At the Moment - Chapter 1

You know that feeling when you wake up from a dream so vivid that you lived it? You created it right there in your memory. It is part of your life. Part of you. Not just for the hours or days following, but for your life, like any other memory. The only way you know it's a dream is because such things are impossible. Nevertheless, it affects your personality and life and changes who you are.

Sometimes, though, these dreams are so ordinary that they feel real. You wake in the morning, and you can’t move past it. Husbands and wives wake up angry with each other for their partner’s infidelities that feel so real that even as the belief in the dream fades, the hurt and feelings of betrayal do not.

This is a story about Nate, Nathaniel to his mother, Nate to his friends, and Nat to his wife. Occasionally, Nath, but those are soon corrected. The story is hard to fathom, harder to tell, and almost impossible to know where to start. The obvious choice is to begin at the beginning, but that doesn’t consider the fact that time isn’t always the linear concept we like to think it is. According to the good old trustworthy Gregorian calendar, our story starts with Nathaniel sleeping, dreaming of a hangover about to hit. Even though, according to our Gregorian calendar, Nat nor his wife Kellie haven’t had a drink for the last six months.

In the past, Nate enjoyed a drink. He loved a drink a little too much. At first, it wasn’t an issue, but like many others, after a while, he started to develop a darker and less appealing drunken alter ego. His friends could spot it and would playfully switch the first letters of his first and surname. Nate Harrison becomes Hate Narrison. His friends would greet the arrival of Hate Narrison with cheers and undiluted glee. His arrival would often coincide with chaos and madness, a heady mix of youthful exuberance and a drive for excitement. Eventually, though, the warm welcome for Hate cooled, and the hijinks became more tinged with anger and... well... Hate.

As time went on, Nate’s friends found that their desire for chaos and trouble on a night out was somewhat satisfied. Even sober Nate would agree with this; however, it was challenging to persuade Hate on his arrival that all the lads wanted these days was a bit of a dance, the opportunity to chat up some girls, and enjoy all the thriving 90’s scene had to offer. Hate was barred from many of the trendier pubs in town and was in the habit of getting everyone thrown out of nightclubs and parties after upsetting the crowd. Truth be told, many of his friends started to dread the arrival of Hate Narrison and began to make their excuses or just disappear before his arrival.

By the time his second child had arrived, Nat was much calmer. Hate Narrison was a distant memory. Nat still enjoyed a couple of drinks after work, and perhaps a couple more once the kids were in bed. The problem was that as his kids got older, he found that they exhausted both his temper and patience very quickly. With the addition of even a small amount of regular drinking, this meant he struggled to be the dad he wanted to be. This came to a head the morning after a big Boxing Day session at his in-law's house. He and his brother-in-law Jonty had taken shots and kept the whole family from a good night’s sleep.

Shortly after Nat had gone to bed, Kellie was up at dawn with the kids, woken by him and excited to play with their Christmas toys. Of course, he passed out quickly and was, as ever, impossible to wake. So the morning shift was left to Kellie, on the back of a few drinks and a promise that he would get up to look after the kids. Not that she believed him, but she did feel the pressure to stay up for another round or two. She grumbled and cursed her interrupted sleep as she staggered downstairs with the children. Nat and Jonty had woken most of the house up at various points last night. The random high-volume blasts of their favorite 90s house tracks punctuated their imagined DJ set at Kellie’s mum’s stereo. The whole house had taken a turn to tell the two morons to keep the music low and to go and smoke outside.

Frazzled and struggling, Kellie made breakfast, changed pull-ups, broke up fights about Christmas presents, and then finally got them both settled in front of the TV. She prided herself on staying calm despite the occasional judgment of her mother, expressed through sighs and tuts and the banging headache that she was convinced was going to turn into another migraine.

By the time Nathaniel deigned to rise around midday, she was beaten and broken, and her head was pounding. He walked into the kitchen and hardly noticed either the cool reception from his mother-in-law or the furious glare from his wife. This only became apparent to him when his request for coffee bounced around the deaf ears, the only other sound was the sink filling for the breakfast dishes. Nat normally had the inlaws wrapped around his little finger. It drove Kellie crazy because she was always on the end of some barely disguised criticism from her mum and increasingly her sister. Nat thought could do no wrong in either of their eyes, and any complaints about him were met with platitudes and ‘I am sure he didn’t mean it.’ This cool and hazy morning, though, he found no support in the house. Everyone was tired, and patience was wearing very thin for the two boys who had, in their way, breathed so much life into the family after Kellie’s dad died. Jonty had the good sense to stay well out of the way. With no kids and a partner who had decided to get out and go to the gym to take his anger out on some machine or other, this was fairly easy for him.

The door slammed as Kellie left the kitchen without a word to return to bed. Bev raised an eyebrow in Nathaniel's direction, but he hardly noticed, too preoccupied with the need for coffee and a bacon sandwich to register his wife’s upset. Barely glancing in the direction of the door, he stood up and stumbled over the kettle. His clumsiness was noted and commented on by Bev with a firm tut. As he picked up the kettle, he spilled it, sending lukewarm water cascading down the counter, heading to the edge. Paralyzed by his own incompetence, he lifted his hands to his head and slid his fingers through his greasy matted hair, breathing a somewhat overdramatic ‘fuck!’ Bev tuts again and then bustles him out of the way. She catches the drops forming a waterfall down to the floor with a tea towel and then, with an expert flourish, she stems the waterfall and covers the pool with cotton and resets the kettle on its base. ‘Never mind, Nat love,’ she says half-heartedly, summoning as much patience and kindness as possible. ‘You sit down... I’ll get your coffee,’ she says considering the retribution Nat will have to face to make up for all this.

