ok, here's a long one...hope you like it!
***
That evening:
Luka opened the door to his flat, still laughing at something Abby had just said,
“did you really say that?”
Abby laughed at herself, following Luka into the living room. “well I’d never heard of spotted dick...you have to admit it’s a pretty weird name for a desert.”
Luka laughed as they both sat down on the sofa, “yeah...I’ll give you that.”
They smiled at each other, but said nothing, their smiles gradually fading. They’d had lunch in a café, laughing the whole time about embarrassing work related stories. Then they’d accepted an invitation to the pub with Tim and Jenny and a few of the language teachers. The evening had been filled with laughter and friendly bitching, gossip about the heads of departments and debates about various TV shows. It had been a fun, care-free evening and Luka and Abby had spent the whole time happily in denial about how bad things had been between them.
But now that they were alone in Luka’s quiet flat, the fact that they had to talk weighed heavy in both of them. Abby stared down at her shoes, she didn’t know where to start or what to say. She wished she could keep it all locked up in her, like she had done for so many years. But that had led to trouble. Telling her friends had been one thing, but sat next to Luka she was terrified of what he might think of her.
Luka looked at Abby, seeing her brow knitted in worry. He needed her to talk to him now, he needed to hear everything, but he could tell she was scared. Reaching over he held her hands, rubbing her delicate palms with his thumb. She looked up and forced a sad smile.
With a sad sigh Abby spoke, “where should I start?”
Luka leant forwards and kissed her on the forehead, “start at the beginning.”
Keeping her eyes shut as she breathed in the sweet smell of Luka’s aftershave, the closeness of his face making her feel safe and comfortable she spoke in a voice just above a whisper, “the man you saw that day was my husband. Richard Lockhart. “She breathed in, as though saying his name had been a huge effort. “We met when I was still living in America. I’d been teaching for a few years but I’d never really got on with my colleagues, so at the Christmas party one year I sneaked off early and went to a bar...and that where we met.”
Abby stopped and looked up at Luka. He raised his eyebrows in encouragement. “go on”
“He was smart and funny...we liked the same books, same music. We dated for a few months, and then got an apartment together. Then after nearly two years he asked me to marry him. And I said yes. Then um...well a few things happened, he lost his job and I wanted to move so he said he had family in England and if I wanted we could move here. I wasn’t getting on too well with my family and...i guess it was running away, but it seemed like a good thing to do. Like maybe with a fresh start things would get back on track. And for a while it worked. We both had jobs we liked, and Richard was getting back into painting. He was a great artist...” Abby sighed and buried her head in her hands, breathing deeply for a while before she continued to talk through her hands. “Richard had always been eccentric. He was enthusiastic about the things he loved, and when things went wrong it really got to him. It was passion, and it was one of the reasons I loved him...but after a year or so in England things got more intense. He’d spend hours in the garage painting. Saying he needed to get it finished...it got in the way of his job and he was fired, but he didn’t seem to care. I told myself he was just creative, that he needed a change of career and then things would be fine, but.... he went to try and get his job back and something happened, which I’ve never been entirely clear on because no one would talk to me, but the police were called and Richard was referred to a therapist.” Abby breathed in deeply, her breathing ragged and shaky as she fought to hold back the tears. “he was diagnosed with bi-polar depression. For two years it was manageable, but when he stopped taking his pills...I um, I left him. Three years ago, I told him I couldn’t cope any more...everything about him had changed and he was refusing to fight. Refusing to get better. I walked out and when I came back he’d vanished. Monday evening was the first time I’d seen him in three years.”
Luka stared at Abby, noticing that she’d been picking at the hem of her jumper the whole time she’d been speaking. Her fingers moving at an increasingly frenzied rate. As if picking at the fabric could undo the past. He put a hand up to his mouth, not knowing what to say.
Abby glanced at Luka, then back down at her hands, she opened her mouth to speak, and hesitated, “Luka I...I should have told you about him...I should have told you all of this.”
Luka shook his head, “I understand why you didn’t”
Abby looked up then, meeting Luka’s gaze, “this last month has been the happiest I’ve been in so long...I just...I just wanted to forget.”
She forced a smile, looking up as the tears rolled down her face. Luka wiped the tears off with his thumbs, hooking his hands behind her ears and cupping her face, encouraging her to look at him. He smiled kindly. “I know Abby.” He brought her face towards his and delicately kissed her on the forehead, then the bridge of her nose, then her lips. She kissed back hungrily, before pulling back as the sobs took over. He pulled her into a hug and let her cry.
***
It was the middle of the night and Abby woke up in Luka’s arms. At first she was confused as to how she’d ended up in his bed, then a vague memory came back of her crying into his shirt until the exhaustion had overtaken her. She must have fallen asleep there on the sofa as he held her in his arms. And even when he’d carried her to bed she hadn’t woken up. She wrapped her arms a little tighter around him, wanting nothing more than to stay this way forever.
But now she’d told Luka about Richard she knew there was nothing standing in the way of her sorting things out with her husband. And she had to sort things out. He wouldn’t leave her alone until she had. She closed her eyes and memories came flooding back. Memories she’d kept tightly locked from herself for years.
***
Four years ago:
Abby looked down at the wedding photos, tracing the silhouettes of each happy friend and family member with her finger. She smiled through her tears and took another sip of wine. Downstairs the front door slammed shut. She jumped, spilling a few drops of wine onto the floor. Cursing under her breath she moped at the stained carpet with the hem of her old cardigan. She dropped the photo album onto the floor and pushed it under the bed.
