Chapter Two

It was after 7 when I got in. I couldn’t see Jackie, but I heard that dreadful techno music she says helps her concentrate blaring from her laptop in the kitchen. I clicked the mute button and felt the tension in my chest subside.

My finger hovered over the search history button. I was curious to know what secrets she keeps hidden from me, so I pressed it.

It was run of the mill stuff; the daily avalanche of emails to business associates and followers, contract details and stipulations, terms and conditions, nothing of interest. She had Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr and Pinterest open. But as a social media influencer of some renown, this was her normal routine.

I scrolled up the list of sites and pages and saw she was diligently working on her business as always. Then something caught my eye. A Cosmopolitan article. First thing this morning. I could only make out the first few words ‘Sex: How to…’

I clicked the link. In bold print typeface ‘Sex: How to kickstart your partners flagging libido’. Like a slap in the face. I remembered last night and closed the tab immediately, shutting the screen down. I wasn’t prepared to deal with that yet. I heard laughter coming from the back garden and saw she was talking to our neighbour Bert. I grimaced and made my way outside.

“Ah, the man himself, we were just talking about you”, Bert said with a smile. I clenched my teeth. What were they were laughing at? Did she show him the article?

“Bertie’s been to the Dalmatian Coast too”, Jackie said sensing my discomfort. “He stayed in a hotel near Split.”

“You simply must visit the Jaksic gallery there. Wonderful. They have a Caravaggio that will take your breath away.”

Bert. Bertie Marston. Professor of Quantum Theory at Cambridge. He enjoys playing the everyman in his TV appearances, making string theory relatable to the great unwashed. If I’m being honest, it’s his homosexuality that disgusts me; flamboyant, effeminate, he wears is on his chest like a badge of honour. As if it’s nothing to be ashamed about. I become very uncomfortable in his company, grown men shouldn’t behave that way. Jackie enjoys him because he’s one of the few men she knows or meets that isn’t constantly trying to fuck her.

“I’ll be sure to do that Bert”, I replied, taking the glass of wine from Jackie’s hand and taking a sip. He doesn’t like being called Bert.

“So how goes the unchanging world of monotheism, everything as you left it yesterday, I trust?”

We play this game whenever we interact. Passive aggressive banter, a little word jostling to assert dominance. I hate it because I can’t do it as well.

“I guess we’re both working in the world of the unseen, only one has 2000 years of Western civilisation behind it”, I retorted. My tone was unmistakeable hostile which indicated he had gotten to me thus giving him the win. My toes curled.

“Touché”, he said, indicating with his glass. Fuck him.

I struggle with these interactions; trying to funnel contempt into witty repartee. This is his world not mine. I take small comfort in the knowledge that back on the sink estate in Grimsby, where I grew up, someone like Bertie would be eaten for breakfast.

And I know exactly how my dad would have handled someone like that. As soon as he felt on the back foot, like he was being dismissed, old Bertie would have been peeling himself up off the floor holding a broken nose.

My dad made his feelings about guys like Bert very clear when I was a child. I remember one day, my mum was sharing a joke with a camp cashier at the local supermarket, it developed into a discussion on the walk home and a full-blown argument by the time we got back to the house.

“No Margaret, it’s disgusting is what it is. Two grown men doing that to each other, it’s an absolute disgrace”

“But Jim, what do you care what he does? Live and let live”

“People like that are broken, you don’t know what they are capable of. Holding hands together, one big hairy paw in the other, kissing each other. Their bits don’t match up, it’s an abomination”

It was the tenderness in homosexual relationships that sickened him the most, which always intrigued me. It was so specific. It stuck with me. It’s hard to shake off that kind of conditioning as an adult. You are where you’ve come from. And Bertie was unapologetic about it.

“Shall we get ready, the table is for 8pm”, I said.

“What wild and wonderful night have you two planned then”, Bert replied enjoying the opportunity to take one last pop. “Hot air balloon ride over Cambridge city before an evening picnic by the side of Bernwell Lake? Perhaps some clubbing in an underground warehouse basement somewhere out by the docks?”

“Donatello’s”, Jackie said before I had a chance to respond. They both laughed and I went back inside feeling like a third wheel, on the periphery of something I didn’t really understand. I went upstairs to have my shower and get ready. There’s nothing wrong with Donatello’s and nothing wrong with knowing what you like and what you want.

