This next installment has been a long time coming. I apologise. So this is what's happened. Andy is unsatisfied with the relationship he has with his wife and is in the process of deciding what to do about it. After witnessing the sublime happiness of one of his colleagues and his partner, Andy decides to get very drunk. On his way home he comes across a decapitated pigeon. Due to his fondness of pigeons and the unbelievable amount of alcohol coursing through his veins, he then decides to pick it up and take it home. His wife catches him putting the bird on the dining room table. And this is what happens... Don't know what's going on? Read the previous installment here.
This seemed like an incredulous statement. Surely it should be obvious to his wife what he was doing. Andy looked down at his hand and the offending item and nearly threw up...again.
“Oh god. What is that?” he whispered putting a hand to his mouth, without realising it was moist with the bird’s blood.
“Andy, are you pissed?”
“Of course not. Just had a couple with Mike after work.”
“Mike? I thought you were meeting with that army general or whoever he was? Or is that bullshit too?” She fired at him. Her stance was intimidating. She was holding a hand towel with both hands held taught across her thighs. It was if she was getting ready to wind it up and whip him with one moist end of it if he didn't answer correctly.
“Why are you so angry all the time?” He could feel that he was swaying and flinging his arms about without any assertion or control.
“That’s totally unfair Andy. I am NOT angry all the time. Just right now...and this morning...and last night when you told me you didn’t want sex because you were feeling fluish or some crap. And now you come home doused in god knows what...wait...is that vomit?”
He considered the question. Looked down at the various splodges of partially digested food and stomach bile decorating his shirt and continued.
“Yes, I believe it is. So now I’m not allowed to drink, is that right?” The smell of the pigeon carcass reminded him of the kebab he’d previously guzzled. He rubbed the dead bird’s blood between his fingers and inwardly questioned his sanity.
“You are ridiculous and I can’t live like this anymore" she continued.
“Oh come on. Stop exaggerating Jen. For God’s sake, I’m drunk and I missed dinner. Get it together.” That was a mistake, one that he instantly regretted. The towel in her hands snapped tighter and her eyes grew wide as a bush baby's.
“Our life together could have really gone somewhere, but now I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t live with you like this. Not in my condition.” She was breathing short and sharp through her nose, trying to stem her inevitable tears.
“What the hell are you talking about? You’re not making any sense-"
“I’m pregnant you arsehole!”
Andy physically wretched. He didn’t mean to at all. It just happened. It must have been an acid reflux brought on by this extremely distressing news. He composed himself.
“I beg your pardon.” He said. He was back to slurring his words again. It was like his brain and his mouth were numb from the vodka intermingled with the thin blood spurting through his arteries.
“I’m pregnant.” She was far less angry with her delivery this time. She looked down at her hands which were gently tugging at the towel now. She was winding it round her fingers, like a nervous child. She was wearing her baggy pyjama bottoms and thin camisole which revealed her undulating chest, heaving and dipping under her agitated breaths. She started to cry. One hand came up to stop the tears, but it was no good. They had already begun to wet her nose and cheeks.
Andy was horrified. In that moment, he had a brief spell of clarity. He knew he really didn’t love Jenny, but now he was realising that she knew it too. How could he support and love a child with a woman he couldn't share a bed with? What the hell was he supposed to do?
“Jen...I’m sorry. I’m so so bloody sorry. We’ll be fine. My mistake.”
“No Andy. You don’t love me.” Did he say that loud? No he didn’t. She just knew him too well.
“It’s not going to work. I’ll arrange to move in with Alex for a bit.”
“She’s just had a kid herself Jen.”
“Well then she’ll understand.”
She left the kitchen dragging her feet, shoulders collapsed and hunched forward. She had capitulated right in front of him. It had been terrible for Andy to witness. She was always so bright and boisterous, and if he was honest, rarely angry. To see her so dejected crippled him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t love her. He cared for her with all of his heart, but that was a completely useless feeling and one which Jen should never and could never be satisfied with.
*******************
The whole headless pigeon thing had really freaked Jenny out. He could have assumed this by registering her expression the night before, when he had laid it before her in the darkened kitchen like a sacrificial offering. But he knew for sure that she thought he had 'lost it', when he overheard her talking to her sister, Alex, on the phone at 6am. She was trying to mumble, but the walls of the bathroom were so thin, he could hear enough to get the jist.
“He’s....and....but really it’s completely nuts...not right now...it’s none of my business...I can’t ask him that.” This is where Andy became more intrigued. Ask him what? Probably something like; how could he be so despicable? Is he an alcoholic? Is he planning on supporting the baby? Is he insane?
No, it wasn’t any of these. The question that Jenny, prompted by her sister Alex, wanted the answer to was one far more surprising than he would ever imagine...
