Mason
“Did you have to be so rude!” Ava exclaimed as she plopped down on the end of the bed.
“What? I wouldn’t say calling someone Thor is particularly rude!” I waved a hand at her. “Besides, the vain twat knows he looks like a fucking Greek god!”
She snorted, her brows arching high on her forehead. “Why, Mr Fox, I do believe you’re jealous!”
“I am not!”
“Mm-hmm.”
Throwing my keys and wallet on to the dresser, I turned to look at her. Gauging her reaction to my next words was important. “So, Thor was about to say something before you, right on cue, dragged me out.”
She shrugged, lowering her eyes. “Was he? I hadn’t really noticed.”
Bullshit!
“Mmm.” I nodded slowly. “Not that I’m an expert or anything, but I could have sworn he was about to say he nearly proposed once.”
Wincing when she laughed a little too loudly, I quirked an eyebrow at her. “What? Don’t be silly.” Her throat bobbed rigorously as she swallowed, then waving her hand about she finally looked at me. “You hungry, baby? I could go a deep pan pepperoni. Or pork chow mein. Or maybe you fancy a prawn curry? There’s a nice chippy a few streets away if you fancy something greasy.”
“Although tempted by all the food.” I stepped up to her and tilted her head back with a finger under her chin. “I’m more hungry for details about you and Bon Jovi.”
Giving me a long stare, she rolled her eyes dramatically. “So, he’s gone from a Greek god to a rock god. Anyone would think you have a phobia about guys with long hair. Or gods. Are you feeling a little insecure, baby? What with your…” Deciding not to finish her sentence, she merely waved a hand towards my hair.
“What the hell?”
“Or is because both Chris Hemsworth and Bon Jovi can carry off skinny jeans?”
Baffled, I shook my head. How the hell had we gone from Danny to my receding hairline to skinny jeans? “I’m a little confused here. Are you menopausal, baby?”
Holy hell! Judging by how round her eyes became that had been entirely the wrong thing to say. Her jaw trembled, her eyes grew dark, and her chest heaved with each shot of fire that blew out of her nostrils.
“I, uh….” I took a step back and gave my wife the sweetest smile I could muster under the panic.
“Listen,” she spat through the clench of her teeth. “Just because you are feeling inadequate…”
Eh?
“…That does not excuse being mean!”
“I’m not. Why are you being arsey about going through the menopause, anyway? Besides, it’s not like you were able to have any more kids.”
“I. Am. Not. Menopausal!” she screeched, flinging her hands in the air. “Why are you being arsey about your receding hairline and not being able to wear skinny jeans?”
Again… Eh?
I wasn’t sure how we had gone from a disagreement about me calling her ex Thor to this. Ava appeared to be fuming, her face puce and spittle spraying with every word that left her mouth.
“I mean,” she continued to rant. “Maybe this isn’t about me going through the change at all. Maybe, this is about your manopause!”
Was manopause even a word?
“I mean…” She poked me hard in the chest, making me step back a little as her frustration morphed into full-on fury. “If I’m the one who’s supposed to be going through the menopause why is it you who can’t get it up anymore? My parts still work, but yours, they’re the redundant genitals between the both of us! Your dick is useless! You can’t even get a fucking hard-on…”
“ENOUGH!” I barked as I grabbed the tops of her arms and slammed her back against the wall.
She snapped her teeth together, the grimace that covered her face loaded with guilt. “I’m sorry, Mason. I…”
“Is that what this is? A fucking game?” I growled, my fury now drowning out Ava’s. “Flirting with an old flame. Trying to make me jealous so I’ll fuck you?”
“What? No!”
“You know, sometimes you can be a cruel bitch!”
I didn’t wait for her reply. I barely got through the door before I slammed it behind me. I had to get away from her. From the truth.
Because she had hit the nail on the head and brought the sleeping elephant in the room back to life. I didn’t want to deal with my insecurities about my own failing body, or the fiasco of my life, so I had to pick on Ava’s. I never wanted to deal with my own failures, and the only way I knew how to cure the spitefulness of my own mind was with the only medicine I knew that worked.
♡
Ava wasn’t anywhere to be seen when I fell through the door into our hotel room in the early hours. Nor was she there when I opened my eyes the next morning.
I was starting to worry she’d upped sticks and finally left me, but when I emerged from the bathroom after a shower, she was stuffing some clothes into a suitcase. Glancing over her shoulder at me, she gave me a long stare before signalling to a paper bag on the bed. “Breakfast. I gathered you’d have the munchies after another session on the white stuff.”
Thanking her with a smile, I perched on the edge of the bed and opened the bag. Retrieving a warm almond croissant, I took a large mouthful and washed it down with some hot coffee before I spoke. “Are we leaving?”
She remained with her back to me, continuing to fold and place things into the case. “I’m not sure about you, but I am.”
The croissant stuck in my throat, and I forced it down. “Am I allowed to come with you?”
She tensed, her shoulders lifting slightly. “Jesus, Mason. What are you, four?” When I didn’t reply, she sighed loudly. “I don’t know what the hell is happening to us lately. But have you ever thought about talking to me, instead of shoving down your emotions by snorting that shit?” Her voice was as choked as I felt.
“You know it’s not that easy, Ava.” I hated that I was hurting her, the one person in my life that didn’t deserve my fucked-up shit, yet I couldn’t seem to stop.
She was quiet for a while, possibly weighing up my words. Eventually, she nodded and turned to look at me. Tears shimmered in her eyes, making my chest ache. “I’m going back to the farm.” I nodded, but my soul withered inside me when she added, “Alone.”
“No, Ava.” I took her face in my hands, begging her with a look of total desolation. “Please.”
“I can’t…” She wet her dry lips with her tongue and cleared her throat. “I’m sick of competing with the coke, Mason. You never face things. It just feels like I’m dealing with this on my own. I need to concentrate on my own shit, and I can’t do that if I’m a surrogate for your emotions too.”
Anger controlled me, and I grabbed her jaw tightly. “You always fucking run when things get hard!”
“It’s better than standing still and doing nothing!” she hissed back, shrugging away from me. “I’m lonely, Mason! Even with you, I’m fucking lonely!” Tears welled and fell down her face, each one a fragment of my shattered heart. “I don’t know how to make it right, Mason. I have no ammunition left to fight with. I can’t protect you any more than you can protect me. Believe me, I’ve tried so hard, we both have, but now it’s time to admit that we failed. We failed.”
I wanted to stop her. I wanted to take her hand in mine and never let go, hold onto her soul until my heart ceased beating. But I couldn’t. Because she was right. For so long, our love had been the cement that bound us together, but even then, it had still been fragile, our life forever shaking the foundations that supported us. One final crack had seen the walls we protected ourselves within crumbling, tipping us the wrong way and plunging us into perpetual darkness. The light had gone from our lives, and no matter how many times we hunted for the sun or lit the lamp to guide us safely along, fate had its way of snatching those gifts away from us.
Opening the door, my little warrior paused and turned back to me. “We didn’t have to drive off the edge of that cliff because we’re killing each other anyway.”
Softly, she smiled, wiped the tears from her eyes, and stepped out of my life.