Plates of lukewarm dinner still stood untouched on the kitchen table. Eleanor stared through them as if they were thin air, truly seeing only the clocks looming red digits, crawling on and on with a sly indifference22:47.
Simon had promised to be home by nine. He always did.
The phone lay silent, heavy in her pocket.
Eleanor no longer felt anger.
Everything living inside her had been burned out long ago, hollowed and charred, leaving just a cold exhaustion behind.
Around half past eleven, the old lock gave a wheezing groan as Simon turned his key.
She didnt so much as glance his way. Curled on the sofa in a tartan blanket, she fixed her eyes at nothing, endlessly.
Evening, love. Sorrywork was a nightmare, said Simon, trying for a cheer that clanged as false as a cracked bell. He always adopted that tone when the truth fell short.
He crossed the room, bent to kiss her on the cheek. Eleanor recoiled as though on instinct. The movement was slight, but Simon felt it keenly.
Something wrong? he asked, unwinding his scarf as the rain tapped at the windows.
Do you remember what day it is? Her voice was a brittle whisper, hollow and tired.
He paused, blank for a long beat.
Wednesday. Why?
Todays my mothers birthday. We were supposed to take her a cake. You promised.
His face shifted instantly, the smile sliding away to reveal panic and shame.
Oh, EllieGod, I forgot. Im so sorry, work just its relentless. Ill ring her tomorrow, I swear.
He vanished to the kitchen. Eleanor heard him rattling cutlery and fridge doors, his safe haven always the clatter of mugs and platesa kind of porcelain shield against questions he did not wish to answer.
But tonight, she would not let him hide.
She stood, drifting like a figure in a half-remembered play, and appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Simon, who were you with at work tonight until nearly eleven?
He spun, a carton of milk jolting in his hand.
With the team. Were starting a new project, the deadlines are suffocatingyou know how it is.
I do. She nodded once. And I also know that at three oclock today, you called and said, Jane, I get it, but I have to put this right.
Jane. Jane, his ex-wife. The shadow whod haunted their lives for three years, trailing the cold scent of unspoken reproaches down the hall.
Simon turned as pale as chalk.
You you were listening?
I didnt need to, Eleanor replied, voice flat. You were in the loo, speaking so loudly the whole street could hear.
He set down the milk. Slumped into a chair, his hands useless against the table.
Its not what you think.
And what am I meant to think? Eleanors voice now trembled with something jagged and sharp. Youve been jittery for months. Out late at work. Looking right through me as if Im no one. Are you trying to get back with her? Go on, say it. Ill manage.
Simon dropped his head, staring at his handshands deft enough to fix anything mechanical, but which could never build happiness.
Im not going back to her, he said, so quietly she almost missed it.
Then what? Sleeping with her again?
No! His eyes blazed with such sudden, desperate honesty that Eleanor almost doubted herself. No, Ellie, pleasenothing like that.
Then what is it? What are you putting right? She was nearly shouting now. Are you paying her debts? Solving her problems? Living her life for her and forgetting to live with me?
Simon fell silent.
All the words Eleanor had held inside came pouring out, unstoppable.
Go, Simon. Go to her if thats who you want. Or whoever else will do. Make your repairs. Just leave me out of it. I cant keep living like this. I wont.
She tried to leave, but Simon shot up, barring the door.
Theres nowhere for me to go! Jane isnt in my lifeno old love, no new. I I dont know whats happeningI just want to fix everything!
He turned away, swallowing whatever ache was caught in his throat.
Dont speak in riddles, Eleanor whispered.
You want to know what Im fixing? Simon burst out. Its me. Im the mess. And its not working. Youre not heryoure kinder, steadier, you believed in me when Id given up myself. It was meant to work, us. I was supposed to be someone new, better. But I keep failing: missing birthdays, trapping myself at work when I know youre waiting, closing my mouth when I should speak. I look in your eyes and see the light dying, the same way I saw it go in hers.
Eleanor stood frozen, snowed in by all the words.
I dont want someone else, Simon murmured, but if I tried again, Id only ruin it. Make her cry. Lead her to despair or hatred. I dont know how to be a husband, or how to live with someone day by day without dramatic scenes. I break everything I touch. So I go through life as if on a tightrope, always one slip from disaster. And youyoure turning hollow beside me
He looked at her now, his gaze raw and unfiltered, finally honest.
Its not your fault. Or Janes. Its only me.
As Simons chaotic confession tumbled through the kitchen, Eleanor understood perfectly: he hadnt betrayed her with another woman. Hed betrayed her with his own fear, lost and unable to find the way home.
And now what, Simon? she asked, without a hint of blame. You understand all this, and what does it change?
I dont know, he admitted, his voice bare.
Then sort yourself out, Eleanor snapped, finally spent. Go to therapy, read every book on the shelf, bash your head on the wall if you mustjust stop spinning in circles looking for some magic button to erase whats broken. There isnt one. Theres only hard work. Go and do it. Alone.
Without me.
She drifted from the kitchen, passed him in the hall, picked up her coat, and stepped out into the rain.
***
The front door closed. Simon was left alone in the hush, the steady English rain playing against the windowpanes. He walked to the glass and watched Eleanors figure melt into the watery darkness, and was struck by a crushing weight.
His failure no longer hovered unseenit loomed here, solid, filling the silent flat, lingering in the chill across forgotten meals, in these hands that had built so much yet kept nothing.
He didnt run after her. Instead, he reached for a half-bottle of brandy.