As Nat sits sheepishly at the clan and tidy but noticeably aging kitchen table, another door slams upstairs. He and Bev both stop. They both look in the direction of the spare bedroom where he, Kellie, and the kids slept last night. Bev looks at him accusingly like in those movies where a gunshot disturbs a sleepy town. All that is needed in this small semi on the outskirts of Brighton is some eerie foreboding music and a murder of crows to suddenly take to the sky. Bev places the coffee in front of Nathaniel. She has always prided herself on not getting involved in the girl’s love lives. However, this only really extends to not talking to their partners about anything. Any opportunity is enthusiastically taken to provide advice and feedback directly to the girls, usually without invitation or request.

Today though she holds fast on her ill-deserved personal reputation and tries to comfort Nate with a sympathetic smile. Nate, however, sees little but a frustrated grimace, a frustrated grimace that confirms how much trouble he is in. He nods appreciatively and sips his coffee.

Without really considering Bev blurts, “You see Simon was a drinker.” It's almost like she isn’t talking to him, but rather just vocalizing the thoughts that are in her head. Nate looks over in her direction, sighs silently, and raises an eyebrow while she turns back to the breakfast dishes ready for the dishwasher. “The problem is, it just takes over. Just a quick one after work. But before long, he’d stay there until dinner. My sister said that they... well... you... um... men.” She laughs and looks at him kindly. “You know what I mean,” a clumsy attempt to refocus the story away from him so it might land by accident. “Anyway, I ended up feeling like Andy Capp’s wife. Just short of bursting into the pub with an oversized frying pan anyway.” She laughed again; Nate could feel that this story was coming with love but wished it would be over. He wasn’t a drinker anymore; he just liked a drink.

“I used to ring the pub to ask for him, only to be told they haven’t seen him. I mean, they knew and I knew that he never went anywhere else. If the fool had any adventure or imagination in him, I might have believed him.” Nat was trying to grunt and nod at the appropriate parts of the story without really taking it in. Bev stopped and stared through the kitchen window into the garden. Lost for a moment in her memories. “The girls would be playing,” the memory made her eyes sparkle as she smiled, “Or fighting.” She laughed again. Her smile drifted, and she paused. “I just needed some help some days.” She was lost in her bittersweet memories and continued to stare into the garden.

Nate looked up, wondering why the talking had stopped. Had he missed a cue? Something made him turn toward the lounge a moment before a loud crash. This was immediately followed by the cat darting through the kitchen and out of the cat flap. It took a few moments to properly register and then more for the fact that he was the one responsible for dealing with this to register. Bev’s gaze turned on him and turned into a glare as finally, his paralysis let him go.

As he stood, the empty dizzy hungover feeling in his head was joined by a wave of frustration. ‘What the fuck were they doing? Why do they always have to do this shit when he is feeling rough? They are just so selfish!’ As he steps into the cozy and warmly lit lounge, he finds Sophie his daughter sitting on her younger brother Jack. He is screaming as she digs her nails into his fingers, trying to pry the remote control from his hand. His other hand is pressed against his cheek, pushing his face into the deep grey carpet. The indignant and outrageous responsibility bestowed on him suddenly becomes too much for Nate, and he quickly steps over and grabs Sophie by the nearest thing to him. He didn’t mean to grab her hair, but in that moment, it felt like any reaction was acceptable. If she didn’t behave like that, then this wouldn’t happen. “What the fuck!” he shouted louder than he expected to. His yelling was matched by Sophie’s screaming as she tried to push him away. Instinctively, she grabbed his hands around her ponytail and dug her nails into his fingers. The pain coursed through him, and he raised his other hand to her. “Dad!” she screamed. “Dad!” Jack screamed. “Nate/Nathanial,” Bev and Kellie screamed at once. He wasn’t sure who started it, but now their voices merged and twisted with the horrified and terrified looks on their faces. Jack was wide-eyed with panic and fear.

Nate froze.

“Nathanial, what the hell?” Kellie screamed and then quickly contained herself, instinctively de-escalating the situation. As calmly as she could muster, she said slowly and certainly, “Let go of my daughter... now!” Nate turned and looked at his wife. Nate released his screaming daughter. Nate realized the messed-up situation he was in the middle of. Kellie continued with her calm voice trying to keep it from shaking. “I think you had better leave.” Nate moved to speak up; there were no words. “You’d better go, love,” Bev added with more compassion than she was feeling. Years of nursing have instilled the instinct to de-escalate a situation. She had needed it several times when the girls were younger.

Kellie was already cuddling and comforting both Sophie and Jack who were both still screaming. Jack repeated, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, we’ll never fight again,” while Sophie was holding her head and screaming her own apologies.

Nate turned and looked at Bev, who held his gaze in her eyes for a moment. He saw her story in them, and it was all much clearer. Grabbing his coat and shoes in one hand, he reached for the latch on the door. As he did, a clump of blonde hair dropped fluttering to the floor soft and calm in the violent angry air. He wiped away a tear and closed the door behind him, sitting on the step and pulling his trainers on.

A few moments later, Jonty staggered into the hallway. Disheveled and confused, he scratched his head and asked, “What’s all the noise? What's going on?”