Mine To Lose (4 page)

After I dropped Jordan off at the station the next day, I drove straight back home. I was looking forward to nothing but a weekend of relaxation. For once, I didn’t have any emergencies or unexpected calls for my assistance in cases that had just come in at work. In my daily life, I never got the chance to just
do nothing
. It was a rarity that I could boast a day, let alone two, of solitude and inactivity.

The weather forecast predicted that the weekend in Oxford would be wet and cold. The perfect weather for a spooky binge safely in bed.

First some KFC, of all things. I generally detested junk food, but somehow I had an urge to swallow up unnecessary amounts of oily fowl, deep fried in a mess of old poison killed by a myriad of so-called
secret spices
. Yeah, right. As if.

My next plan of action was to watch a string of YouTube shows about paranormal activity. Why? Just because I secretly loved those. As a child, I loved ghost stories, but as an adult, it was yet another
absurdity of logic
I dared not indulge too much for fear of ridicule from my colleagues to my husband.

So this weekend, my itinerary was going to consist of the following – sleep, wake, eat and have tea, watch a spooky show, fall asleep, wake, watch a spooky show, shower, eat, fall asleep ...
REPEAT
.

While navigating my way back home on the still dry roads under the mild skies, I could feel a smile crawl across my face. The radio yielded some memorable 80s hits as I drove through Abingdon and sang all the words I didn’t know without any concern for anyone who might hear. It was the weekend, after all.

Arriving home, I could hardly wait to get through my front door and lock myself in. I had made up my mind that it wouldn’t be unlocked until Monday morning. Unfortunately, it only took a few hours to realise my ‘me time’ wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, after all.

Trying not to think too much on it, it felt horribly alien to be alone. While our bedroom smelt of Jordan’s scent, it felt cold and empty, and in my imagination I was of the mind that empty spaces void of togetherness and silent of two-sided conversation just begged to be filled ... by
anything
.

Oddly enough, I felt so alone.

It was a peculiar feeling that both frightened me and steered me to a conclusion that I had not even considered. Had I had a baby, a toddler, a child right now, the apartment would not have been so eerily quiet or silently threatening. If I had a child, my home would never feel so empty, my soul would not feel such utter desolation, and I would have continuous activity keeping me busy with constructive work. I would have company, no matter how inarticulate. Someone would always be with me, in awe of the most mundane things I did and voicing his or her curiosities in the cutest inquiry.

For a moment, I took the time to imagine it as vividly as I could, now that I didn’t have to explain away my sudden smiles. I stood in the kitchen where the only sound was the hum of the fridge and the faint bustle of traffic outside. Then I heard it. From the deep side of the throat of the long hallway, I heard the vague giggle of a small child, accompanied by the gradual sound of flat foot soles lapping on the wooden floor.

‘Mummy!’

My mind perceived it so strongly, yet it wasn’t scary or creepy in the least. The whole atmosphere of my and Jordan’s home changed for a moment with the presence of a would-be child ... and it was sweet, innocent and frisky.

My phone rang, jolting me violently from my unusual daydream. It shattered the silence and the comforting hum of the fridge.

‘Jesus Christ!’ I uttered out loud at the fright my ringtone gave me and raced to answer. The Caller ID only said ‘Private Number’, but sometimes Jordan tried to call me from a colleague’s phone, so I answered.

‘Hello?’

‘Katie, it’s Martha,’ I heard, instantly feeling a thousand pints of black ink engulf my blood in my veins, turning my soul into a withering rose on impact.

‘Hi Martha,’ I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

‘Let me speak to Jordy, quickly,’ she said. It wasn’t a request or a polite suggestion because Martha was under the impression that she owned everyone involved with her son as much as she owned him.

‘Isn’t he answering his phone?’ I asked.

‘Of course not. Why would I call
you
if I want to talk to my son? Put him on. I don’t have time to chat. I’m on my way out,’ she told me sternly.

‘He’s not here, Martha. He’s gone away for the weekend with work. He’ll be back on Monday,’ I informed her cordially.

