What Once I Was

Chapter 13

I'd peeked through the curtains every morning and evening since colliding with Twin B. Each time, my breath would stall until I deemed the coast clear. Robert said nothing. He thought I was insane. He'd become overbearing, always leering over my shoulder, analysing my every move. I couldn't take much more of it.

A pout had become permanently attached to my face. My appetite deserted me, motivation to clean, to do anything not too far behind. It was clear in the dishes that cascaded from the sink, the dirty laundry that spilled from the basket. Everything was a mess. My life. My home. My marriage. I wanted nothing more than to glue the pieces together, to salvage as much as I could from the wreckage. It was futile.

Robert and I argued more and more, silence filling the distance between us when the arguing had exhausted us both. Even Rover seemed quieter.

It was that Friday night when the last hanging fragments of my life severed completely. Robert and I had sat for dinner. I'd picked at the meat, using my fork to move food about, my stomach an uninviting host. There was no sound but the ticking of the clock and Rover lapping his water.

"I've quit my job."

It took a moment to absorb Robert's nonchalant statement.

"Why would you do that?"

My cutlery clanged against the plate. Any possibility that I might eat some morsel squashed in an instant. He shrugged, shovelling mashed potato into his mouth.

"Well, you didn't discuss this with me. This is something you tell your wife before doing!"

I watched his jaw flex as he chewed. Who chews mashed potato? His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, another forkful already at his lips.

"Well?"

His eyes narrowed as he lowered his fork, still piled with food.

"Well what? Why would I need to discuss it with you? Do you go out and do my work?"

My fingers clenched, eyes closed as I take a steadying breath. Here we go again.

"No Robert. I don't. That doesn't mean you don't discuss these things with me. How are we going to pay all of our bills now?"

His lack of care and respect threatened to boil the already steaming pot of anger I'd been brewing. The absolute swine! He had no consideration for anyone but himself, and I was sick of it. My part-time job barely covered our council tax bill and monthly food shop allowance. It was impossible for me to pay our mortgage, never mind every other bill on the minimum wage I received.

I hated to admit it, but Robert was the sole reason we had stayed afloat financially through the years.

"You'll have to get another job, won't you?"

"Another job? Please tell me this is a joke! What on earth has brought this on?"

He stood, empty plate in hand, without looking at me. In the two steps it took for him to fumble around on the counter for a clear spot to lay his plate, I had already thrown my chair back and stood myself. I would not let him ignore me again. Not when our livelihood depended heavily on his work.

"Robert William Collins, I'm talking to you!"

I knew my mistake as soon as the words spilled past my lips.

He flew around, eyes bloodshot and wide. I took an instinctive step back; the fridge blocking any escape route. The plate smashed into my face before I had time to react. Gravy oozed onto my blouse, stinging at the cut I knew was above my eyebrow.

"What have I told you about the way you speak to me? Show me some god damned respect or keep that mouth shut!"

I whimpered and winced, trying to clean the brown gunk from my face. The plate, somehow not broken, lay at my feet. I wanted to clean it. For the first time in days, the thought of mess and dirt sent shivers down my spine, but the thought of being on my knees in front of Robert was unbearable.