‘Y’know, the more you keep going on about it, the less I want to shag you.’ He turned over on to his side, letting me know the discussion was over. But I wasn’t finished.
‘Why won’t you discuss this with me? Why is this not bothering you?’
He turned around to face me. ‘Look, I’ll shag you if you want me to. If not, I’m going to sleep, alright?’
‘Oh, fuck you. I wouldn’t let you near me now.’
Teary-eyed, I got out of bed and went and sat in the living room. That was an hour ago. So I guess we’re still fighting.
Thursday January 26th
Dorothy announced that due to thecurrent climatewe won’t be replacing Stuart, which is kind of a relief. The last thing I need is another attractive man in the office to distract me; I’ve had enough office indiscretions to last me a lifetime. She did however hint that there might be scope for me to come back full-time with Molly starting school this year. I told her I’d need to discuss it with Oliver, which I do . . . Of course the extra money would come in handy but my immediate thoughts are ‘No’ and ‘Fuck No.’
When I picked Molly up from Maggie’s, she informed me that there had been an outbreak of nits at nursery and Molly’s head was crawling. Fear not though, she’d already washed Molly’s hair in medicated shampoo and deloused every inch of her head. I’m so grateful. By the time I’d finished hand-wringing and attempting to look through her hair from 15 feet away, she’d have been old enough to treat it herself. God, how do some women just find this so easy? Being a parent is gross.
Saturday January 28th
‘Hazel has offered to take Molly tonight!’ I excitedly announced while Oliver was in the shower. ‘We could go out! We could catch a film or go for a meal or —’
‘I said I’d meet the footie lads for a drink,’ he replied before I could list endless couple possibilities. ‘Sorry. Didn’t I tell you? Big Paul just had a son. We’re going to wet the baby’s head.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ I replied, trying to hide my disappointment. ‘Can’t you go for a couple and meet me after?’
‘No, we’ve got a late one planned. Ask Hazel if she’ll do it next week instead.’
‘She’s not our fucking hired help, Oliver. She’s doing us a favour.’ My disappointment was well and truly showing. Along with annoyance. ‘Look, forget it.’
He drew back the shower curtain just in time to see me storm out of the bathroom. ‘What’s wrong with you? I had plans. I wouldn’t ask you to change your plans. Can you hand me that towel?’
I returned to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and throwing it at him. ‘The difference between you and me is that I WOULD change my plans. When was the last time we spent some time together?’
‘We fucking live together, Phoebe, so EVERY. BLOODY. DAY.’
Nowhewas annoyed. He wrapped his towel around his waist, stepped out of the shower and over the pile of his dirty clothes that had been lying there since Thursday.
‘Are you bored of me, Oliver?’ I snapped. ‘Because I feel as invisible as these fucking clothes you’ve been ignoring for two days.’ I picked up the offending items and threw them at him.
‘You’re being ridiculous. I’m not dropping everything at your whim,’ he mumbled, drying his hair. ‘You never used to be so high maintenance.’
‘High maintenance?’ I laughed but now I was in full rage mode. Aware that Molly might hear us, I closed the bathroom door, my voice lowered to a snarling whisper. ‘That would fucking imply that there had been ANY kind of maintenance going on to begin with! You barely touch me. We never just sit and enjoy each other’s company anymore. I’ve been back at work all month and not ONCE have you asked me how it’s going or what I’m up to. When did we become this couple? What next? Shagging other people? Separate beds?’
He stopped drying his hair. ‘You want to shag other people?’ The colour in his face began to drain.
‘NO!’ I insisted. ‘Do you?’
‘No, and don’t ever do that,’ he said, softly. The pink hue began to slowly return to his cheeks. ‘I couldn’t bear that.’ Without warning, he pulled me into him and hugged me.
‘I have no intentions of doing that,’ I said, taken aback by his sudden need for security. ‘I love you, Webb. I just need to know we’re OK. You need to start talking to me.’
‘We’ll sort this,’ he mumbled into my hair. ‘Whatever it takes – even your weird therapist . . .’
I hugged him back so tightly he yelped.
Monday January 30th
Productive day today. I finally managed to get an appointment with the manager of Downtime Bar near the station. Judging from the advertising they do elsewhere, they obviously have a decent budget. I’m going in to see him next month and if I can swing this, I’ll win mega brownie points at work. The guy sounds like a bit of a prick to be honest but we’ll see how it goes.
I also called Pam today and she can see Oliver and I on Wednesday at 2 p.m., so Oliver has arranged to work late tonight so he can get away early. He’s definitely making the effort. Let’s hope he doesn’t freak out before then.
