Page 156 of Easy
As I tighten my arms, Louise lets her body go slack.
‘We can even play daddy if you like.’ I pitch my voice as like a growl. Probably despite herself, she laughs.
Nothing more needs to be said, so I pull her back to the bed.
Later in the kitchen, we make tea. I stand behind her, my hands splaying her stomach before she turns to face me.
‘I can only guess at your experiences growing up with a father like yours. And a camp to cure you? That’s fucked up beyond my comprehension. But, darling, whatever happened during that time should have no bearing on how you live. You let me do these things because you need me to, and because you trust that I’ll keep you safe. But these feelings you have—these convictions—are keeping you tied down tighter than any binding I could fasten to your wrists. Darling, it’s time to trust yourself.’ I kiss soft and slow before pulling away as the kettle begins to sing.
I know I need to tell her, but that day isn’t now. She needs to make peace with how she feels first.
LOUISE
For all have sinnedand fall short of the glory of God.
I’d put those experiences behind me so long ago and at great expense. I’m shocked they came out this way. I’d tried to hold back the deluge, thinking I’d maybe find a new therapist. Work some things through again. Try a reboot? But to no avail; my tide of insecurity has come in anyway.And I almost drowned him in it.
Dan’s reaction, though maybe not typical, was perfect. It was good to decompress that way, almost like flipping the bird to my experiences. And then his kind words in the kitchen... this man is so much more than I ever expected. I’m thinking he’s pretty damn near perfect until he insists I come along to collect Hal from his play date, and I feel like a teenager again. I don’t wanna! I go, but stay in the car as he walks to the door. No way I want to be introduced as the new girlfriend.
I also don’t want to benotintroduced that way. Go figure.
Our trio go for pizza afterwards, his little boy happily smearing himself in tomato sauce as I begin, ridiculously, to panic again. I can see weekends mounting before me; Saturday and Sunday spent as a pseudo family, the next weekend spent fucking in bed. Could I do that? Would I be able to walk away from Dan, from his son, at the end? And it had to end. Visas only last so long.
‘Mummy always has a salad when we come for pizza,’ the little boy states, eying my plate of spaghetti. ‘She says pizza and Pilates, never the t-train shall meet.’ He swallows a mouthful of orange juice, asking, ‘What’s Pilates, Daddy?’
Dan tries not to laugh, responding with the explanation that it’s a sort of exercise session. Torturous, he says.
‘That’s what Mummy said yesterday to Charles using her very loud angry whisper. Why don’t grown-ups use proper voices when they’re angry?’ I can almost see Hal’s eyes cast into the back of his head as he tries to recall the exact words. ‘She said his bed was tor.. . torturously boring, and that she might have to use yours instead. Are you getting a new one, Daddy, so Mummy can have your old one?’
Dan kept his eyes trained on his pasta as he prods it around the plate. While his hooded expression mightn’t have hidden his thoughts, he can’t quite conceal his growing smirk. ‘I think Mummy was probably just having a bad day, H.’
‘I think Mummy has a lot of those lately.’ The little boy sighs. ‘Maybe that’s why she tells Charles she has too many headaches. She says it’s all his fault.’
Dan laughs then; one loud bark from the depths of his chest. I suppose this is divine payback for screwing around.
No longer concerned by his mother’s frame of mind, Hal springs into a conversation about the family cat. Half listening, my thoughts turn down Jealousy Street. From debating a vague future and contemplating his domestic scene to a growing realisation that Dan is mine as much as the other way around.
Later, once Hal returns next door and is presumably tucked up in bed, I find myself snapping and snarling at Dan’s every suggestion, yelling at one point I’d fuck off home if he didn’t stop asking what was wrong.
When did I become such a fickle fuck?
‘Would you mind giving me back my head? What has gotten in to you tonight?’
‘What? You’re concerned we’re going to turn out like boring Charles and the missus next door?’
His eyebrows rise to the top of his head. And he utters nothing, save for a telling, ‘Ah.’
‘Ah? Ah? What’s that supposed to mean?’ I snarl, poking him in the chest with a pink-painted finger.
As a flicker of amusement ripples across his face, I lift my hand with the intention of wiping that smirk off his face. In my life I’ve never struck anyone, other than my brother, and I can’t quite believe my reaction once my hand is in the air. I’m not sure if it’s my shock or if he catches my raised hand, but we stand locked in the moment endlessly.
When Dan eventually speaks, his tone is even but steel-filled.
‘Don’t.’
‘Then don’t you mention her ever again!’
It’s a ridiculous demand—we can both hear it.
