest of the week.’ He looked at me again, then turned around completely to face me. ‘You look well. You look really well.’
‘Thanks. No need for such a surprised tone.’
He shrugged. ‘You just look really … happy, I guess.’ He sounded hurt at the word he’d come up with.
I shrugged back. ‘Maybe I am,’ I said, thinking of the feast awaiting me at Esther’s house in a few weeks.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Jack asked.
‘I didn’t know I was.’ I reached up to touch my mouth.
‘You were,’ Jack said, frowning. ‘You look happy, and you were smiling.’
‘I promise not to do it again.’
‘Have you … met someone?’
‘No! Not …’
‘Not what?’ he demanded. ‘Not anyone I’d know? Not anything serious? Not that you’d want to talk about with me?’
I folded my arms. ‘Sorry, how is this any of your business? Even if there was anything to tell. Which there isn’t.’
‘Fine.’ He turned back to his ham. ‘Fine, it’s nothing to do with me, even if we are legally married. Forgive me for wanting to know if my wife was seeing someone.’
‘Fine.’ I took off my coat and dumped my keys. ‘Where are you off to tonight? Is this … for your birthday tomorrow?’
Jack gave a snort.
‘You don’t have to tell me. I was just trying to be polite.’
He finished carving, clicked the lid on the box and put it in the fridge, then washed his hands, dried them, and got to me, standing in the doorway. ‘Excuse me.’ I stood aside, watching as Jack pulled on his coat and picked up his wallet and keys. ‘Don’t wait up.’
‘Happy birthday!’ I called out, but it sounded too sarcastic. Fortunately, he’d already slammed the door.
Despite Jack’s hostile departure, I somehow slept that night for the first time in weeks. I didn’t even hear him get home.
At seven thirty, I was eating breakfast at the counter when he stumbled into the kitchen, trying to make the coffee machine work.
‘Happy birthday,’ I greeted him. ‘Looking for a hot cup of hangover?’
‘Glad someone finds this funny,’ he mumbled.
‘Sorry. Sorry. Do you want some coffee?’
‘Coffee’s perfect, thanks. Any chance I could get a fucking DECREE NISI WITH THAT?’ he reared round and bellowed at me.
‘Oh, we’re going down the Al Pacino route this morning, are we? That sounds like fun. In the meantime, I’ll be in the shower and leaving for my day of actual sanity in the outside world. I invite you to join me there.’ I thought for a second. ‘Well, not in the shower. That’s not a birthday invitation. I meant in the world. Without me.’
He suddenly looked extra drunk. ‘Shoulda jus’ stayed wherewas. Wass fuckin’ point.’ Then he staggered into the living room and collapsed sideways on the sofa. I watched him for a while, as I finished my breakfast, then I tucked his legs up, turned him sideways and went for my shower. When I came back out and found that he still hadn’t moved, I covered him with a blanket and got dressed. Before I left, I put a mug of birthday black coffee and some birthday buttered toast on the coffee table in front of him, and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a birthday kiss, like a distant aunt gives a child; just a meaningless habit that I could innocently, momentarily get away with while he was in this state.
As I walked out of the door, closing it quietly so I didn’t wake him, I said to myself over and over, it’s just a habit. I didn’t mean anything by it. A habit that came from years together, years of being in love, of being in a relationship that led to marriage. If I thought about it anymore, let myself dwell on the smell of his hair in my nose, I’d realise that my heart was about to break. That we were over. That our relationship was done.
This was the first of his birthdays without me since we’d been together. I didn’t even know what he’d done last night, where he’d been and who he’d been there with. I wasn’t sharing today with him, making a big deal of it in the way I knew he loved – just as he knew how much I loathed my birthdays. I didn’t have a gift for him, nor a card, and I definitely couldn’t opt for the birthday shortcuts I’d used in the past, which mainly involved various levels of nakedness. I was out of his life. That’s what I’d wanted, wasn’t it?
