Ghigau 22

Sunday 16th July

Catherine Booth arrived home just after eight o’clock in the evening. Jake’s car was outside, parked haphazardly as usual, and she had to put two wheels on the kerb just to squeeze her little VW Polo in behind it. She felt a surge of irritation as she turned off the engine and got out into the sweltering heat. 

    In their marginally cooler hallway, she closed the front door behind her and slipped off the shoes that had been killing her feet all day. 

    “Hi Babe!” Jake called from the living room.

    She bent down and rubbed her toes, delaying the moment she would have to respond, and silently mouthed the word ‘Babe’ back at him, screwing her face up in mockery. She’d never liked being called that, in fact she hated it. Other things she hated came unbidden into her mind; turned up collars on rugby shirts, the smell of lager, crude jokes, motor racing, any and all video-games; the substitution of the word ‘absolutely’ where a simple ‘yes’ would do.

    She could feel her short temper rising and knew she had to get a hold of herself. Checking herself in the mirror, and controlling her breathing, she called back, “Hi, I’m just going to get a cold drink,” before heading to the kitchen where she poured a large glass of wine and added copious amounts of ice.

    One advantage of having a husband who hardly noticed that you had an existence separate from his, was that he would never enquire where you had been.

    She went into the living room. Jake was on the sofa, sat right in the middle of it, leaning forward and playing a game on his playstation that, as far as Catherine could make out, involved killing car thieves and picking up prostitutes He looked up and smiled briefly then went back to his controller, arms outstretched, swaying to-and-fro like a demented water diviner. 

    She sat down in the armchair that faced the bay window and looked at her phone, she had no notifications; why hadn’t Nikki messaged her? She cast her mind back to the last time she had seen her, over a week ago now…

    “How’s things? Asked Nikki, as she put her handbag down on the kitchen counter.

    “Ok, I think.” Catherine sipped on the glass of wine she had already poured and pushed a similar drink towards Nikki.    

    “Thanks, Nikki took a sip of her cold, pink wine, how do you mean — you think?”

Catherine watched the movement of Nikki’s arm as she lifted the glass to her lips, so fluid, so elegant. So different to Catherine’s own awkward limbs. 

    “Jake’s being an arse, so what’s new?” She shrugged.

    “What’s he done now?” Nikki said, rolling her eyes, in that tone reserved for naughty little boys. She took hold of the lapel of her shirt and pulled it away from her neck in a flapping motion in an effort to cool herself off.

    Catherine watched this and had the silliest thought that if she had slowed down that whole scene Nikki would have looked like one of those models advertising women’s perspirants in the 1990s. 

    “Just being Jake,” she said flatly. “I mean, he’s just so…” she paused unable to find the right words,“unreasonably optimistic,”she finished. “Our lives are turning to shit and he just acts as if everything’s going swimmingly.”

    “Come on Cat, you must be used to his ways by now hmm?” Nikki looked sympathetically at her friend. “Is optimism such a bad thing? His heart’s in the right place isn’t it?”

    “It’s his brain that’s the trouble, not his heart. Honestly, if the house burned down around him he’d barely notice.”

    “But it isn’t going to burn down is it? And everything is fine, you just have to see the positives.” Nikki said encouragingly.

        Catherine frowned and said in a spiteful tone, “We can’t all be married to the perfect man Nikki.” This was mean, and she knew it, but she was a little tipsy,

    Nikki flinched but didn’t say anything. 

    “Sorry, I’m just so fed up.” Catherine hung her head.

    Nikki walked round the kitchen island and came close, she put a hand out and stroked Catherine’s hair. “Hey, you can’t keep all this stuff inside, you have to talk to him. If he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong, how can he change?”

    Catherine looked up. Nikki was so kind, so beautiful, so — together — why couldn’t she be more like her? Why couldn’t things work out for her the way they always worked out for Nikki? It just wasn’t fair. 

    Nikki’s face was so close to hers, she could feel her breath, and even that was sweet; her lips were slightly parted, as always, and Catherine could see a tiny smudge of lipstick on her front teeth. The wine and the heat made Catherine feel tingly. Before she knew it she had leaned forward and kissed Nikki full on the lips. 

    Nikki pulled back immediately exclaiming, “Cat! Jesus Christ.”

    “I’m really sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just so mixed up, I thought…”

Nikki walked to the other side of the room and stood facing Catherine, arms folded.

    Catherine made as if to approach Nikki but her friend put up a hand to halt her. “What is wrong with you?” Nikki said. She didn’t seem angry, just concerned.

    Catherine felt ashamed, hurt, frustrated, confused, all at once. All these emotions swirled around and mixed together until they burst out as rage. She almost screamed, “You’re so fucking perfect, with your perfect hair and your perfect teeth and your perfect fucking husband and your perfect kid —

    Nikki fell back as if she had been punched, her hand instinctively went to her throat, an atavistic response to attack. There was silence for a few seconds, then she spoke, very slowly, asking, “Why would say a thing like that to me?"

    Catherine’s face was drained of blood. She had gone too far. There was no recovering from this. She stared blankly at Nikki. “I expect you’ll hate me now like everyone else,”

    Nikki’s face was a mask but her eyes were welling with tears. “I don’t hate you, I’m just… I’m just…” She didn’t seem able to finish her thought.

    Catherine moved towards Nikki, hand extended. But now Nikki was gathering her things and getting ready to leave. Before she exited the door, she turned back to face Catherine.     “You know, if you spent a bit more time thinking of others and less time focusing on yourself, you might realise life’s not easy for anyone Catherine.” 

    And with that she had walked out…

    “What’s for dinner Babe?” Jake didn’t even look up from his game. Catherine stirred from her melancholy reverie and turned to stare at the side of his head. She wondered how long she would go to prison for if she took the large glass candle holder from the coffee table and pulverised his stupid head in with it.