***

I only really notice how attractive Jackie is in the presence of other people. The warm smiles, the turned heads, the attentive behaviour. She is my conduit to a society that would otherwise ignore me. With her I am part of the conversation. By basking in her reflected glory, I too am warmed.

“Dir. Bell and Ms. Jackie, so nice to see you again”, Max said as we entered Donatello’s. I admired his sincerity, seeing as we eat there every Friday. He led us to our regular table by the window. I walked behind Jackie, enjoying the reactions of other diners as we passed.

“Now guys, something to drink perhaps while you check the menu?”

“The usual for me, Max”, I said. He nodded and looked down to Jackie still perusing the menu. He was careful not to look at her low cleavage. I know, because I always watch to see if he will.

“Just an Evian for me please”

“Perfect”, he said with an exaggerated bow and left us.

I scanned the room. The cream of Cambridge’s academic elite continue to congregate at this restaurant every week despite the fact that it’s seen better days. It was awarded a Michelin star and enjoyed wonderful reviews from the likes of AA Gill and Michael Winner in its heyday. The standard of food has dropped a little over the years however, the menu has become stale and predictable. But if one wants to be seen and become integrated in the exalted circles I’ve aspire to; one must be seen here on the weekends.

I sat facing the window so I couldn’t see who exactly was there. I did this so that anyone looking over at us can see Jackie first. She is my USP. Jackie is what sets me apart from the herd of dreary grey academics. And by facing away from the room I also hoped to give the impression that I was above it all, not interested in the pettiness and insecurity that defines the ambitious academic.

Max returned with our drinks. He handed Jackie her water and opened the Rhone Chateauneuf De Pap for me. It’s not a particularly nice vintage but it’s the most expensive on the menu, it’s distinctive label visible from the far side of the room.

“For sir?”

“The usual again please”

“Very good. Ms. Jackie?”

Jackie continued to peruse the menu looking for something she hasn’t ordered before, something new.

“What’s the special tonight, Max?”

“It’s a pan-fried sea bass with capers and a light lemon drizzle. Very popular, I highly recommend it”

“Sounds good”, she said handing him the menu. Another exaggerated bow and he was gone.

I order the steak well done every time. It’s not my favourite thing on the menu but it’s the dish most consistently prepared. I like to know what I’m going to have and know that I will enjoy it. I don’t like leaving things to chance. Jackie, on the other hand, likes to try new things every chance she gets. She doesn’t like this restaurant, but she knows how important these things are to my career.

“You excited about tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes. I intend to get a lot of the preliminary research done over the week.”

“Did you get any ideas on how you are going to approach the book?”

I know she was just being supportive, but I felt the pang of anxiety when she asked. I have already been given my advance. More pointedly, a lot of important people are waiting to read what I write. I have a TV spot on ‘The Panel’ in three weeks to discuss my ideas and so far, I have nothing.

“Not yet but I will”

In the reflection on the window I saw the university dean and his wife sitting within ear shot. I didn’t want him to overhear I was struggling so I changed the subject.

“How was your day?”

“I had a great day. The executives from General Mills want me to fly over to New York to discuss terms”

“What terms?” I asked, not really listening. Who was that sitting with the dean and his wife? I think I recognise the face. It looked like Bert’s agent Alfred Hastings, why would they be sitting together?

“I told you about this. They are investing heavily in new media and they want to advertise through the sites of healthy living advocates like me. Their marketing manager wants to meet me to discuss ideas.”

“That’s great”, I said subtly turning the wine label towards their table. “Be careful though, a lot of these things that seem too good to be true often are. Just be mindful of their motives is all I’m saying.”

She looked crestfallen, and a little part of me was glad. Jackie emanates light like no other person I’ve ever met, we are all just planets in her orbit. I don’t know where the urge comes from, but sometimes I need to dampen the light a little, to avoid being blinded by it.

Max brought our food over and we ate in silence. Normally Jackie talks incessantly, it was unusual for her to be so quiet. I became conscious of it. Other tables could notice. I racked my brains to say something, just so there wouldn’t be this awkwardness between us, but I couldn’t think of anything. I looked at Jackie and started to get irritated.

“I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s been on my mind a lot lately”

“Oh yeah?” I replied, the relief washed over me.

“I’m not quite sure how to say it, so I’ll just come out with it”

I didn’t like the sound of this, so I stayed quiet.

