The Morning After the Night Before

I hear Him enter the kitchen but I don’t turn around. I hold my breath.

He puts his arms around me, giving me a gentle but firm loving squeeze. I exhale with relief.

I have my back to Him, standing in front of the kitchen sink washing our boys breakfast bowls. They are both inside in front of the TV watching their Saturday morning shows.

The tears are now trickling down His cheeks as He softly speaks in my ear. I can feel the wetness against my own cheek.

‘I am so sorry’ He whimpers ‘I love you very much. I shouldn’t have said what I did last night, I didn’t mean it. I cannot remember everything but those things I said about your friends I only said to hurt you’.

I nearly want to hug Him back to make Him feel better but this isn’t about Him, it is about me. He is apologising to me. I must remember that He is the one who hurt me last night by the things He said, not the other way around.

**

We had been out with His group of friends, for a few drinks down in our local, the night before. His life long drinking buddies and their wives/partners. On the walk home He had started giving out to me about my group of friends and how He felt they were useless. How they never called to our house for a coffee or how we never went out at night for drinks together. He felt if they were really good friends then I would see them more often outside of work.

Of course I started sticking up for them. How they all have kids now, and busy lives outside of work etc. And not everyone wants to meet in a pub.

That’s when the argument started to get more heated and He started calling me names. He felt I was ‘having a dig’ at Him and his friends. I stopped replying, I knew it was time to shut up because He was too drunk to think logically. But His rant continued all the way home. He stopped once we got to the house, He knew not to argue in front of our babysitter. But as soon as she was gone He started again until He eventually had to go to bed, where He collapsed into a deep sleep. I slept in the spare room.

**

‘Do you forgive me?’ He questions.

‘I need a bit of time’ I answer ‘you hurt me with the things you said’.

He squeezes a bit tighter, as if that is going to change my answer.

‘I am so sorry, it won’t ever happen again’ He promises.

‘You said that the last time’ I whisper.

He let’s go of me, stands back a bit and wipes his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.

‘Ah fuck you anyway’ He says, ‘I don’t know why I bother’.

‘I suppose I’m going to get the silent treatment now for the next few days’ He starts

‘I said sorry, what more do you want from me, for fuck sake’.

‘You know I do remember what I said to you last night, and I still think you’re a selfish bitch’.

‘I don’t understand why you want to meet up with your so-called friends when you see them all the time at work!’

‘Please don’t start that again’ I plead with him.

‘No, you just don’t want to hear what I have to say, the fucking truth’ He says through gritted teeth,

‘Well fuck you anyways, you’re nothing but a stupid cunt and you won’t be hearing me say sorry again’ He says as He turns and heads into our sitting room, banging the door shut behind Him.

Nothing ever changes, no matter how much I wish it would. Just once I would love for Him to actually feel sorry, not just say the words He thinks He should say.

I turn back to finish washing the breakfast bowls; my tears slowly trickle down my face and my heart breaking a little bit more.

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