Page 49 of Not Moving Out
I really didn’t know what to say to him. I was flattered and intrigued that perhaps one day something might happen between us, when I had finally got over my separation from Joe – could I even imagine that? – but all of that felt so far in the future. It felt like trying to understand the size of the universe and, the more videos you watched on YouTube, the more it blew your mind. Obviously Sam and I dating one day wasn’t as complex as how many trillions of galaxies there were in the universe, but still, it was a bit of a head fuck. And yet, I was also excited at the idea of it. How could I not be? Sam was a catch, and for some reason, he thought I was, too. With the complete absence of anything else to say, I said the only thing I could think of.
‘Would there be any issues with work? With us dating, I mean.’ When in doubt, bring it all back to law.
‘Not really. Just some paperwork to fill out. If we’re completely transparent from the beginning then it’s not a problem. At least from a legal viewpoint. Are you worried it might make things awkward though?’
‘A little, and it’s not like I’m anywhere near ready to even think about dating. I’m flattered, Sam, really, and if you’re still interested when I’m like fifty, then I think a date sounds lovely.’
‘It’s a date,’ said Sam with a smile.
‘Wow, you’re prepared to wait five years just for a date. That’s impressive,’ I said, and Sam laughed, and I could feel droplets of sweat sliding down my back. My whole body felt like it was on fire! Imagine going on an actual date with him? It would have to be in the middle of winter or perhaps somewhere near the Arctic Circle.Fancy a date, Sam? Where? Oh, you know, I hear far-north Sweden is lovely in December.
‘I’m sorry if this is weird or overly presumptuous,’ said Sam. ‘But I was listening to a podcast the other day, and they spoke about vocalising your desires and dreams, and how when we say things out loud, put it out in the universe, so to speak, they become more of a reality. So, I just wanted to put it out there.’
‘It’s, honestly, one hundred per cent fine,’ I replied, and I couldn’t deny the feelings that were suddenly crashing their way through my body at that moment. A blast of dopamine and other related romantic chemicals that were suddenly shooting through me causing a surge of giddy euphoria that I hadn’t felt since my early twenties. The idea of dating was terrifying, but somehow the idea of perhaps dating Sam one day didn’t seem so utterly awful. It was complicated, and we both had a lot more baggage than probably either of us would care to admit, but it might be a shot at love the second time around. Sam was divorced from his wife, had three grown-up children, and I was separated and had Dolly, and blending our lives and families would no doubt be a challenge, but that was love and relationships when you were both on your second trip around because the first hadn’t worked out how you’d thought. It was scary, and it would no doubt be a long road ahead, but a difficult, uneven road ahead with Sam was surely better than trying to walk it alone. Right?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Joe
‘So, Joe, how is your relationship with Freya at the moment?’ said Karen.
It was a beautiful day outside, and I felt a warmness that spread across the room, enveloping me in its grasp. Sunshine flooded through the window and dust mites danced in the air. I had been sitting in Karen’s office for a good fifteen minutes already, and after a few brief conversations she had asked me that question. My initial thought was that it was far too complicated a question to answer. There were layers to our relationship. What was the word they always used onThe Great British Bake Off? Oh yes, lamination. The layers that were created by repeatedly folding and rolling butter into dough, and that was how I felt about my relationship with Freya. We had spent so many years creating the perfect lamination, folding and rolling the dough that was our relationship, that now it was just hundreds and hundreds of complex super-thin layers that couldn’t easily be pulled apart. Every layer gave it structure, meaning, and trying to somehow deconstruct it felt practically impossible without causing a massive fucking mess.
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Relationships, even the good ones, are complicated, Joe. Every relationship has layers, and it’s only when we peel back those layers that we discover what’s beneath. The truth is often hidden, but it’s there if we look hard enough.’
I had been in a strange mood all morning, and perhaps it wasn’t the best day for therapy. I had been feeling more and more anxious aboutHouse Shared, and more specifically about telling Freya about it. It consumed my mind, and I knew I just needed to do it, but it terrified me – especially after how she had taken to discovering I was seeing a therapist. I also couldn’t think of a storyline for the daughter in the show, other than her being gay, and that would be a terrific storyline, but I couldn’t use it. It was impossible, right?
‘The truth is, I haven’t told Freya about the sitcom yet. I know I need to do it, but the idea of it scares me to death.’
‘Why does it scare you, Joe?’
‘Because when she found out I was seeing you, she went ballistic. Rightfully so, obviously, but we’re just starting to put our relationship back together after that and I’m afraid telling her about this will put us all the way back to the start again. It’s like snakes and ladders. You almost get to the end, it’s right there, you can almost touch it, and then you hit a fucking snake and you’re all the way back at the bottom again. I can’t go backwards with Freya again.’
I looked across at Karen, and she gave me a thin, sympathetic smile.
‘I understand but from what you’ve said, it sounds like she’s going to find out at some point.’
‘If it gets commissioned then, yes, she would have to know.’
‘So wouldn’t it be better to do it now? Get everything out in the open so you can deal with it, and then move on? Maybe she will be more relaxed about it than you think.’
The truth was I was worried she would tell me to stop writing it because it was all I had in my life at that moment. If I couldn’t writeHouse Shared, I would have nothing, and if I went against her wishes and did it anyway, then our relationship would probably be over. It felt like I was trying to balance on an impossibly narrow beam and either side the drop-off would kill me, but trying to stay steady, keep my balance, was exhausting, and I couldn’t keep doing it forever.
‘Maybe.’
‘Do you think there might be another reason why you might be scared to tell Freya about the sitcom?’ said Karen, and then she did what she often did, and just looked at me because she wanted me to go deeper, really reach inside myself and pluck something profound from within the depths of my psyche. I, of course, had no idea what to say when confronted by such a request. My hidden depths were so well hidden, it would take a crack team of highly skilled experts in a variety of fields to come together like one of those action films for a special operation – a rogue group of retired specialists for one final mission.
‘I don’t know, but if there is, I have no idea what it might be.’
‘You’re writing a sitcom about your marriage you can’t confess to your wife. You’re terrified of moving on, of being a failure, whatever that term means to you. Perhaps this fear is you holding on to the past. Do you think that on some level you don’t want to separate from Freya?’
I didn’t know what to say. Was there something to it? Did I still want to be married to Freya? I looked across the room and at the old wooden sash window. I had always loved the older houses in Brighton, the Victorian and Georgian properties, because of the character they gave the town that seemed to almost underpin everything else. I liked the stability of it, and maybe that was also why I was having a hard time letting Freya go, too. She had always been my stability. She had grounded me and given me the support I needed when things weren’t going well. I wouldn’t have been able to have any sort of career without her, and now if we actually divorced, I was terrified of what it would mean for me. It seemed logical that a part of me was still holding on to our marriage, but I also knew it was over. We’d had the conversations, the arguments, and we’d had the final meeting and concluded that, yes, the verdict was in and it wasn’t good. Surely, despite whatever reservations I had, the consensus was that my marriage was done, and I had to find a way to move forward on my own.
‘I mean, you have a point, obviously, but you can’t just hold on to something that isn’t working because you’re afraid of whatever is next.’
‘True, but this week, I want you to really think about what it is you’re holding on to, and what you’re afraid of because it seems to me, Joe, that at the moment you’re sort of trapped in this place between the past and the future. Perhaps your living situation is perpetuating that, but you need to begin the process of moving on, of beginning the next chapter of your life, and you won’t be able to do that unless you understand what it is you’re letting go of. Make sense?’
