Monday, 7th March
Today, I learnt something about marriage I never thought Id have to understand. I got home much earlier than planned, arms heavy with little treats from my parents place. Rachel never saw it comingshe always loved surprises, and I was certain shed be thrilled to see me waiting in the hallway, grinning from ear to ear. Instead, I’ll probably always remember the look on her face, the way she tried to force a smile and brush past melike all she really wanted was to be alone.
My shoulder still aches from lugging those bags all the way from King’s Cross. Mum had packed enough jars of jam and homemade chutney to feed an army, and Dad just had to send over his special Stilton again. Six months pregnant, Rachel is, and I really thought she’d appreciate a proper meal, something I could whip up myself for once. The plan was simple: get a couple of nice beef steaks from Sainsburys around the corner, cook a proper Sunday roasteven if its Monday. And then shed come into a sparkling clean flat, everything just as she likes it, not a sock out of place.
It didnt go that way.
I was up since half five, mopping, dusting, scrubbing the loo until it shined like new. Id just finished vacuuming under the sofa when the phone rang.
Hello, Rach? I answered, balancing a bottle of Flash in one hand.
Im at the bus stop just outside home, she whispered, completely out of the blue. Can you come down and help me? These bags are ridiculous, I can barely hold them.
Panic. Wed agreed shed be back on Thursday. The flat was still in chaoswell, my sort of chaos. No food in, not even breadhow could I let her walk into that mess? Seize the moment, I told myself. Rachel, love, do us a favour, I began, trying my best not to sound flustered. Nip into Sainsburys, would you? Pick up a bit of beef, a small bag of spuds. Ill get everything else going here, promise.
She wasnt impressed. Are you serious, Tom? Im pregnant, stood here with bags up to my eyes, and you want me to stop for groceries? She sounded tiredreally tiredher usual sarcasm gone.
I just want everything to be perfect, I blurted, realising too late how feeble it mustve sounded. Its only two minutes away, and ours have shrivelled up. Please?
Nothing but the hum of the line. Eventually, just: Fine. And the call ended.
Fifteen minutes later, she rang again, voice brittle: Got the beef and potatoes. Im outside the front door.
But I needed ten more minutesonly ten! Just wait by the bench, Rach, dont come up. Its not ready! I pleaded, picturing flowers on the table, maybe even a cheesy scented candle.
She exploded. What? Youre joking, Tom! My feet are swollen, I cant even stand properly! My attempt at a surprise was slipping further and further away, but I still clung on. Just five more minutes, please. Sit down, breathe, Ill be down soon!
Thirty minutes later, she was still sitting there. When I finally rushed downstairssweat soaked through my T-shirt, cleaner lingering on my skinshe looked colder and more exhausted than Id ever seen her. I forced a cheerful grin, picked up her shopping without a word about my surprise, and we trudged up together. I was so sure shed be amazed when she saw the spotless flat.
The moment we walked in, she just gazed around. Is this it? she asked, barely moving any air with her words.
I cleaned everywhere! I protested, my voice desperate. Even behind the fridge. All you ever say to me is you wish the house was clean for once.
She stared at her red hands, then back at me. And thats why you left me outside for half an hour, carrying these bags?
My cheeks burned. Its not like that. I just wantedits for us, Rachel!
She burst. I didnt need clean floors! I needed you to hold my hand and say you were glad I was home. I was freezing out there, Tom! I nearly dropped everything. For what, some stupid fairy-liquid floor?
We went back and forthher voice trembling, mine matching hers. She was hungry; I tried to make dinner, only to be told, Leave it. I just want to be alone. In the end, she disappeared into the bathroom, locking the world out.
By midnight, after yet another shouting match oversomething about a cup left in the wrong placeRachel picked up her coat and left. No suitcase, no goodbyes. Just gone, off to her parents up in Yorkshire.
Everyone told her not to go through with the divorcemy parents, her family, even our mates. I called her countless times, begged her to come back, told her I understood. But the truth was, I never really didnot until tonight, writing this.
What good are spotless carpets when the one person who should feel at home walks out feeling unloved and alone? No meal, however grand, can say I missed you the way a simple hug at the door can. I wish Id just grabbed her bags, kept it simple, and held her, instead of worrying about the state of the skirting boards.
Ive learnt, sometimes the smallest kindness is all anyone really wantsand it goes a lot further than a sparkling flat.
