This Is What Happens Next Read Free Page B

find the ferry because I took the wrong road and I don’t have my wallet or my passport anyway. And so I go home and he’s ironing. And he should never iron because he thinks too much when he’s ironing. But I try to reason with him and I say, “You think it’s about the Chest of Drawers but it’s not about the Chest of Drawers.” But all he hears is “You’re wrong.” And he comes at me, the iron high over his head, knuckles white on the handle. I scream like a girl and run backwards down the stairs and lock myself in the bathroom. After about an hour I come out and he’s sorry, you can see that he’s sorry, his eyes are full of sorry. But I think yeah well that’s the same sorry you’re going to see in his eyes in the prisoners dock when he’s on trial for my murder. He’ll be sorry then too. But we talk it out and make up, as it were, and he decides he’s going to go and get some coke. There’s a solution! And what about that rule? The rule that when one of us says “I’m going to get some coke” the other one is supposed to say “Maybe you shouldn’t.” So I try and enact that rule and he says, “I’m going to get some coke,” and I say, “Maybe you shouldn’t,” and he says, “Fuck you.” And what does that do but give me licence to fuck him too. And it wasn’t just him okay I know I know. I was there. I was part of it too. Some nights I’d get the coke and I’d hide a bit of it away, and we’d do it all and he’d say, “Is there any more,” and I’d say, “No it’s all gone,” and I’d wait until we started to get sketchy then I’d “ta da!” the stash out and be the hero but then that would be gone—because at some point it’s always going to be gone—and he says, “There’s more isn’t there.” And I say, “No that’s it.” And he says, “No you’re hiding some.” And I say, “No really it’s done it’s all gone.” And he says, “Well I’m going to get some more.” And I say, “It’s six o’clock in the morning.” And he says, “So what?” And I say, “Okay here’s a hundred bucks get two.” I was there I know. But a kitten? A kitten? A kitten? And without a conversation? I’m out of town—making money—and he’s on the phone saying, “Guess what I got?” And I’m hoping it’s a urinary tract infection… But he’s not on the phone telling me he’s got a urinary tract infection he’s telling me he got a kitten. A kitten? Without a conversation? A kitten is not a plant. You don’t just put it in a pot of dirt and water it. It’s a kitten, it might live for twenty years. I don’t feel we’ve got twenty years left at this point. I don’t feel like we’ve got two years left at this point. And so no I’m not over the moon about the kitten. And two days later when he calls to tell me that the kitten died of leukemia, no I don’t sound upset because I’m not upset because we don’t need a kitten right now. Oh and “I can’t do anything right.” Well no not if you keep bringing home kittens. A kitten without a conversation does not go in the “right” column. I should have listened to Susan. My lawyer. My friend. She’s going to be calling any minute and tell me not to go to the barbecue. But she’s wrong. She’s right but she’s wrong. She’s right as a lawyer but she’s wrong as a friend. She’s not usually wrong as a friend. As a friend about us she was so right. She said we were a bad match. And I knew we were a bad match but I’d always had good matches before and they never worked out so I thought a bad match might be just the ticket. I’d learn to be the quiet one, I’d learn