Life Without You Read online

  So when I said to Becks, “I won’t, I promise.” I meant every single word.

  “Make sure you don’t A-hole. I kinda like your ugly face,” he says before his voice brightens, “I’m home now man. I’ve got a lady with a baby to curl up next to.”

  “Cool, see you at your house around seven, okay?”

  “Sounds good. Gotta go, catcha later alligator.”

  Brighton, England - Summer

  “Suuummmmmmeeeerrrr!” Violet slurs as she slings her arms around me and face plants in-between my boobs. Shouts of’wayheeey’ and ‘Oi Oi’ ring out from a group of men outside of the fish and chip shop across the road from us.

  I’m completely frozen with mortification.

  The gang of twenty-something year old men are looking at us like they are expecting us to put on a live sex show any minute; all the while they collectively create a new hole in the Ozone layer just above Brighton with the amount of deodorant they are wearing between them. It’s so bad that I can smell it from across the street. To my mortal shame, I have my extremely drunk ex-as-of-one-minute-ago best friend using my breasts as ear muffs. Fabulous.

  I really really could do without this tonight. I didn’t want to come out; I wanted to wallow in self-pity as I drank a whole bottle of wine, ate chocolates and binge watched Game of Thrones. Nothing like a bit of incest, mayhem and murder to make you feel better about yourself, especially today. For the rest of the year I try not to think about it, I try not to let it get to me and tell myself that I am over it and over him. Today is the only day where I allow myself to acknowledge all the crap I went through three years ago when the man I loved, who I thought loved me, and I went our separate ways permanently. The future that I was looking forward to was changed. I lost my husband; my home...everything. I returned back home to England with my tail between my legs, humiliated and heart-broken. Moral of my story is don’t give your heart to a boy from San Francisco.

  After I’d returned home, I spent a good few months crying before realizing that the arsehole wasn’t worth my tears anymore. So, I dusted myself off; decided that I wanted to travel and booked a flight to New Zealand. I stayed there for a month before going on to Australia, Japan, China, Thailand, and India. Basically ticking quite a few countries off on my ‘fuck-it list’ which is kind of like a bucket list except you have no money and coincides with a sudden urge to be extremely irresponsible. Like maxing out any and all credit cards to do it and sleeping with strangers, for example; that kind of thing. I’d do it again in an instant.

  I learnt in those few months that I was worth so much more than him and swore to myself that I wouldn’t allow him to affect me like that again. I only allow one day of mourning for what I lost, and today was that day. The anniversary of my divorce. You’d think I’d be over it now, moved on. I am for the most part, but you have to understand that I loved him completely, with my whole being. He took my heart, stomped on it, gave me back the shattered pieces and left. As I slowly figured out how to piece my heart back together again, I realized that a few shards were missing and that it would never be whole again. That I would carry the hurt of his betrayal with me for the rest of my life. The few subsequent relationships that I’ve had after my divorce have been spoiled with my inability to trust the other person.

  Usually I’d hide away from the world. I’m only out tonight because Violet thought it would be a good idea to go on the pull, to find me a fuck buddy.

  Violet, my best friend since primary school. Violet, who is hopelessly in love with my twin brother Seth and pines after him while he shags his way along the South Coast and beyond; allegedly oblivious to her feelings. Violet, who co-owns the world famous ‘Frye & Sullivan’ with me - Indeed we are purveyors of the finest handmade jewelry, clothes and soap that Hastings and the internet has to offer. Beloved of royalty, rock stars and day-trippers with shops in The Lanes, the Internet and most recently San Francisco (yes, we’ve gone international). I’m still not sure how that happened. Violet, who can’t hold her bloody drink and who I would quite cheerfully like to strangle right at this moment.

  “Summmmerrrr!” A muffled voice from my chest region says. Maybe if I ignore her she’ll go away.

  “Summmmmerrrr!” It repeats.

  “SUUUMMMMMMMMMEEEEEERRRRR!!!” The Ozone Avengers from across the road shout in unison, mocking the woman attached to me.

  Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and ask any known gods or goddesses what on Earth I had done to deserve their wrath. Because, right now, at very this moment any chance of finding a man has disappeared in a little puff of smoke. I pray that no one I know is watching......

  “Summmmerr,” she repeats, her voice getting agitated. Finally, that tiny tendril of patience I had snaps. I didn’t want to come out, I wanted to stay at home, curl up into a ball and sob until there are no tears left. I wanted to hate him, her and any babies that they had produced by now. I wanted to hate the whore who stole my husband, shout obscenities and wish that she had some really, fucking nasty STD. I wanted to be selfish and feel sorry for myself that the only man I loved couldn’t be bothered to love me back; not standing on a shitty street off the seafront with my best friend’s face stuck between my boobs while some pissed arseholes laughed and jeered at us.

  So I do the only thing that any self-respecting, angry, slightly drunk woman can do in my current situation. I lose my temper.

  “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!” I shout at her, really rather loudly.

  “Oohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” The large crowd that has gathered to watch my downfall says as a collective.

  Violet finally pulls her head from my chest, straightens herself up to her full five foot three inches and looks at me. The drunken haze in her azure eyes has gone, she is staring at me with gimlet-eyes. I know that I may have just poked a dragon and lost.

  “Don’t get your knickers in a fucking twist, just because you are being melodramatic over that cockwomble of an ex-husband of yours!” She bites out with venom. “I have had to put up with your whinging and whining about him every fucking year for the last three years. We get it, he broke your heart but it was years ago!” She continues on a roll. “He’s gone, he left you, now get over it. He’s burying his cock in some skanky bitch’s crusty hole while you sit around feeling sorry for yourself. Stop looking backwards all the time. You are missing what’s in front of you!”

  Everything and everyone is silent, you could hear a pin drop. The guys in front of the fish and chip shop are either staring at us slack-jawed or have found something really interesting on the ground in front of them. I can feel the burn of tears forming in my eyes and the heat of embarrassment traveling up my neck on to my face. Am I really that pathetic?

  I look up at Violet, knowing that she is right, however, rage is flowing through my veins and she is not going to get away with making a fool out of me in the street. Her anger-filled eyes soften as she meets my ice cool gaze, knowing that she has hurt me.

  “You are better than that, Summer. Don’t let him ruin your life,” she says quietly before stomping off in the direction of the pier, leaving me to trail along in her wake.

  “Don’t you walk away from me! You hear me??! Don’t you sling all that crap at me and walk off!” I screech while trying to totter after her. I can’t run; the five inch black-patent heels I’m wearing were not designed for that. “Do you want to know what is pathetic? You and my brother, that’s pathetic Vi!” I shout, storming in her direction. “He doesn’t want you. Your dad didn’t want you...No one fucking wants you.” The moment those words leave my mouth all my anger dissipates and I desperately wish I could take them back. It was a low and nasty blow- and it hit its mark. For all her faults, for all she said tonight, Violet didn’t deserve that.

  “Vi I’m I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  Violet turns around with tears streaming down her face and starts to walk back towards me. I brace myself for a slap that never comes. Instead she throws herself at me, wrapping me in a tight h
ug and inadvertently wiping her tear-induced snotty nose all over my brand new halter neck top. I return her hug and promptly burst into tears, as we both blurt out ‘sorrys’ at the same time.

  “I only wanted to tell you that you have really comfortable tits,” she mumbles into my shoulder making me laugh and I know that all has been forgiven. I’ve learnt over the years that she really is the worst drunk going from happy to angry and back again. In a minute she’ll be sad then suddenly.... Violet is my best friend: she is a sister to me, and I couldn’t be without her. No matter what we say and do, we’ll always be there for one another. Always.

  “I shouldn’t have made you come out, not today,” she continues sobbing into my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just wanted to make you feel better, to forget twat-face. You deserve to be happy, Sum. You really do...”

  “Hey, it’s ok... I shouldn’t have said what I said either. I’m so sorry," I reply into her mass of curly rainbow-colored hair. “Why don’t I call a taxi to pick us up? We can go back to mine, eat Ben & Jerry’s and watch Game of Thrones? That will make me feel better.”