I was struck by the thought that divorce meant a new start for both of us: a new place to live, packing up all our stuff, and moving it to a whole new building, new street, new neighbourhood. New city? New … country? Would Jack move abroad? Would I? Is that what I needed?
But buried somewhere beneath everything else, I realised that I still felt hopeful. After the end of something, there was another beginning. Heartbroken and hopeful, optimistic and overwhelmed. The future seemed bright, possibly, eventually, if I could actually shift my weight from the reality of just get through this minute to let’s make plans for tomorrow. It was the best thing to do; I just didn’t know if I could do it. And I didn’t know if I could do it alone.
On the Tube, I went for a seat at the same time as another woman. We both stopped and looked at each other, and she laughed a little and said, ‘Go ahead, I need the exercise,’ and motioned to the seat. I swallowed, and thanked her, and when I took it I noticed she was looking at me oddly. The other people opposite were looking at me too, giving me little ‘don’t really want to get involved’ glances, like I might actually talk to them or something. Eventually, the woman leant down to me and said, ‘Are you ok?’ When I touched my face, it was wet – my eyes, my cheeks, tears dripping off my chin and spattering my top.
‘I’m … crying?’ I don’t know which of us was more shocked, but it was my stop, and I couldn’t stay to talk through my disastrous non-marriage.
Yes, I told myself, I’ve just got to push through all this. Something that feels this horrible has got to be the right decision. Nothing voluntary feels this bad without having some greater good, does it?
Liz was waiting for me at the restaurant, looking very un-Liz, with huge blown-out hair and shiny beige nails. I hugged her, wide eyed.
‘What’s … happened?’
‘Henry likes his woman to be well groomed.’ She laughed. ‘It’s deranged. I am having so much fun going out with someone I dislike so intensely. Even the sex has got better – it’s added a real frisson.’
I curled my lip.
‘I don’t understand it either, Zo. It’s the weirdest dating I’ve ever done, but I’m so happy that he makes our time together so miserable. And our time apart so great, too, of course.’ She shrugged happily. ‘It’s like I’m roleplaying his girlfriend. I fucking love it.’
‘But you don’t even look like you.’
‘I know! It’s like I’m in costume!’ She pulled her hair into a shaggy ponytail, and looked at least half like herself again. ‘Better?’
‘Better. Thank you.’
We ordered, and took long gulps of our long cocktails.
‘And how are you? What’s happening now with Jack?’
‘I asked him for a divorce.’
Her mouth hung open. After almost a minute of me slowly nodding at her, she shook her head. ‘Right. Ok. I’ve accepted that now. Wait.’ She raised her hand. ‘No. I haven’t. I won’t process this for a really long time, but I want to support you right now. Is it ok if I freak out later?’
‘Permission granted. Can I get the same permission from you?’
Liz squeezed my hand. ‘Jesus, that came out of nowhere. Was he shagging someone else?’
‘No. I don’t think so, anyway. I just … don’t think it was working.’
‘After two months?’
‘It was after one month I first mentioned it to him.’
‘Shit! That answers that one then. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so sceptical. I’m just surprised, I suppose.’
‘Not as surprised as Jack.’
She laughed, then covered her mouth with her beige fingertips. ‘Am I alright to laugh at that? Is any of this funny yet?’
‘Not really.’ I put my head down on the table, and shocked us both by starting to cry again. ‘I feel like I’m doing this all the time,’ I sniffed, ‘and I can’t work out why, or how to stop.’
‘Is a divorce actually what you want? Do you want to stay with Jack?’
‘Yes. No! We can’t stay married anymore. It’s just … it’s so awwwfuuu-uuull,’ I wailed, and started crying even louder. ‘The way we’re just on top of each other the whole time – and not in a good way. We can’t be in a room without arguing, if someone wants something off, the other one wants it on … It’s just miserable. Miserable. Everything that was good about our relationship has just … vanished.’ I sobbed harder. A moment later our waitress came, and without a word delivered two more drinks to us, unordered.
