Relationships Can Be Murder*

“Seb, you’d better get up and get on with this,” Seb’s Mum’s voice assaults my ears at some early hour this morning. 

“Yes mother,” Seb calls out into the corridor.  “OK, Tanya,” he says, turning to me.  “You stay here and rest, I’m going back to the flat to finish packing up.  Then I’ll come back here for you.”

“Are you sure?” I say.

“Yes, it’s easier,” Seb says.  “You can have a bit more sleep and write your blog.”  He kisses me on the forehead.  Turning over, I close my eyes.

Waking up again, I switch my phone on.  9.35am.  Hauling myself out of the enormous four poster bed, I walk over to the window and open the curtains.  It’s an uninspiring grey day, but there’s a beautiful view over the garden and surrounding fields and inside, the walls of the bedroom are a bright buttercup yellow.

Someone asked me yesterday “how is your boyfriend handling you and your cancer?  How about your view of his distress and helplessness on this part of the journey.”

So, this is how I see it.  When I’m with Seb we have a good time.  We talk about plays and animals and films and normal things.  And he has his own stuff going on:  university; his family; moving again.  And so this weekend I’m “helping” him move but in fact I’m just sleeping and waking up for meals and walks and Seb is cooking and I’m watching the Athletics but it’s lovely.

I think to a large extent Seb is wrapped up in his own things: meditation, his future, his own mental state.  So he loves me and he enjoys being with me but he doesn’t let my illnesses affect him too much.

The attached photo is the view from my bedroom window here.  Had better get up and make self useful.

Happy Monday everyone!
*2015.  By Jane DiLucchio.  Murder mystery novel.

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