If you’ve come across this post prior to the previous one, you should read the one before first. Wait that makes no sense. Just click here.
So, Fife and I are in the car and he says, ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about all weekend. Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this all week, but I didn’t want to text…’
And then he yammered on about how it was something he wanted to talk to me about in person, and it’s the reason why he wanted to come over on Thursday. But with him getting there so late, and then we were ‘distracted’ (his euphemism for the black box), and then he was going to talk to me about it in the car on Friday, but he kind of forgot. Then we got into the fight at the festival, and so on and so on.
I had to stop him and say, ‘I don’t care why you didn’t tell me before. Just tell me now.’ I was starting to shit bricks. He’s already told me that he’s married and living with his wife, what’s left? He’s got another family in Peterborough? He’s a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman pretending to be a budgie? What did he have left to tell me?
He and Helen had a talk, and they’re getting a divorce.
I was in shock and it took me a minute to react. While I don’t want to be with a married man, I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly. Then again, why not? If they’re separated, there’s no reason for them to still be married. But that has nothing to do with me, so if they’re getting divorced, I’m sure it’s just something that was going to happen anyway.
Finally I said something. ‘Wow.’
‘Is that all you’re going to say?’ he asked.
I said that I was happy, but kind of surprised. He then dropped the double bomb, ‘I shouldn’t be married when I’m in love with someone else.’
‘Love?’ ‘In love?’ He’s ‘in love’ with me? He said it. We’ve only been together a few weeks, and he’s in love and divorcing his wife. Granted, he should be divorcing his wife anyway, but… Wow!
‘Will you two still be living together?’ I asked.
He was a bit peeved that that was my next reaction, but I think it was a fair question. He said they were still working all that out, but I should be pleased that ‘divorce is on the table’, as he put it.
I told him that I was very happy with the decision, ecstatic really. I was just surprised that’s all, and I leaned over and kissed him. He then suggested that I meet his boys. Perhaps one night when Helen is away, I come around for tea. I said that was a good idea.
We were back at the flat quite early, so we popped out for some groceries so Fife could cook us spagbol. He did his usual herby thing to it and added chopped tomatoes and onion and such, and I opened the bottle of wine. As we sat on the floor eating an early dinner (or was it a late lunch?) Fife suggested that I get some furniture. I explained that getting furniture was too pricey, especially for someone like me with no way to move it from a charity shop to my flat. Fife said he might be able to sort it, but I told him not to worry too much.
After lunchy-dinner we laid across each other watching television (actually Fife was bemoaning that he missed the Rangers match the day before, and was flipping through my minimal Freeview channels again and again looking for replays) when I heard someone come into the house. Being that I had loads of people living in my house for so long, I didn’t even think anything of it at first. Then it dawned on me that I no longer have flatmates and that NO ONE should be in my house.
The person had gone into the kitchen, and I could hear them rummaging through the cupboard. Fife was too busy flipping channels to notice, so I leaned over and whispered in his ear that someone has broken into the house.
He sat up but said quietly, ‘I thought the door locked behind us.’
I confirmed that it was locked, and he got up to see who was in the kitchen. Quietly he opened the door to the lounge…
It was a skinny arts student standing there in her pants. ‘You have any red? I’m all out.’ Then she spied our glasses of wine, and helped herself.
My mouth was open. I asked her how she got in, and she said, ‘My spare keys.’
Did I give her keys after I locked myself out? Or had Pete given her keys? I don’t remember giving her keys, and has she been helping herself to my pantry this whole time? Her answer to an abbreviated form of these questions was, ‘I can’t remember who gave me keys, and yes I come around quite often when you’re not here.’
I asked her to please not do that any longer as I could be ‘occupied’.
‘Don’t worry, I can hear through the walls when you’re finished. I wouldn’t walk in on you.’ Then she looked Fife up and down and said, ‘You’ve moved on quickly.’
Oh god, not what I needed.
Fife suggested he pop down to the shops to get another couple of bottles, and while he was away there was a knock on the door. It was CoolTrous looking for PoshPhD. Fife returned and CoolTrous said, ‘You’ve moved on quickly.’
Do not need this.
I was a bit worried about Fife hanging out with those two. PoshPhD and CoolTrous have been so close to Pete and Sarah, that I was afraid of what would come out. Would they take sides? Have they already taken sides? Would they tell Fife that I didn’t break up with Pete, but that I caught him with my best friend? And if they told him, would it make a difference? Plus, they can be a bit over the top.
But Fife got on great with them and nothing about Pete was said. Fife talked with them about arty philosophy stuff, and they totally dug Fife’s persistent references to Greek myth. At one point, PoshPhD reached out and ran her hand along Fife’s arm, just the same way she used to flirt with Pete. I caught CoolTrous eye, he was none too pleased either. He does have a thing for PoshPhD, you can see it when she flirts with other men. He wouldn’t have that look of dejection on his face if he didn’t like her. And as for that scrawny woman hitting on my man, I’m certainly not going through that again, and I’d had a bit of wine at this point, so I just said, ‘Not this time. Hands off.’
She looked at me like I’d just farted or something, then took her hand off of him. I was quite proud of myself for that little moment. We finished off four bottles between all of us, and (this is the best bit) when PoshPhD went to light up a fag, Fife told her not to. He simply explained that as he and I were not smokers, we did not want to be subjected to second hand smoke. Plus, he didn’t want to go home to his kids reeking of cigarettes. Love that man. You know, I actually do love that man.
After PoshPhD and CoolTrous went home (Fife openly shooed them away around 11pm saying that it was late and we had to be up early, yes I do love that man), Fife and I were laying on the bedtress. Fife had lit the candles I bought for last Thursday and I said it. I can’t believe I said it, but I said it. And I mean it. I said to Fife, ‘I love you too.’