‘Of course.’ He took her wedding finger between his thumb and forefinger and lightly twisted her ring. ‘Be honest with her because that is the only way this is going to work. Tell her you need to know she doesn’t think you’re a failure and you’d like to go some way to healing your relationship. Do it the Sean’s Simple Psychology way and see if it works.’
Cherry sat in silence for so long that Sean could swear he heard both their heartbeats. He could only hope she was thinking about it, giving it a chance to work. Eventually, she leaned closer into him. ‘It terrifies me. It could all backfire and set me back again. I’m only now recovering from the last time I saw her.’
Sean took her hand and interlocked their fingers, hers both warm from their contact and cold from confrontation. ‘I know. You’ve come a long way, Cher, but she’s your mum and she’s going to have a big sway on how you feel. There’s a chance you’ll have to work through things alone, but maybe she’ll come to the table. And I’ll be here if it gets tough. I think you have to try.’
That evening, as Sean cooked dinner, Cherry sat at the kitchen table and wrote a letter to her mum. By the time the meal was in the oven, she was surrounded by at least thirty bits of crumpled paper spilling onto the floor.
‘Ugh. Why is this so hard? Everything I write sounds pathetic.I’m sorry we haven’t-this.I truly hope we can-that.’
Sean sat down opposite her at the table, dishtowel slung over his shoulder. ‘Listen, there is no way that every single one of these drafts is pathetic. Whatever you write, you will think it sounds that way. I want you to write one more, and before you even think about crumpling it up, you are going to fold it and stick it in an envelope and put the address on the front. You can tell yourself it’s not perfect, but then again, neither are you or your mum. Okay?’
It was as if he’d revealed the secrets of the universe to her, the way she gaped at him, eyes all shiny and bright.
‘You make it all sound so simple.’
‘Sometimes that helps you get by. As I said, Sean’s Simple Psychology. Brought to you by a very complex man.’
‘You are, aren’t you?’
‘Not really, no, but I do care, Cher. A fuck-load.’
He could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes, but she focused on putting pen to paper like a small child practising her handwriting. He got up and left her to it, but as he prepped the meal, he could see her signing the letter, sliding it into an envelope and writing the address on the front.
‘Go post it now. I’ll have a glass of wine waiting when you get back.’
‘Really? Now?’
‘Aye, there are stamps somewhere in that drawer over there. If you don’t do it now, you might never do it.’
‘But the postbox… It’s in the village. And it’s sort of raining.’
‘So, put your trainers on and run. That way, you qualify for two glasses of wine. Oh, and Cherry…’ Sean remembered something else.
‘Aye.’
‘There’s another letter over by the printer. Can you do something with it?’ He focused sharply to see how she would respond to this. Sure, the annulment was fucked, but that she might still want to commit perjury or get a divorce lingered treacherously in the back of his mind.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Slowly, Cherry moved to the printer and picked up the envelope Sean had put the annulment forms in. It was still open, and he watched her lick the seal and fix it down, watching him right back, over the edge, like someone blatantly committing a sin they wanted to be punished for.
Sean’s heart was beating like a racehorse at the steeplechase as, envelope in hand, his wife walked back to him, seemingly in the slowest motion that had ever existed. Reaching the kitchen island, she pressed her foot to the pedal bin. Up popped the lid. Pulse thumping, he watched as she hovered the envelope over the abyss – their future a piece of paper dangling over a black plastic bag. Until, finally, she parted her fingers, and the envelope tumbled down into the murky depths.
Sean tried not to let out too audible a sigh of relief as it became clear the annulment forms were where they both wanted them to be, mingling with the rubbish at the bottom of the bin. But when Cherry blew him a kiss, he knew the stupidest smile had lit up his face.
Her mission seemingly not yet complete, she walked towards the bottom kitchen drawer, the one where Sean kept tape and other odds and ends. The place where he’d stashed something he wasn’t sure what to do with.Something he’d assembled shortly after she arrived here but had never found an opportune moment to give to her. He’d considered leaving it next to the annulment form but had chickened out, wondering if the whole thing wasn’t a bit insensitive.
But it seemed she had found it before now and was not upset in the least.
Carefully, Cherry pulled out the weighted-down piece of paper, laying it on the counter while she rummaged in the drawer for Blu Tak. Then she took both items over to the fridge, where she stuck the paper to the door.
‘I bloody love this.’ Standing back, she examined his handiwork like it wasThe Mona Lisa. ‘It’s just like me. The balance of wholewheat and plain spaghetti for the hair is perfect. You’ve captured my arms and legs so flatteringly with the penne. And the textured curl of my eyelashes with the fusilli and this farfalle croupier bow tie? Genius!’
At last, Sean let himself laugh – such sweet relief. ‘How do you know it’s you?’
‘As I said, it looks like me. And because it says “my wife” in spaghetti at the foot of the page. Do you have another wife?’
‘Nope, just you.’
‘There you go then. And now I have my macaroni art on the fridge. Life is pretty damn good.’ She beamed at him.
