Reality copyright © Andi Dawson The arm around my shoulders is a welcome sight.  Last night had been one of the most fantastic nights of my life.  We’d eaten, drank, danced and finally after making love we’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.  It was times like this that I knew I was lucky.  The relationship isn’t perfect, far from it, but when we are in bed, we are happy.  Getting out of bed means I’ll have to face reality and I definitely don’t want to, not yet.  So, for a while longer, I’ll stay here, with his arm around my shoulders, not daring to move in case he wakes. Drifting back to sleep, I start to remember life without him.  It’s hard to recall at first, but the harder I try, the clearer the memories get.  Before I met him I was content, not happy, just content.  My life was simple; I slept, I ate, I worked.  My job was my life, it paid the rent and allowed me some luxuries, food, drink, clothes.  Not that they’re lavish luxuries, nevertheless I had more than some people.  Home was a flat above a shop, nothing fancy.  One bedroom, one bathroom, a living room and a kitchenette.  My parents had found it for me when I left home. My parents, now there’s an oddity.  I don’t remember a time when we got on.  My mom was too busy shopping and my dad was always working, when he wasn’t working he was out with one of his many women.  I can’t blame my parents for the way I’ve ended up.  When they suggested I was old enough to move out, I got the picture that it was more of an order.  They found my flat for me, even paid the rent for a while and then nothing.  I found a job and told them I could pay for myself, and after that we sort of lost touch.  But it wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.  After the strange up-bringing, life was overwhelmingly plain.  A normal flat, normal job, normal me.  I wasn’t living I was purely existing, but it suited me then. For four years I got up at 7, showered and dressed by 7.20, had breakfast by 8 and left for work by 8.10.  For four years I caught the bus to work, had coffee when I got there and stared at my computer screen until dinner time.  At 1 the lady with the sandwiches came round and every day for four years I had a cheese and tomato bap, a can of diet coke and a strawberry yoghurt.  At 1.50 I visited the loo and by 2 I was back in front of my computer.  For the next 3 hours I worked avidly, trying to prepare myself for the journey home. The weekends were just as bad.  Saturday was shopping day; perhaps the worst day of the week.  I trudged around the supermarket, watching with envy the families and couples filling their trolleys with wonderful food, all I had was a basket full or ready-meals, no need to eat extravagantly when you’re on your own.  They always looked so happy; I wanted to end up like that.  I dreamt of walking round the supermarket on the arm of some wonderful man, chatting about whether to have pork or beef, what cake to buy for dessert; after meeting him, my dream came true. Life is different now, not better, just different.  In fact, if I’m honest, life is worse.  It started out as better, after meeting him I thought everything was finally going to go my way.  He was amazing, everything I’d ever dreamt of and more, nothing like the men I was used to.  He loved me like no one had ever done before and I simply adored him.  Things were like a romantic novel.  There I was, lonely and bored, and he came and rescued me from myself.  My knight in shinning armour. We spent three wonderful months together before he proposed.  Within a year of meeting we were married and expecting our first child.  Up until then, things were perfect.  My bump was growing and people actually said I glowed.  He was already playing the proud dad.  Our problems began then.  At nearly five months pregnant, I had a miscarriage.  I didn’t just lose our baby that day, I lost him.  The doctors said that there was no real reason for my miscarriage and I think that is what he couldn’t cope with.  He had no one to blame, no one he could punish, no one except me.  I think that is when I started to fall apart. While he was getting sympathy from his family, I felt like I was being blamed for losing our baby.  They didn’t actually say it was my fault, of course they wouldn’t, but behind all the sad looks and solemn speeches I knew they were blaming me.  He blamed me too, he didn’t say so either, but after the ‘incident’ as it was called, things changed.  The pages were falling out of my romantic novel and there was nothing I could do to repair the damage.  All I could do was try to be there for him, I hoped I’d be able to support him, hold me and love him.  I couldn’t; he wouldn’t let me.  I was the reason he was broken-hearted. Life from then on was terrible.  We argued everyday, never for any important reason.  Over time, the arguments got worse and I just couldn’t understand how we had gone from being a happy couple expecting a baby, to the lonely, angry people we were. Stirring from sleep I notice his arm is gone.  Now I have to get up, reality has crept back into the room.  I don’t really have the energy to move, but as I rise I catch a glimpse of my bruised body in the mirror.  He always apologised, he’d say it was an accident and that he’d never do it again.  The first time he said that I believed him; he’d cried and pleaded with me to forgive him and I did.  But now, now I can take no more. As I walk down the stairs I notice how quiet the house is, he’s not here.  My dressing gown is soft against my skin, the carpet feels fluffy on my bare feet, and I breathe a sigh of relief.  Before him, I hated being alone but now, it’s a blessing.  He won’t be home for hours, I have time to tidy the house and prepare a meal, something that my keep him happy.  I’d do anything to just see him happy again.  We used to laugh, but now we just fight.  I know I should do something more, the problem is I don’t know what else I can do.  If I try to talk to him, try to tell him that I can’t take any more, it always goes wrong.  I’m not strong enough to fight him, mentally or physically.  Every day I am losing a reason to stay.  At first I told myself that he needed me to help him, he needed me to get him through.  I can’t kid myself now; there is no reason to stay any longer. I know I should shower and dress, but today I don’t feel like it. Today, I simply don’t feel.  