After caring for sweet old lady Beatrice Trenton for over a year and hearing all about her brave paratrooper, grandson, Penelope is pleased to finally meet him. Sparks fly and before she knows it, she's calling him her boyfriend, and he is confident...
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Two months ago...
MAX
I stand behind Penelope with my arms around her waist as she goes through the paint sample catalogue. A last minute decision to redecorate her living room last night has resulted in us walking around B&Q early this morning before work.
"I love the sage green. Do you?" she asks, pointing at the colour.
It's really lovely and has a calming vibe about it. "I reckon it will look good."
"Me too. How much are they a tin?" she asks, walking over to the tins to take a look. "Twenty quid. Yeah, I'll have to come back next week when I get paid."
I kiss the top of her head, silently coming up with my own plan. "Okay, baby. It might be worth waiting for the Black Friday sales."
She tips her head back on a smile. "That's very true. I'll do that then."
My entire body melts as soon as she wraps me up in her arms and kisses my chest over my hoody. I tug her closer and bend to kiss behind her ear, wondering how I can get her to stay with me for a few days.
"Shall we head over to gran's house?" I ask and she nods, swinging my arm as she grins up at me all the way to the car.
My gran is on form, as per usual when I leave Penelope there for the day to head back to B&Q to grab two tins of the paint she loves and all the extra bits like rollers and dust sheets. When I reach the truck, I realise I didn't get anything to paint over the woodworks, so I head back in to grab a white shine finish one.
Penelope's sitting room is adorably small, but she makes use of the space wonderfully to give it a cosy vibe. I open the bifold doors and move the couch outside onto the patio, along with the furniture, putting the television out in the hallway.
There's no sign of rain today, but I cover the furniture outside with a huge tarpaulin just in case. First off, I get to fixing the sideboard in the corner that's hanging off and fill any holes I can find in the walls before sanding off the door and the other wood fixtures.
Halfway through stirring the paint, my phone blares out across the room. It's gran, so I pick up right away, turning the radio down because she's whispering down the line.
I frown. "Sorry, gran, you're going to have to speak up. I can't hear you."
"I can't be loud because Penelope is in the kitchen," she hisses, carrying on. "I found out some information for you. Like you asked. Her dream car would be a Mini Cooper."
Ah, her Christmas present. I figured it would be suspicious if I asked when we just went looking for a car for her and she couldn't seem to make her mind up.
"You're amazing," I say back. "I roped James into coming with me to look this weekend because he knows what he's talking about with cars."
She hums. "Good plan. Oh! I know you want Penelope at home with you, but she's mine during the day... don't be so crude! Yes, yes, I'll pass the message on. Goodbye!" And the line goes dead.
What the fuck?
I'm assuming Penelope walked back in and she panicked, but boy would I like to be a fly on the wall with the conversation which follows. My laughter rumbles in my chest, then my phone chirps with a text message, expecting for it to be from gran, I get a small ring of excitement seeing Penelope's name on screen.
Penelope - You told your sweet old grandma you wanted a mid-morning shag?!
The second-hand embarrassment I feel for gran saying those words about me is strong. Boy is she committed to the task. I play along too.
Max - Guilty!
Penelope - What is wrong with you? (Laughing Face Emoji)
What is wrong with my grandmother, more like?
Max - How long you got? (Laughing Face Emoji) Dinner and sleepover at my house tonight? X
She agrees with excitement to my offer which makes this surprise decorating job a hell of a lot easier. Still grinning from our messages, I get to painting the walls, finishing the first coat within the hour.
The wind floating in here from the open bifold doors will help it dry quicker, allowing me to take a small break. I head towards the kitchen to grab a seat at the table, researching Mini Coopers on my phone.
At some point, I go in search of some food, knowing she keeps fruit chopped up in containers in the fridge for an easy access snack.
There's beers stacked at the top of the fridge. Fuck, no! I slam the fridge door closed, spinning so my back is pressing on the fridge door. If that's from when her friends stayed over, then why did she keep them? I know I shouldn't expect it of her, but that's just the way it has to go if she's dating me.
Just one.
No!
I slam back into the living room, already having justified why I need those beers by the time my fingers check the walls. They're dry, so I roller on the second coat, distracted and angry with myself for many reasons. Contradicting reasons which strangely make sense to me.
One second I hate myself for even wanting a taste of the booze, the next, I'm furious because depriving myself feels just as bad.
One isn't so bad.
It's beer.
Weak compared to spirits.
You're thirsty.
You deserve it.
The splotches of paint blot my entire body as I roller the walls at super speed. I get the entire second coat finished quicker than the first before painting the skirting board and door.
One won't hurt.
I finish painting the door and head back to the kitchen, standing in front of the fridge for a minute trying to talk my brain out of what I'm about to do. It doesn't work. Nothing works when alcohol is around.
The popping sound of the cap releasing echoes right through me. It ignites all those bad memories, but I can't find the strength to stop. I don't even savour the taste, the beer just glides down my throat in a few gulps.
"What are you doing, Max?" I growl, running to my work bag where I hide the empty bottle, rubbing my hands over my face.
I shake my head. And go pour a glass of water. It drowns out the strong beer taste, calming me a little to be able to focus on decorating the room. You need to get your head straight!
The gloss paint takes a fair while to dry, so it looks like I will be finishing it all off tomorrow. I lift the furniture back into the room and lock the doors, going upstairs to brush my teeth in guilt.
I brush, repeat, rinse, brush, repeat.
Penelope thinks I'm teetotal. A lie I lead her to believe when we first started dating. How will she react if I told her the truth? Leave, probably. Hate me forever.
Not that I would blame her. I hate the alcoholic within me. It's destructive and hurtful. Out to get anyone in its way. A loser. I'm just wired differently, I guess, no willpower or strength.
Dangerous.
... Authors note:
It's a short chapter today, but I think it gives an insight into their relationship over the past year.
