Bursting of a Bubble

She stared at him.
From under her thick, fringed lashes kissed with mascara, that accentuated her green eyes, she really looked hard at him.
As she opened her gift from him for her fortieth birthday, she felt a deep sadness.
The man before her no longer resembled the youthful, fun man she had met 20 years before hand, dancing on Camden Palace floor, free and full of hope, on the brink of his adult journey. He had been just 19. She 21. He had musical aspirations, she quite happy to be as she was, working with young children, and hoping one day to have her own.
Eyes had met whilst both up, strutting their stuff, a smile, and then both kept their eyes peeled on each other for the majority of the evening.
Within weeks they were inseparable.
Within a few years she was living with him.
In six years they were engaged.
And then, baby made three. When their daughter was three they married, a huge affair at their local church.
She remembered then, how the autumn sunlight had shone through the huge church stained glass window, as they took their vows, creating a beam of light that illuminated them, almost as if God were smiling upon them.
She smiled. Then came baby two.
She looked over at her children who were digging out more presents for her, and felt overwhelming love for them.
Her mind drifted back to the early days of their union.
They had been friends, she remembered that much, so close, and talked about everything, all their hopes, fears and dreams, right through the night sometimes. He would go downstairs and make tea and toast, and together, in bed, they would laugh, joke, and dream. When sated, they curled up tight together, like two peas in a pod, and slept.
He became the family she had never had, the foundation of her life, securing her, making her belong. For that she had adored him.
So what’s changed, she reflected painfully.
We stopped talking to each other, she thought, and then we began to lose sight of each other. Now we’re both blind.
Yes, they had their trials and tribulations, like any couple, well, maybe more than seemed fair, and yes, they had struggled, but surely now things should be easier?
He had never been a bad man. He’s not bad; she digested, always gone out to work, never, ever been selfish, always good to the girls, never moans about spending money.
There again, he didn’t manage the money, he didn’t cook, wash, clean, or much of any of that female stuff. No, he was insistent all that was her job, including working herself, and being a mother.
No, things weren’t easier at all.
She felt like collapsing from the thought there and then.
She was suffocating.
Deep down inside she was screaming, trapped, desperately trying to find her way up to clear air.
"I can’t find myself", she started to panic inwardly.
"I’m lost here, with him, and don’t even know who I am anymore."
Roles, she raged, I fill my roles! But who am I ?
She couldn’t remember the last time they had made love. Sex for baby making a few years before didn’t count as making love. It had been many years since they had held each other close, held hands, talked into dawn, or kissed. So many years since tea and toast nights.
They didn’t even watch the same programmes, or sleep in the same bed; instead he slept on the sofa each night, while she occupied a huge double bed on her own. Tossing and turning in fear she would always feel very old and alone.
We are strangers under the same roof, passing ships in the night, no meeting in the middle, she decided.
I’m 40, she reflected and felt sick.
I just want to be loved, I want someone to talk too, grow old with, sleep in the same bed with, laugh, look at and still adore and love in years to come.
She looked at him again; his eyes were averted to the television.
Where the fuck did he disappear too, she agonised.
We grew up, she realised. Lost sight of us, too busy with work, children and pain to see the wedge that had grown between us, divided us over the years.
She looked at her children. Of course, over the years they had not been spared the vicious arguments, the sarcasm, the tears, the silences, the distance between them, and the obvious lack of affection.
Is this how they think normal relationships are? She questioned. God, I hope not!
Feeling alarmed she shut her eyes.
But if I end it, what then? What will they think then? They’ll hate me.
What will everyone think? What if it’s not what he wants?
What if I just stay here and slowly crumble?
What about I say nothing, and carry on for another twenty years? I could wait for the girls to leave home, settle down and get married……then I may as well stay with him till I die, she thought.
What if I don’t end it? What then? Am I being a selfish cow, putting my own wants first?
The questions hit her like flying bullets, each stabbing her sharply through the heart.
She didn’t love him anymore. She had known for some time.
Tears blurred her vision,
"Christ! Look at me! It’s my birthday", she mused,
"I shouldn’t be thinking about these things now!"
She got up, leant down kissing his cheek, thanking him for the gift.
The children exchanged a look.
“You like it? I can always change it if you’re not keen” he said, regarding the silver bracelet dangling from her wrist.
“No no! Its lovely, I love it…….really, thank you.” She smiled gently, looking at her husband.
He returned her smiled.
His gaze drifted back to the television.
No one noticed when she left the room.
But she had noticed it was the beginning of the end.