In some ways, she’s right not to.
I have never been completely honest with my wife, but that’s for her own good.
There are so many things I can’t tell her; a bit like the sleeping pills I sometimes pop into her hot drinks before bedtime. Things she doesn’t need to know. It was me who turned the power off when she was down in the crypt earlier. She doesn’t understand fuse boxes – all I had to do was flick a switch and drop the trapdoor. I forgot about the generator outside, but I’ve turned that off now too, and we won’t be getting power back any time soon.
Wood
Word of the year:
mensch noun a good person. Someone who is kind and acts with integrity and honour.
28th February 2013 – our fifth anniversary
Dear Adam,
I’m sorry I’ve been acting so jealous lately, I’m hoping we can put these past few months behind us. It would seem strange not to mention the baby stuff at all. I can’t pretend it didn’t happen, or that I didn’t want to be a mother. It was never about having your children （sorry）， I just wanted my own. I’ve given up on giving up so many things in life, but I knew I couldn’t keep trying for a baby. Not after the last round of IVF didn’t work. The heartbreak was killing me, and my unhappiness was killing our marriage.
I still secretly hoped it might happen for a while. I’ve read all those stories about couples who get pregnant as soon as they stop trying, but that isn’t what life had planned for us. For the first few months I still cried every time my period arrived, not that you asked I told you that. But I think I’ve moved on now, or at least moved far enough away to breathe again. Life can start to feel full of holes when the love has nowhere to go.
Bob isn’t a baby – I know that – but I suppose I do treat him like a surrogate child. And I’ve thrown myself back into my work at the dogs home these last few months. The unexpected promotion I’ve been given doesn’t pay much more than before, but it’s nice to feel recognised. And I’ve realised I’m a good person. Not being able to get pregnant wasn’t a punishment, it just wasn’t the plan. When I was a child I was repeatedly told that I was bad, and sometimes I still believed it. But they were wrong about me. All of them.
We had a row last week, our first in ages, do you remember? I still feel guilty about that. To be fair, I think a lot of wives might have reacted the same way. You came home drunk, and considerably later than you said you would. It might not have bothered me so much if I hadn’t made the effort to cook. But instead of picking up on my silent anger when I made a scene of scraping your cold, uneaten dinner into the bin, you told me all about October O’Brien. The young, award-winning, Irish actress had fallen in love with your screenplay: Rock Paper Scissors. She’d gotten in touch via your agent, and an afternoon meeting for three turned into drinks and a meal for two. Just you and her. I hadn’t been worried at all until I Googled the girl and saw how beautiful she was.
‘You’ll have to meet her yourself,’ you babbled with a ridiculous grin on your face. Your lips were a little stained with red wine, at least I hoped that’s what it was. ‘Her thoughts about how to improve the script are just… genius!’ I helped you with that script years ago. I might not be a Hollywood actress, but I read. A lot. And I thought Team Us did a pretty good job. ‘You’re going to love her…’ you gushed, but I very much doubted that. ‘She’s simply delightful… so utterly charming, and clever, and—’
‘I didn’t realise she was old enough to drink,’ I interrupted. I’d had some wine myself while I stayed up waiting.
‘Don’t be like that,’ you said, with a look that made me want to punch you.
‘Like what? It isn’t as though we haven’t been here before. An actor or actress says they love your story, they won’t rest until it gets made in Hollywood—’
‘This is different.’
‘Is it? The girl is barely out of school—’
‘She’s in her twenties and she’s already won a Bafta—’
‘You won a Bafta in your twenties, but it still didn’t get you what you wanted. Surely it’s a producer you need to back the project… or a studio.’
‘I’ve got a much better chance with an actress like October attached. If she knocks on doors in LA they will open for her. Whereas with me, unless I get another big book to adapt soon, all the doors seem to be closing.’ I felt bad then. It’s been tough for you this year. You’re still getting work, but not the kind you really want. I was about to change the subject, try to be a little kinder, but then you lashed out in self-defence. ‘It’s a shame you aren’t still as passionate about your career, then maybe you would understand.’