Are You sure you're okay?

ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE OKAY?  Words 2719  By the bed there is a glass of orange
juice. It's for Ralph. He takes the glass. The coldness of the juice
has chilled the glass itself. This juice is a minor miracle. A marvel.
He knows it. Despite everything, Janice brought this in while he was
asleep. Janice is kind. He realises he does not deserve her as his
girlfriend.  Last night, she said: 'You're doing
it still.'  'Doing what?' he said.
 'You know exactly what,' she said.
 'No, I don't,' he said.
 She contemplated what to say next.
She was making a decision?There and then? What she did say struck him
then as unjust.  She said: 'This is what happened
before.' Then she added: 'You're still the
same.' And finally: 'Nothing's
changed.' They had lived together. Shared a one
bedroom flat in Brighton by the seafront. He ended it because he did
not want a major commitment so soon. He could see that was what she
wanted. She wanted a family with him. He knew this because she told
him. He thought that was a ludicrous suggestion. He wanted to teach
English as a foreign language, go abroad. She had no desire to do those
things. Maybe, he thought now, and it had not occurred to him
previously, her reluctance to travel with him was her way of calling it
a day too. She would not compromise. So he called it a day and
after three months it occurred to him that he was an idiot and he had
made a mistake. She gave him a second chance. It took some persuasion.
So he said they would get married. Serious promises were made.
Life would become established. In the meantime, because he now lived in
London and she lived in the West Country, he visited her every
fortnight. Had done for two months. Last night, in bed, they were
kissing and cuddling, and it was like the old days in that he was not
enjoying himself. He said: 'Can't you be a bit more involved?'
 Thinking about it presently,
re-running the scene, he wondered about himself. He wondered what went
on in his head. He was moving on top of her when he said: 'You could be
more adventurous.' It was like they were in the kitchen
and he was talking about a meal. About adding Chilli for a curry.
 'What are you talking about?' she had
said, snapping open her eyes. That got him. He wasn't sure what he
had meant. As opposed to admitting this, he said, 'You just lie
there.' 
 'What are
saying?' 'You could be livelier.
Animated.' 'Okay. I see. For the record, you're
not exactly mister inventive,' she said.  'What does that
mean?' 'You could,' she said, and she
gestured her head in the direction of her groin. 
 'Me - go
down?' 'Yes.' 'You said you don't like
it.' She dithered.
 Suddenly, he knew he did not want to
hear what was coming next.  'It's nice if it's done right.' she
said.  'You never said that when we were
together.' 'Well,' she said.
 'When we were together you didn't
like it. Now you do. Who have you been seeing since we split
up?' 'What does it
matter?' 'Three months. Is this why you didn't
want to get back together. Who is he?' 'Try four months. This is why I
didn't tell you. I knew you'd go nuts.' 'Who was
he?' 'Let's not go into
this.' 'Or should I be saying: "Who are
they?"' 'I'm not having this conversation. I
will not let you make me feel bad about
myself.' 'You really are a?.' 
 'Really are a what?' she said. 'I
didn't start this. You did. The old questions.  Same as ever. This
time you got an answer you didn't expect.
Tough.' He moved to his side of the bed.
Covered his exposed body with the duvet. The thought of her sleeping
with another man appalled him. He said, 'You slept around before I met
you. We split up for a couple of months and you're back at
it.' 'I can't deal with
this.' 'So how did he, or they, do
it?' 'My mum's right,' she said. 'You are
a control freak. You're unhappy with yourself because everything you do
goes wrong, so you take out your frustration at being a complete
failure on other people. Mainly those closest to you. Which basically
means me, as no one else can bothered with you, even your own family
are sick and tired of you.' 'Does your mum know you sleep
around?' 'How old are you, Ralph? Do you know
how dull you are? It's brutal. Honestly, I think you need counselling.