‘Since when?’ she said in a surprised tone that told me Jordan hadn’t informed her. That in itself was a rarity.

‘Um, well, I dropped him off at the station a few hours ago ...’ I maintained my innocent tone, even though inside my chest my heart was thundering with disdainful antagonism.

‘And why’s his mobile phone off then? He knows full well that he should keep it on at all times for me!’ she ranted.

He probably didn’t feel like listening to your miserable voice.
It was yet another phrase in a growing mental book of sentences I wished I could tell her out loud. ‘I don’t know, Martha. Perhaps he’s charging it, or maybe he’s in an area without reception. Who knows?’ I replied a bit more assertively.

She was quiet so I decided to change the course of the conversation to remind her that she was so pressed for time.

‘So, where are you off too? Somewhere nice I hope?’ I asked with a considerable amount of cheer.

‘Where I’m going is no concern of yours,’ she said sourly, ‘but I take it you’re happy to have a free weekend. No doubt it’ll get back to me that you’ve been gallivanting about town, without my Jordy?’

‘Oh, no, Martha,’ I replied calmly, contrary to the fuming rage in my core. ‘I don’t go out alone. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t want to look like a desperate single woman trying to pick up her next conquest in cheap bars and clubs. Nope, I’ll be staying home and keeping myself busy with a good book.’

She was furious, obviously still being sharp enough to take that insult as personally as it was meant. I could hear her draw breath to speak, so I cut her right off with a quick follow up, ‘Well, Martha, I don’t want to keep you. I have to go. My venison stew is going to burn. Keep well. Bye-bye, now.’

Her repulsion for meat was just another weapon I used in our silent war. I had always found it ironic how she refused to eat meat, saying how bad it was for the human body while she sucked on tar and destroyed her liver with alcohol. Hypocrisy was certainly one of her most prevalent qualities.

After I hung up the phone I too, switched my phone off.

‘Good God, some people just compel normally good girls to act like right bitches,’ I said, shaking my head. For a moment, I almost felt guilty for doing it, and maybe even for finding it so amusing, but as I repeated the conversation in my head, every word she spoke redeemed me of my snide remarks and actions.

I had no venison, but I still had some KFC that was just luring me to the fridge with irresistible charm, and I obliged happily. After my not brief enough exchange with the
Winston Snake,
my appetite had considerably grown.

Throughout the evening, I slowly recovered from the miserable mood Martha’s call had hurled me into, and by Sunday I was having a rare relaxing time, so much so that it bordered on pleasant boredom.

‘Hey, babykins!’ Jordan’s voice fought through the sound of harsh wind in the phone speaker. ‘I wish you were here. I’m having a brilliant time.’

‘I’m glad to hear it!’ I exclaimed with a chuckle. It was so good to hear my sexy husband’s voice again, and he sounded positively chirpy. ‘What’re you doing? You sound like you’re walking somewhere.’

‘I am. We’re on our way to the local pub. We spent most of the afternoon hiking and had a picnic on the green lawns here. God, it’s amazing here, babe! We so have to come here next month! Hey? What say you, woman?’ He rambled on and on. I could not help smiling for his silliness. I knew Jordan when he was tipsy, and I just knew by all the voices calling for him in the din and distance that he had already started his drinking for the evening.

‘Sounds like a plan.’ I laughed. ‘But you need to stay alive long enough to get home safely tomorrow.’

‘I will! Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you,’ he cried in elation. ‘Ohhh-kay, I have to go, babykins! I’m being summoned. See you tomorrow!’

He killed the call before I could respond. I could only laugh in the solitude of our home while I cooked myself a small meal. I was convinced Martha had never reached him all weekend. He sounded too happy. As was I. Oh, how blissful things would be if we didn’t have Martha in our lives.

When I picked Jordan up at Oxford station on Monday evening, he couldn’t stop talking about the weekend. I loved it, though. It was good to see him so excited about something work related. For a good many weeks, he had seemed a little doused in his enthusiasm for work, but now he seemed thoroughly rejuvenated for a change.