  Violet looks at me smiling, “Can we bitch about Alex the dickhead and throw darts at his photo?” She asks.

  “If you want to. I thought you wanted me to get over it?”

  “Yup,” she replies popping the ‘P’. “Buuuuttttt it’s only once a year and the twat deserves it.”

  “You’re right though. Three years is long enough.”

  She sighs and I get the distinct impression that she is soberer than she is letting on.

  “When you went to America, you were bright-eyed, innocent and full of life. And when you met Alex, you were happier than I’d ever seen you. It made me happy to see you like that. Your wedding day was one of the best days of my life because I could see that my best friend, my sister from another mister was marrying the love of her life and I could see the joy in your eyes. It was infectious.” She gave me a sad smile. “When it started to go wrong, we all had to watch from thousands of miles away while the light slowly went out of your eyes. I saw it Sum, I saw it every time we Skyped. With every email you sent you became more and more des…des…”

  “Despondent?”

  “That’s the one! Any-whooooo I was powerless to help you and when you came home the light had gone out completely and has never really returned.” Violet grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I want you to move on because I want to see you happy, Summer. I want to see that spark back in your eyes. Alex took that away, he destroyed that. You’ve spent three years mourning him. He doesn’t deserve to have any more time wasted on him. However long it takes to get over the destruction he caused, I’ll be here.”

  The tears pour down my face at her little speech and I fling myself into her arms. Violet has been there for me every step of the way. From dropping everything to come and console me when Alex first left me, to leaving her job and starting our new business together when we had no idea if we would be successful.

  “I love you!” I sob into her shoulder and I hear her wails, “I love you too!” into my hair.

  We look up when some moron passes and shouts, “get a room or get on with the show!” To which we both give him the one finger salute.

  “In your dreams, thundercunt!” Violet shouted back. I grin as I’m reminded, once again as I wipe away my tears, that I really have the best, foulest mouthed friend in the whole wide world and I wouldn’t change her for anything.

  “Come on.” She says linking her arm into mine as we set off back down the street towards the taxi rank. “Let’s head to yours. I feel the need to ogle Kit Harrington.”

  SUMMER

  San Francisco, USA - Three Years and 7 Months ago

  SOMETHING IS WRONG. Something is very, very wrong.

  I couldn’t tell you what or why; I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe I’m slowly going mad. Alex certainly seems to think so, telling me that I’m paranoid whenever I mention it. That’s when I see him of course, which recently hasn’t been an awful lot. Even when I do see him, he then tries either to shut me out or shut me up. Usually with sex, lots and lots of sex. Even that’s tailed off, it’s been weeks. Weeks!

  He doesn’t seem to want to touch me anymore. I have to ask him if he wants to make love. Yes, ask my husband if he wants to have sex with me, his wife. Like normal couples do, Alex seems to see that as a chore. Often coming up with lame arsed excuses for not wanting to perform his martial duties. His favorite response to my begging, is “Not now Summer I’m...” then one of the following; ‘busy’, ‘tired’, ‘watching the game’, ‘going for a run’, ‘going out for a drink’, ‘being abducted by aliens’. You can get the picture.

  He doesn’t even seem to want to kiss me properly anymore. No heart stopping, knicker-melting kiss for me, if I’m lucky I’ll get a quick peck on the cheek. He kisses me like I’m his sister for Pete’s sake.

  Christ, I can’t remember the last time he held my hand in the street or told me he loved me.

  I just want him to show me that he loves me, that he loves me like I love him - with everything in my heart.

  I miss my husband, my best friend, my lover. I can’t seem to stop him slipping away from me.

  We never used to be like this, we used to be passionate, intense. From the moment we met our flame burnt bright. Every look was fire; every touch would burn. Alex used to look at me as if I was his world. Now, he barely even looks at me. I want to know what I’ve done wrong. I want to know how to fix it, us. I know that he loved me, I have to believe that he still loves me. That all this is worth it.