Grow up. You're so absorbed in yourself. You always miss the
point.' 'Do I?' he said, leaning over to
cuddle her. He didn't know where the affection came from. Seconds ago
he had imagined slapping her. But suddenly it was there. He had missed
her so much when they had split up.  He kissed her and she responded. They
cuddled. He kissed her belly, the bones of her slender hips. As he
thought about it today, all of this was another kind of controlling. In
those months since they had split, he could tell something had happened
to her. She was stronger. Self assured. It was as if she could see
right through him.  She's in the shower. Cleaning her
body. He thinks: you're washing me down the plug hole with hair and
skin and sweat.  She enters the bedroom. She smiles
but it's a weak, thin smile. He loved her blonde hair when it's wet. It
spiked in all directions, electrified, all at once she's silly and
stunning. She removes her dressing gown and he looks at her narrow
waist, her breasts, while he still can. She says: 'You better get in
the shower if I'm going to drive you to where the coach
stops.' Her voice is naturally soft. But now
it's sounding different. It's fainter, sad. He can see this in her. He
knows her, that's the thing. All these years together. He walks to the
shower. This is her flat. He is living with his mother and father.
Sleeping in the bedroom he had as a child. The single bed. He opts for
a cold shower. He yelps and catches his breath but the icy water
distracts his thoughts and this, he says to himself, is what I want.
This is what I want. He reaches for the shampoo. Pours a blob into the
palm of his hand. He puts the hand to his brown hair, which needs
cutting, and he rubs up a lather. He does not want her to dump him, but
this is happening. So often you go through days and you couldn't pick
one out from the other. It's like for like. Peanuts in a dish. But he
understood he was in the middle of something here. These are the last
moments, the last seconds. Today something is happening. He feels it
like a physical action, like clenching a fist, then letting go.
 He towels himself dry. Uses her
deodorant. Woodland Spring. It's her smell on him. He brushes his
teeth. The gums bleed. They always bleed. He spits toothpaste, pink
coloured, stringed with blood, into the basin. He tells himself he
feels numb. But that's not right, he realises. As it's not numbness.
It's an overload. I'm all over the place, in my head, he says aloud,
looking at his flabby stomach, remembering when it was flat and hard.
 There was an excitement to splitting
up before. He chose to end it. He sensed possibilities. Options.
 This is different. He keeps telling
himself this because its truth is significant. Remarkable. It wasn't
everyday that he experienced astonishment. Today was the day. His life
would be different from now on?Share options had expired?Tax shelters
outlawed?This is a dead market. He towelled his back, pulling it across
the shoulder blades from one side to the other. Janice was fond of his
broad back. She had told him she liked masculine backs.
 'I'll be running late for work,' she
says.  That's not really it, he thought. She
wanted him out. Scram! Vamoose! There is nothing so bad as an unwanted
person in your home. That's what he had become. This was not paranoia.
The signs were numerous. It was in the coldness of the tiles on his
bare feet. The dripping wet of the shower curtains. The greyness of the
sky on a Monday morning.  'Ralph,' she says, 'I have a meeting
a 9:15.' This was a first. He had never heard
her talk about meetings. So much had gone on in the months since she
left Brighton. So much to separate her life from his own. The details
had altered beyond recognition. Her routines were strange to him. There
were names he did not know. Male names that made him
suspicious. 
Timetables now existed that he could not understand.
 Going to the bedroom, he sees that
she has packed his bag. Momentarily, he wonders why she didn't throw it
into the street. That wouldn't be Janice though. She is kind.
Considerate. Jeans, a shirt, a pair of socks and
boxer shorts are on the made bed. The sheets they have slept on are
balled up in the corner like used tissues. The window is open. Air
freshener has been sprayed. There is a picture of Ralph and Janice on
the bedside dresser. They are at a wedding in Southend. He was wearing
a second hand pin stripe suit with a purple kipper tie. She was wearing
a blue dress. She looked immaculate. He was staggered that you could
not bottle happiness. Why time had to move on. It wasn't right.
 He zipped the bag. His gums hurt. He
hasn't made an appointment to go to the dentist in 12 years. He was too
scared. Janice disliked his teeth. She said they were awful and
sometimes his breath smelled bad.  She was in the hallway. Coat on.
Holding a briefcase. She does that weak smile. He steps outside and the
rain has turned the colour of the road and pavement a shade darker.
They're in the West Country. It's so quiet here. During the night, you
can hear the quietness. This is what he's thinking as he sits in the
passenger seat of her car. This was another development. Another
difference between them. She had learnt to drive and bought a car. All
this in such a short space of time. If he hadn't initially been the one
to call off the relationship, he would think she had been planning all
of this for years. Scheming and plotting a post-Ralph
existence. 'You okay?' he
says. 'Yes,' she
says. 'Are you sure you're
okay?' Firmly, she says,
'Yes.' 'You don't sound
okay.' 'Ralph, please,' she says, looking
for traffic as she pulls into the road. He doesn't know why she bothers
as there is never any traffic in Somerton. It's a one cash point kind
of town. Quite often, that cash point didn't work.
