Chrysalis Days & Butterfly Nights [Wattys 2023 Shortlist]

4

4

The wedding dress still hung in the wardrobe. No matter how much he considered it, thought about it, took it down and put it back again, he knew all along that he could never part with that. It was one piece of clothing that he had never considered wearing. Not ever. It was far too precious. Far too meaningful for him to ruin those beautiful memories by even attempting to wear it. Everything else had to go. Everything.

Not one other dress, no skirt, no top, no shoes, no underwear remained in the house. Everything but that wedding dress now sat in a series of black bin bags in the back of his work van, waiting for lunchtime to arrive. He wished he had something a little more appropriate, a little less stark in which to hold the clothes, but he had nothing. Only the bin bags. When he had left home that morning, after tying Toby to the running line in the garden, he had left a wardrobe that felt cavernous and foreboding without Elaine's things inside.

"So, what I'm thinking is, and it's a bit radical, I know, but, what about a three-five-two formation for the next game?" Andy's voice sounded strange and tinny over the speakers in the van's cab. He always got like this after a bad game. Which was, in fairness, practically every game. "Luke? Three-five-two? Anyone? Have you got out of the van and left me talking to myself? Again."

"What?" Luke couldn't help but struggle to pay attention, he had decided to throw away almost everything he had left of Elaine's. "Does it matter? Four-four-two. Three-five-two. Nine-one-one. What we need is decent players, mate, not a different formation. Plus, we'd have to train at it and we only train for an hour, ish, every other Wednesday. And ..."

"Alright, bitch! No need to go on!" Andy had a pout, one that he used when he knew he was being stupid and someone had told him the truth. He was probably pouting now. "Fuck! You could have just said 'no'."

"You fucking asked!" They always got like this and, usually, it was all part of the fun. Banter, as some would call it. It didn't feel fun today. "Sorry. Listen, I'm just pulling into the warehouse now. We'll talk about formations after the last call-outs, yeah."

"Fine. Cath's still going on and on about this Abbey bird." It was like he had become ripped from the 70's. Talking like Jack Regan, or even Gene Hunt. It always made Luke cringe when he talked like that and, one day, he would have to call him out on it. "You're going to have to agree to a date, mate, or put your foot down and I don't fancy your chances of survival if you even lift your foot to put it down. Anyway, catch you later. Think about it. The three-five-two, not the bird."

Andy cut off the call before Luke could say anything else. In truth, he was probably right. With the players they had, three-five-two was probably the way to go. They could pass the ball, it was just getting it in the net and stopping the other teams from scoring that was the problem. If they could play the diamonds, have the other teams run ragged chasing the ball, they could stand a chance of nicking a win. Or, more likely, not. With the Abbey and Cath problem, Luke had no solution that suited him that left his body parts intact.

He parked up at the warehouse, picked up his next job and began to restock the van. He needed a little bit of everything and it took a few trips to get what he needed and, every time he returned to the van, he saw those bags of clothes. It felt like they were taunting him. He could leave them there. He could transfer them back to his car and take great care in returning each and every item back where he had taken them from. He knew exactly where each item went and in which order. It hadn't changed in two years.

Of course, when Elaine was still alive, there was no discernible order. None that Luke had ever managed to notice. She entered a place like a whirlwind and left it like a triumphant general, conqueror of all. None more so than in their own home. A force of nature that Luke both admired and cringed at in equal measure. Although, now, when he looked back, he admired it all. Even the embarrassing times. Since she had gone, however, he had kept it all exactly as she had left it. Almost exactly. He couldn't leave the clothes she had left, dumped on the floor, lying around.