by JP Sayle
Why was I noticing all this stuff today?
As I mulled it over, my gut started to churn. I couldn’t recall the last time Glenn had been affectionate towards me. Not that I’d asked for much lately when he was always too tired to do more than complain. Why did I feel like it was always me bending over backwards for him all the time? You love taking care of him. He’s busy with his new business, that’s all.
Aren’t you busy too? Can’t he take five minutes to come and give you a hug, or a kiss?
The thoughts seemed to slam into each other and the simmering anger that I often buried with excuses for Glenn’s behaviour burned through me. My teeth ground together as I walked through to Glenn’s home office. An office I had spent many thousands on kitting out for him so that he could fulfil his dreams.
Was I asking for too much from him?
His head never lifted from the computer and he didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
“Hey.” I leant forward to kiss his cheek, but he pulled away before I could touch him, causing my chest to ache.
“Your beard needs trimming. It will scratch my skin,” he complained, without once looking in my direction.
“I’m sorry. I have a barber’s appointment at the weekend.” The apology tumbled from my lips, the need to appease him second nature when I heard the sharp edge to his voice. “What are we eating for dinner tonight?”
He shrugged his slim shoulders and still didn’t glance in my direction. “Whatever you can rustle up. I’m going out with some new clients. There’s a trendy new bar they mentioned in Soho that they’re taking me to.”
This was something else that was becoming a habit: Glenn going out and not bothering to invite me. “It won’t take me long to get changed. I’ll come with you.” I wasn’t in the mood but we hadn’t spent any proper time together for weeks.
“It’s not your thing.” His head finally lifted and he aimed a scathing look up and down my body. “I mean, you don’t really do trendy, do you?” His upper lip curled and he sounded so condescending.
I forced myself to keep a hold of my temper as my fingers clenched at my sides. Come on, think. There must be something you can do to make him look at you like he used to?
I ignored his sarcastic comment and went with the first thing that came into my head instead. “You know the place I’m working on? Well, it’s going to be a bar with a difference. It’ll be a place where couples can go and do role play. I asked Nathan for a membership. I thought we could try something different. You know, spice things up a little.” The smile I’d plastered on my face fell as I realised my mistake.
Glenn’s face turned a shade of purple that would have easily rivalled the girl’s face from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. “What are you insinuating? Tell me. Are you saying I’m the cause of our bedroom issues?” He stood up, almost foaming at the mouth as he stepped closer, his face turning ugly as he sneered. “You’re a pervert. Role play? What do you think I am? Some sort of plaything that likes to be shown off in front of others? I don’t fucking think so! This is about those websites you’ve been looking at, isn't it? Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing at night.”
Spittle hit my face as he continued to rant at me. I opened my mouth, a wave of dizziness hitting me from the nastiness of his tone. I clamped my lips together, realising it was pointless as I listened to the barrage of abuse he was throwing at me.
Why was he acting like this?
My mind circled back to all the times he'd spoken to me in this way over the last few months. Why hadn’t I noticed what a horrible shit he was being? You loved him.
It took a second to register that I was thinking in the past tense. I heaved a sigh, uncertain about what I should do. My pulse was pounding so hard that my ears had started to buzz. Four years we’d been together, and yet as I stood there listening to him, I realised I didn’t even recognise the man who stood before me. Where had Glenn, the gentle loving soul gone?
“Are you even listening to me? I’ve had enough. The tenants in my flat vacated it last week. I’m moving out. I think you need some time to think about what’s gotten into you lately. Role play, sex toys and web searches for Christ knows what! You’re nearly forty. You should be past this silliness.”
Not sure what my age had to do with it, I stood silently, trying to release my jaw after clenching it so hard. How was wanting to try new things, silliness?
“Don’t you have anything to say?” Glenn sneered.
“I wasn’t sure you were finished belittling me. I think you’re right, moving out is the best idea. We need some space and maybe a little perspective on what we both want from this relationship.” I swallowed another sigh as he swung around and stomped to the doorway.
He glanced back over his shoulder before throwing out a threat, “If I leave, I won’t be coming back.”
I didn’t point out that he was the one who'd suggested that he leave. This was a game he liked to play: making me beg him to stay. Only today, I wasn’t up to playing his game, not with all the hurtful things he’d said still fresh in my memory.
Why had I been putting up with this shit? He’s been using you for months, living off you, spending your money. He doesn’t love you. I barely stopped myself from blanching at the reality of what the voice in my head was telling me. Was it the truth?
I stared at the man I'd thought I’d be spending the rest of my life with and my heart broke a little for the dream of what could have been. A hope I’d been clinging on to for far too long.
I stood tall, keeping my thoughts hidden behind a neutral mask as he paused in the doorway, waiting for me to beg. “If you need a hand to drop your stuff off at the flat, I can get one of my guys to help you? It might need to be Monday though as they’re busy at the weekends.” Glenn's mouth hung open, his eyes widening. I carried on speaking. “You’re right. I think it’s best if you move out. This… isn’t working for you, evidently, so it’s probably the right time to stop before someone gets hurt.” Even as I said it, I felt the tears clog the back of my throat. I stared at his face for a moment, seeing nothing but fury. No regret, no love, no remorse. I made myself walk away from him.
