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Authors: Geraldine C. Deer
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dirty finger nails, ingrained with engine oil. It wasn’t that he wasn’t clean, but it took ages to scrub the oil off his hands and the next day it was back again. Of course, he would always try to get scrubbed up, as Mel called it, before they went out anywhere together.
When was that? When was the last time he’d taken Mel out anywhere, to dinner or to the theatre? He tried to remember the last occasion on which they’d gone out together. He struggled and it became more difficult as he went further back through the year. Where had this year gone? Eventually he conceded that he hadn’t taken her out at all this year and it would be July in another three days. Was it any wonder she’d decided that they wouldn’t make love any more? Soon she’d be insisting that they sleep in separate rooms.
Tim went upstairs to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. What he saw worried him. I’m a slob, he decided, a scruffy shambles of the man I used to be. I come and go every day always thinking I’m doing a good job, supporting my family, but the truth is Mel earns more than me and she could support this family on her own. I’m like a lodger in this house. He stared down at the dirty clothes he’d left on the floor yesterday when he’d got himself ready for the all important meal last night. If he was honest, he hadn’t even made much of an effort for that. Yes he’d showered and splashed some aftershave on, but was that really enough for a woman like Melanie? These days she was working with big city accounts. She often dropped their names in conversation but he’d never paid enough attention to remember any of them. These were successful men, they wore £500 suits and Rolex watches and they used exclusive men’s fragrances. Was that what Melanie wanted? Some bloody poof who drove a Mercedes and wore designer clothes?
Tim stood there for several minutes clutching the wash basin with his left hand while running his right hand across his chin. Decision number one, a new shaver was needed; in fact a major overhaul was needed. He stepped onto the scales, fifteen stone plus, three stone more than he was when he first met Melanie. He had to bend slightly to see the scales because his belly obscured his view. Four or five pints most nights in the Globe had been the main contribution to this unwelcome overhang. A cloud of depression engulfed him as he struggled to think clearly. Had he left it too late? Had he lost the only woman he’d ever loved, mother to his kids and the most essential ingredient of his life?
What could he do about it? He could go next door and seek help from Ben! If Melanie found out – and she would, Nina would see to that, then he would appear even more pathetic. No, he had to sort this one out on his own. First he needed to shower and scrub himself until not a trace of oil remained and then he’d set about clearing up the house for Melanie. He’d start with his own things which were left all over the place then he’d put all the kids things away before preparing a meal for them. That’s it ... I’ll ring Melanie and say don’t bother with McDonalds, I’m getting a lovely meal ready for when you come home. That would give him an excuse to speak to her. Maybe he’d be able to tell from the tone of her voice how she was feeling about him. If she rejected his offer to make the evening meal it meant she couldn’t face sitting down to eat together, which probably meant their marriage was all but over. If, on the other hand, she enthused at the idea then there was still time to put things right.
He wouldn’t bring up the subject of making love for as long as she wanted. He’d act as if everything was just fine. The perfect husband, that’s what he had to be. Melanie wasn’t a snob; she’d never been one to be impressed by money or material things. She would appreciate a single scented red rose more than a huge bunch of roses. She’d never be influenced by a Rolex watch or a Gucci suit. How
When was that? When was the last time he’d taken Mel out anywhere, to dinner or to the theatre? He tried to remember the last occasion on which they’d gone out together. He struggled and it became more difficult as he went further back through the year. Where had this year gone? Eventually he conceded that he hadn’t taken her out at all this year and it would be July in another three days. Was it any wonder she’d decided that they wouldn’t make love any more? Soon she’d be insisting that they sleep in separate rooms.
Tim went upstairs to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. What he saw worried him. I’m a slob, he decided, a scruffy shambles of the man I used to be. I come and go every day always thinking I’m doing a good job, supporting my family, but the truth is Mel earns more than me and she could support this family on her own. I’m like a lodger in this house. He stared down at the dirty clothes he’d left on the floor yesterday when he’d got himself ready for the all important meal last night. If he was honest, he hadn’t even made much of an effort for that. Yes he’d showered and splashed some aftershave on, but was that really enough for a woman like Melanie? These days she was working with big city accounts. She often dropped their names in conversation but he’d never paid enough attention to remember any of them. These were successful men, they wore £500 suits and Rolex watches and they used exclusive men’s fragrances. Was that what Melanie wanted? Some bloody poof who drove a Mercedes and wore designer clothes?
Tim stood there for several minutes clutching the wash basin with his left hand while running his right hand across his chin. Decision number one, a new shaver was needed; in fact a major overhaul was needed. He stepped onto the scales, fifteen stone plus, three stone more than he was when he first met Melanie. He had to bend slightly to see the scales because his belly obscured his view. Four or five pints most nights in the Globe had been the main contribution to this unwelcome overhang. A cloud of depression engulfed him as he struggled to think clearly. Had he left it too late? Had he lost the only woman he’d ever loved, mother to his kids and the most essential ingredient of his life?
What could he do about it? He could go next door and seek help from Ben! If Melanie found out – and she would, Nina would see to that, then he would appear even more pathetic. No, he had to sort this one out on his own. First he needed to shower and scrub himself until not a trace of oil remained and then he’d set about clearing up the house for Melanie. He’d start with his own things which were left all over the place then he’d put all the kids things away before preparing a meal for them. That’s it ... I’ll ring Melanie and say don’t bother with McDonalds, I’m getting a lovely meal ready for when you come home. That would give him an excuse to speak to her. Maybe he’d be able to tell from the tone of her voice how she was feeling about him. If she rejected his offer to make the evening meal it meant she couldn’t face sitting down to eat together, which probably meant their marriage was all but over. If, on the other hand, she enthused at the idea then there was still time to put things right.
He wouldn’t bring up the subject of making love for as long as she wanted. He’d act as if everything was just fine. The perfect husband, that’s what he had to be. Melanie wasn’t a snob; she’d never been one to be impressed by money or material things. She would appreciate a single scented red rose more than a huge bunch of roses. She’d never be influenced by a Rolex watch or a Gucci suit. How
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