Sam, August 2011
It's a universal truth that when you're waiting for an important phone call, staring at your phone will never make that call come through but I couldn't stop myself, a week ago I'd tried out for England's Olympic football team, I'd given it my all and was told to expect a call within the week if I'd been selected. I understood by now how these work, their people would talk to my people, who would then get in contact with me to deliver the news, so why wasn't my manager calling me?
The longer the wait dragged on, the more I began to doubt myself. What if I just thought I blitzed the try out when in reality I actually bombed it? I was competing against some pretty strong contenders, maybe I was kidding myself to believe I'd be picked over one of them? what if they wanted someone younger? I'm now 30, which puts me closer to retirement and these young lads coming through now could be considered a better fit.
To add to my stress level, Veronica had recently undergone her fifth round of IVF treatment. Each round before had been disappointingly unsuccessful but we were still trying hard to keep our spirits high. I admired my girl's strength to get back up and try again, after each knock down because I knew how much it crushed her to hear that the implant hadn't taken, it broke my heart too because all we wanted was to have a family of our own. Each set back was taking it's toll on Veronica, she may not say it out loud but I could read it on her face, each time we were around children, there was sadness in her eyes, an ache I couldn't heal.
We'd started discussing other option with our councillor, with adoption being top of our list but even that came with a lengthy application process and waitlist that was years long. It felt like our dreams of becoming parents were so far out of reach and with so many hurdles that would prevent it from ever becoming real for us.
We'd have the answer to one of our aspirations in just a few days but my other one was being dragged out, keeping me in a suspended hell where I couldn't focus. I'd pick my phone up, shuffle through my apps, not paying any attention to what was on the screen, put my phone back on the coffee table, pace around the room but not too far, just in case it rang, pick it up again, check to see it was fully charged and with a strong signal, the ringer was on and the volume up high, flip it over, pick up a magazine, flick through the pages, throw the magazine back down out of frustration and then repeat the entire process until I thought I'd go insane.
I needed a distraction, something to take my mind off the impending, life changing decisions that lay before me but my brain wasn't allowing me to just shut off and relax, it wanted to keep me on a tight edge until I had a nervous break down. My brain is a dick, this I was now certain of.
The flat was so quiet that I could hear the ding of the elevator as the doors opened on my floor, the footsteps up the corridor and the code being punched into the pin pad outside our door. I checked the time on my phone, it was only just after 11, Veronica doesn't usually stop for lunch until 1 but when the door swung open, there stood my girl, washed out complexion, holding her stomach.
"Baby, are you alright?" I ask her, leaping from the couch to be by her side and help her in. It was blazing hot outside and she has small beads of sweat forming on her forehead as she looks at me with sunken, red eyes.
"I think I caught Hamish's stomach bug." She tells me, her weak voice barley getting the words out. "I can't hold anything in."
We reach the couch at a snails pace and are just about to sit down when she breaks free of my hold and races off towards the kitchen. The sound of her violently vomiting into the sick has me cursing the universe, when I asked for a distraction, I didn't mean to strike down my girlfriend.
I rush to her aid, holding her hair backs she struggles to gain control over her own body. I hate seeing her sick and my natural instinct is to take care of her.
