this one – I did nothing wrong, unless taking your daughter out to enjoy the sunshine is doing the wrong thing. ‘And Maggie enjoyed herself. She can’t stay home every day, just on the off-chance…’ I trail off. My little spark of courage has burnt out and I am worried about antagonising you further.
‘
Just on the off-chance?
Just on the off-chance of what exactly? That I might call and try to speak to my own child? That I might call to check and see if you’re OK? Going out with that tramp from next door is more important than building a home for your family, is it?’ Your eye twitches with that telltale tic, the one that prewarns me you’re about to lose your temper.
‘No, that’s not what I said! Charlie, you’re twisting my words, I never meant that; all I meant was that Maggie needs some stimulation – I can’t keep her home all the time; she’ll be going to school soon.’ I place the roasted chicken on a chopping board and turn to face you, desperate to calm the situation before things boil over.
‘Please, Charlie, let’s not make this into a big deal. I took Maggie to the beach with her friends, that’s all it was. It wasn’t an attempt to escape from here, not a chance to neglect my duties at home or to try and get away from you. You weren’t home and I wanted to do something nice for Maggie. Please don’t ruin what’s left of our weekend.’ I take your hands and kiss you gently. You take a deep breath and just as I brace myself for the start of another onslaught you smile.
‘OK. It’s not a problem.’
Confused by your quick change of mood, I give a small nod and drop your hands. I should have known that wouldn’t be end of it.
The afternoon passes in a pleasant haze of scorching hot sunshine and we agree to take Maggie up to the park for a picnic for lunch. We paddle in the stream that runs through the common, watching Maggie trying to catch the tiny sticklebacks that flit through the clear water. Holding hands, all three of us run through the fountains that spurt up from holes in the ground in random patterns, trying to make it through to the other side without getting soaked, before collapsing in a giggling heap on the grass. Lying on my back, with you laid next to me, I watch the clouds scudding past overhead, a gentle breeze lifting my curls and tickling my forehead. We used to do this all the time, before Maggie came along. Just wander down to the common, dragging a picnic basket between us, lying on the grass talking and swigging Prosecco that had gone warm in the sun because we always forgot to pack the ice blocks. We would spend hours planning our future and laughing at your hideous jokes – you have such a wicked sense of humour that you never fail to make me laugh; it’s just a shame we don’t see as much of it as we used to. This morning’s argument has faded into the distance, made almost a memory by the perfect events of this afternoon. I just wish that these moments, when we are relaxed and happy, with no tears or accusations of lies, were more frequent. When we are in these moments we are what we strive to be – the perfect family, a team with a bond that is unbreakable.
Zero stickleback, one ice cream and three hours later we head for home. Maggie, with the energy that only a four-year-old can have, runs ahead, while we stroll slowly along together, holding hands. Mrs Wilson spies us from her kitchen window and we both raise a hand to her. I feel content, and immensely relieved that this morning’s storm has passed. I managed to defuse the situation before you lost your temper – does this mean you’ll relax a bit more now? Maybe this means you’ll change and not get so angry so easily any more. I think how nice it would be if this afternoon were to mean a turning point in our relationship – maybe things will return to how they used to be between us, before we had Maggie and everything got a bit crazy. It would be worth hanging in there, through all the
‘
Just on the off-chance?
Just on the off-chance of what exactly? That I might call and try to speak to my own child? That I might call to check and see if you’re OK? Going out with that tramp from next door is more important than building a home for your family, is it?’ Your eye twitches with that telltale tic, the one that prewarns me you’re about to lose your temper.
‘No, that’s not what I said! Charlie, you’re twisting my words, I never meant that; all I meant was that Maggie needs some stimulation – I can’t keep her home all the time; she’ll be going to school soon.’ I place the roasted chicken on a chopping board and turn to face you, desperate to calm the situation before things boil over.
‘Please, Charlie, let’s not make this into a big deal. I took Maggie to the beach with her friends, that’s all it was. It wasn’t an attempt to escape from here, not a chance to neglect my duties at home or to try and get away from you. You weren’t home and I wanted to do something nice for Maggie. Please don’t ruin what’s left of our weekend.’ I take your hands and kiss you gently. You take a deep breath and just as I brace myself for the start of another onslaught you smile.
‘OK. It’s not a problem.’
Confused by your quick change of mood, I give a small nod and drop your hands. I should have known that wouldn’t be end of it.
The afternoon passes in a pleasant haze of scorching hot sunshine and we agree to take Maggie up to the park for a picnic for lunch. We paddle in the stream that runs through the common, watching Maggie trying to catch the tiny sticklebacks that flit through the clear water. Holding hands, all three of us run through the fountains that spurt up from holes in the ground in random patterns, trying to make it through to the other side without getting soaked, before collapsing in a giggling heap on the grass. Lying on my back, with you laid next to me, I watch the clouds scudding past overhead, a gentle breeze lifting my curls and tickling my forehead. We used to do this all the time, before Maggie came along. Just wander down to the common, dragging a picnic basket between us, lying on the grass talking and swigging Prosecco that had gone warm in the sun because we always forgot to pack the ice blocks. We would spend hours planning our future and laughing at your hideous jokes – you have such a wicked sense of humour that you never fail to make me laugh; it’s just a shame we don’t see as much of it as we used to. This morning’s argument has faded into the distance, made almost a memory by the perfect events of this afternoon. I just wish that these moments, when we are relaxed and happy, with no tears or accusations of lies, were more frequent. When we are in these moments we are what we strive to be – the perfect family, a team with a bond that is unbreakable.
Zero stickleback, one ice cream and three hours later we head for home. Maggie, with the energy that only a four-year-old can have, runs ahead, while we stroll slowly along together, holding hands. Mrs Wilson spies us from her kitchen window and we both raise a hand to her. I feel content, and immensely relieved that this morning’s storm has passed. I managed to defuse the situation before you lost your temper – does this mean you’ll relax a bit more now? Maybe this means you’ll change and not get so angry so easily any more. I think how nice it would be if this afternoon were to mean a turning point in our relationship – maybe things will return to how they used to be between us, before we had Maggie and everything got a bit crazy. It would be worth hanging in there, through all the
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