Words pay no debts, give her deeds.
December Thirtieth.
Rory.
Bing.
I reach out from my bed and grab my phone. I’m extra groggy this morning; I couldn’t sleep at all last night. The self-loathing and the guilt are eating me from the inside out and rightfully so. The enormity of the impact of my words is making the guilt I felt before seem tiny. I have truly caused hurt and damage now. I can see Belle’s face as I broke all of my rules and lied to her. Lied to her to protect her was what I told myself at the time.
Fool.
Cruel fool.
I imagine I will fall asleep at night with Belle’s face seared onto the backs of my eyelids for the foreseeable future. Only from now on it won’t be her laughing as we tear down that hill at wildly irresponsible speeds or as we lie in the park making snow angels. It will be her standing opposite me outside the pub with the hurt I have caused shaping her whole face.
Bing.
Seriously?
I check it and see it is Mum. She had a fair few things to say to me last night when I came back to the pub minus the woman that she had fallen in love with almost as much as I had. Self-indulgent, cruel, misogynistic and bullshit were but a few. She clearly feels the need to add some more this morning.
I really do not want to open this message.
The fact that I am a thirty-one-year-old man seemed lost on her last night as she gave me a dressing down in front of the entire table – the entire pub – that would have been more suited to a nine-year-old boy. I don’t need my mum to tell me what an arse I have been. I know that. I knew that I had made a mistake the minute I had turned and walked away from Belle and I was too much of a self-righteous, self-indulgent twat to turn back and chase after her.
You’ve had all night to think. Now, what are you going to do?
When I ask what are you going to do it’s a rhetorical question. Obviously, you are going to go find her, apologise and see how you can make this right.
Bing.
Really, a third?
I know you meant well, but you need to let her make her decisions herself. Making them for her is outdated and an example of your need to control destroying your life.
Harsh! But nothing new. This had been another overall theme of last night.
I know you can love again. Belle knows you can love again. It’s just you who needs to convince yourself.
As had that.
Bing.
And quickly. Very quickly.
Jesus Christ, I need coffee. But she’s right. I know she is. I need coffee and a plan.
‘She is not there.’ Temperance pokes her head around the door of the mini-mart.
‘Any idea where she could be?’ Stupid question, as if Temperance has some kind of superhero vision or psychic skills. Both of which I am fairly certain she would view as occult and worthy of God’s righteous and cleansing flame.
‘Mmmmmhhmmmmmmm.’ She draws herself up and looks me up and down, hand on her hip, her cheeks sucking in.
My brow furrows and my shoulders rise.
‘She gone off with that friend of hers, you know, the child’s mother.’ She flips her hand around. ‘She did not look happy. She did not look like the Belle I know.’
‘She looked…’ Innocence comes out of the shop behind his mother, arches his brow, folds his arms like his mum. ‘She looked like someone has proper upset her, you know what I mean?’
