Part 24 (2/2)
She slumped her way back downstairs in a daze, desperately trying to make sense of it all. She mooched towards the kitchen in search of caffeine and something hideously fattening but was stopped in her tracks at the doorway. She gasped and her hand flew up to her open mouth. She leaned heavily against the doorpost shocked to be so devastated by the scene that lay before her. Her eyes wandered slowly over the embers of her last evening with Alex stacked messily on the kitchen counter in front of her.
Two empty bottles of red wine.
The end crust of a French stick.
A congealed cheese-fondue pot.
Half a dozen uneaten mince pies.
Two burnt down candles erupting down two old wine bottles.
Two dirty gla.s.ses. One with lipstick marks. Hers. One with greasy finger marks. His.
One broken coffee mug.
It was the broken coffee mug that made her want to curl up into a ball and weep. The mug that less than twenty four hours earlier Alex had knocked to the ground in a fit of pa.s.sion, his hands all over her body making her giggle and gasp before she surrendered and allowed herself to be led to the bedroom. The coffee mug that had been broken in the lead up to what had been possibly their best s.e.x yet, fuelled by the euphoria of Alex telling her he wanted to spend Christmas with her and her family.
She'd been so nervous about asking him. But as she kept telling herself, all the evidence suggested that she wasn't entering dangerous territory. They spent all their time together, she'd met his entire family and she was on p.i.s.s-taking terms with his mates. Even so she'd tried hard to be ultra-casual ensuring he hadn't felt under any pressure to say yes.
”So mum's cooking Christmas dinner this year,” she'd said whilst pouring him some wine. ”D'you fancy coming?”
He'd looked at her for a moment then smiled and declared, ”I'd love to,” before he lunged at her, knocking the coffee mug clean to the floor.
Her stomach lurched as she recalled her mind wandering to a place she hadn't dared venture to in some time. Vivid images of roaring fires and twinkling fairy lights and Alex handing over the perfect gifts to all her family before he produced an extra special gift. A small box hidden in the Christmas tree containing a...
She groaned and wrapped her arms tightly around her realizing what an idiot she'd been. She'd gone too quickly for him, it was obvious. She'd asked him for Christmas and scared him off. It was okay for her to meet his family but it was clearly a step too far for him to meet hers. He'd panicked and that's why he'd ended it. She'd made a mistake. One stupid mistake. Why oh why had she asked him? Why couldn't she have just let it amble along? Let him set the pace rather than her.
She sank to the floor, head in her hands. She felt sick. Sick at her mistake and at the prospect of what Christmas now held in store. Her mother asking her nervous questions designed to reveal whether or not her ancient, husbandless daughter was actually a lesbian and her self-satisfied younger sister taunting her with the plans for her imminent hen-do.
She would just have to uninvite him. Tell him that she didn't mean it. He could do what the h.e.l.l he wanted for Christmas. It didn't matter as long as they were together. She would call him and offer up some options. That had to be better than him finis.h.i.+ng it just because he was worried about spending Christmas with her family. How stupid would that be?
Finding a sc.r.a.p of hope once again she pulled herself up and grabbed the phone off the kitchen counter. She took a deep breath and dialled his number before raising the phone shakily to her ear and waiting ten excruciating, heart-thumping rings until he picked up.
”Alex,” he said.
”Hi, it's me,” said Suzie.
”Who?” asked Alex.
”Me, Suzie.”
”Oh,” he said. ”Where are you calling from?”
”Home, why?” she asked.
”Oh,” he said again. ”I didn't recognize the number.”
There was an awkward pause.
”Look Suzie,” said Alex.
”Look Alex,” said Suzie at the same time. ”You don't have to come to my parents for Christmas,” she blurted out. ”We could go away instead, somewhere warm, anywhere you like.” She stopped. He didn't respond. She listened to the silence hoping it was the sound of his relief.
”Look Suzie,” he said eventually. ”Time to move on darlin'. Like I said, it just wasn't working out for me.”
It was her silence this time that hovered momentarily.
”Not working out?” she whimpered. ”Since when?”
”Oh for a while I guess now,” he said offering no further explanation.
”But... but I don't understand,” she said, racking her brains to make sense of it all. ”You took me to your parents' ruby wedding,” she said more to herself than him.
”Oh that was just to get them off my back. They're always nagging me about settling down and I thought if I took you along it might shut them up for a while. To be honest Suzie I've been meaning to end it for some time now.”
”But...” said Suzie slumping back against the worktop. ”But last night you said you wanted to spend Christmas with me?” She felt like a pathetic, clingy, whining child but she couldn't help it. He'd raised her hopes and now all hope had gone.
”Sweetheart,” he said. ”You caught me a bit unawares. I only said yes because it was late and I was tired and I didn't want an over emotional chat as to why I was just about to book a week in the Alps with the lads over Christmas.”
She gasped.
”But we had s.e.x,” she whispered. ”Twice.”
”Like I said, I didn't want an over emotional chat,” he replied.
”You had s.e.x with me to shut me up about Christmas?” she exclaimed. What was he saying? She couldn't really be hearing this?
”No,” he protested. ”I had s.e.x because... because... well because I really like having s.e.x.”
She waited for him to finish the sentence.
He didn't.
”With me,” she shouted down the phone. ”You are supposed to say you really like having s.e.x with me you t.o.s.s.e.r.”
She slammed the phone down on the counter knocking a stray fondue fork to the floor.
She surveyed the aftermath of her efforts the previous evening again, and attempted to stop the room spinning.
She'd searched Manchester to buy a fondue set after Alex had mentioned that he loved them because they always reminded him of happy times on skiing trips.
She'd made the mince-pies herself in the hope that it would get him in the festive mood. A week of practicing had finally produced some acceptable offerings and then Alex had told her he didn't like mincemeat.
The lipstick on her gla.s.s reminded her that she had even bought a new top and washed her hair and put on make-up.
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