Chapter 23 - Jim, Wednesday

I posted the letter. It might have been slightly mad, but I know where she works so I posted it there instead. So unless she’s changed jobs - which seems unlikely considering how much she loved it - at least I know she’ll have got it. Then the rest is up to her. I don’t even know if I want her to reply, I just know that I want her to know that I’m sorry and I’ve learnt something from my mistakes. Oh God I wonder if I’ve done the right thing?
Of course things should never have gotten this far. It was all my fault, as these things usually are. We were really settled, we’d been living together for two years and had been going out for just over three. My life was more relaxed than it had been in years! Okay, I’d had to make some sacrifices - she didn’t like me smoking, so I gave that up, and I saw an awful lot less of my friends, but it seemed a small price to pay for being so happy. Dear God, we even got a cat. But I got bored. And I got confident - she made me feel like I was capable of doing anything, but I was too stupid to realise that there were limits to it.
I’d worked with Michelle a long time. Six or seven years maybe, certainly longer than anyone else in the company. We always got on really well - she teased me, and in return I flirted with her a bit. Not much, certainly not enough to make her think there was anything going to happen between us. Besides, she was married and I was happily coupled. It was one of those office things - just something to perk up a dull day. But then she resigned - her husband had been reassigned to another part of the country, and as his job paid much more than hers it made sense for them to up and leave.
Oh it was all so clichéd - leaving do, too much to drink, bit of a drunken fumble in the pub toilets. Not my proudest moment. I hoped I might have been able to forget the whole thing. I hate to use the phrase “get away with it”, because I didn’t want to - I just wish the whole thing had never happened! But then we made the stupid mistake of texting each other about it, at first we were agreed that it should never have happened, but then we kind of got a bit playful and flirty about it, as you can when you’ve no chance of seeing the other person again. But then Maria took my phone to work by mistake - we’d bought identical phones, because we’d gotten a better deal on them, although Maria kept hers in a case so we could tell them apart. But she’d taken it out of the case, got distracted and never put it back, then in a hurry the next morning she picked up the wrong phone.
So the “morning big boy, how’s my favourite stud?” text came as a bit of a shock. At first she thought it was a wrong number, but obviously it played on her mind and she decided to read all my old texts. She clearly had some doubt about my fidelity or she wouldn’t have bothered. Stupidly I’d not deleted all of them. The more complimentary ones I’d kept, because they made me smile. What a vain twat. So then just to make sure she phoned Michelle. Well, Michelle tried to lie but was genuinely wrong-footed by the call, which made matters worse. By the time I got home that night Maria had started to pack, and nothing I could say would change her mind. Her last boyfriend had cheated on her continually, and she’d vowed never to put up with it again. I knew this, we’d had long conversations about it before she moved in. God I was a twat.
I should have just left it after I said “I’m sorry”, but I kept going on and on about how I didn’t want her to leave and what a twat I’d been. We were agreed on the twat bit, but she kept saying, “why did you do it?” and “I was drunk” just wasn’t a good enough answer. Then I started crying and tried to unpack her bag, and that’s when she belted me round the head with the hairdryer. She was about to pack it, and instead just swung it into my head. It must have felt good as she did it again, and again, and a few more times until she broke the case.
At that point I came to my senses and left. I ended up spending the night on Simon’s couch, which annoyed his flatmate no end I seem to remember. Before I dared go back the next morning I phoned to see if Maria was still there but got the answering machine instead. Before she left she’d thoughtfully changed the message: “Hello, Jim is an adulterous cunt. You may want to reconsider leaving him a message.” Nice.
I went home, half afraid that she’d be waiting for me, armed with a knife, but she’d gone. Oh but had she gone out in style! She’d taken everything that she’d brought with her, everything she’d bought since she moved in, anything I’d given her - everything she was entitled to basically. Plus all the food, well all apart from the stuff she’d tipped over the kitchen floor. And the cat, he was her cat, she’d picked him and he loved her like mad. I merely fed him. Right now he was licking jam off the hob, and I didn’t have the heart to stop him. It’d save me feeding him.
Things were worse in the bedroom - she’d burst a pillow, so there were feathers everywhere, and had taken scissors to some of my clothes. Not many of them, just things she knew were important to me, like the T-shirt I got from Morrissey’s first solo gig, and a flat cap that had been my granddads. Bitch. And yet somehow I couldn’t complain, I deserved it I guess.
I called in sick and spent the rest of the day tidying up. Once everything was back where it belonged it soon became apparent how little stuff I had. I couldn’t remember who’d bought the kettle and the toaster, but obviously Maria had as they’d vanished with her. How on earth she’d managed to get all the stuff out of the house at such short notice is anyone’s guess, I imagine she rallied her friends round and they were only to happy to help - most of them had been hoping we’d split up ever since we’d gotten together.
The cat and I eventually called a truce, once he realised that nobody else was going to feed him but me. He didn’t let me off lightly though, and would randomly piss on the carpet whenever he felt like it for the next couple of weeks. Even the cat blamed me, there clearly was no hope!

But obviously there was as I’ve ended up where I am today - feeling a bit calmer, although clearly no less mad. As soon as I’d posted the letter I wondered if it was the right thing to do? A whole day at work without enough stuff to keep me busy convinced me that I’d been pretty stupid. I spoke to Dave, but didn’t mention it to him - I’m sure he’d have only confirmed what I already knew. He’d spoken to Simon and it turned out he was having his meeting with the management today, so I tried to phone him and see how it went but I could only get his voicemail. Not a good sign. Dave and I agreed to keep tomorrow free, and meet up anyway if Simon didn’t feel like it. Poor sod, the timing couldn’t be any worse!
I toyed with the idea of emailing Maria to let her know what I’d done, but thought better of it - yes, it would give her chance to prepare herself, but it would also give her extra time to get angry about it, and I didn’t really want to do that. I kept kidding myself that it might get lost in the post, or that she might have changed jobs, but I realised I was just clutching at straws because I’d been such a twat. Oh you’d think I’d know better by now!
Before I left the office I tried Simon one last time, but someone else picked up the phone and said he’d already left. I didn’t like to ask how he was as I didn’t know who they were. It wasn’t unusual for him to leave on time, so it didn’t help me work out how things were. I made a note to ring him later and headed home. I guessed he was voiding people, and couldn’t blame him really.
All the way home I had this nagging urge to ring Maria. Wouldn’t hurt surely? Just say, “hi, oh and by the way I’m mad.” Twat. The cat was no help - he just wanted feeding, and had no thought for my emotional welfare. Then Mum phoned, and I toyed with the idea of asking her what I should do, but she’d have only been hurt that I hadn’t mentioned I was living with someone all that time. Well, it never came up. So I let her leave another message, and could hardly miss the disappointment in her voice. I must try and be a better son.
In the end I did the only thing I could think of - ate crap food and lay on the sofa getting stoned, flicking channels and listening to music - anything to stop the voices in my head that kept telling me what a twat I’d been. Funny how they all sound like Maria.