Intertwined

Chapter One

I've always found Tuesday to be rather unassuming as days go, probably due to its position in the week. There's nothing spectacularly awful about it but nothing exciting either. If only I'd known that this Tuesday was going to be completely different.

It seemed normal, average in every way you would expect it to. I woke at Six, as usual. I was walking the dog by half past and was having breakfast by quarter to eight. Everything was perfectly normal. I got ready for the afternoon. He would be here at half past one, the vicar at two. I wore the only blouse I owned and tried to look presentable knowing at least one of use would appear to have made an effort. At half one he knocked and I opened the door to admit him.

There was little talking, passive aggressive silences and barbed monosyllabic answers were all we shared. The tension was uncomfortable and I knew it had to break eventually. Unconsciously I twisted the ring on my right hand around. It was a sign of my anxiety when I fidgeted with my engagement ring. He didn't notice. How could he when he wouldn't look at me?

"Are you going to say anything?" My voice was harder than I expected. I didn't want this to be a harsh exchange but I felt it was the only way I would illicit a response from him. This needed sorting and we couldn't do that if he refused to acknowledge it.

"What do you want me to say? I've already said sorry." He wouldn't meet my eyes and that made it worse. I let out a throaty grumble of simple frustration.

"Do you really expect me to spoon feed you the right answer? I'm not in your head, this is something I can't do for you. For once I need you to actually do this yourself. I can't do it for you."

The silence was awful. There was a dead weight to it as if it knew what would eventually happen. He still wouldn't look up at me, eyes fixed on a scuff on the pale laminate of my living room. "I know I've not handled this well." Well, that was an understatement, but it was also a start. "But it's not easy for me, juggling everything right now."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What with work and being home and mum and you, things have all just gotten away from me. It's a lot to deal with and I'm not doing it well."

I actually couldn't believe what he was saying, not only was I last on that list of his but he was saying I was a burden to him. As if my wanting to see him was such a great burden. A knock at the door stopped our conversation in its tracks. I got up and let the vicar in, my fake smile welcoming him. I sat next to him, opposite the vicar. If he'd read the body language he would have seen that though we smiled we weren't comfortable at all.

I sat curled at the far end of the couch, leaning away and not even sparing my intended a glance. He was turned so he could address our visitor but I knew there was tension in him. His hands were clenched and his words flowing less eloquently than usual, which wasn't exactly great anyway.

It took half an hour for the vicar to finish with us. Our wedding was booked, the date finally set and the next appointment was made. My smile never faltered until I locked the door behind him. I shut the living room door and leaned against it, gazing at my laminate as if it held the answers to everything.

"So, what are we going to do about this?" My voice was quieter than I thought it would be. It was as if I sensed the defeat. As if I knew there was no way this could ever have the happy ending it was expected to.

"I don't know."

"Do you even want to get married?"

The pause was longer than I knew was healthy. "I thought it wouldn't be so fast. That we would have a longer wait than just a year."

I raised my eyes to look at the top of his head. He was the one who proposed. The one who pushed me to set a date. He wanted all of this, just like this, the voice in my head screamed. I should have said it out loud. "So what do you want to do?" I didn't.

"Maybe we should take a break?" From what, I wanted to ask. In two months I'd seen him five times and he wanted a break. I really didn't know how to respond to that so I held my tongue. Waiting to see what he could possibly utter next. "Come back to all this after a few weeks. Don't cancel anything but maybe not leave everything so set in stone. We can always move the date back if we want to."

Silence reigned once more. None of this was making any sense to me. "That sounds like you don't want to get married if you ask me." My voice was flat and my tone unforgiving. In those words was a warning to be careful what he said next.

"I don't know what I want. My head's all over the place right now." Of course that meant mine wasn't. "Maybe I don't want a wife but a companion."

"Bullshit! That's Bullshit and we both know it." I erupted feeling the first bout of hurt anger. "You know what I think you want to say? I think you want to find a way to tell me you don't want to marry me but you'd like to keep me around for the sex!" Finally he looked up at me. "Go on," I pushed, voice calming to a lower decibel level. "Tell me I'm wrong."

When then silence began to stretch further and further I began to realise just what had happened. Harsh and slightly maniacal laughter burst free. "OhMyGod. I can't believe this. How does anyone think that this is okay?"

"Look, -" I held up a hand. They weren't ever going to be words I wanted to hear because nothing could make this any better. There was no way back from this and I could see it.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen. You're going to leave my house and I'm going to cancel everything. You're clearly not ready to be an adult and I'm not willing to be treated like this. There's not a single world where this is acceptable. I can't believe you."

He stood up, taking three quick steps towards me. "You don't have to. I don't..."

"Get out of my house." I cut him off, pointing to the door with a shaking hand. His eyes seemed to try pleading with me but, by this point I was immune. "This is just like last time only worse. Because this time you made me think you had actually changed. But you're really just the same immature man who I left before. I didn't stand for it then, I won't stand for it now and I want you to get out or I swear to God I will throw you out of that door myself."

It took him a minute but he finally realised that I wasn't making idle threats and no amount of sweet talk and apologies would bring me around. He shuffled to the front door, unlocked and opened it. For a moment he looked at me and I remembered every reason why I loved him. But this time it wasn't enough to make me stop him. He walked out, the door swinging closed behind him. I shoved the handle up and locked it before I moved to the window, watching him climb into the car that I had always hated and drive away.

He was gone, completely and utterly gone. I slid down the living room door and began to cry. Endings always felt like goodbyes to me and this goodbye was the worst. Because it was a true ending.

And that hurt.