The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Nineteen

I know it's him immediately. Just The Two of Us shattering the pleasurable silence. Could it be anyone else? It's so fucking cliched I almost want to laugh. But it's not funny. Nothing about this is funny.

Then I try and think what our ringtone would be.

She jerks back from me, whipping her head round to where her phone's ringing on the small table by the couch. My body seems to sag even though I'm already lying down.

She turns back to me, clearly debating something. Whether to answer it I presume. Of course, I want her to ignore it. No, actually, I need her to ignore it. It means something if she ignores it. 

Means even more if she leaves me to go to him.

"I have to get that. It's... I have to, " she explains, badly. I feel my fists curl and I have to bite my tongue so I don't say something I know I'll regret. A first I'm sure. "I won't be long," she smiles apologetically as she stands up.

As she steps over me, I cover my eyes with my hand and take a few deep breaths. With a growl of frustration, I tuck myself back into my jeans and zip them up just as I hear her slide open the large glass door to the patio. She steps outside and pulls it closed behind her. I can't decide if I'm pissed off she doesn't want to talk to him in front of me or not. Or if I'm grateful. Do I really want to sit here and listen to her be his wife? The dinner party had been bad enough. But now, here? Fuck no.

But Christ, the need to know what she's saying is almost suffocating. I can't think about it. I'm likely to smash something if I give it any considerable thought.

Was it that she loved him? Missed him? Wished he was here?  Fucking stop it.

I turn my head back to stare out at her, but since her back's turned all I can see is her dancing slightly on her feet, rubbing her arms to warm herself up. She must be fucking freezing out there. She's naked except for my T-shirt. With a tired groan, I haul my body up from the floor and cross over to turn up the fire before grabbing the furry white blanket she was wearing earlier.

As I near the door, I hesitate slightly, wondering whether to knock on the glass or not, but in the end, I decide against it. I slide the door open as quietly as I can but she still whips around, panicked, before her expression changes and she looks strangely calm.

".... a nice bath and an early night and try and get started first thing," she tells him, eyes locked on mine. I step outside and move behind her to wrap the blanket around her shoulders. "Freestanding. And hot tub too," she says. I can hear the faint crackle of his cunt voice from this distance though words are indecipherable. The nasal up-his-own-arse tone is still audible.

I come around to the front and adjust the blanket so she can hold it against her body with her free hand.  She looks up at me as I run my hands over her shoulders and I feel a sudden desperate competitiveness overtake me. I've never been a particularly competitive person. Right now I wanted to win her attention. Right now I want her eyes and her mind on me and I want to disappear him completely. 

As she stares up at me with a strange, lost look on her face, I wonder what she'd do if I kissed her right now. In the end, my cowardice takes over and I give her an awkward smile before stepping back inside the house and closing the door behind me.

To take my mind off what she might be saying, I decide to tidy away the leftovers, empty plates, and cushions from the living room floor. Something tells me we won't be finishing off where we left it when she comes back in. It takes me a few tries of randomly opening cupboard doors until I find the dishwasher, then I load and stack it neatly while trying to not to count the minutes she's been out there. About ten I'm thinking.