My head pounded and my eyes blurred even more at the sound of a door slamming shut somewhere in the house. But I kept walking until I'd reached the downstairs bathroom, only then with the door locked did I let go. Sobs tore from my throat as I shoved my fist into my mouth to muffle the sound. Oh God, what had I done?
It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.
The words were of very little comfort to me, but I clung to them.
Boyd
As I walked towards the far end of the newly fitted bar, there was too much conversation for workmen getting on with their jobs. I followed the sound, getting ready to let rip. I’d already had words with the men once that morning about the deadlines we had to meet, and stopping mid-morning to have a chat wasn’t going to achieve diddlysquat.
I rounded the corner and then paused, quickly moving back out of sight of the pair talking. My mouth dried up as I registered the guy talking to Nathan. I’d noticed him before when he’d popped in to see Nathan, though I’d never been introduced to him.
Nathan’s voice carried over the din of the workmen. “How has The App been working out for you, Sawyer? It’s been weeks since I’ve heard from you and I was starting to get a little worried. I’ve chatted to Jake a few times and he's happy with the new online community The App is creating.”
Sawyer! Who was he to Nathan?
Too intrigued to do the decent thing and step away, I remained where I was. The misery I’d felt for weeks, ever since Glenn had left, lifting, if only briefly, as I tried to figure out what they were talking about. Admit it, it’s the guy that intrigues you.
Refusing to acknowledge the butterflies belly dancing inside me, questions popped into my head. What was The App? What online community were they talking about? Was it something connected to the new bar?
; Ever since that fateful day Nathan had explained what The Flamingo Bar was going to be a month earlier, my brain had been in turmoil. My mind had gone in all different directions and was now lost at Spaghetti Junction. I still wasn’t sure what had possessed me to ask for a membership, or to decide to mention it to… my now ex-boyfriend.
Let it go, you and Glenn split up over a month ago.
I rubbed my chest. The dullness inside me seemed like a constant reminder of my own stupidity. I’d tried to ring Glenn twice to sort out the delivery of the rest of his things, but all I got for my trouble was an earful of abuse.
To distract myself during the lonely evenings at home, I’d continued to surf the net, and to say that I was getting a little bit obsessed would be the understatement of the year. I was discovering a side to myself that I wasn’t sure how to handle.
When Nathan had offered me the contract for the bar renovations, I’d assumed the place was going to be just a bar, not an extension of The Playroom.
Personally, I’d never been interested in tying anyone up, or in anything else the club had to offer. I’d even turned down his generous offer of membership to The Playroom.
This new place, though, with all the different possibilities it held… was something else entirely.
I was jerked from my thoughts by the sound of a soft dulcet-toned voice. I rubbed my face and leant against the wall that hid me from both men and focused on what they were talking about, rather than the shit storm that was my personal life.
“—slammed at work over the holiday period. And with the oldies visiting, things have been a bit all over the place for me. That’s if you don’t take into account all the issues I’m still having with my house. In fact… let’s not talk about that. The App, yeah, what can I say? I’ve had a few dates this last year, and a couple in the last month or so. I was so excited about this app, you know I was. All the potential Daddies out there for someone like me. Yet, every single date I’ve been on they’ve lacked something.” There was a loud mournful sigh before the man carried on complaining. “Men either wanna just shag, or they take one look at me and it’s a "no thank you, you’re too old." Oh, and let’s not forget the men who can’t be bothered to read what I’ve written about being a Little and then make some awful assumptions!”
The whine in his voice had increased. There was something so miserable about how upset he sounded that it gave me the absurd urge to go over and give him a hug to make him feel better. It tugged at a part of me that I didn’t want to acknowledge as I pushed my back against the wall to keep myself from moving. With my palms twitching, I rubbed my hands down my legs working on quelling the daft urge to go and do what I wanted to… hug him.
Daft, that’s your middle name lately.
This was all Nathan’s fault for talking about the bar and what it offered. Yeah, you keep believing that. Your relationship had hit the rocks way before that.
Oh, stop rubbing it in.
Nathan's voice cut off my thoughts. “Listen man, it might just be that you need to try something different, or to stop searching so hard and let it just happen. You’re gorgeous. A beautiful person inside and out—”
“Aw shut up, and you better keep your voice down. You don’t want your boyfriend getting wind that you're giving other men compliments.”
A ball lodged in my throat at the wistfulness in the guy’s voice.
“It’s the truth and you know it. Sometimes you have to stop to see the wood for the trees. Heck, I should know.” Nathan chuckled.
“Alllrighttttt… I hear you Daddy bear,” came the sassy response that didn’t entirely hide his sadness.
My stomach dipped and rolled at hearing the word Daddy again.
“Hey, less of that you cheeky boy. Now let’s go and see if my man has left me any treats, and then you can talk me through what you don’t like about The App.”
