I’m basically your stuffy, buttoned down sort of guy, you’re a free-spirited, adventurous mouse-painting, moon-howling sort of girl.
We were getting undressed back home. She was in front of me as I leaned in and kissed her on the back. She threw her arms round me.
“Are you OK?”
“Just tired. As usual.”
“We need to try and get this sorted, you know.”
“I know, but the hospital said I’m fine and I’m taking those bloody dog tablets.”
“I don’t know what else to do. I guess we just have to give it some time.”
As we got into bed, she seemed sad. She lay on her side, facing me.
“Do you love me?”
I rested on my arm and stroked her hair. “Of course I do. More than anything. Why?”
“Just checking. Night.”
She was grumpy all weekend and by Sunday evening, she was getting ready for bed early.
“I’ve forgotten to pay my rent. Can you take it down for me?”
I went down and handed the money over and was back up in less than ten minutes, but it was enough time for her eyes to be closing. I got a drink and into bed.
She was asleep and didn’t even stir.
She barely said two words at breakfast and got out the car to go into work. I did get a grunt goodbye, then a text mid-morning to say she couldn’t meet for lunch either.
There was no explanation.
I rang her to see if she wanted a lift home.
“OK. Must go. I’m really busy.” The line went dead.
The traffic was bad and by the time I got there it was ten minutes later than normal.
“You’re late. It would’ve been quicker for me to walk.”
“No it wouldn’t. What is the matter with you?”
“I’m tired. I didn’t sleep.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Going home, shower and bed.”
“Do you want me to make you some dinner?”
There was no point trying to reason with her when she was like this. The problem was that every time she was, I would worry it was me she was mad with. I internalised enough. I text to check she was OK, no reply.
I had an early meeting the next day and wasn’t around for lunch either. It was pouring with rain and about three o’clock, I got a message from her, asking if I could pick her up.
This time I was on time. I remember hoping she was sweeter tempered.
She got in the car and kissed me. “Why don’t we go on holiday?”
“What? Hello. How are you? Yesterday you weren’t even speaking to me”
“That was yesterday. Someone at work has a villa they are renting out and there is no one in it next month.”
“So we’ve been offered it for nothing. We just have to find our flights.”
“What about getting the time off?”
“I already have. Only a week. It will be great.”
“Oh, right. Well, I’ll see what I can do then.” Typical of her. But actually, it was what I needed. I was way too considered. Even my spontaneity was planned. I just never wanted to get things wrong. The irony was that my delaying things did exactly that.
“I will speak to work.”
It was a really good idea. She had only ever been abroad once. To a Greek island she could never remember the name of, with an ex-boyfriend she wished she couldn’t remember. She had been bored all holiday and they had finished shortly after.
I want to hear about your best… and worst holiday stories. Please feel free to email me on firstname.lastname@example.org