Page 15 of Straight to Me

I feel used.

My whole life with Chris was a waste of time. Why didn’t I realise? I frantically try to recall anything, any morsel of a clue that I should have picked up on sooner. He was withdrawn the last year together, but we still enjoyed intimate moments with each other. I guess his work trips and working late just became a normal part of life. Never questioning a thing, I just accepted that was how things were and carried on. I got used to having my own time, that if he had work, the peace would actually be welcomed.

He could have talked to me if he was unhappy though. Little did I know he was happy cheating on me, knocking up some girl from the office.

We tried for a year to have a baby but to no avail. I was heartbroken, but looking back I don’t think he ever genuinely wanted kids, not really, not with me anyway.

Visions of a family filled my mind constantly after we got married. Chris playing football out in the garden with our son, whilst I made tea or baked with our little girl inside and watched on with devotion from the kitchen window.

Before we had a chance to start a family he left. With backing and support from Phillip and June, Chris decided that moving abroad with his parents to start up his own office where they could retire, was more for him than having a family with me.

And that was that. He sold the house he no longer needed, which was too much for me to afford alone on my wage and sent me the divorce papers from Spain.

The bastard.

All this time I thought he left because I couldn’t give him a family. No wonder Chris’s parents were so quick to help him move. This was the perfect outcome for them; their son removed from the woman they despise and off starting a family with the one they adore.

My wave of sadness swiftly turns into a frenzy. I need to vent, need a drink, need some kind of release from this messed up situation.

Literally screaming her name, I yell for Bex to come to my room, “What are you doing now?”

She appears in the doorway. “What? Kyle will be back soon. I’m getting dinner started early, you eating with us?”

“No, I’m not.” I’m being rude, but I don’t care. I grab clothes and get dressed as quickly as I can.

“Madison? Talk to me, please.”

“Fucking Chris is having a baby with that bitch, Sofia! I don’t care, but I do! I need to get out. You coming?”

“It’s four o’clock Madison, I can’t, Kyle—”

“Fine, I’ll go out alone!” I snap, cutting her off.

She can hear it in my tone, I’m not okay.

The look on her face drops. I don’t enjoy being the cause of her looking so sad. I hold my head in my hands, rubbing my temples vigorously. “I’m sorry. I just need to get out for a bit, I won’t be long. Say hi to Kyle. I’ll message when I’m on my way home,” I say softer this time and walk out of the room.

“Madison!?” she calls my name but I’m already running down the stairs making for the door before she can catch me. If she does, she’ll physically overpower me and talk sense into me. I don’t want sense. Nothing makes sense anymore. I want to lose myself, right now.

I book an Uber after walking fifteen minutes to unsuccessfully clear my head. My driver takes me to the east side of town near various offices and work buildings. There’re a few clubs this end, hidden away, and very discreet in the light of day. Their fluorescent lights look dull, no longer urging me to go in like they do on a Friday or Saturday night.

I’m not dressed for clubs tonight anyway. Hell, I’m not dressed for bars tonight either, it’s Sunday for fuck’s sake. No one else will be out binge drinking like I was planning, except the really desperate and broken.

What am I doing?

Not having really checked myself before leaving, I realise I’m wearing my baggy black jeans, trainers and a pink t-shirt. I should really go home. I should talk to Bex and get another perspective on what’s happened. Then the thought of Chris bedding another woman, impregnating and leaving me for her is like a sudden downpour on me.

I start towards the only open bar I can see.

Once inside, I buy the cheapest bottle of wine they sell. I don’t need to enjoy this drink. I need to get pissed and forget my sorry existence.

I grab a table near a window and settle in to polish off glass after glass, until the edges of my vision become blurred. Gradually, the numbness kicks in and my emotions are lulled. A tall man with a familiar looking face smiles at me from his table. I mentally tell him to fuck off and check my pockets for money to get the next bottle to wallow in.

There’s nothing.

I get up to go to the bar anyway. Maybe I’ll get lucky. It could happen that the barman will take pity on me and give me a free bottle? I ask, not doing a great job of articulating why Ineedanother drink, and he tells me to piss off with a laugh.

Brilliant, cheers for not helping.Can’t he see I need another drink? I’m not unconscious yet, there’s still work to be done here. “Here, let me get that,” the man who smiled at me before says from the down the bar, holding out his bank card ready to tap against the machine.

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