Chapter Eight
Sasha stared at the presents Kirk had left behind. Presents which she had spent hours finding. Carefully and painstakingly rooting around myriad shops; searching endlessly for the perfect gift. The fairy lights, the Christmas songs, happiness and goodwill to all men. She had been lulled into a false sense of Christmassy joy; looking forward to the expected scene of fuzzy warmth. She imagined a Christmas card picture of her and Kirk under the tree; opening presents, kissing and drinking mulled wine. They’d be wearing matching Christmas jumpers. They’d be wearing paper hats on their heads and huge smiles on their faces. It would be perfect.
Little did she know that only one short week later, she’d be standing looking at this same pile of presents, neatly discarded into a ‘fuck you’ pile at the bottom of her bed.
‘I’m away, fuck you,’ the presents screamed.
‘See that tone of voice you had?’ the presents went on. ‘That’s my reason for clearing off home. Oh, and as for the hundreds of pounds you spent on my presents, fuck you, I don’t want them.’
It was like a slap in the face. A short, sharp, stinging slap in the face.
Sasha slumped down on the sofa; bereft. He had gone. Just upped and left. No “goodbye.” No “that’s me away.” Nothing.
The apartment felt deafeningly silent. It also felt eerily empty. Just yesterday, the place seemed full to bursting with the tree, the decorations, Kirk’s stuff everywhere and now… empty. No tree, nothing.
Sasha felt like her Christmas had been ripped away from her, like a plaster torn off a child’s knee. Quickly and painfully.
Still sitting in shock, she found herself trying to phone him, wondering if he had just popped out. If this was some kind of joke. But his phone went straight to voicemail and he was obviously refusing to take her calls.
Still in shock, still on the sofa, she phoned her sister, Rachel. Perhaps her sister could offer some advice, as well as a listening ear. Rachel was the sensible one; the older sister; married with kids. This dating trouble was long behind her but she could always offer good advice.
“Kirk’s gone,” Sasha explained. “I came back from the shop and he had just gone.”
“What? How on earth?” Rachel exclaimed incredulously.
“He just upped and left. No note; nothing. He’s taken his bag of clothes but he’s left behind all the Christmas presents I bought him.”
“What?” her sister exclaimed. “What?”
“I know,” Sasha agreed. It’s so bizarre.” This was the point in which she should have been crying, Sasha thought. There should have been gut-wrenching sobs. But there was nothing. Numb.
It must have been the shock. She really did expect him to just come walking straight back in the door. Either that, or a text, to explain that they were finished.
“I guess this means we’re finished,” Sasha concluded. Two days before New Year’s Eve. Finished.
“Fuck him!” Rachel exclaimed. “If he’s willing to do that to you then he’s not worth it.”
Looking back, Sasha knew that should have been her way of thinking; a rational way of thinking that most people would have taken. But Sasha wasn’t being rational. That was the whole problem. All Sasha had was shock, and the awful realisation that Kirk had walked out of their relationship because of her tone of voice. And Sasha wasn’t being rational. Sasha was being self-critical.
Well, I shouldn’t have had that tone of voice. Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps I should have been warm and welcoming. Perhaps I should have been understanding that he needed to get space from me. Perhaps I should have taken it all in my stride, like some self-assured, confident woman.
But Sasha wasn’t a self-assured, confident woman. Sasha was insecure, overly sensitive and full of fear. And that’s just the way I am. Surely if he loves me, he should accept me as I am; good points and bad points? The voice of reason piped up within her. But it was quickly quashed. No, it’s my fault. If only I hadn’t had that tone of voice with him, he wouldn’t have walked out.
If only…
All day she kept an eye on her phone. But nothing happened. For all she knew, he could have rolled over in a ditch and died.
On New Year’s Eve she sat in alone. She supposed she could have rallied around; checked what her friends were doing; joined in with their celebrations. But it felt too last minute and odd. And besides, she didn’t feel like celebrating much. She and Kirk had finally split up and she would have to accept it. Despite how hard she had tried over Christmas. After how much money she’d spent; how much she’d tried to make it perfect, it still wasn’t enough. One tone of voice, one insecure moment, and he was off, running for the hills, carrying his disgust and high expectations with him.
I’ll never be enough for him, she concluded, the penny finally dropping.
