My wife begged me to pack my things and make room for her mate.
Do I really have to get out for your friend? I thought, wanting to snap back at her. James, are you serious?
She frowned. Where’s he supposed to sleep? There’s only one bed. Itll be uncomfortable for both of us.
Simon thats what I call her friend stood in the middle of our tiny flat, flailing his arms. I cant turn Victor down, love! Hes a childhood pal, you know that! Two weeks, Emily, just two weeks!
I was perched on the edge of the sofa wed bought on hire purchase three years ago, after spending two hours agonising over the upholstery colour, twirling a strand of hair around my finger a habit from schooldays. Whenever I had to make an important decision, Id fidget with my hair. Mum used to warn me, Stop that or youll be bald by thirty. Im thirtytwo and still have a full head.
Looking at Simon, I saw him as if for the first time: the mole above his left eyebrow, the small crease by his mouth that appeared last year when he lost his job at the factory, his broad, calloused hands the sort a proper working man has, capable of fixing a lift or assembling a wardrobe.
Why dont you visit your mum? he asked, sitting down and trying to take my hand, which I tucked behind my back. Mum would be thrilled. She hasnt seen you in ages, and her flat is spacious you can jump straight into the shower without waiting.
Two months ago, I corrected automatically.
What?
The last time I was at my mums was two months ago, at her birthday in August.
Right, right Emily, why are you resisting? Its only temporary! Victors looking for work in Manchester, has nowhere to stay, and hotels are absurdly pricey. I owe him, clearly.
Simon, I said quietly, using his full name something I reserve for serious moments. Be honest. Is this really all for Victors sake, or have you just found an excuse to get a break from me?
He sprang from the sofa, pacing three steps forward, three back, never venturing beyond the eighteen square metres we share. I watched his restless shuffle like a tennis ball in play.
Come off it, Emily! Of course its for Victor! You think Id Id never
Thats when I knew he was lying. Not about Victor I was sure hed arrive but about something else he hadnt even figured out himself. His eyes darted away, his neck strained the classic tell when he fibs.
I lunged for the wardrobe and pulled out my bag.
Youre really going now? Simon asked, his face a mixture of surprise and disbelief.
Whats the point of dragging this out? Victors due tomorrow, as you said.
Yes, but Emily, dont be so dramatic! Its just two weeks!
***
Mum arrived in a bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her hair, and saw me with the bag. She didnt need any explanation; mums understand without a word.
Come in, love, she said, make yourself at home.
For the next two weeks I stayed in my own girlonly bedroom, walls still plastered with schoolyear posters and photographs of classmates. It felt like Id slipped back into a time when I was seventeen, with the whole future ahead of me. Mum didnt pry, just served my favourite cheese scones in the morning and brewed a pot of tea with jam in the evening while we watched the latest series.
Simon called constantly twenty missed calls, then thirty, forty Eventually the phone died and I didnt bother recharging it.
On day five I ran into Lena, a former classmate, at a café.
Hey, I saw you the other day, she said, stirring sugar into her cappuccino, with some tall bloke in a leather jacket.
That was Victor, a childhood friend, I replied automatically. Hes staying over while Im at Mums, so its only temporary.
Ah, right, Lena said, giving me a curious look. Just a friend, then.
I didnt press for more; I didnt want to know what she meant.
Exactly two weeks later, Simon rang Mums landline mine was still switched off. He sounded exhausted.
Emily, you can come back now, he said. Victors gone.
Alright, I replied calmly. Ill be back tomorrow.
Really? he asked, brightening. My flats a mess the fridge is empty, shirts are all wrinkled, Ive been living on instant noodles for weeks
Tomorrow, I repeated, hanging up.
Mum stood in the kitchen doorway, trying to hide a smile.
Going back, really? she asked.
Yeah, just for my things. Im filing for divorce, thats all.
She nodded and went off to prepare dinner.
Simon met me at the door, looking dishevelled his face flushed, fiveday stubble, and the flat truly a warzone: empty bottles, cigarette butts, pizza boxes, noodle packets, the smell of cheap alcohol and something sour.
Emily, he lunged, trying to hug me, but I stepped back. Emily, its over! Lets forget this like a bad dream. Ill never bring anyone else into our home again, I swear!
I walked to the wardrobe and opened the doors.
Need help? he fussed, Let me carry the bag Why is it so light? Empty?
Im filing for divorce, I said, folding my dresses neatly. In a month itll be final.
He collapsed onto the floor where the bag had been, folding himself in half.
Emily he whispered. All because of two weeks? Because of Victor?
Not because of him.
Then because of what?
Simon stared at me, eyes full of bewilderment and raw honesty that made me feel a pang of pity for him.
Explain, love! What did I do? We had a good thing, didnt we?
I zipped up the bag, turned to face him. Simon sat on the floor in grimy jeans and a crumpled tee, looking like a stray dog.
Simon, I began slowly, choosing my words, you asked me to leave my own home for two weeks so your friend could stay. You didnt ask, you just decided. And the scariest part? I actually went. I walked out like a dog thrown out the door because I didnt know what else to do. During those weeks I kept wondering will another friend come and youll kick me out again? Or will you just want some peace and send me back to my mum?
I said Id never do it again
Its not about that, I interjected. Its that you thought it was acceptable to demand your wife vacate the house for a friend. If I dont leave now, Ill be forced to keep leaving whenever you wish. Im not a dog, Simon. Im a man.
His lips quivered like a child about to cry.
But I love you, he whispered. Emily, I love you
And I loved you, I replied, taking the bag and heading for the door. Sell the flat, give me half the proceeds. Theres nothing left to share.