The voices moved away from me and I took the opportunity to glance around the corner, reminding myself how tiny the guy was, or at least appeared to be next to Nathan. His face was turned away as they walked towards the door that led to Nathan’s apartment, the lights catching his multicoloured hair. The rainbow of colours shimmered and left my hands tingling with the urge to feel if his hair was as silky soft as it appeared.
Sawyer’s body was slim and dressed in old ripped jeans and an army jacket that looked like it had been salvaged from a charity shop. Although his clothes didn’t speak of affluence, there was something about his presence that said he wasn’t a homeless vagrant. I was forced stop looking as they disappeared through the door leading to Nathan’s apartment.
“Boyd… Boyd… hey, you with me man?”
The shout from the foreman, Brett, who I’d hired to manage the men, pulled my attention from the now-closed door. I strolled back to the central part of the bar. “What’s up, Brett?”
“These fucking lights”—he jabbed at the offending box on the counter—“the wholesaler has sent us are the wrong ones. They aren’t even close to what we ordered. This is the third fucking mixed up order those bastards have sent us. At this rate we’ll have to add another bloody day to the work schedule if they keep getting it wrong.”
He continued to grumble as I lifted up the light fitting. How the fuck had the company got it so wrong? Brett was right; there was no way you could pass these off as the ones we’d ordered. Someone was having a fucking laugh at our expense.
It had happened in the past. The building trade was dog eat dog and some people didn’t like how many bids I’d won. Shaking off the worry that someone was messing with me, I stopped Brett from continuing his histrionics. “Go to Illuminatics, they’re a new firm I’ve heard great things about. Put in an urgent order and we’ll take the hit for any extra costs. Send these back to the other company and ring them to say that we want a full refund, and that we’re closing our account with them.”
At Brett’s nod, I walked back to the booth I’d been working on, needing something to take my frustrations out on. I lifted the wood planer and started to sand it over the large slab of wood clamped to my workbench. As a teenager, I’d discovered a talent for woodwork that my dad had encouraged. He’d always liked to use his hands himself and had two sheds full of tools he still used. My mother had often said he loved his tools more than her.
She’d been very wrong. When she’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he’d been devastated, even more so when she’d died six months later, the disease having stolen the life from her. The stab of grief when I thought of her was no longer as painful as it once had been, but it still caused me to stop what I was doing and rub my chest.
Seven years was a lifetime, yet not nearly long enough to get over her death. My dad was still working on being able to function without her, my younger sister, Amelia, his motivation. Given that I was twenty-five, she’d been a surprise that neither of my parents had been expecting. My mother had thought she was going through the menopause, but instead had found herself pregnant at forty-six years old.
Amelia was fourteen now, and a complete hellion. She was going to be an absolute nightmare in the coming years. My father liked to blame me because she'd spent so much time with me when Mum had got sick and Dad had needed to nurse her. She’d run wild at the building sites, getting into all sorts of trouble, but I’d secretly loved taking care of her. Her lust for life was a joy to behold. It had helped me to cope with my own grief. Although, now that she was a teenager, it was a lot harder to curb her wildness and the phone calls from my dad were enough to make my hair turn grey with her antics.
With a grin spreading across my face at the thoughts of my sister, I resumed planing the wood.
My smile dimmed as my thoughts turned back to Sawyer. There was a fluttering in my stomach as I recalled the urge to ease his sadness. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d laid the plane down and pulled out my phone.
What harm could there be in checking The App out?
Opening up the app store, I typed in ‘The App’ and my br
eath caught in my throat as I read the warning of what The App contained. I glanced around to check that no one was watching me as I hit the icon to download it. The fee popped up and I coughed at the hundred quid it wanted. Shutting my eyes, I hit pay. Please let it be worth it!
What the fuck are you doing?
Who knows!
Maybe I was having a midlife crisis?
Then get over it, and fast.
Sawyer
As I ambled up the path to my log cabin, the waning light captured my gaze as it reflected off the half-finished timber structure that was to be my home. I blew out a breath, my fringe lifting before falling back in my eyes. Balancing my bicycle against my leg, I pushed my hair out of my face before taking hold of the bike again and going over to the shed to lock it away.
It had been weeks since the last contractor had downed tools and marched off the job, saying I was far too demanding and unrealistic. It didn’t matter how many times I’d explained what I’d wanted, the guy and his team had done their own thing. And okay, I might have had a few temper tantrums, but who could blame me? This was to be my forever home and I wanted it to be perfect.
After all, they weren’t the ones stuck in a cramped shed with a makeshift shower, a tiny little cooker and an uncomfortable single bed. Yes, I’d lived like that most of my life, but that was irrelevant when my childhood dreams were within my grasp.
You think so? All I can see is a half-finished house. The childish voice in my head was seriously trying to tick me off.
It will be, you’ll see. I’ll get my happy home.
How, when you haven’t found another building contractor who was interested in building an eco-friendly house that fit your ideas?
With my eyes burning from the tears that wanted to be shed, I locked my bike away.
As I turned around, my gaze was drawn to the woodland. The sound of the breeze rustling through the trees added to the symphony of bird song. It was soothing, so instead of going into my shed as I’d planned, I went and sat down on the grassy bank next to my partially finished home.
