The Tens, Vanessa Jones [i like reading books .TXT] 📗

some security cameras. Let them in,’ Ruth barked at Sophie, not leaving the safety of her velvet recliner.

Ruth was not terribly unkind but she was neglectful in a way that left Sophie feeling constantly invisible, so when Alex walked into her house, in all his luminous youth, in his thick work boots and navy coveralls, holding a reel of cabling in one hand and a takeaway coffee in the other, and looked at her like he'd recently gained the gift of sight, Sophie felt like she existed for the very first time.

The security cameras were installed, taking a lot longer than other clients’, and Alex would hold Sophie’s gaze for a little longer than she could stand, throughout the day. She was shocked that Alex could even see her.

On the final day of installation, Alex walked in holding two coffees: one for himself and one for Sophie, which she gratefully accepted.

A few months later, Sophie moved out of Ruth's smoked-filled house and into a small one bedroomer with Alex, where they began their romantic bliss. They had barely been apart since. What’s more, is they rarely argued in the decade they had been together. A bit of spirited bickering that forced them to roll their eyes at each but nothing serious. Except for that one tepid afternoon. Still, Sophie didn’t think it had anything to do with much, really.

They had been lounging in the backyard, Alex had spread a tartan blanket on the grass for them to lay on. Sophie lay, her arm shielding the sun from her eyes and her pallid sticklike legs getting washed in warmth. It was the kind of gently warm day that made them both feel the promise of summer, although still far away. Alex handed her a glass of icy wine and they sipped it amongst the provocative floral waft of the afternoon. Sophie rested her head on his thigh, not even flinching when the condensation dropped onto her forehead from Alex’s wine glass. There was perfection in the moment. The only flaw was the neighbour’s noisy lawnmower, chewing and grinding from one side of their yard to the other.

But, as always, it was merely another calm before a storm.

Alex wiped away a condensation drop from her cheek with his thumb. ‘Do you think if your parents hadn’t ended their lives that they would like me?’ He asked hopefully.

Sophie’s body stiffened and she looked at his eyes, which were earnestly shining back at her. Her torso shot upright and she spilled her wine on the rug.

‘Careful!’ He warned her but was laughing as he shook the puddle off onto the grass. ‘I’ll get you another.’ He stood up. But Sophie stood up just as quickly and watched his chambray shirted back disappear into the house. It wasn’t long before he ducked back out with a full wine glass, almost comically to the brim.

Sophie stood where she was, not moving.

‘Is the blanket too wet? I’ll get a towel.’ He said as he graciously handed her the wine which she refused to take.

‘How dare you,’ Sophie whispered.

‘What’s that, my love?’

‘I said, how dare you.’

‘How dare I what?’

‘You said my parents took their own lives. They were in a car accident, Alex! Is that what you think? That they did it on purpose?’

‘Oh, baby.’ He reached out to draw her in his arms but she remained frozen on the spot, watching the wine tip over the lip of the glass. ‘When did I say that?’

‘Just then! You asked me if they would like you if they didn’t end their lives!’

‘Oh sweetie, no! I said “if their lives hadn’t of ended”, he looked shocked and his face went a peculiar shade of grey. He searched the ground for somewhere to put the glasses. ‘You must have misheard me.’

‘I didn’t mishear you. I know what I heard.’

‘I didn’t say what you think I said, Sophie,’ Alex’s voice became serious. ‘Why don’t you finish your wine and we can enjoy the warmth a little longer? Maybe have a nap if you like?’

She took the wine from his hand and gulped it as she marched back into the house and ran a bath, so she could get away from Alex be alone with her thoughts. She was certain that’s what he said. But as she finished her wine and soaked in the rose-scented foam, she became less and less certain. She must have misheard him.

Sophie brought herself back to the therapist’s room and regaled an edited version of how they met. ‘We’ve been so happy together ever since. Well, til now. And here I am,’ she splayed her hands out in front of her.

‘And I’m glad you’re here. Please, have some more tea,’ Carla offered.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The cool afternoon after her first therapy session disappointed her. Instead of feeling better, Sophie felt undone. Her thoughts were playing a coarse game of sport and she could barely spot the ball from her vantage point. It wearied her but not enough to stop the rampant inner tornado of self-blame. Her mind retraced over and over, the things she said. How did she come across? What did she say? Did she even believe some of the things she said? Knowing that as well as failing her first therapy session, she also failed the aftermath.

Audibly, she groaned to her empty house. She could not stand her own mental swirl so she slid to the kitchen, opening the bottom drawer and pressed out two tiny white tablets from their crackling tray. She bit it and swallowed the two halves, the acrid taste forcing her to wince. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she remembered reading that biting them made them work faster. To be sure, she held the second tablet underneath her tongue willing it to absorb into her bloodstream from her gums, rather than the painfully long and drawn out digestive process, until she could no longer stand the taste.

'Aark. Aark.' The crow, in the tree outside her