The Struggle

She stared at the screen
“You know I love you, Darling “
The words in print jumped out at her, from the mobile phone.
She closed her eyes. Tears trickled down her cheeks in small rivers.
She sniffed.
Lighting a cigarette, she remembered meeting him, just over a year ago.
Met him off some internet site for friendship, they had written for some time, whilst both were recovering from their mutual divorces. Soon, they were sharing enormous amounts of words and pictures, flying down the cables, courtesy of msn, discovering each other.
Then after some weeks he had called her.
As soon as she heard his voice, her heart settled. For no reason whatsoever, she knew he was the man she had been waiting for all her life.
All week, every hour, they talked on the phone.
By the time he arrived on Platform 11 at Liverpool Street Station it was a foregone conclusion they were going to be in love. And that’s exactly what they did.
Fell hopelessly, completely, madly, in love. The first months were the happiest of her life.
Common backgrounds, same sense of humour, shared dreams, laughter and the most mind blowing sex she had ever had. Things she had never done, she now discovered, lying on the kitchen table, with his mouth buried deliciously between her legs, causing her to orgasm with such intensity, she would sob after, and he would gather her to him, kissing her brow, murmuring words of love.
Being made love to in the deepest woods at Highgate on a hot summers day, while the cricketers cheered and played .
Having him stand behind her whilst she washed up their plates, his clever fingers deftly moving down inside her knickers, making her eyes blur in yearning while her legs buckled.
Shared baths, where he would gently soap her body, making her skin burn with wanting him, and her learning from him how to please him.The glorious moments only two people in love could possibly share. His patience at easing her insecurities, the way he held her, his loving words soothing her, always reminding her he would never leave her.
They had been so close. They had a world of their own.
Until she had come across a message to him, a flirty bantering message, that had not been from her.
No, this was from an aging 53 year old DJ, whom he had been on air with, plugging his band. She recalled meeting the woman, her over the top greeting to him, and the way she had been all over him, smiling and giggling like a silly school girl, touching him when ever she could, as to get his attention. She had paid it no mind; after all, the woman was old, fat and certainly not attractive.
An argument, an almighty one, and he had left, packing all his belongings whilst she cried.
Her insecure heart shattered. Surely if he loved me, she thought, there would be no desire to flirt with her? She wondered how long it had been going on for. Had they met since the radio gig? There had also been calls made to the DJ’s number, in the early hours of the morning, which she had discovered when finding the text. What could they have been talking about at that time of the morning?
She struggled to reason with herself. He struggled to reason with her.
Once they had reasoned he came home.
But the secure feeling she had felt with him had gone, and her trust issues surfaced like a gruesome ogre, taking over any common sense. She was constantly on guard for more hurt, began to see him as a flirt, noticed the way he looked at other women, the way he talked to other women, until eventually she began to uncover more and more things to feel insecure about.
He told her she was paranoid, would drive him away, and no he would not stop talking to his DJ friend, because after all, she was influential in his music, could get him contacts, and surely in the long run, they would be the ones to benefit when he finally made it big.
So, she tried to see his reasoning. Struggled, but tried.
But, circumstances dictated otherwise.

He began to drink, leave more and more often. The more he left, the more justified she felt, that he was indeed, a man not committed to her. He had always said he would never leave her. Now he left so easily.
Every time he made love to her, she wondered if it would be the last. Each word that left his mouth, she wondered if it was a lie. Every discovered coincidence, emails, texts, hotel receipts, and pictures in his mobile (one being of his DJ friend naked in the bath), he had a reason for, or an answer to.
“Oh, she sent that as a mistake…..it was meant for someone else, don’t start making something of that now too!”
The more he convinced her, the further she sank. Struggling. Because deep down, she knew, with gut instinct, he was lying.

The drinking grew worse.

Finally, it all came to a head, when he had to attend court for a serious drunk offence. She had fully backed him during that time, managed to help for him, to try and solve the problem that made him drink, wrote letters to keep him out of prison, only for him to leave her two days later, after sentencing. Again.
Drunk.
She had no idea where he was, but suspected he had decided to lie low with his “friend”, the over- large DJ, who was helping him further his career. She called his mobile numerous times, only to find it was switched off, or just rang. Texts he ignored. She thought during some moments of that time, she would lose her mind. Some nights, when all was quiet, and she lay alone in bed, he would call drunk, ranting at her, that this was all her fault,
“You, and your fucking emotions have done me in, got me into trouble, and now I need to heal myself, get well, and see what I’m going to do with my life”
Confused, she would cry. She struggled to see where, and how she had caused this amount of pain.
How had her actions landed him in court? And, hadn’t she pulled him through it? Stuck with him through thick and thin, praying once it was over, they could rebuild their lives together?
Had her emotions driven the man she so loved to drink? To end up in court through his own actions?
She had pleaded with him to come home. She would dampen her emotions, get him well, and love him without the insecurities, and he in return, would get help and stop drinking.
So he came home.
They made love with a passion, all night, mixed with anger and hurt. They didn’t talk about where he had been, or what they would do. He told her he loved her. That was enough. They held each other all night, both drowning in their own different emotions, but knowing at least, the other was there.
"We'll get through this" she thought, before drifting off to sleep in his arms.

The following morning, with the sun streaming through the window, birds singing merrily, despite the fact it was cold outside, she sat at the kitchen table, realising what a fool she had been. She smiled.
She stared at the mobile screen again.
“You know I love you, Darling”
Her fingers scrolled down to the sent button.
“This beds too big without you, sorry for being a git lately x”
She smiled again.
Never liked his mobile anyway, she thought.
Her fingers flew back to inbox.
“You know I love you, Darling “
She hadn’t sent it. And he had not sent her anything about this bed being too big without her.
Git?!
Her eyes settled on the number of the recipient.
The DJ woman.

She went upstairs to wake him up.