“It’s just that, well, we haven’t had sex in almost a month and-”

I looked at her like I wanted to kill her. My whole body tensed; I could feel the collective glare of the room burning a hole in my back. How dare she?

“This is not the time, Jackie”

“It’s never the time Ian. We need to talk about this”

“I’ve been busy with work and we haven’t been around at the same time as much as before. We’re going on holiday tomorrow; it’ll be different over there.”

I didn’t know what to say so I said everything that came into my head. And I said it in a low tone indicating my discomfort. She took the hint and nodded before continuing her meal.

I finished my dry steak. I tried to enjoy the ambience, but the meal was ruined for me. How could she bring that up now? How dare she blindside me like that. A moment later she reached her hand over the table and put it on top of mine.

“I love you, Ian”

“I love you too”, I replied, tapping her hand in turn. My palms were damp with sweat.

***

As we left, Jackie began texting on her phone. When she looked at me with a guilty expression on her face, I knew what it was.

“Not tonight, Jackie, I’m exhausted after the week.”

“Just one drink, I promise. Come on, everyone is there.”

She began walking back towards St. Andrew’s Street and before I had a chance to protest, I turned and fell in behind her. I thought about the phrase ‘Everyone is there’, and the memories of struggling to mix socially with peer groups it always triggered.

As we approached the bar where her friends were waiting, I felt the tension in my chest. I find that meeting new people is manageable, very little is expected, I just smile a lot and try to appear as interested and engaged as possible. Alternatively, very close friends, of which admittedly I now have very few, is easy, there is a shared history and ideally no effort is required. It’s the bit in between, the section that makes up most human relations and interactions, that I struggle with. When you know the person well enough to bypass small talk, but not enough that you can switch off and relax. The more I anticipated it and tried to prepare conversation starters, the more I felt the urge to run away.

We opened the door; waves of animated conversations and drunken laughter spilled out onto the pavement in stark contrast to the quiet sophistication of the restaurant we just came from. I spotted them before Jackie. Sitting in the corner, the usual suspects; her sister Anne, Simon and Jamie her friends from university and some other rough looking guy I didn’t recognise. I took a deep breath, indicated to Jackie and followed dutifully behind.

Everyone’s face lit up on seeing her approach. This is the usual response she gets entering a room. The following cold smile and curt nod I received from the group was also equally familiar. Before she had a chance to take a seat, she was enveloped, lost to some animated conversation already mid flow. I had hoped it would have remained communal while we settled in but their time with her was just too precious.

That’s a trick I picked up. I remain part of the broader group without being pulled into smaller sub-conversations for as long as possible. It enables me to remain aloof without it being problematic. I have very little in common with her friends. Simon was Jackie’s best friend in university. They had a thing going before she started to date me, and I don’t think he’s ever liked me after that. Her sister Anne told her she could do better than a “stuffy college professor” when I proposed, and I have never forgiven her for that. Our age gap is just 14 years, hardly an outrage. Then there’s Jamie her other friend from uni. He’s gay, so there was never any sexual chemistry between them, but I find his effeminate flamboyance unsettling. It always seemed forced. He makes me uncomfortable, in much the same way that Bert does. Given my theological predilections and world view, we never really connected.

This motley crew, bound together by little more than a profound affection for my wife, were who I now found myself stuck with. I noticed the other new face at the table and immediately locked in.

“Hi, I’m Ian”, I said holding out my hand.

“Tony”, he replied sharply, as if he had been warned. He stood up and announced a bar run, took the orders from the others and made his way into the mosh pit at the bar. Reluctant to sit silently as the other four caught up, I followed Tony. As a stranger, he was on that outer edge of the acquaintance spectrum that I was comfortable with, I could kill half an hour making small talk with him and leave.

“I’ll give you a hand”, I said when he turned to me. He shrugged and continued to edge his way closer to the bar. No small talk was necessary here, I could save it for the table. Tony was tall, and muscular. Guys like that dominate the space around them so it wasn’t a surprise when he got to the bar before others standing in the queue longer.

“What you having, mate?” he asked in a thick London accent.

“Corona”, I replied. I don’t think I’ve ever had Corona in my life, but something stopped me from asking for a Merlot and I couldn’t think of another beer quick enough. I wanted to impress him without really knowing why. We made our way back to the table. Jackie cocked an eyebrow at my drink but said nothing.

