Going to Bed

Maggie had already put Essie to bed and read her a story. Steve went into her room to kiss her good night. Essie was lying underneath a glittering and fluorescent ceiling, looking up at the stars as if she was planning to go there one day. She was always wondering about something, anything. She asked him with her little voice, “Daddy?”

“Yes sweetie.”

“Will you and Mum stay together forever?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“You fight sometimes. Katy’s mum and dad didn’t stay together. They used to fight.”

“We don’t fight. We have … discussions. Sometimes, a bit fiery discussions, perhaps, but it doesn’t mean we’ll be moving apart. We won’t.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So you, you stay to-together till you’re all old, and, and, wrinklish? Like Gran and Gramps?”

“Yes, Essie. We’ll stay together, till we’re all old and wrinklish, just like Gran and Gramps. Good night now.” He kissed her forehead and was about to let her sleep.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Mummy said we could decorate my room. Will, will you help?”

“Of course, of course. Or, you know what? If you ask Wayne, I’m sure he’ll help you.”

“Don’t you wanna help us?”

“Of course I want to, but … Wayne does it much better. And he’ll always look after you. He’s here to help us all. To make our lives better. To give us, y’know, more time for other things. Ask him and you’ll see, you’ll be friends. I’m sure he’ll decorate your room with you.”

“Okay.”

“Good night.”

“Good night Daddy.”

Once he was in the master bedroom, arms slipped Steve into his New Trafford pyjamas. The pyjamas had little speakers in the buttons on the sleeve. He clicked them, raised his arms to Maggie and the crowd roared – another goal scored.

“Turn that off please, I’ve heard it a thousand times already …”

“Okay, okay”, he said and clicked off the sound of the buttons.

Maggie was already in their extra king-size Ikea bed. This was the only time of the day when she would have a massage, her side of the bed now performing its magic to her back, while she also enjoyed reading the new Chi Yen Ping novel; already, she was biting her nails.

“Sorry I missed dinner”, he told her.

She stopped biting her nails. She put the horror novel over her tummy, and smiled. “Really.”

He sighed, laid down in bed. “I told you I am. Whatta you want, a written statement saying, ‘I’m truly sorry’?” She didn’t say anything, so he turned away, let Wayne pull the cover over him. “Wayne – light off.”

The light switched off on his side. Still lit on hers. Didn’t seem like she’d gone back to reading. Her calm voice asked him, “Have you been thinking about our project together?”

“What’s that again?” He’d already put the blind-patches over his eyes, cooling and nice. He felt hot. Lately, conversations with Maggie seemed to give him the fever.

“It could be good for us to do something with the other hours of the day. Don’t you think?”

“Don’t we have a good enough project? Growing in your wee belly?” Steve couldn’t believe they were actually going to have another Essie, or maybe a boy this time.

“It is a good project”, she said, “but I was referring to another one.”

“How many projects do you need? Not enough at work either?”

“We need our project. Something to keep us busy in our spare time. We could have separate projects, but I have to state my view: I’d like to have a common project with you, Steve.”

She had probably been watching the Winfrey channel again; must’ve been another show on how to spend spare time with your partner. Oh man …

“Well, yeah, maybe we can look into that after the weekend, what do you say?” He turned over, ready to sleep.

“We just keep pushing it forward, Stevie. If we keep doing that, it’s never gonna happen.”

“Look, it’s barbeque tomorrow. Busy this weekend.”

“And then there’s the game the next. You’re going to Manchester. Again.”

“Yes. Season at its peak. It’s gonna be good.”

He heard her sigh. And the way she said “Good night” followed by telling Wayne to switch off the lights on her side seemed to be filled with other words. Like, “I’m not happy with this” (she’d said that the other night, and that’d felt heavy), a sense of hopelessness (“Do you believe in us?” she’d asked) and a standstill (which she’d said they were at in their relationship, whatever that meant). Steve had thought he would have no trouble at all drifting off to sleep. Now he couldn’t.