‘Did your mum get hold of you?’ I asked when he finally ran out of things to say.

‘Yes, she did. She said you sounded catty on the phone. Katie, you know how I feel about you two fighting, and I especially don’t like it when you’re abrasive to her,’ he reprimanded me. I was astounded, but not completely surprised.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked.

‘See?’ he said. ‘Instantly, you get defensive. You’re my wife. She isn’t a threat to you, yet you keep being disrespectful to her. And if I’m honest, it’s really starting to piss me off.’

I couldn’t believe that he would still side with her. He knew what she was like, and he knew how she spoke down to me whenever she had the chance, yet he still sided with her over me? My heart went wild with anger, but I elected to keep quiet. After all, it would be of no use to me to try and argue with someone who was so completely controlled by her. I would just be wasting my bloody breath and my precious time.

‘Are you going to say anything?’ he said after a few minutes of silence.

‘I don’t feel like talking, Jordan. I’ve got a lot on my mind with work,’ I lied. I wasn’t going to get pulled into a fight with a brick wall again. Jordan didn’t push me any further on our way home. Wisely, he kept to small talk about the weather and the car smelling like Kentucky Fried Chicken that made him hungry. You know –
safe
subjects.

When we got inside, he made us some hot chocolate as the rainy weather became downright hostile.

‘A cold front is on the way,’ Jordan remarked as the blue glare of the television flashed on his handsome face. He knew he had screwed up with me in the car, but I pretended not to notice his contrition. All through the evening it was kind of sweet, though, how his fretful eyes kept darting briskly in my direction every time he said something, just to see if his statement carried my approval.

Later, around midnight, Jordan grew more courageous in his mannerisms as I closed the door on the dishwasher and stood to my full height.

‘I’m glad I have a beautiful wife whose stunning body is gonna keep me warm tonight,’ he said as he buried his face in my neck again. He was playing, but his firm grip pulling me hard against him was evidence that he was genuinely in the mood for some affection. I couldn’t help but surrender and placed my hands on his chest, running my fingers up under his shirt to find his nipples.

Jordan groaned ecstatically and picked me up. I wrapped my thighs around his waist, and he carried me through to the living room, where he laid me down on the sofa. He hesitated just before he pulled off my underwear. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask about my contraception again, but he seemed to change his mind. He knew another transgression today would not win him any more favours with me.

I wriggled out of my underwear and cradled his face in my hands as he hovered above me, horny as hell.

‘Sweetheart,’ I said with a warm smile, ‘I know you’re worried about me taking the pill. Just stop. I took it today, I promise.’

At first, I thought he would be pissed at me for reading his mind, but to my delight, Jordan’s face turned into a smirk of satisfaction and youthful desire as he eagerly removed the rest of my clothes as if it was the first time we ever made love. I was pleasantly taken by his renewed zest. Jordan treated me as if we were mere acquaintances – as if we were doing something forbidden, and I loved every moment, every pant and every dirty command he laid on me.

After my first weekend alone in such a long time, I appreciated how good it was to feel his strong, hot body against mine again. I yielded completely to Jordan and his new recklessness, and I was justly rewarded with a raw repertoire of more daring and bold positions. Had I been more alert, I would have taken more notice of him staring into space a lot of the time, something unlike him. His behaviour didn’t strike me as too odd since he had been a bit solemn the past few weeks. The renewed passion of his movements and the sheer intensity of his growls in my hair was a welcome change to the usual fare of his routine.

***

When we woke up two hours later, it was almost 3 a.m. It was my ringtone, chiming from the beside cabinet. The room was eerily dark, and the wind was howling outside when I sat up.

‘Who the hell’s calling you at this time of night?’ Jordan moaned. ‘Christ! Not a moment’s peace.’

Jordan was always grouchy when he woke up, so his demeanour wasn’t unexpected.