“So how do you know Anne, then?” He asked taking a gulp of his pint and finishing half the glass. I took an overzealous swig of the bottle. The fizz went up my nostril and I coughed.

“I’m married to her sister”, Jackie, I replied. He looked to Jackie and gave a discreet nod of approval. I felt my cheeks flush with pride. It was all I had to offer. And for that second or two, I felt like his equal.

“What line of work are you in, Ian?”

“I’m a professor”, I said. I didn’t want to go into detail, it might alienate him, and I didn’t want him making judgements before he knew me. At that moment I could be anyone I wanted to be; it was nice to keep my back story vague for as long as possible.

“Fucking hell, mate. Is everyone at this table a genius or what?”

I didn’t see how anyone else at the table could have been mistaken for a genius, but I said nothing.

“What do you do yourself Tony?”

“Truck driver. Long haul mostly, though I do a lot of deliveries round London too. Money’s good yeah, but it’s not the healthiest lifestyle, know what I mean?” he said patting his not insignificant belly. I didn’t know how to continue but thankfully, Tony wasn’t finished. “I miss a lot of the home games though, which does my head in, ‘cause I have the season ticket”

He took another monster gulp from his pint. I think he was talking about football, a subject I know literally nothing about, but I wasn’t prepared to concede defeat just yet. I noticed Jamie had peeled off from the others and begun to listen in to us.

“Cambridge?”

For some reason he found this funny. Jamie laughed too. I felt the initial eagerness to engage start to turn to anger.

“Sorry mate, didn’t mean to laugh. I’m a Spurs man through and through. Being from London n’ all”

I racked my brain for some football related trivia, some factoid to enable me to keep the conversation going. I remembered scrolling through my Alison Donaldson Twitter account a few days previous and seeing something about Tottenham. I rolled the dice and repeated verbatim what I had read.

“Great team. Haven’t really been the same since Pochettino left though, if I’m being honest.” Simon raised his eyebrows. For a moment I thought I had fucked it up.

“Fucking right mate, you don’t see that kind of loyalty either in the modern game. Levy fucked up when he let him go.” It seemed I said the right words. I took another triumphant swig of the bottle; it was sweet and lukewarm and utterly disgusting.

“I never knew you were into football, Ian”, Jamie said in that high-pitched voice of his. He had a tone I didn’t appreciate. He was probably genuinely surprised, but in that moment, I saw it as an attempt to undermine me and make me look foolish. My fight or flight instinct kicked in.

“It might not be something guys like you would be interested in, but most regular guys know something about the sport.” Tony immediately took exception.

“Hang on a minute, pal. What do you mean ‘guys like you’, eh?”

He waited for me to answer but I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“My brother is a season ticket holder too, and when I can’t make it, I give my ticket to his boyfriend and they go together. Disappointing to hear that from an educated man, I have to say.” And with that, Tony turned away and I was no longer part of the conversation. I was once again on the outside looking in.

When Anne stood up to go to the toilet, I took her vacated seat before anyone else noticed what had happened. I whispered in her ear that I was going home.

“But you seem to have made a new friend”, she said. I didn’t want to disappoint her, she’d find out eventually anyway, so I kissed her cheek without explaining, waved meekly to the group and exited before seeing if I got a response.

The sound of silence on the street was deafening. I felt banished. I couldn’t interact like a normal person, even when I genuflected and pretended to be someone else. I debated going home but I wanted to keep an eye on the group from a distance, so I went to a quiet bar across the street and took a stool by the window.

I was curious to see how the night continued without me. I felt strangely powerful looking in on them, oblivious to the fact I was still around. I sipped on a Merlot served to me by a waitress. It was almost as if I was still part of the night without any of the expectation or anxiety associated with participation. As much as Jackie validated me, she was sometimes too much for me. It was almost as if clipping her wings was the only way I could prevent her from flying away. And the energy expended doing this exhausted me as much as her. It was nice watching her enjoy herself without me but being able to keep an eye on things at the same time.

When I finished my Merlot, I got a taxi home.

A few hours later I was awoken to the sound of Jackie stumbling into the bed beside me. She was drunk, I could smell the alcohol on her breath underneath the toothpaste. She reached into my boxer shorts and fondled me. After a few seconds of attempting to tease it into action I pushed her away. I didn’t have the energy to go a second time hours after the toilets in Cambridge. She didn’t say anything. Instead she climbed off, turned away from me and fell asleep.

I lay awake for about an hour after.