I reach out my hand across the pillow, and it touches his head. So, he made it home then, eventually. And now I can hear his breathing in the darkness next to me. I prop myself up slightly so that I can see the clock past his body: 3:30.
My head aches.
That’ll be the brandy. It seemed like a good idea at the time, slipped down easily, joyously. I’d said to my daughter, ‘I shouldn’t be drinking without Dad here, I shouldn’t drink on my own’. ‘You’re not on your own, I’m here, I’d have one with you, if I didn’t have to go to work’. Well, all right then. But what about after she went to work?
The evening passed remarkably quickly. I remember listening to the Archers, and then... what after that? Going down to make coffee. Doing a graceful descent to the floor on the way back up, dropping coffee and brandy over the stair carpet. I remember mopping some of it up, there didn’t seem to be very much, I’ll have to look at the damage in the daylight. And then… what? I don’t remember chatting to anyone, or reading anything in particular, or posting anything much… except a bit from my novel. I had to go looking for it, that must have taken a bit of time. My files aren’t very well organised, there are bits here and there, some of them are just included in journal entries, filed under the date they were written. Tying them all together will be a job in itself, never mind writing any more.
I don’t feel well. I really didn’t think I‘d drunk that much. It creeps up on you. But that is not a road I’m going to go down. Just sometimes, it happens. It feels good, and you think, well, I’ll have another one, oh, that one’s gone too… only it’s not so much thinking as just doing it without thinking.
What happens today? My turn to cook dinner. Hubby will go to Tesco’s. I should do some work. I’m not as far forward as I need to be, and some stuff for the magazine is starting to come in. It’s going to be a big issue this time, lots of work, how can I possibly get it all done? Everything is drifting away from me again, I’m scared, how can I hold on to it all?
I have to do the housework, today or tomorrow. I should do some gardening. The weather should be good, so they say, it looks it now, if I turn my head and look out the window, sun shining, birds singing…
What else can I write this morning, to get to the end of my 500 word quota? My daily discipline. Here I am, every day, clattering away on this keyboard. I’m looking at a cartoon coaster that Lady Lucy sent me years ago. ‘Let’s not age, let’s just marinate’.
Pass the brandy.