 The car moves off. Something needs to
be said here. He tells himself this and feels this pressure in him to
talk to her. She is so distant it frightens him. He wonders if he
should talk about last night. Is that it? Go for significance. Be
profound. But that's impossible. You can't force the profound. He knows
that too well. Plus, he doesn't think all of this is about last night.
The weekend has been insipid. All the visits have been like this. They
don't get along as friends, not anymore. He disliked visiting buildings
of the National Trust. The English countryside did not excite him.
Birdsong doesn't entertain me in any way, he said to himself, calmly,
logically. He was tired of seeing green fields, of sitting in a jam of
ten cars because of a tractor up ahead. Certain fundamentals divided
them and always had. It can take years to get to know someone. Once you
finally did know them, that's when you realised you didn't like them.
Then the intimacy was a memory. Finished. However, he accepts that it
is too early in the morning to discuss these issues with Janice. The
weekend has gone. The time for personal stuff has passed them by. There
is a meeting at 9:15. He says, 'I love
you.' She steers right. Overtaking the
tractor. They pass her father's house.  She hasn't answered. She has to say
her part. That's the deal here. A link is formed. It's as simple as
that. But she's not talking. He responds to his own sense of panic by
saying, 'Do you love me?' 'Yes,' she says.
 And this is the controlling she had
talked about. Make no mistake. Where it comes from he does not know. He
wishes he did.  He says, 'You busy at work
today?' 'I've this meeting. It's about new
software.' 'Right.' 'What about
you?' 'Me. Don't know. Relax. Read my
book.' 'Lucky thing,' she says.
 The road curves and by the stone
church there is a bus stop. A queue of seven to eight people are there
with their bags. Rain starts to fall.  She parks the car. Cuts the engine.
 'You go to work,' he says.
 'No,' she says. 'I'll wait for the
coach with you. You'll get wet otherwise.' 'Thanks.' A jet fighter screeches low
overheard. It causes vibrations in the car.
 'There's a base nearby,' she
says. 'I remember you saying there
was.' 'It's all military round here,' she
says. 'I enjoyed the
weekend.' 'Me too. Thanks for the
presents.' It was her birthday. She knew he had
bought the presents at the last minute. A naff, old fashioned style
teddy bear from Clinton's Cards and a copy of James M Cain's The
Postman Always Rings Twice from Borders.  Typically, she pretended she liked
the presents.  'I can't wait for the next fortnight
to pass,' he says.  She nods. Her clear blue eyes are
fixed on the road ahead. 'There's the coach,' she says.
 He gets out of the car. She opens the
boot. He takes the shoulder bag. They kiss. He walks to the coach. The
driver takes his bag and positions it in the crammed baggage
compartment at the side. Ralph steps on board. It's packed with people.
He finds his seat. It's on the inside and a young girl with pink hair
and a skeletal piercing in her nose has to get out to let him in. Ralph
is six five and his knees are pushed tightly against the seat in front.
The girl makes a joke about Ralph being a giant. He tells her he feels
like Gulliver. He realises he has left his book and Discman in the bag.
From where he is sitting he can see Janice in her brown Ford Escort.
She's not looking at Ralph. She's not waiting to wave goodbye. She's
sitting in the car, arms between her knees, leaning forward, and she's
staring ahead. Ralph knows he will never forget the sight of her
sitting there. He knows if he comes to this part of England again, it
won't be because of Janice.  To the girl next to him, who is
reading a heavy metal magazine, he says: 'You see that brown car
there.' 'Yes,' says the girl, warily.
 'You see the
driver.' 'Yes.' 'That's my ex-girlfriend.'
 'Oh,' says the girl.
 'We've split
up.' The girl doesn't know what to say. He
can tell she wishes she was sitting somewhere else in the coach. 'Why'd
you split up?' she says. 
 'We just don't get on,' says
Ralph. 'Right,' says the girl.
 He grins.
 The coach moves off.
 The girl reads her magazine. Ralph
can't deal with having to sit there. He sees a flyer in the
soft pouch at the back of the chair his knees are pressed against. He
opens the flyer. It's by the coach company. A yellow line is drawn
across the map.  The first stop on the journey to
Hammersmith in London is Taunton.