So yes, as you can probably tell, I feel pretty miserable and more than a little – OK, very very – sorry for myself. I’ve been trying to distract myself with yoga in the small moments I’ve had to myself. I’ve been to more early morning classes this week than in the last couple of months combined. I’m finally touching my toes, but once I was down there I realised it didn’t matter. Why does it matter if I can see my chipped nail varnish up close or not? I’ve also tried to focus on Fuddy-Duddies United and went to view a possible new location we could hire for our weekly meetings. But it’s so far away – there’s no way our older members could get there without a lot of help – and it’s too expensive without some kind of funding or subsidy. Actually, the only thing that’s been good for channelling my upset this week has been the regular, shouty messages I’ve been leaving for Mr Canid at the council. We’ve had a couple of conversations on the phone, but he’s mostly ‘not available’ to speak to me. Really, the man is impossible. I’ve never spoken to anyone more frustrating in my life. I’ve been working on alternative options for evicting us, and sent him another long email for a whole list of different locations he could use for his plan instead of knocking down our beloved building. I’ve been so helpful! But he’s blocked me at every turn. He’s refused to listen – I don’t think he’s even reading my emails at all, he certainly never replies – and has been as obnoxious in every possible way that he could be. I’ve had some really, truly cathartic shouting matches with him down the phone.
It’s been fantastic, actually. I can’t tell you how enjoyable it is having a bona fide dickhead around to take all my anger out on. It’s anger I didn’t really, entirely know was in me, under there, but it definitely is. Bubbling away furiously, ready to eviscerate anyone who gets in my way. Especially if they happen to be from the sodding council.
Will picks up a towel from the back of the door and I swallow a painful lump in my throat. My mouth is suddenly dry and it makes it hard to speak.
‘You having a shower?’ I say dumbly like a dumbo dumb-dumb.
He glances up, like he’s only just noticed I’m there, and nods. ‘Yep. Just back from the gym. Bit sweaty.’
Small talk. Ugh. You again.
‘Cool, cool. Well done you, getting up so early on a Sunday,’ I say, a little of my desperation coming out in my voice. He makes a move towards the bathroom and I continue speaking urgently. ‘Um, I’m going to yoga this afternoon, so I’m being good too. Hope it’ll help me relax! I’ve had a really busy week again...’
I fall silent. He doesn’t ask me about my busy week. He’s heard it all before, I guess. And he probably assumes I’m still using up all my time – allourtime – on Lauren, Joely and the wedding planning. And I kind of am. If not physically this last week, then certainly mentally and emotionally. It’s all I’ve thought about.
He heads for the door and as he gets there, I say, ‘Will.’ And my voice breaks on the word.
He turns around and we look at each other for a long ten seconds. I think he might be about to cry. I am.
‘Lilah,’ he says softly, and I break. I bury my face in the duvet and he’s suddenly beside me on the bed, arms around me. He smells of sweat and Will-ness, and it’s so nice and safe and comforting. I just cry there for a few minutes, remembering how good his skin feels on my skin. I wait to cry it all out, to feel better, but the tears keep coming and I only feel worse and worse.
And then he pulls away.
I sniff, trying to regain my composure. ‘I feel so sad,’ I say simply, my throat raspy.
He takes my hand. ‘I suppose we’d better talk,’ he replies quietly, looking past me and out the window.
I nod, feeling afraid. ‘I guess we should. Actually, I’ve been having a bit of a rubbish time these last couple of weeks. I—’
He interrupts me. ‘I mean about us.’
I breathe in deeply and then we are silent, before I start slowly. ‘I know things haven’t been... great between us recently, and I know it’s my fault...’ I begin, knowing these words sound familiar. I’ve given him this speech before, and I did nothing to make things any better.
He shakes his head. ‘Lilah, it’s just... it’s just not the same between us anymore. We used to be a team, it used to be so much fun. I feel like I’ve lost you.’
That’s how I feel too, but I say nothing.
He falls silent and then drops my hand back onto the bed. ‘I’ve always really loved your kindness and how thoughtful and sweet you are, but you’ve let Lauren and everyone else take advantage of that – take advantage of you. And it’s not just about that; it feels like you’vechosenall of them over me. I’m supposed to be the most important person in your life, and you’ve put me last, every single time. Even when I’ve asked you not to. I’m way behind everyone else in your priorities, and I have been for months and months. Really, I barely seem to register on your radar. I have tried over and over to make this better and talk things through with you about it. Get you to see it from my point of view, without being a big, demanding Neanderthal about it, but you’re always either too tired, or not here, or you make big promises that you don’t keep. Everyone else always wins over me. I thought we were solid and in the same place with this relationship. I thought we were both looking to the future as a couple but...’ He stops again and looks at me, before continuing in a cracked voice. ‘I wanted to marry you, Lilah. I was so sure. You’re everything I always wanted. But I’ve been slowly realising I’m not whatyouwant—’
I interrupt him, big, fat tears rolling down my face. ‘But you are, Will, you are what I want. I love you, you don’t understand how much I love you. I wasn’t sure before, but I am now. I know you’re right about all this and I know I’ve been a terrible girlfriend, but I will put you first, I will. Please believe me, I don’t want to ruin this. I didn’t mean to ruin this.’ I break on the last word but he’s shaking his head again.
‘I want to believe you, but it’s who you are. You’ll never be able to put me – or, probably more importantly,yourself– first. It’s not enough for me, Lilah. I love you, but I think... I just think...’
‘Please don’t say it,’ I cry. ‘Please don’t say it, Will.’
He looks up at the ceiling, tears glittering in his eyes. ‘I think we’re done, Lilah. I’m really sorry. It’s over. We tried, but we have to break up.’
I pick up his hand again and kiss the back of it. My face is wet with tears on his skin. ‘You can’t mean that,’ I say, aware of how pathetic and sad I sound.
He pulls away, gently but firmly. ‘I do. I’ve spoken to Dan, and I’m going to stay at his place for a while. He has a spare room and it’s close to work. You and I can sort out what to do about this place when the dust has settled. I don’t think there’s too much time left on the lease. I’ll check.’ He gestures around us at our bedroom, at the house – our home – and stands up. He swallows a couple of times, still staring up, and when he looks at me again, the tears are gone. He takes a couple of determined breaths and nods at me before retrieving the towel and leaving.
I sit there, staring after him, and feeling so hollow. I sit there until the tears have dried stickily on my face. I sit there as a steady ache in my front temple builds into a full-blown migraine, and then I rush to the toilet and I throw up. I feel like I’ve lost everyone and everything, and I don’t know how. I’ve lost Will, I can see that. He had that look I’ve only seen a couple of times. He’s made up his mind. He doesn’t love me anymore. There’s nothing I can do. And I know it’s my fault.
17
I really don’t know if it’s sweat or tears pouring down my face, maybe both, but I keep going anyway. Have to keep going. Focus on the next position, the next move, the next breath.
For once, I really do need to focus on my breath, because if I don’t, I feel like I will forget to do it.