  I’ve suggested marriage counselling. He told me that there was nothing to fix, that we didn’t need to involve anyone else but I want to talk to someone...anyone. I need to prove to myself that I’m not going mad, that I spend my nights crying for a reason. I don’t want to talk to my family; I don’t want them to worry about me. It’s hard being thousands of miles away and on a different continent.

  I’ve suggested we take a vacation, just us - I even went as far as to book it as a surprise. A week on Maui in a five-star hotel, yet right at the last minute, he told me that he had to go away for a conference that week; that there was no possible way that we could go. When I offered to reschedule the holiday, he said that he had already mentioned the trip to a colleague at work. He told them we couldn’t go and he sold them tickets. We had the biggest fight in our four-year marriage that night, I was so angry. It was so bad that Alex ended up storming out and spending the night at his office while I, once again, laid in our large bed sobbing myself to sleep. It was the first time that I considered leaving him and returning home. I could sense my husband drifting away from me, it hurt that he was so obviously unhappy with me that he couldn’t even stand to share a bed. The Old Alex would have returned with a large bunch of flowers and an apology. The New Alex couldn’t even be bothered to send me a text to tell me that he was safe.

  Two days after the fight he left to go on the conference. He didn’t contact me at all during his time away; the positive side to our week apart is that the man who returned from the conference seemed to be more like my husband and not the stranger that he had become. He seemed happier. He looked at me; really looked at me. There was passion and love for me in his deep brown eyes, not the cold hard stare that I had grown used to. Over dinner we laughed, we talked, we kissed. Then, for the first time in ages, he took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom where we made love all night long. It was like it used to be. It lasted for two weeks before the New Alex made a reappearance. That was three months ago and things have slowly gone from bad to worse.

  Alex has gone back to barely acknowledging my presence, preferring the company of his phone or the computer, than spending any time with his wife when he is home. I could count on my fingers the number of times we’ve gone to bed together in the last month. Often he doesn’t get in ‘til late or sometimes not at all. If I’m lucky I may get a quick text or phone call. I’ve lost cou
nt of how many dinners have been ruined because he didn’t bother to tell me he wasn’t coming home. What I can’t understand is why this is happening? What has gone so, so wrong. I guess I’m not important to him anymore. What’s changed? So many scenarios run through my brain. So many questions. I have spent many an evening lying on the ugly brown couch in the living room, just staring at the ceiling wracking my brain, trying to make sense of my crumbling marriage.

  It never used to be like this, we used to be happy. In fact, if you had told me a year ago that my marriage would be disintegrating and that I would be miserable I would have laughed at you for being stupid. I can’t understand what has gone wrong. I’ve been questioning everything. Is it something that I’ve done? I’ve said? Is it that I don’t make as much money as him? That I wanted to have a baby? Could it be the stress from work? I know that he has been under a lot of pressure now that he is heading up his own team. I was so proud when he was promoted ten months ago. The youngest member of the senior management team at Wells and Bromley Investments since the company founded in 1928. He has worked so hard since he joined the company building an excellent reputation for being not only extremely good at his job, but firm and fair in his dealings with people. Alex is the type of person who thrives on the challenge. He would see the new role as something to be conquered and then move on to the next thing.

  Could it be Drugs? Alcohol? Alex wouldn’t be that stupid. He knows that damage that they can cause. His father, Tonnis, was an abusive alcoholic who used to beat Alex’s mother, Marylyn, black and blue. Marylyn, tried to leave Tonnis on numerous occasions and each time he begged her not to go, always promising to change. Some would say that she was foolish to believe him; that she should have taken Alex and gone. A leopard does not change his spots after all. This continued for a few years until one day after she had kicked Tonnis out for the final time and filed for divorce. He followed Marylyn home from her work and had hit her so hard in the face that her nose didn’t just break, it shattered. Alex came home from his friend’s house to find his mum unconscious in a pool of her own blood and barely breathing. Tonnis was nowhere to be found. Marylyn was in intensive care for a week, the doctors didn’t think that she would make it through. At thirteen, Alex had faced the prospect of losing his mum all because of drink and drugs. Fortunately, Marylyn fully recovered. Tonnis was found dead a month later from a suspected deliberate heroin overdose.