08. The edge of the bed

To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
    You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
    You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.

East Coker, The Four Quartets, TS Eliot

Bank Holiday Monday, London. Helen’s new band is rehearsing at my studio and we are going to have a BBQ afterwards. All the spouses will be there. I’ve bought a spanking new Weber BBQ for the occasion. Our 25 year old BBQ is on it’s last legs. Kim the butcher has supplied ribs. I have planned everything to be just right.

The weather forecast is not good. We will rehearse at 12pm and then BBQ at 3pm – just when rain is forecast. But it was the same forecast on Sunday and had been a lovely afternoon. I’m optimistic. Ali has worked hard in the garden to make it look good as well as on the food. We have divided up tasks and it should go well.

The band arrives and I set a timer to remind me to put the ribs in the oven. The mood is good. This is our third rehearsal and the previous two have been surprisingly good. Ron has joined the band from one of my other, now defunct, Americana outfits. He too writes plaintive songs about love and loss.

I am tense. I don’t really understand why. I have been anticipating the BBQ all week and have spent a small fortune trying to make sure everything is perfect. The alarm pings and I go to put the ribs in the oven. I follow Jamie Oliver’s instructions to the letter but, something nags in my head about the temperature. He says 200 but doesn’t mention fan ovens… that will nag at me.

The rehearsal is not as successful this week. One song has a what feels like a minim rest or as Helen calls it, ‘a hop’. I can’t seem to get it right and the rest of the band can’t articulate it in beat counts. I eventually fudge something that they think is right but which I really don’t know why they do but seems to work. Another alarm. I go to get the ribs out of the oven.

I open the oven and black smoke drifts out. Yep, should have thought about the fan setting. Bloody Jamie Oliver. Most of them are ruined. I’m embarrassed. Jay is coming round to the BBQ and his are legendary. I go back to the studio. We try another song and then the door bell goes and its time to go back to the house.

I open the studio door and am hit by spots of rain. Great. I get Jay to help me with the Weber. I’ve never had one before and its a different league to the disaster that was our old one. As we light the funnel of charcoal, the rain begins in earnest. We dash inside. Others begin to arrive and I serve drinks.

We have one veggie and I have planned a feta and asparagus special. People have brought some dishes. Helen has prepared a tabbouleh. Ali gets them to the table and we serve up some potato salad, the burnished ribs and I put chicken on the BBQ. Meantime, I prepare the feta and asparagus.

The rain is now torrential and, whilst the BBQ is covered, it cooks slowly. I got to plan B and fry some merguez sausages and serve them. Finally, I finally join the others – stressed and upset but everyone seems relaxed.

We clear the food away and sit chatting. Ron is at the end of the table with Mrs Ron. I have to keep pushing past to get to the kitchen. Finally, I decide to sit next to Helen as there is a free seat and I won’t have to barge past Ron. Ali sits opposite.

Ali and I have been working on our relationship. We managed to break through the intimacy barrier. It surprises me, her too. I feel confused, conflicted. I think of Helen at inappropriate times. She is a third person, present in my head. Why? We are only friends. I can’t get her out of range. Her frequency interferes with mine. I’ve worked hard to block it but it persists.

I have spent the week thinking about Helen and messaging Signal whose patience with me is endless. I thought I was over the limerence. In a way I am. Its obsessional aspect has gone. However, her waveform dominates.

I’m messaging Signal from the table next to Helen. I feel bad. But i do it nonetheless. When we were at Helen’s for her Bank Holiday meal, we had played games and really enjoyed it. I realise we have Cards Against Humanity and suggest we play it.

If you haven’t experienced it, Cards Against Humanity is quite insanely obscene. I have a friend, Jim who could have written most of it! The game is funny and we proceed to play with a good humour. I am next to Helen and often touch her arm and laugh at her American prude act. At one point, I see Ali watching me. I realise that she has seen me and not in a way I wanted. She will later say: I saw you hanging on her every word. I was.

Foolishly, I start to drink the Rose. I’ve been off the hooch (apart from riotous nights out with Signal – thankfully infrequent for my liver). I message Signal ever more. Eventually, it is time for everyone to go. Helen hugs me goodbye. We have a rehearsal with the other band the next day. I will see her then.

More inebriated texts to Signal. Yawn. I go to bed early, tired and a little the worse for wear. Her tolerance is beyond friendship!

Next morning Ali comes into my room. She brings tea and sits on the edge of the bed.

How are you?, I ask
Not good, she replies
Why?
I need to ask you something and you HAVE to be honest with me Lim.
OK.
Do you have feelings, requited or not, for someone else?

I hesitate, but I can’t go on like this anymore. I have tried to connect with her but the signal to noise ratio is too poor. I can’t tune into Ali in the way I did.

Yes, I say. I still have feelings for Helen
That’s it, she says and storms off

I go to her and I try to explain that this isn’t some black and white thing and that my feelings are not mirrored. They rebound at me like a badly aimed basketball. Ali is angry. She says she has to think about everything, talk to people, decide what to do.

The day is horrible, anxious. Work is empty – half term, bosses away, meetings on hold. Bored. I can’t focus anyway. i can sense things are bad this time. Helen and Jay come round for rehearsal. When I open the door to Helen, she looks me in the eyes, cautious. I’m sure she sees the pain and concern but she hasn’t.

Ali is out till late. I hear her come in but she doesn’t come to see me.

In the morning, I wake and don’t know what to expect. I’m churning – stomach and thoughts. I am fearful of Ali’s anger. I listen to the Today Programme. Conflict is everywhere. Gaza is being bombed again. Eventually, Ali comes into my room and sits on the edge of the bed again. She is ready to leave for work, full war footing.

I’ve decided that this relationship isn’t giving me what I need and I want us to separate.

I’ve come to the same conclusion, I say.
I’m not happy and haven’t been for a long time.

and just like that, sat on the edge of the bed, time is called on 35 years of our lives.

Yes, we must document our love
I’ve sat too long in my silence
Have grown too old in my pain
To shed this skin, be born again
It starts with an ending

Method Acting, Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes)©️