The last time he’d caught her looking at those photos he’d gone crazy, shouted at her for dwelling on the past. Accused her of hating him, hating him for taking away from her home. She’d told him she loved him, just to calm him down, but these days she couldn’t tell whether she was just saying it or whether she really meant it. He’d changed so much since the diagnosis. Before then things were bad, but afterwards was unbearable, she hardly recognized him. Sometimes she’d lie awake at night, watching him sleep just to pretend he was the same man she’d married all those years ago.
She walked downstairs and over to where he was sitting on the sofa. He was staring at the TV, but he hadn’t turned it on. She looked at him for a while, wondering if he even noticed she was there. Sitting down next to him she flicked through the TV guide, “anything you wanna watch tonight?”
He didn’t reply.
“Richard?”
He turned his head slowly to look at her. She forced a smile, but all she wanted to do was scream. He’d been like this for three days now. The mania scared her, when it got out of control he’d become violent and angry, but this was harder to deal with. Just like he’d never been as high as he had been since losing his job, he’d never been as low as he was now. And the swing between moods had been so quick, it terrified her. Whatever medication the doctor had prescribed it didn’t seem to be doing a thing.
“what were you up to today? I’ve been home since four...I missed you.”
Richard shook his head. Not saying a word. They sat in silence for a full five minutes, both staring ahead as if they were totally alone. Richard leant forwards then, lifting himself off the sofa.
Abby watched him stand up and walk towards the stairs before calling out to him, “where are you going?”
Richard stopped for a second, but didn’t look round. “I’m going to bed.”
“Richard it’s six thirty...have you even had dinner?”
She watched her husband climb the stairs at a slow, steady pace, ignoring her question as though he hadn’t even heard it. She turned back to stare ahead, inhaling deeply and letting her head rest in her hands. As the tears sprang to her eyes she threw the TV guide angrily off her lap and paced the room until she couldn’t keep the tears at bay any longer. Sinking to the floor with her back against the sofa she cried loudly into her old cardigan, letting the thin fabric soak up her tears. With a sigh she hugged her knees; her bare legs were suddenly cold. She stood up and walked to the kitchen, wiping her face dry with her hands and tugging at her denim shorts in an attempt to make them longer than they were.
She boiled up some water and made herself a bland pasta dish, feeding herself because she thought she should rather than because she was hungry.
She’d read articles about women whose husbands had been injured in fires and road accidents, their faces mangled beyond all recognition. Yet the women didn’t think twice about staying with them, they loved them just the same, in spite of the change. And then there were women whose husbands were in a coma, had been for years. They visited every day, talked to them and played them music. They stayed strong for the men they loved, because they loved them, and love can survive change. Abby wondered if she’d stay with Richard if his face was burnt off, or if he was being kept alive by noisy machines in a hospital bed. Would she be strong enough to do it? And was it even strength? A woman who refuses to accept that her husband will never be the same again, is she strong, or just in denial? Perhaps it’s braver to accept the truth and move on. Perhaps.
And Abby wondered, if these women were in her position, would they still be here? With a man who barely even looks at her anymore. If Richard wasn’t sick she’d have left him a year ago, because the man she knew was gone. The man who made her laugh, the man who cared for her, who ran her baths and brushed her hair for her because he liked the feel of it on his hands. Her Richard was gone and the man she lived with now she could never get used to. She could never love. Maybe it would be easier if he was in a coma, at least then she’d only have to deal with the loss.
Abby jumped, there was a thump right above her head. A thump as though something heavy had fallen to the floor. She stood up, her heart racing. The one thought that pulsed through her head was the one thing she couldn’t stand to think about. But the possibility sent her rushing up the stairs, so fast that she tripped on the top step, skinning her knee. The bathroom door was shut. It was the room above the kitchen. She thumped on the door with her fist, hunched over with a hand on her throbbing and bleeding knee.
“Richard?! Richard open the door! Richard please!”
She pushed against the door with all the force and it began to slide open. Forcing it open she managed to get her head around the door just enough so that she could see Richard lying unconscious on the floor. His body was blocking the door. She gave one last desperate push and managed to get into the room, kneeling down in front of her husband, her hands hovering over him afraid to touch him. She looked at the empty bottles of pills around him and picked one up, rushing out of the room towards the phone in their bedroom. She picked up the phone and started to dial 911, before remembering her mistake and slamming down the phone. “Crap!”
She picked it up again and dialed 999, pacing impatiently as the phone rang.
“Hi, I need an ambulance.”
She gave the woman the address of her house and the name of the pills Richard had taken along with an estimated number before throwing the phone onto the bedside table, leaving the woman on the other end to talk to herself as she rushed back into the bathroom. She slid in through the door and knelt back down by her husband, shifting him away from the door so the paramedics would be able to get in. she stroked his hair and stared at his pale face. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing, and she couldn’t bare to find out I case he wasn’t. “why did you have to do it Richard? Why did you have to do it?”
***
Now:
Abby lay in bed shivering so much that she woke Luka, he looked at her sleepily, frowning at the tears in her eyes. “hey, you ok?”
She wiped her face and nodded, “yeah...yeah, just a bad dream.”
Luka stared at her carefully, his eyes adjusting to the dark, “you sure?”
She nodded again and forced a smile. Luka smiled back, wrapping an arm around Abby to keep her warm and stroking her hair until he fell asleep. Abby looked up at him when his hands stopped moving, watching him as he slept. The memory of Richard’s suicide attempt still fresh and burning in her mind. With a sigh she let her head rest on Luka’s chest and after a full hour of staring absently into space, she finally fell asleep.
***