No matter how much I try, no matter how much money I spend, how much time I invest, it’s still never enough. One bad moment, one bad day, and he’s away.
This time Sasha felt a sort of acceptance dawn on her. The incident wasn’t as alarming as all the other times. It was becoming more commonplace now, so that there was actually a small voice inside her saying, perhaps it’s just not meant to be. Perhaps I have to stop trying. There was a certain relief in that; like throwing the towel in. Like giving up on a stressful job and just walking away effortlessly. The pressure rolling off her shoulders.
But a few days later, he contacted her.
“I left that day,” he said. “Because I thought you had gone round to your sister’s to bitch about me. I thought you’d be away for hours.”
“But how come you’re only contacting me now?” Sasha asked, trying to keep her voice calm and free from accusation.
He shrugged helplessly. “I thought that maybe we needed some space from each other.”
Space, she thought. There it was again. That word. Space. How on earth would they be able to live together if he needed so much space from her? What would happen if she gave up her home, gave up her (very good and very stable) job, left the comfort of Belfast with her friends and support network she’d built up, and moved to Dublin? What if she moved down there, searched for ages to find a job, signed a lease on a new apartment with Kirk and then, weeks later, he proclaimed he needed space from her? What if he chucked her out and she had nowhere to go? And if she moved back to Belfast, she’d have to start all over again? Sasha was like a little bird in a very cosy nest; her mother was trying to force her out to learn to fly but she refused to go. Too many times she’d had to move house in the past. She was not willing to do it again. The upheaval – both physically and emotionally – was too much for her. The realisation settled on her shoulders like a protective hand. She was not willing to move to Dublin. And he was probably not willing to move to Belfast. So where did that leave them?
In the land of limbo, that’s where. They couldn’t continue the constant travelling up and down and all the strain that incurred – both financially and emotionally.
“I’ve been thinking…” Kirk said, interrupting her thoughts. They were on a Skype call. He was wearing his glasses and a woolly jumper. He looked so gorgeous. She wanted to stroke his face on the screen.
“I’ve made a list…” he began.
Oh God. Another list.
“I think that if we get back together, some things have to change…”
Oh yeah? Sasha watched in horror as Kirk produced an A4 pad of paper and began reading a list off a prepared page.
“I’ll get back with you if…
One. There are no more tones of voices/vibes.
Two. Absolutely no more jealousy. If I so much as sense one ounce of jealousy, I’m walking out the door immediately.
Three. We have to come to a decision about the Belfast/ Dublin thing.”
Sasha sat in silence after he finished reading. She was too much in shock to respond. There was one tiny part of her that wanted to say, ‘Okay, whatever you think. I’ll agree to those points on your list’. One tiny part of her that wanted to keep the peace. That wanted him back, regardless.
But there was another, stronger part of her that refused to comply. The stronger part was larger and that’s why she found herself saying, “that sounds like an ultimatum to me.”
Kirk looked at her defiantly, his shoulders squaring back as though for a fight. “I guess, in a way, it is.”
Sasha sighed. “I don’t think it’s very fair to set an ultimatum,” she found herself saying. The small, needy part of her was screaming ‘Shut up! If you don’t agree to this, you’ll never see him again!’
But the stronger part said, ‘if you need to set ultimatums, then it means you don’t accept me as I am.’ She was surprised how calm she sounded. “I think, Kirk, that if you’re looking for this perfect girlfriend who’ll never say anything out of line or do anything you don’t agree with, you’ll have a long time looking. I’m not that person. If you love me, you need to accept me as I am.”
Kirk looked at her, stunned. If was as if she’d just jumped up on a table in a nightclub and started dancing topless. He looked shocked at her confidence and strength. He really had expected her to comply.
“Okay,” he gulped. “So you’re saying you want us to split up, then?”
He looked so cute in that Skype call. She desperately wanted to put her arms through the screen and hug him. But there was a strength coming from somewhere. “If it means having to sign a list of conditions, yeah.”
He sat quietly, hardly able to meet her gaze.
“Okay… well, have a think about it, and let me have your final answer in a couple of days,” he said.
She noticed how shocked he was and, if she wasn’t mistaken, secretly impressed. He looked as if he didn’t realise she could be so independent.
“I’ll have a think about it,” she said. “But I know my answer will be the same. No more lists.”