Conviction(29)
“So, you didn’t answer my question earlier.” I look up at Sophie as she flops down on the sofa, cold bottle of wine in hand. I’m actually surprised she can remember that she even asked me a question but in saying that, I don’t remember her asking me a question.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter, I already know the answer.” I watch her as she tries to pour the wine without unscrewing and removing the cap. We both realise at the same time that the lid’s still on and collapse back on the sofa in fits of laughter.
We eventually make it to bed around three a.m., both of us curled up in my huge, king-sized bed, after two hours of me whooping Sophie’s arse on Sing Star and two hours of us dancing around my living room, to ‘Ultimate Party Hits’ that’s being played on the music channel.
Marcus doesn’t arrive home until midday Sunday. He stayed at a friends after drinking too much, but couldn’t phone and tell me as his battery was dead.
Monday is busy with work and I take a trip to see my doctor on Tuesday. She arranges for me to have some blood tests and an ultrasound. Once she’s sure that there’s no obvious problem as to my failure to conceive, despite not taking any precautions for the past eight months, we will sit down and work out a plan. She doesn’t seem overly concerned and has told me that it takes some couples a month to fall pregnant, some, a couple of years. That’s just the way things went. Marcus has a different doctor to me, but at the same surgery and Trish, my doctor has recommended that he makes an appointment to get himself checked out the same way I have. As I’m leaving her consulting room, I bump into Jay, Marcus’s doctor. I’ve never really spoken to him before and I’m surprised when he says hello.
“Hey Nina, how’s Marcus feeling now?” he asks with a friendly smile. I look at him with a frown. I don’t remember the last time Marcus was sick, let alone came to see his doctor. I watch a flicker of something cross over his face as he sees my reaction to his question.
“Marcus is fine, I wasn’t aware he’d been sick.” He laughs nervously as I stop walking and look at him.
“Well, you know, not sick exactly…” He opens his mouth a couple of times as if to say more, but nothing comes out.
I’ve worked with the public now, for almost half my life. I’m not naturally an outgoing person, which tends to make me a good watcher and listener, which in turn, has meant that I’ve gotten really good at reading people. Hairdressers are almost like therapists for some people. They sit in our chairs, they get served a beverage of their choice, including wine or champagne and while they sip their drinks and get their scalp massaged, they open up. They vent about the things that have pissed them off and they quite often spill secrets or gossip that they’ve been hanging on to. Some of the gossip is the absolute truth, some complete and utter bullshit. I’ve learnt over the years to spot the bullshit and the bullshitters. I’ve learnt to spot when someone is about to cry, when someone needs your opinion and when someone needs you to just nod, smile and let them spill their guts. What I’m witnessing now from Doctor Jayer Patell, right in front of me, is a man panicking, which in turn is making me panic. Why has Marcus been to see him and why do I not know about it? Is he sick, ill, and not telling me?
“Shit!” he half-huffs and half says. “Sorry, I was out of line.” I open my mouth to speak, when he continues, “Give him my regards.” He moves off into his consulting room and shuts the door behind him. I stand alone out in the corridor for a few seconds, gathering my thoughts and debating whether or not to knock on his door and demand an explanation, but I never was the type to seek out confrontation. So I leave it and head back to my car, then to the supermarket to grab something for dinner.
Marcus texts, just as I get home.
Sorry babe, I’m in court tomorrow. Need to work late. Don’t wait up. Love you, M x
I feel him slide into bed and open one eye to look at the clock. It’s eighteen minutes past one. I turn and spoon myself into his back and kiss his shoulder.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Sorry, I woke you, babe. I should’ve gone to the spare room.”
“No, that’s fine. You’re very late.”
“Unexpected fraud case was landed on us. We have to be in court at nine tomorrow morning and I wanted to make sure we were prepared. There was a lot to go over.”
“Did you eat?” I ask as I reach around and run my hands over his belly. I feel his stomach muscles tense as I touch him.
“Yeah, we had takeaway delivered to the office. Go to sleep, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
I desperately want him to turn around, to wrap his arms around me and to kiss my neck. To just have one night where I could fall asleep feeling loved, desired and wanted. Instead, I swallow back my tears and go to sleep pressed into his back as tightly as I can, feeling lonelier than ever.
Conner
It takes me a few seconds to work out what’s just happened. I’m wet, someone just threw water over me and I’m now soaking wet.
Fuckers!
My head aches but not nearly as much as it should, considering the alcohol and drugs I’ve consumed since my feet landed on British soil. I’ve no idea how long it’s been? How long since Jet’s death... since the funeral? I’ve no idea about anything anymore, only that I’m thinking and I hate thinking. Thinking leads to remembering and I hate remembering. Remembering leads to feeling and I don’t want to feel – I really don’t want to feel.