Two Kinds Of Truth(4)
“And so, did you.”
“None of this was ever about me. I feel like a constant failure.”
“You’re not a failure. The consultant said that catching mumps can always put a man at risk of infertility,” and I rush towards him, trying to grab his arm, to pull him close, but he snatches it away. He holds his hand to his chest, as if my touch would fill him with a sickening disease.
“Just don’t,” he cries. “Just don’t fucking touch me,” and I take a step back.
“That’s enough, Cal,” I whisper and push past him to switch off the oven. I’ve now lost my appetite for lamb stew.
From behind me a clock chimes the hour, the silence which follows then deafening to my ears. Callum’s shoulders tense and his eyes appear to mock mine. For a split-second, I fear he might reach out and grab me, but the moment doesn’t come. I leave him standing there and dash upstairs, fresh tears behind my eyes which I then force back. This is not how it should be between us.
In the bathroom, I run myself a bath as a distraction, but then the front door slams and a car engine soon roars into life. My heart sinks, for I’m well aware that Callum will most likely go into town and drink himself into a stupor.
Chapter 2
“Who’s making such a racket?” Callum grumbles as he snuggles further under the bedcovers. A car backfires outside and I open one eye and glance at the clock, letting out a low moan. When I stir, Callum’s leg brushes against mine. I never heard him come to bed last night.
Throwing back the duvet, I make my way towards the window, my feet silent as they press into the carpet. When I throw back the curtains, the glare of a streetlamp almost blinds me, and I shield my eyes with the back of my hand. I blink to see the next-door neighbour’s white Beetle trundling off down the road. A trail of black smoke coils from its exhaust, like a pollutive snake escaping into the atmosphere.
“It’s bloody Micky again,” I say, and snap the curtains closed. “That’s the third time this week we’ve suffered being woken up by that beaten-up piece of junk he calls a car.” My gaze wanders over to where Callum lies, dozing. I’m soon back in bed, tugging the covers over me, expecting a response, only to frown when he simply pulls the duvet over his head instead.
“I think it’s about time you said something to our noisy neighbour,” I huff. “All this disturbed sleep isn’t helping anyone. He knows I’m up early and that you work late.”
Callum groans, rolls over onto his back and lets out a deep sigh. “Look, Maddie. You know full well that having words won’t make a blind bit of difference. He’s only just managing to keep the roof over his head, so it’s not as though he’ll be out buying a new car anytime soon.” He punches his pillow and bounces back onto his own side.
I let out a deep breath, annoyingly aware that he’s right. Still, I hate the thought that my neighbour will likely never be able to afford a new car. Thinking about it, that’s true for pretty much the whole neighbourhood. The entire town is full of people just like Mick, like us, struggling to make ends meet. I feel a moment of longing, wishing to get away from this place, to escape and live somewhere a little less—deprived.
My mind drifts back to Scotland, to rolling hills covered in a thick carpet of purple heather. I lick my lips as my thoughts turn to the ice-cold waters of the loch, and the river filled with trout that runs through his grandfather’s property.
For us, the Highlands was the perfect honeymoon location. I love the great outdoors and I was happy to muck in around the farm. We walked along nature trails that led out into the glens, watched golden sunsets, and fished until dark. Later, by the fireside, we ate what we’d caught, cooked over the flames. I’d seen a different, more attentive side to Callum back then. He’d wished only to make me happy, not like now.
I press my lips together and squeeze my eyes tight as the reason why things turned sour creeps into my mind. I don’t want to think about that now, or what happened between us last night. I want to start today anew.
I focus my attention on a time when we had both been so happy, in love and carefree. I treasure the memories of those few special days in Scotland and hold them deep within my heart, where nothing and no one else, not even Callum, can touch them.
The sound of deep breathing fills the air, and I open my eyes and stare at the top of my husband’s head. I want to reach out with my fingers and stroke one of the auburn waves that taper into a soft curl at the nape of his neck, but instead, I wipe a tear from my eye. He’s handsome, but that alone won’t hold our marriage together. I love him so much and try to show him every day, but the gap between us is inexorably widening and I don’t know how to stop it.
I do believe, in my heart of hearts, that Callum loves me still, but something isn’t right; something’s eating away at him, day by day. I can never put my finger on the exact moment things changed between us, but I’m certain about the root cause.
Snuggling close, trying not to wake him, I pull the duvet up to my chin and comfort myself with its manly smell of his skin. But knowing I’ll never be able to have children with Callum haunts my every waking moment.
There’s a continual buzz close by my ear, and I reach out, searching the top of the bedside table for my mobile. My fingers curl around the sliver of cool vibrating metal, and half asleep, I drag the iPhone to my ear.