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“You really are serious,” I said, before dropping my head on the table. I felt like banging it, but refrained.
“I might call her,” Petra said.
“Perhaps that would be for the best.” My voice sounded different when I was speaking into the table. Worse in closer proximity. I raised my head again.
“Really?” Her voice indicated surprise. That she had expected me to put up more of a fight. But I didn’t have it in me.
“Really. I’m not going to hold you hostage in this marriage. If you’re not happy, you’re not happy.” My definitive tone belied the way my heart was shredding. “Divorce sounds very final, but…”
“Well, maybe we should go for that trial separation, then. Re-evaluate in a couple of weeks. I’m sure someone in the village would take me in, if Mabel can’t. What do you think to that?”
I dropped my head once again, but this time just rested it on the table, making an acknowledging affirmative noise in my throat. Petra stood up to leave, but she didn’t turn away. I felt her staring at me.
“You know… I’ve never felt like I truly know you. That there’s something, deep inside you, that you’ve been hiding. And over the years it’s driven me crazy, trying to figure out what was going on.”
She was right. Oh God. My… gender crisis thingy. I hadn’t even thought about that, with the shock of this declaration. I’d been counting on Petra’s support, her steady presence, to get me through it. Now I wouldn’t have that. Now it was genuinely just me, myself and I. None of whom knew who we were.
None of that showed on my face, though. Or it might have done, but her view was obscured. I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything any more.
When I didn’t respond, Petra sighed. “I’ll call Mabel.”
She walked away, and I stayed frozen in place. It only felt like a few minutes later – perhaps it was – when she reappeared.
“Mabel said yes.”
I finally looked up. She had a holdall in her hand. I whimpered again. “You had a getaway bag?”
She looked down at it uncomfortably. “It’s only an overnight bag. I’ll have to come back tomorrow for the rest of my things.”
“Okay.”
“I… guess that’s it, then? I’ll… be in touch?”
“Okay.”
“You can keep the car. Mabel has one, and if I need to then I’ll get on her insurance. If this becomes long-term.”
“Okay.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“At the moment, yes.”
“…Okay.”
Though my vision was bleary with tears, I forced myself to get up. To follow her to the door, then down the short driveway. We both winced at the blinding sunset, as if the sky was reflecting our agony. She turned around, and looked as if she had more to say, but I knew she would be conscious of the neighbours. It was a still night, and voices would carry.
“Be safe,” was all she whispered, and pressed a feather-light kiss to my cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Mm,” I said. It was all I could say. I knew that if I opened my mouth, I would scream.
And when I got inside, locked the door, went upstairs and into our – my – bedroom, that was what I did. Into my pillow, which quickly became damp, I screamed it all out.
Once I was spent, I dried my eyes, settled my breathing and took some painkillers for the pressure that was building up behind my eyeballs and in my sinuses. Then I went to bed. Today was officially on the scrapheap.
Chapter Fifty
The next day, my tears had been replaced by a steely resolve.
