‘So what did you think?’ he asked, awkwardly. ‘I know this was all about my needs so it’s OK to hate it. Did you hate it? You’re allowed to hate it.’
‘Hate’s a bit strong.’ I laughed, inspecting the mascara-stained cotton wool. ‘It’s just a bit overwhelming . . . and uncomfortable. I guess after a few times it becomes easier, no?’
‘You’d do it again?!’ He sounded surprised.
I nodded. ‘Probably. If anything, just to hear you make that noise again.’
He blushed. ‘I have to do something for you now. Name it.’
I held back the urge to shoutPICK UP YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES.
‘It’s late,’ I reminded him. ‘But we still have my last request to do. I’ll make sure it’s a fucking good one.’
Thursday April 20th
I called in to see Jay at 3 p.m. as arranged, only to discover that he’d been called away last minute and would give me a call to reschedule. I really hoped he wasn’t playing games with me, I’m too old for all that shite. Instead of going back to work, I walked around town for a while until Oliver had finished work and we drove to our session at Pam’s office together.
She was pleased to discover that we’d been continuing to work through our sex jar and remarked that we’d been holding hands since we arrived – a far cry from how we’d interacted with each other on previous visits. She found it very encouraging.
‘So, what’s next?’ Oliver asked. ‘More sex jar stuff? Cos I think we’ve nailed that.’
‘I think I’d like to keep this as part of our routine anyway,’ I admitted, glancing at him. ‘It’s been a lot of fun.’ Oliver agreed, a smile appearing on his face to rival Pam’s.
I watched Pam take a sip of her tea, noticing her thumb ring which was in the shape of a fairy. Of course it was.
‘Our next step is honesty,’ she informed us. ‘You appear to be in a place now where you’re both ready to hear each other. So for next week, I want you to write down two or three things that you feel you need to get off your chest. It can be something about the other person you’re not comfortable with, or something you’ve done that you’re not comfortable with – just whatever you feel has become a burden for you.’
‘What if there isn’t anything?’ Oliver asked.
Pam raised her eyebrows. ‘I’d be very surprised. Wouldn’t you? How many times have you kept something from Phoebe for fear that she’d judge you or start questioning her reasons for being with you? We all do it but carrying that around can take its toll. Believe me, I’ve seen it over and over again.’
She saw my face and smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried. How often do you get a chance to tell Oliver to clean up after himself and actually be heard?’
HOW DID SHE KNOW? WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT?
Friday April 21st
Just after I dropped Molly at nursery this morning, I spotted Sarah Ward-Wilson standing by her car, wearing sunglasses and texting furiously. It wasn’t until I saw her wipe a tear from her cheek that I realised she wasn’t wearing her shades in the rain to look cool.
I walked over, knowing that she’d probably tell me to fuck off, but the urge to make sure she was alright was strong. I’ve been ‘crying in the street’ unhappy before. No one deserves that.
She didn’t notice me until I was standing beside her and she recoiled slightly in surprise. ‘Oh!’ She sniffed and tried to regain her composure. ‘Hello, Phoebe, how are you? This weather is awful! I’m due to get my highlights done in an hour and—’
‘How are you, Sarah?’ I interrupted before her voice got any higher. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but is everything OK?’
Expecting her to insist she was perfectly fine, I was surprised when she shook her head and began sobbing.
‘He’s lefty!’ she bawled loudly.
It took me a second to realise she was saying, ‘He’s left me.’
‘Oh. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk ab—’
‘Fifteen years!’ she exploded. (I guess she did want to talk.) ‘I gave that bastard fifteen years, four kids and he thinks he’ll just fuck off with the mistress I pretended not to know about!’
As much as I wanted to comfort her, and I did, this was fucking amazing.
‘Wait. You knew he was cheating?!’
