to finish what he’d started. They were supposed to be having a nice romantic meal tonight. Jack was upstairs in bed (although not asleep because he didn’t really do sleep), the dining table in the living room was set out with a bottle of red wine and candles and Pete had chosen the break between their lentil soup starter and the chicken and chorizo tray bake that was in the oven to tell her he was leaving her.
‘I … I … I don’t understand.’
He stayed facing the sink, not giving her the eye contact she so desperately wanted. ‘It’s too hard.’
‘What is?’
‘Him!’ Pete shouted, as he turned round and gestured his finger to the ceiling, indicating their six-year-old son upstairs.
Nancy felt her stomach turn as she listened to Pete talk about Jack with such frustration. A mix of anger and pain churning round together. She took a deep breath. ‘He’s our son,’ she said, the words barely coming out as a whisper.
Pete threw his hands to his head and covered his eyes, groaning in frustration. Nancy wasn’t sure if it was with her, Jack or himself. Either way, she was heartbroken. ‘I know! I just … I can’t keep doing this. I can’t handle his funny little quirks and his demands and his … you know … his … stupid little things!’
‘Stupid?’ she gasped. ‘Pete, he can’t help it!’
‘There must be a way to make him better.’
‘He’s not ill!’ She was starting to get annoyed now.
‘Well, he’s not right though, is he!’ he challenged, staring her straight in the eyes for the first time since he’d announced his departure from their family.
‘What is wrong with you?’ She creased her face in disbelief. ‘He is your son – how can you be so disrespectful to him?’
‘Nance, listen to me.’ He moved forward and tried to take her hands but she snatched them away. She couldn’t have him touching her. She felt disgusted by the thought of his hands on her right now, and he realised this as she backed away and exhaled, dropping his hands by his side. ‘I just need some space. To get my head around it all.’
Nancy shook her head and walked back into the living room, picking up the bottle of red in the middle of the table and topping up her glass. She gulped a mouthful of the red, fruity liquid. Full Bodied, the label said. It could have said anything, she wasn’t a wine connoisseur. Pete always chose the wine when they bought it as he seemed to know what he was talking about. Before they’d had Jack, they’d gone on a wine tasting retreat in France and learned all about the different types of wine and which grapes created which flavour. Nancy had been more interested in drinking all the tasters, but Pete had taken a real interest in the history of it all and ever since had applied his newfound knowledge to the wines they purchased on a weekly basis, sneakily added into their online basket when they did their shop. Jack didn’t like supermarkets – or anywhere where there were a lot of people close enough to brush past him – so they’d chosen online shopping over the last few years. She let the warm liquid slip down her throat, coating it and making her feel slightly calmer. It was never a good sign to turn to a glass of wine for comfort but right now, she didn’t care. She needed something to give her time to take in what was happening.
She kept having hot flushes as surges of anxiety bolted through her body, and she pulled her long, freshly curled brunette hair up into a messy bun and secured it with a hairband. She’d spent ages earlier getting ready for their little date night. Actually styling her hair rather than leaving it in the messy mum bun that it normally resided in, choosing Pete’s favourite LBD which was maybe a little too dressy for dinner at home but Nancy wanted tonight to be special – a night to remember. Well, she was going to remember it, that was for sure.
Ten minutes later, Pete walked in to join her, holding a second bottle of red. It was only then that she realised she had already finished the bottle on the table. He placed the bottle in front of her, not saying a word, and put the cork screw in, twisting it. Nancy listened to the squeak as he twisted and then pulled the cork free. She watched him smell the cork and gave way to a little smile. It was something he always did. To see if the wine was corked, he would tell her.
‘Here,’ he said, passing her a fresh glass with the new wine in. She took it from him and sipped it straight away. ‘Nancy, I’m sorry,’ he said softly.
She shrugged, not trusting herself to say any words that weren’t fuck you right now. It was as though he could sense her resentment. ‘Please don’t hate me.’
She looked at him. His short dark hair needed a cut and there was stubble on his cheeks. She felt sorry for him. She had been so wrapped up in her own dealings with Jack and his challenges that she’d missed how badly Pete was coping. That’s what tonight was about: time for the two of them, because everything over the last few months had been totally focused on Jack and fighting his corner. Getting the school to understand, filling in forms, speaking to professionals, crying because the professionals didn’t say what they wanted to hear. Listening to Jack cry over seemingly trivial things, apologising on his behalf for pretty much everything, arguing with each other because they had become so frustrated. The only way to get through it was to release everything and unfortunately the ones who had to deal with the worst of those releases were normally those who were closest to you. It was all coming into perspective now. The last few months, probably even years, had been a roller-coaster of one stressful event after another and Nancy had used all her energy to make sure she kept fighting and that Jack was OK. She hadn’t once stopped to think how Pete was coping.
Which was probably why he was leaving her now.
‘It’s not you,’ he said, as if he was reading her mind. ‘It’s me.’
She laughed. ‘That is the lamest break up line you could have used. Could you not be more original?’ The laugh faded on her lips as quickly as it had arrived. She dropped her gaze again, unable to keep the eye contact. She felt betrayed, destroyed. After all these years, how could he be leaving her?
‘It’s true though, Nance. It really isn’t you. I love you—’
‘Love me?’ she said, before she realised what was coming out of her mouth. ‘Don’t insult me by telling me you love me. Love is supporting someone when times are tough, being there for them no matter what and making sure that as long as you have each other, nothing else matters.’ The emotion caught unexpectedly in her throat and she hiccupped. She swallowed it down, taking a deep breath. ‘I stuck by you when you were made redundant all those years ago and spiralled into depression. You were just a shell. You didn’t talk, you didn’t work, you just shut off into yourself and pushed me and Jack out.’ He noticeably flinched as she recalled the memory. ‘But did I leave you then? No! I stuck by you and supported you. That,’ she jabbed her finger towards him, ‘is love. You can’t love me if you’re willing to walk out on us.’
‘I do! Look you don’t have to believe me but it’s true. I just need time. I can’t handle everything right now, it’s just constant. There’s no break.’
‘And you expect me to cope with the constant by myself? You’re actually going to swan off and leave me to deal with the meltdowns and the tears and the kicking and screaming by myself?’ She was hoping that by highlighting all this he would realise what he was doing and come to his senses. That he would say Shit, yeah, you’re right. I can’t leave you, I’m sorry, I’ll stay.
But he didn’t.
‘I’m
