Saturday, March 30

How It Ends

THEY MET AT a music festival in two-thousand-and-six, where the wind blew the dried white mud from between the trampled grass into the air and the sun beat down and, finding shelter in a tent, they met. That day was enough, discussing which bands to see, then the compromise, then the embrace, all in August. She would distract him from the women he’d laid since his first marriage dissolved, and he was the first Englishman she thought she could marry. And three years later they did just that. Two years after her day in white she gave birth and got hit hard by post-natal. The post-natal changed her, ruined her, and was showing no signs of alleviating. She asked him for some time alone and he acquiesced, moving into his parents’ house. There he stayed for three months while she watched over the baby as it grew. He lived at his parents’ house and found a new job and went to the local pub in the evenings and ate unhealthily. Her mother came to stay to help with the baby, but the she couldn’t handle it so she cut her visit from six months to six weeks. After the three months he moved back home and spent the first night on the sofa. He knew that it was over. Everything else was just motions.
Any day now her Visa will run out. Then she suspects she will go back home and the baby will go with her. She wants them to sort out the finances. He cannot go with her because of his twelve-year-old son from the first marriage. So he must watch them go. And that is what he thought of in his parents’ spare room for three months. He thought of the woman he once knew going back to her home country and the baby not knowing who he was. If it was going to happen, he wanted it to happen sooner rather than later, before the baby got any older and became a real person.

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