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"I arrived early at the Red Lion. Ordered myself a glass of red wine. I don't normally drink wine in pubs, but I wanted to remain very sober for this flat viewing and Charlie and Rose, and I could make a glass of wine last a lot longer than a pint of beer.Phil arrived not long after I'd sat down. I stood up and got him a pint. We both sat down and looked at each other in silence.Eventually I spoke, "What did she tell you?" Not much. You two have been having problems. It all blew up yesterday morning and you suddenly called her a lot of nasty names and threw her out without even talking to her properly." That's all?" Yeah, basically. We got back from the supermarket at about nine, and there she was, sitting in her car, all upset and in tears, saying you'd thrown her out. We got her inside, and then it was an evening of whispered conversations in the kitchen between Denny and myself as to what we were going to do with this wreck in the living room. I've never seen her like it, I don't. I slip from the bed, careful not to wake him and the tiles feel cool against my bare feet. I throw on his old t shirt. It smells of him; manly and musky. There are holes where it has worn, but I love it. I pad into the kitchen and put the coffee on. He likes his strong and black. As I wait for the drip, drip, drip of the machine, my head begins to race. I feel so full of stories, they leech out of my skin and run onto the page themselves. I pick up the notes from the kitchen table and remind myself where we are, today we will write but not for an hour or so yet. He is still sleeping when I enter the shadows of the bedroom, his long frame thrown across the bed, his face creased into the pillow. I smile. I cannot help it. He’s finally mine and it is so new I feel like I have to pinch myself. I set the coffee silently on his nightstand then grab a bobble to tie back my hair. I slip off the t shirt, and slide back into bed. His breathing shifts but he’s still asleep, just. I shimmy down.
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