Another Way to Get Through the Day

Her footsteps hit the pavement, each step slamming into the ground. It was raining, big cool raindrops on a hot summer road, the scent of wet tar tanging the air but Allie refused to let her anger cool down to match. She hadn't left with a coat - just her handbag, his credit cards and as the rain plastered her hair to her face and dripped into her eyes she briefly considered going back to him.

No. Never. Keep going. 

She stamped her feet harder, splashing water.

It hadn't always been that way.

Five years ago. Spain. An extended holiday through Europe after university before settling down to a coveted position with what was regarded as one of the better banks. A last chance for purple hair and dreadlocks. Perhaps because it was the last chance, and because she knew a steady income was on the way, Allie ran right down to the last of her cash. Faced with the choice between sleeping in a bus station or hitching to make it back to the airport, she found herself standing forlornly at the side of a road on the outskirts of a small, pictureesque town, the last bus having left hours ago and no sign of anybody  stopping except hikers or cyclists.

"Plan Z it is, then" she muttered to herself and picked up her rucksack, preparing to go back to the hostel and use their overpriced internet access to ask her dad to put some money in her account. She wouldn't live it down when she got back, of course, but a few years of good natured teasing wouldn't kill her, she told herself. Rerunning this scenario, trying to convince herself it was a good idea, she didn't notice a guy on a motorbike had stopped until he flipped back his visor and spoke.

"You need a lift somewhere?"

He was fairly clean cut, good quality bike and the safety gear to match. Instinctively, Allie trusted him, though how much this was influenced by the possibility of deliverance from family embarrassment she did not want to think about.

"What? Oh, yeah, please, thanks, brilliant." 

 A second or two later she realised something.

"Oh, you speak English - how did you guess...?"

"Easy. Sunburn." 

He passed her a helmet.

"James. James Kerwin".

"Allie Parker. And thanks again."

"So, where to?"

It was a two hour trip out of his way. They stopped for iced tea, chatted, shared history. They laughed at the coincidence that he worked in the city too.  He complimented her on her independence, travelling by herself. She complimented him on his timing for rescuing her. They laughed together, and she felt unusually comfortable in his company. At the airport they exchanged phone numbers and promised to get in touch. After he left, Allie settled onto the row where she intended to sleep before getting her flight the next day and smiled.

The smile was sour now. You can't change the people you love, she thought sourly, but you can't expect them to stay the same.

Another road, this time lined with identikit suburban houses with regulation sensible cars in driveways, their own BMW mini an unexpected splash of double-income-no-kids character in familyland.

"James, why are we here? We don't know anyone who lives this far out of town".

"You'll see. Ah, here we are."

He pulled up outside a semi at the end of the road. There was a man in a suit nailling a 'Sold' sign to a placard. They got out of the car and he put his arms around her shoulder.

"What do you think?" James asked, his eyes sparkling.

"Mmm...very nice" Allie replied confusedly. "But maybe not..."

"We pick up the keys this afternoon."

"We WHAT? Aren't we a bit young to be landlords?"

James smiled.

"No, for us. Our home."

"James, can we talk about this? Please?"

They had a big argument that night, the worst of their marriage. She tried to make him understand that they couldn't just buy a house without it being  a joint decision. He looked confused and hurt as he pointed out they could easily afford it and that he thought they had an independent kind of marriage, that if she had done this, he wouldn't be complaining to her.

"I wouldn't do this". Her voice was flat, tired, unemotional.

"You would have, once. You used to take risks."

How, she reflected sourly, is buying into the suburban dream, a risk? But she said nothing. After that day, she rarely did. They moved in to the house once the lease on their flat ran out. 

There's only so long you can not speak.

This was the final road of their relationship, and Allie was on it alone. One last one-sided argument three years after the first. One by one, their friends joined and overtook them in suburbia, switched from Vespas, minis and Smart cars to SUVs and hatchbacks with plenty of space in the back for travel systems, or as Allie preferred to think of them, prams. She kept the mini, used it for shopping at the weekends and continued to walk to the train station. She continued to go out to bars with the guys on Friday after work. She continued to buy take-out, sporadically address housework and forget to do laundry. Selfish, James called her. Couldn't she see, she was in her mid 30s? That she was frittering away his chance to have a family? Today, he said it once too often.

Allie took a deep breath, trying to drive away the memory. Her handbag sat awkwardly on her shoulder, but it was okay as she was nearly at the lake. Once there, she would remove the knife, and the plastic bag wrapping it to prevent staining, weight it with stones and throw it in to the deepest part.