Stella

‘Here we are again,’ she said in that sing-song sarcasm, lifting the bottle to her lips.

A soft glug and dull thud and it was down again. The bottle foamed a little near the lip as she continued.

‘What is it about Fridays, huh?’

Harry took in a breath but wasn’t given time to reply.

‘Every fucking week we sit here looking at each other.’

Another glug, another thud.

‘And every fucking week we have the same conversation. 'What do you want to do? Dunno, what do you want to do?' Can neither of us make a goddamned decision any more?’

Another breath but this time it barely entered his throat before she started again.

‘I mean, we’re both adults right? We both know what we want from this life and where we’re going and what we’re doing, yet neither of us can decide if we want bloody pizza or sodding Chinese? It’s not right Harry, it’s just not right.’

Thud. The bottle went down again and despite her glugs the foam managed the lip.

‘What happened to us? Or what happened to you, more like it? We were better before, stronger. You would just go off and do things.’

‘But you said...’

‘Oh I know what I said but do you do everything I say? I’m not always right Harry! Jesus!’

In frustration she drained the bottle. It thudded down again but slightly to one side so it danced a bit before settling down. Harry thought the sound echoing through the neck was very satisfying.

She went to get herself another – muttering on the way to the fridge and strangely silent on the way back apart from a few murmurs. The twist in her lip and brow showed him the argument was still going on in her head. He daren’t speak.

‘But this is what really gets me. What really gnaws at me, Harry. You know the way a dog gnaws a bone? The way a maggot chews its merry way through catfood? You have no backbone, Harry. No willpower. You’re a doormat. Stand up for yourself will you!? I mean, there was that time last week. Remember?’

(At this point Harry remembered something vaguely from school about rhetorical questions.)

‘We were parked at the dump and that asshole in the blue thingy..’

‘Vauxhall’

‘Whatever is was! That asshole beeped me to move when I obviously couldn’t. You just bloody sat there!’

‘But you...’

‘I want a man who stands up for himself! What kind of a bloke sits there and takes that, huh? Sits there and lets his missus be embarrassed by some other bloke? Seriously Harry, what do you say to that?’

Another swig, just enough to take the beer from the neck. Thud.

Breathe Harry, breathe. At this rate he was going to hyperventilate.

Slug. Thud

‘What do you say, huh? What do you say to that? Say something, Harry! For God’s sake say something!’

Thud.

The two swigs from the bottle weren't enough to stop the foam spilling over this time.

’Fuck off, Stella.’ And Harry was gone.