‘She gets it,’ Liz said, and slid the end of the straw into my mouth. ‘And I think the nachos are on their way. It’s ok, I’ve heard about this, loads of people have starter marriages.’
‘What’s a starter marriage?’ I sobbed.
‘Where you have a first, kind of practice, marriage. To work out what you want from a husband or wife. Loads of people are doing it now. Then you marry who you really want.’
‘But I don’t want anyone else! I want Jack! It’s just so horrible between us, and I’m terrified that we’ve lost what we had. Forever. And there’s this guy at work – I don’t want to be with him, not at all, but he’s so good-looking, and – I just don’t want me and Jack to be together if I do ever start wanting someone else. What if I ever start thinking about being unfaithful?’ I sighed, hiccupping. ‘I don’t want to put Jack in a position where I ever think about cheating on him, just because being told by a piece of paper that you’ll never want anyone else ever again is some kind of stupid red rag. Being cheated on … people don’t get over that.’
‘And do you want to cheat on him?’
‘No! God, no. But what if I do, one day? What kind of person does that make me?’
‘Oh, Zo. This is all just so hypothetical. You’re not that person, we both know that. You of all people would never do that.’ Liz brushed my hair from my face, so she could see me properly. ‘So what are you going to do?’
I lifted my head from the table. ‘Apparently we can’t get divorced until we’ve been married at least a year. But neither of us can afford to pay a separate rent on top of our mortgage.’
‘And in the meantime?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You can’t really both live in the flat, can you? You’re getting divorced. That’s a pretty unequivocal statement about how you feel about the relationship, isn’t it? You must really want to get out of there. And what if one of you does meet someone else?’
I put my head down again, and cried until our waitress brought nachos with extra sour cream and guac.
* * *
I psyched myself up on the way home, but Jack was already asleep. The next morning, I cornered him in the kitchen.
‘Jack, we need to sort this out.’
‘Sort what out?’
‘Living arrangements. We can’t live on sofa rotas for the next year of our lives.’
Jack made a show of looking at his watch. ‘Well, the good news is, it’s more like nine months, eight days annnd … about sixteen hours.’
‘I’m serious. We need to talk about what we’re going to do with this flat.’
‘What do you mean “do with it”? I think I’m quite busy living in it, right now. What are you talking about?’
‘We can’t both live here, Jack.’
‘Have you lost your mind? Have you seen how much rent is these days?’
‘We can sell this place—’
‘The value of this flat might have gone up, but we still wouldn’t get anything with half each.’ He threw his arms up. ‘Sorry, can we just slow this conversation down for a minute – how the hell am I debating with you what homes we could find with half the sale proceeds of this flat? This is my home, Zoe. It’s your home too. And it’s been our home for three years. It’s not just … some investment!’
‘I know! I’m fully aware that it’s my home! I remember painting every square inch of it when we moved in!’
‘And I remember sanding every single surface down. And plastering the bathroom. You weren’t the only one who contributed, Zo.’
‘I plastered the bathroom. You did the kitchen.’ For a moment I thought of us, two years ago, in overalls, radio blasting, bacon sandwiches from the greasy spoon, playing at being grown-ups. It never felt like that anymore. Adulthood was creeping up on us like mildew, along with all the disappointment and disillusionment that seemed to go with it.
‘Yeah, that’s right. We’ve both put a lot of work into this place.’
‘And we’ll get more for it, because of that,’ I persisted.
Jack looked crushed. ‘I didn’t mean that.’ His voice dropped. ‘We put a lot into making this our home, Zo.’
I spoke gently back. ‘I know. But things change. And we have to be realistic.’
His face hardened. ‘Sorry. But I’m not going anywhere. I can’t afford it, and I don’t want to. You’ll just have to wait until your year is up.’
‘Jack—’
‘Don’t worry.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Only nine months, eight days and fifteen hours to go now. It’ll fly by.’