On My Knees

I’m on my knees in the kitchen and I’ve filled two whole binbags - big ones - with out of date packets and tins. At the bottom of the drawer I discover an empty bottle of soy sauce and a huge brown sticky mess which I scrub at until my fingers are red and sore. It’s not really helping though.

As I’m rearranging the remainder of the contents, the estate agent phones. He wants to apologise for not finding anyone to buy my house. He’s done the enthusiastic wording, his colleague has taken the photographs and photoshopped them into something surprisingly attractive - even I quite like my house in those pictures - and I never knew you could do such a convincing blue sky – I don’t think it’s ever rained as much as it did the day they came, but you wouldn’t know it from the photograph.

Despite the glossy brochure though, only two people have been to view, and the estate agent says the phone in the office hasn’t rung at all in the past three days. I tell him it’s okay – and it is – I mean there’s absolutely nothing else I can do. Jumping up and down and shaking my fist isn’t going to help. Anyway, I can think of a million places much worse than this to get stuck in.

After I put the phone down – I look around – there must be something else I can do. The handles – all the handles are loose in the kitchen. I find a screwdriver and go round fixing them all. Then I hoover. Again. You never know, someone might come, and it’ s better to be ready than not.

Looking at the clock, it’s nearly time to go to the gym for my assessment, but I need some coffee first – it doesn’t exactly make up for not sleeping but it’s better than nothing. While I’m waiting for it to be ready, I run upstairs and change into the leggings I bought the day before – they’re black and skinny, with zips at the ankle - not exactly sportswear, but everyone’s got limits. I look in the mirror, and I definitely need a longer tshirt so I pull one out of the drawer. I’ve never been to a gym before and I’m not really looking forward to it, but I have to keep busy. I’ll try anything – anything to shut out the awful feeling.

It’s only happened a few times in my life before. Each time….. I just have this feeling that something bad’s happening, and nothing makes it go – it doesn’t matter what I do.

It could be anything. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he went away for the weekend and forgot to say. There are all sorts of excuses – reasons I can think up, but I know none of them are true. I know something bad is happening.

I grab the shoes I bought in Tucson to walk up the mountain that we never went to in the end because time just drifted by. They’ll do. I grab a coat and run out of the house. It’s getting dark - there’s already frost on my car windows, and the cold takes my breath away. Driving through the rush hour traffic to the gym, I take painkillers out of the blister pack, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, but I know they aren’t going to fix my head.

It’s not so bad once I start. A man with sad eyes takes me through a programme they‘ve fixed for me. He doesn’t look as if his heart is really in it, and I wonder how he ended up here, why he looks so beaten. I try really hard; whenever he says there’s something extra I can do – another five minutes on a machine – I do it. He looks approvingly at me, and halfway through he smiles encouragingly; “You’ll sleep well tonight”

I smile back, but inside I’m thinking about all the nights lately where I’ve hardly slept at all – and I know he’s wrong. Nothing’s going to make me sleep, not while… not until I find out if he’s okay. It’s been eleven days since I heard from him. I’m giving it two more days before I get on a plane. Tonight I’ll write one last email.