I arrived home, my car heavy with all my belongings – all I owned or needed in the trunk of my car. He saw me arrive through the window – he watched as I got out the car and began unpacking – maybe he wanted confirmation that I had indeed come home. He held the door open for me as I walked in dragging bags and blankets, shoes and bags of sea shells. He smiled and said ‘Welcome back home baby!”
I called him from the car park – I hadn’t planned on arriving so late and the lights were out – with a horrible pang of regret, It dawned on me that he might be asleep – I wouldn’t be able to get in – eleven at night and no where to sleep. So I called him. He sounded grumpy when he asked me what I meant by: I am home? I asked him to help me with my bags, a while later he sauntered down the stairs, took some bags off my shoulders – made a couple of remarks along the lines of: What the hell do you have in here?”
Eventually the torture was over – my bags lay strewn all over the flat. I poured myself a glass of wine – suddenly feeing very awkward and cold. He smiled and being a man of very few words sighed “Oh Well…” Then he went to bed. I fell asleep / passed out on the couch and woke up at about three in the morning. It was freezing, it was hell. I went to bed and lying beside him I burst into tears. He didn’t wake up.