“It’s difficult having a conversation with you at the moment as you can’t follow it,” Seb says yesterday. We’re walking back to the flat from the coffee shop where Seb has consumed his coffee, whilst I spilt my one all over the floor. “We’re not communicating: you’re just wrapped up in your thoughts. You’re not listening to me or responding to what I say or…”
“Am trying,” I say. “Am not being annoying on purpose and…”
“Well as long as you’re trying,” Seb says, taking my hand as we cross the road. Feel that the cars will bend round me, but they won’t.
“Keep talking to me,” I say, holding his hand. “Am sorry if am annoying but…oh look, parakeet. Can you see him?”
The green person squawks as he flies past.
“Yes, I saw him,” Seb says. “It’s just – I feel really alone sometimes. I mean: you’re all wrapped up in your good mood and I feel so miserable and…”
“Am happy,” I say. “Want you to be happy.” My head buzzes and there’s a lightness in my mind.
“As long as you’re happy,” Seb says, pulling me towards him, kissing the top of my head.
“Keep talking to me,” I say. “I want to know how you’re feeling and…oh look: squirrel.”
The squirrel stands and watches us, one front paw raised, tail held aloft – a grey furry question mark.
We have a good day in the end, watching television and eating. And talking.
“Are you feeling a bit better now, darling,” I ask Seb as we eat our supper.
“Yes, I’m fine my lovely,” he says, stroking my arm.
“It’s good pizza,” I say. “Really thin and crispy.” Wrapping a piece of pizza around some salad, I sip my water.
“Yes, wonderful,” Seb says.
He’s sleeping now. Am lying in bed being as quiet as possible so don’t disturb him. Yet. Am enjoying resting in bed with my darling boy, even though he’s asleep and am awake.
The attached photo is last night’s pizza.
Happy Tuesday everyone!
*1963. By Joel Townsley Rogers. Crime fiction novel.