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“Mark, we barely have enough staff as it is, and the ones we employ call in sick the next shift. You wouldn’t survive a day without me whipping your arse and running around putting out all your stupid fires.”
I was trying to make it into a joke, but it was falling flatter than the flatbreads cooking in the kitchen. I could smell them. It was Tuesday, andthere was always a wrap special on our menu on a Tuesday. Predictable and dull despite the restaurant concept we were trying to sell. Well, I was trying to sell it. Mark was bending over backwards at any suggestion of change these days. His mind was elsewhere, and I didn’t blame him. Well I did. I shuddered, my whole body trying to figure out where on earth I was supposed to go from here.
Let me backtrack, fill you in with all the finer details of the pathetic life of Mabel Donovan, aged 42½ (and a bit more). Pronouns they/them. Divorcee, now happily single and unattached.
Lies. All Lies. I was narrating my life in my head like some deranged Bridget Jones. I didn’t drink, smoke or do drugs. I ate well. Looked after the body I’d been given. I was no gym bunny, but working in the insane restaurant world had me on my feet twenty-four seven running around solving small catastrophes like they were mere ripples in the sand. Also? My ex-husband was marrying my best friend.
I rewound my little narration in my head as Mark stared at his hands. That sentence about me taking time off? He didn’t mean it. Mark needed me like a fish needs water. Not in a good way. Mark was a praise-vampire whose ego needed constant feeding, and that had always been my job, a job that I had done so well that he was now trembling at the sheer thought of me taking some time off and leaving him to run this place on his own.
“Babe, I haven’t had a holiday in years. Perhaps I should go to the south of France. Sit on a beach and drink champagne. I might even meet some rich man who would treat me like royalty.”
The words stung, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Whomever you meet will be the luckiest man on earth. You should go.”
Well, that was unexpected. These kinds of outbursts were usually followed by Mark begging me not to leave him alone.
“I might. Take a couple of months away from all this and try to figure out what I want to do with my life. I was looking at university courses the other day. I might go back and finish another degree. I mean, some of my qualifications are probably outdated by now, but it would be fun. Finally do my master’s?”
“Like leave, permanently?”
That was the Mark I knew and loved, a tiny tremble in his voice and a panic-stricken look in his eyes. We played each other like finely tuned violins, and in my head I’d always seen it as a healthy, balanced relationship. But it wasn’t. Not anymore. Probably never had been.
“I better go get those dinner menus printed then,” I huffed, flicking my hair with what I hoped came across as nonchalance. I’d already given in to his demands because I always did. I was weak and stupid. Always and forever under his spell.
And I hated myself for giving in so easily, letting him get his way once again. I wondered how I had sunk this low. Because I didn’t want this. I never had.