‘Martin,’ I said quietly into the phone upon hearing his voice.

‘Why are you whispering? It’s not like you’ll be waking up anyone who’s sleeping,’ Jordan complained loudly so that Martin could hear him.

‘Shh,’ I told Jordan, then turned my attention back to my phone. ‘What’s wrong, Martin?’

‘I’m sorry to call this late, but the police just called me. Carol’s in the disused bell tower of St Catherine’s Church. She’s threatening to jump,’ he reported.

‘She’s gonna jump? Jesus Christ!’ I exclaimed in alarm. Jordan jerked up into a sitting position with wide eyes. He could tell from my tone it wasn’t just a late night call to talk about something mundane. This was deadly serious. A matter of life and death.

Martin continued, ‘Can you meet me there, like yesterday? She’s refusing to speak to anyone but you.’

‘St Catherine’s Church?’ I asked for confirmation, fumbling crazily to put on the lamp. I vaguely remembered attending a wedding there a few years back. ‘The one on
Thorne Rd
in Bracknell
?

Jordan was already out of the bed by the time I ended the call with Martin.

‘Want me to come with you?’ he asked sincerely.

‘If you want,’ I said as I flew out of bed and ran to the bathroom. My bladder was at bursting point, causing me to bend over in pain as I sat on the toilet seat. The need to keep weeing had been happening on a regular basis lately. I kept meaning to make a doctor’s appointment but something always came up. No matter what, I was going to call the Doctor’s surgery in the morning. I couldn’t carry on like this.  I returned to the bedroom and began to dress.

‘This is why I’m so glad we don’t have any children,’ Jordan said, pulling on his jeans and boots in haste. ‘That woman could’ve been our daughter in years to come.’

‘Or our daughter could be the one to save someone like Carol,’ I said.

‘Knowing our luck, it would be the first scenario. But thankfully it’s something we’ll never have to worry about,’ he replied as he slid his arms into his jacket.

I went for the car keys, and he kissed me on the temple before we rushed out to the car in the freezing wet cold.

‘My mind’s in such a state, I can’t remember the quickest way to get to Bracknell,’ I said nervously as we got onto the
A34
and drove south.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll direct you using my iPhone. Just keep going until we get to the
M4
,’ Jordan assured me, tapping the address into his phone.

I could not have asked for a better partner, especially at that moment of panic and worry. I needed Jordan just the way he was at that moment; crisp, clear, informed and supportive. The poor man had no idea what kind of tension he was in for. With attempted suicide cases it rarely ended quickly, and I knew we were going to labour under the taxing emotional doldrums of unbridled distress.

We drove in silence with only the whistle of the gust in our ears and the occasional pair of white orbs approaching from the opposite side flashing by us to dump us in the lonely darkness of the winding road again.

‘I’ve never seen you in action before,’ Jordan said suddenly.

I thought it a poor choice of words, considering the circumstances, but remained silent. ‘I don’t mean that with the insensitivity it carries,’ he recovered quickly. ‘I just mean that ... I have never seen you in this capacity – as saviour and angel to those in turmoil. I just know you as a wife and lover, friend, partner.’

‘Why are you saying these things, now?’ I asked inadvertently.

‘What did I say wrong?’ he asked gently.

I sighed. I really had no answer for him. ‘I don’t know,’ I whispered. To be honest, he hadn’t said anything wrong. It was just that what he said sounded so conclusive – as if he was reviewing our life together and what I was to him, fitting my functions into boxes. When I should have encompassed his entire world, being his everything, he chose to name my roles as if there was space for another to fill in the gaps.

Perhaps I was over-analysing his meaning because I was preparing for the heavy emotional burden that was about to bear down on me with Carol.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I placed my hand on his thigh and caressed him lightly in reassurance.

‘Do you know her well?’ he asked.

‘Unfortunately, we see way too much of her, yes,’ I answered, concentrating on the flashing strips on the road ahead, hoping that I could change Carol’s mind tonight. I had a feeling that this was going to be my last chance.