The Suburbs

Chapter twenty-five Jacob's POV

I'm half revelling in the release with Mia and half raging inside over that fucking Sara.
Who does she think she is. How dare she think that she has any clue about me or my relationship with Mia.
I know it's not exactly conventional. But who is she to judge. I can't have Mia being fed doubts about us. I can't lose her. She's been the first thing in my life that has given me any sort of rush. When I'm with her my adrenaline is sky high, but in every good way imaginable.
I can't have Sara putting her two pence in. I already know how fucked up this situation is. I know that in any given moment Mia could realise how crazy this is. The thought of being with a married man and the guilt over Elle could take over anytime and she might not want me anymore. Before I have the chance to fix everything, she might turn her back on it. The very thought makes me feel a rush of feelings I haven't felt before. I don't know whether I want to throw up, punch a wall or down half a bottle of whiskey to numb some of those feelings. I'm not used to them.

Ever since I met Mia she's become my escape. My escape from who I am and the shitty life I have created for myself.
I catch myself wondering throughout the day about her. I wonder what she's doing, if she's happy, if she's thinking of me.
I count down the minutes until I can find some bullshit excuse to get out of the house and go and see her, even if it's just for a few minutes.

She's the closest thing to love I have ever experienced. My escape. My Mia.

Fuck. I cringe at myself with these thoughts that race around my head. I read a book once called 'How to get the life you deserve' and it described love as a weakness. I never understood that until now. This is probably the most vulnerable I have ever been in my life and I fucking hate it. But I also need it. Want it. Ache for it. For her.

As I approach the house my heart almost sinks at the thought of walking back into my home with Elle there. I hate myself for those thoughts. It's not her fault, really. She was just as much pushed into this marriage as I was.
My dad always said to me that I should marry a woman who would look good stood next to me at my work functions but disciplined and educated enough to understand how she should act and not show me up.
And that's around the time I was introduced to Elle.
My mum said that love comes in time. That it is something you work on in a marriage.
I hadn't experienced love at that point in my life and so I just assumed what my mum said would be right. Although to be honest I don't even recall wanting it. I can't say I cared for it. I wanted to be successful and that was it.

"What's taken you so long? Did you get my suitcase from the garage?" Elle says with her arms folded and a displeased look across her face as she stares down at me from the staircase.

Fuck.

"I-I, I couldn't see it. The lights in the garage aren't working. I've come back to grab a torch and then I'll be able to get it." I manage to reply with the first excuse that pops to my mind.

Elle sighs and her eyes look me up and down as if I've suddenly become such a nescience to her and her plans.

"Okay, fine. When you get back we need to discuss money."

"Money?"

"Yes. Money. I need some for Cape Verde. I'm completely maxed out and.."

"Hang on, completely maxed out?" I interrupt her. Feeling my temper rise. This isn't the first time she's overspent. Usually on rubbish.

"Yes." She simply responds in such an arrogant manner that I can feel myself wanting to kick off but I restrain myself. It gets us nowhere. This is who she is, she knows no better.

"Elle, I give you enough money, a very attractive amount of money each month to make sure you are more than covered for all the lunch dates and shopping sprees you need. How can you need more?"

"Oh for gods sake Jacob!" She huffs impatiently as if my question is totally unreasonable.
"I hired a private yacht for Cape Verde. Elouise wanted to just hire a day boat, but can you imagine trying to get a decent photo for my social media on one of those things!?"

She throws her head back and laughs as if the very thought is absolutely incomprehensible. I know she expects me to laugh too and perhaps at one point in my life I would have. But my god I know better now.

"A yacht doesn't cost what I put in the account. What else?"

"Birthdays, Jacob! You wouldn't know because you leave it down to me to buy for all our friends and family. Kirsty just had her fortieth and she's going through a Prada phase." She replies with her face screwed up as if Prada is totally beneath her.

"You don't even like Kirsty?" I say, trying my best to understand her."

"Oh come on, Jacob!" She groans agitatedly.
"I'm not going to turn up at her party with anything less than the best. You should know me by now."

I do know her. That's the fucking problem. She's become everything I hate in my own life, a reflection of everything I have fought to become but absolutely not who I want to be. It's not her fault, really. She's been moulded this way, she knows no better and perhaps there is the perfect match out there for her that is just as driven by status and social media like she is. But it's not me. I wonder if she knows that it's not me either. Are we both just hanging onto this because it's expected of us.

"I'll go get the suitcase." I respond flatly before grabbing the torch from a drawer and heading back out.

I don't even need the torch and I know exactly where the suitcase is. But instead of simply getting it and heading back to Elle, I find myself just desperately needing a moment alone. A breather. I pull out an old coffee table and sit on it, in the middle of the dark garage. I sit and think about my life. How I got into this. How I desperately want to get out of it.
I think about how I feel when I'm with Mia. How different I become. Money doesn't mean a lot for Mia. She doesn't get excited over the new Cartier watch or the new Louis Vuitton collection. Her face lights up when some bloody stray cat takes a shine to her and strolls through her patio doors to see her. Her eyes sparkle when some big sporting event comes up and she gets to write about it. She's better than all the materialistic things that most women yearn to have. I see things differently with her and when she is with me I know her feelings mirror mine. Her heart races when she touches my body. I've felt it. She's sees me, over the bullshit and the money and the overly decorated house I live in and yet she just sees me.