Page 51 of Sleep

“Finny, stop talking like a twat.”

“You and I have been part of each other’s lives for over twenty years. We might’ve divorced, but we never truly separated. We just keep tangling each other up in this ridiculous web of work shite and friendships, and I can’t just stand by and let it consume you. You deserve better than this. You deserve more than to live the rest of your life in Mark’s shadow, catering to his every whim and simply existing to make him happy.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You do. Every minute of the day. It’s wonderful for him, but that’s my job now. And your job—”

“Fuck you.”

“No, Mabs. You need to listen.” He grabbed my hands. I hated touching him. Hated that he touched me. Hated him. Shivers danced down my back, my body recoiling, yet I grasped his fingers, held on tight.

“You were my first love, Mabs. Doesn’t matter that you hate me, I will always, fucking always have your back. Whatever happens, don’t lose my number, because I will pick up and sort out whatever trouble you’re in.”

He was doing the thing I did love about him, when he lost his cool and went all fiery, protective, passionate. Controlling. But I wasn’t that little twink anymore, and he wasn’t the idiot he’d once been. My idiot.

“You’ll turn up with a shovel and help me bury the body.”

“I will.”

“We always said that.”

“My promise still stands. We’re not married anymore. But we need to… both jump off this dysfunctional, shitty roller coaster we’re on. It’s toxic.”

“Your metaphors are on fire today, Finny.”

“Trying to talk like a city boy.”

“You’ve actually become a bit of a city boy.”

“And you’re still a lost twink from bloody Newbury. I haven’t been back here in, what, eighteen years.”

“Dad must’ve been thrilled to see you.”

“At least he recognised me. Threatened to call the police, then offered me a cup of tea.”

“Sounds like Dad.”

“He’s a nice man. How’s your mum?”

“Same. Good days. Bad days. Doesn’t recognise either of us anymore. Sometimes she smiles. Muscle movement. Other days, she won’t even open her eyes.”

“It must be hard.”

“It’s life.”

“It is.”

We sat in silence for a while, letting the emotions settle. We were surprisingly good, being just the two of us in a room with nobody else here to buffer. No interference. No work talk to shift the conversation to safer ground.

We had freaking mountains of scores to settle; there was no safe ground here.

“Mabel, I didn’t want you at the wedding, and I know you understand why. It became so stupid in the end that Mark went along with it because it was the right fucking thing to do, and I’m not here to apologise or try to smooth that over.”

“Got it,” I said. “You’re here to push me off a cliff.”

“Exactly.”

My mind was swirling, but in a way, I’d known this was coming. “We divorced. I didn’t see you for years. Then I did, and here we are. Still fighting.”

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