He hasn’t noticed what all this has done to me, he doesn’t even notice me.  Last night was the first time in ages that we didn’t fight and as I make my morning coffee last night’s happiness comes back. He came home from work at the usual time, only he seemed different.  We ate the dinner I had made and the wine flowed as easily as the chat.  He was happy, really happy.  After coffee we danced; we always danced when we first met, sometimes we didn’t even have music we just held each other and swayed.  Last night we made love, that in itself was just magnificent.  We hadn’t made love since the ‘incident’.  And I knew last night that things would never be as good again. This morning when I first woke I felt like I did before everything went wrong.  I know that he is the best thing, the best man I have ever known.  I know I could never love any other like I loved him, but I also know that it can’t go on.  Last night is never going to happen again, I think we both know that; that is why it is best to end it now. I’ve been day dreaming so long now that my coffee has gone cold.  The house needs a quick tidy, and reluctantly I get a duster and polish, not really doing the job properly.  I’ll hoover downstairs before deciding what to do for supper.  I don’t know why I’m carrying on like this, no matter how much I clean house or plan the food I know that today is the day I must leave.  I can’t bear to think of it now. The cupboards and fridge lie empty, so after careful consideration I’ve decided to order from Vincents.  It’s his favourite restaurant and luckily they deliver gourmet meals to order.  It’s a great service, all you have to do is call them and decide what you want and what time you want it delivered.  At least with that I know that he will eat, even if I am gone by then.  All I have to do now is write him a goodbye letter.  I’ll sit at the breakfast bar to write it, the blank pieces of paper are staring back at me, the pen in my hand is still.  Millions of thoughts are rattling through my brain and now some of them seem to be making sense. I feel that now is the time to free ourselves from the pain that we’re causing each other.  I can almost take the physical pain, it doesn’t seem to hurt anymore, but mentally I have taken as much as I can.  Losing our baby destroyed me, no one had any idea how I felt, how I still feel.  You never once asked me if I needed to talk and I don’t understand why. Tears are streaming down my face.  I really don’t want to hurt him, I don’t want to make him feel bad.  I only ever wanted him to understand, nothing more, nothing less.  But, I have to tell him how I feel, I can’t hide it now. What happened was no one’s fault, there was no reason, it just happened.  There was nothing either or us could have done.  But instead of supporting each other, instead of getting stronger, we grew weaker and now we are killing each other.  Our relationship died when our baby did. This thought has stunned me.  I knew that our relationship ended the day I miscarried, but I’ve never admitted that.  I don’t know what else to write; how can I tell him that it’s over, how can I end it?  I want to tell him I love him, but I’m not sure if I do any more.  He was my perfect man, take all the pain away and he still would be.  But I can’t go back in time, all I can do now is move on, change the future. Its 4 o’clock now, the house is tidied, the food is ordered and I suddenly feel useless.  At least I know that tonight it will all be over and although I’m scared, I know that I have to go on with my plan.  I have to do it, but first I must finish the letter, I can’t just go and leave things unfinished.  I have to make him understand why.  Since the miscarriage we haven’t ever sat down and talked.  He carried on, he actually went back to work after the weekend.  On the Friday morning I lost our child, and after a weekend of almost complete silence he returned to work.  I hadn’t worked since I found out I was pregnant, I had nothing to return to.  Everyday from 8 until 6 he was able to escape, he returned every night full of energy and more often than not it turned into rage. Tonight will be different, when he comes home his energy will only turn into anguish.  I have to finish the letter. I don’t feel like I should apologise for my actions, what I’ve done may destroy you, but I want you to know that I have not done this in revenge.  I am only going like this, because I don’t know what else to do. This letter is just to say goodbye.  I cannot blame you for anything that has happened and I want you to know that even now I still remember how it used to be.  Last night was an excellent reminder, that is why I have to go now. It is nearly time to go, I just have to finish the letter and then find somewhere to put it so as he’ll see it as soon as he comes in.  I think I’ll put it by the telephone table, he should see it there. I want you to realise how much pain I felt when I lost our baby, how much pain I have been in ever since.  No matter how hard you beat me I never hurt as much as I did that day.  I want you to feel that kind of pain. That is all.  I have nothing left to say to you, nothing left to give.  I leave knowing that my pain will stop and that is all I ask. Goodbye, my knight in shinning armour. I’ll put his name on the envelope and seal it with a kiss.  He’ll definitely see that when he gets home and now I can go upstairs and get ready.  I’ll take one last look around, the house always looks beautiful in the early evening sun.  It is definitely a perfect day to go. I’m still in my dressing gown, getting back into bed to get comfy for a while.  The tall glass of water at my bedside table is still cold and the drawer is open slightly, revealing my tablets.  I don’t remember where I got them from now, but they are there where I left them.  One by one I’ll place them on my tongue and take a sip of water to help them go down.  When the bottle is empty I know it won’t be long. Settling myself down in bed I’m feeling sleepy, I’m sure I’ll drift off soon.  I know now that I’ll never have to get out of bed again, I’ll never have to face reality.  Memories of last night enter my head once more.  We ate, drank, danced and finally after making love we’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.  Last night we were in love and that is how I want it to end.